Ramblings of a Youth Minister

Three Manly Things

2009-10-09T23:41:00.003-04:00

Three Manly Things:

1. Punching a grizzly bear. I did it once and got fined by the Department of Natural Resources but I kept my lunch and my face from being eaten.

2. Crushing a can on your head. "I think I cut my forehead and my vision's blurry, but I looked cool."

3. Fire. I don't believe I need to elaborate.

Three Manly Things

2009-10-06T22:21:00.003-04:00

Three Manly Things:

1. Seeing white smoke come out from under your car hood and fixing it. Huah!

2. Putting bacon on your sandwich. Actually putting bacon on anything that already has meat. Steak, chicken, sausage, it doesn't matter. You can't mix your liquors, but you can mix your meat.

3. Having grease on your hands. Automatically makes you look 20pts. tougher.

Three Manly Things

2009-10-01T21:10:00.006-04:00

Three Manly Things:

1. Killing Something. Anything, be it an invading alien army, a dinosaur that a mad scientist brought back to life, a weed in your sidewalk, or a grunt in HALO, it doesn't matter. It garners respect from your enemies.

2. Watching TV in your underwear. Women would do this, but then men wouldn't be watching the TV, and then manly thing #2 would just be "in your underwear." Women don't watch TV in their underwear so that manly thing #2 can be "Watching TV in your underwear." Thank you ladies, now we can be manly.

3. Carrying heavy stuff. It helps with manly things #1 and #2.

Three Manly Things

2009-09-29T12:10:00.006-04:00

I will continue to write three beautiful things on my blog, but to balance it out, I will also include three manly things.

Three manly things:

1. Pipe tobacco. Not just any tobacco, but tobacco you harvested yourself from the farmlands of Central America.

2. Having your own mating call. Powerful and mighty, it can split the clouds and separate the hydrogen from the oxygen in your drinking water.

3. Having a hot wife. (See #2) I love you Gina.

The next installment is coming soon!

Three Beautiful Things

2009-09-29T12:00:00.002-04:00

I am taking a cue from Donna and Sarah on this one and giving it a try.

Three Beautiful Things:

1. The puppies at Drew's house. We played with them on Sunday. Oddly enough, puppies smell good too.

2. My new car! Thank God for keeping my wife safe in her accident, and for helping us find such a great new ride.

3. Kids at church. We had such a good time on Saturday night with our Rules of the Road kids event and drive-in. These kids are always a blessing to me, and an enormous source of laughter. (We had hot dogs for dinner Saturday and Eli lifted his out of the bun and high into the air and started shouting, "Hey everyone! Look at my wiener!" When told it is called a hot dog, he looked directly at the individual and matter-of-factly stated, "No. It's a wiener.")

North! Or Be Eaten: a book review

2009-09-21T17:08:00.003-04:00

Tink squatted near the [toothy] cow’s head and poked it with a stick.

“So there are fangs nearby,” Janner said, eying the bloody spear.

“No, lad,” Podo said. “This ain’t a Fang spear. Far too fine a weapon for that. This explains why we’ve not seen any critters before now.” He threw the spear aside and wiped his hand on his breeches. “Stranders.”

“NOW will you tell us what a Strander is?” Tink asked.

“Aye,” Podo said darkly. “Theives and killers. If they’re around, we need to move, and fast. The sooner we get clear of the forest, the better.”

High adventure best describes North! Or be Eaten by critically acclaimed and award winning singer/songwriter Andrew Peterson. In his second book, the Igby children face serious danger with their mother, the long lost queen, and their story-telling pirate grandfather, but with the help of the Maker, they overcome. In this story the reader explores even more of the world of Aerwiar and learns of the hideous, yet ferociously humorous appearance, of the creature that inhabit that world as the Igby family flees from the “Ghastly Fangs of Dang.” Learning of their royal blood in the last book, Peterson explores growing up and earning responsibility (whether you want it or not). Janner struggles with the responsibility of watching over his brother Tink, who cannot seem to muster the courage to face the fact that he will rule a kingdom. Leeli, their little sister has to face grief on an enormous scale.

As with his first book in the Wingfeather Saga (On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness), Peterson has filled this book with humor, adventure, and insight. It seems as if both books have been written to be read aloud, and judging from the focus of the books, that means aloud with your family. Parents, children, and siblings will relate easily to the Igby family and their struggles as a family growing up in a tough world. Not too mention the book has enough meat to entertain and challenge all of the generations in a family.

Andrew Peterson has proved time and again that in the space of a four-minute song he can tell a powerful and compelling story. Now, with the publishing of the first two books in the Wingfeather Saga, Peterson has proved he can do something that made The Chronicles of Narnia intriguing and compelling. He can create a world that, at the end of the book, you do not want to leave. If you enjoy reading with your family, adventure, or good books (you should fall in there somewhere) pick up On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness and North! Or Be Eaten. I guarantee you will not want to leave them. Oh, and beware of the toothy cows!

Andrew Peterson is the author of On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness, Book One in the Wingfeather Saga, and The Ballad of Matthew’s Begats. He’s also the critically-acclaimed singer-songwriter and recording artist of ten albums, including Resurrection Letters II. He and his wife, Jamie, live with their two sons and one daughter in a little house they call The Warren near Nashville, TN.

Huh?

2009-09-13T23:18:00.000-04:00

Oh Yeah! I still have a blog.

2009-05-21T17:41:00.001-04:00

Testing out the mobile posting. This is sweet!

Our Wedding Music

2009-03-10T10:18:00.003-04:00

This post I a reply to a friends blog about her wedding music, and like her, we were maybe unconventional in our choices.

Music has always been a part of Gina and I's relationship. I have constantly made mixed CDs for her and wrote letters using the titles of the songs. My favorite series I made was "Songs and Memories, Tales and Melodies: Music for those Who Love to Love." It was a 2 disc set, and was awesome, complete with my own hand drawn cover art. So when it came time for the wedding we were excited to pick out the music we would play.

Our first song in the wedding was a pretty normal one: Shania Twain's "From this Moment". I walked out to that song with the minister's and the ring-bearer. (Not Frodo Baggins) The next song was very special to Gina and I: Bebo Norman's "A Page is Turned." The song talks about how since a boy and a girl were born God has been raising up their spouses for them. It starts with the boy and moves to the girl, and then to their wedding day. You can read the lyrics here. Gina wanted to walk down the aisle to this song, but the song is like four and half minutes long, so we found a way around it. We made a slideshow of us. First pictures of me growing up and getting older, then Gina, and then us getting together, and all of it timed perfectly with the music. Toward the end of the song we inserted a slide of Gina's hand with the ring on it that said "Please Stand for the Bride." Then I turned around and started to cry.

At the end of the 28 minute ceremony, we walked out to one of our favorite songs as a couple: Counting Crows' "Accidentally in Love" from Shrek 2. It was awesome. Such a high energy song to leave a wedding on. We loved it.

But I think both Gina and I's favorite part of the wedding was our first dance at the reception. For Christmas that year I had written her a song as her gift, and we wanted to dance to it at the wedding. So I went to a friend's studio and recorded the tracks, and we had a song to play at the reception. The title of the song is "For You, My Love," and the lyrics read:

I've tried to write the perfect song,

Full of words worth so much to you.

I hope I get right this time.

You've been with me through right and wrong,

And even when I fall you don't give up on me.

It's so amazing to think,

That the Lord,

Would bless me with your life,

Would bless me with your touch,

All the time.

And I can't promise you,

That I'll be perfect,

All the time.

But my love for you will be.

I promised you a lifetime when I told you,

That I could stay forever

In your arms.

You gave me your hand,

Now here we stand,

Ready to start our lives.

I still can't believe,

That the Lord,

Would bless me with your life,

Would bless me with your touch,

All the time.

And I can't promise you,

That I'll be perfect

All the time.

But my love for you will be.

I didn't take it lightly when he told me,

To love you as he had first loved me.

I guess it was true when he said,

"Ask and you will receive."

You're so amazing to me.

I've tried to write the perfect song,

Full of words worth so much to you,

I hope I get it right this time.

Deep

2009-01-26T17:57:00.008-05:00

I feel deeply. Not about any particular subject or object. I just feel deeply. Movies, book, and music create these feelings for me the fastest. The music at the end of Meet Joe Black causes me to tear up. Just the music. Not only will instrumental music cause a stir, but lyrics even more so. I listen and hear myself in the lyrics, or I hear God speaking to me. God speaks to me through music, Christian or otherwise, as I know God has given each of his children a gift, whether they know that God bestowed it.

I am also deeply affected by other's experiences. Books often cause me to laugh out loud, or sit in awe of surviving such tragedies. Such as The Art of Racing in the Rain, The Chronicles of Narnia, Of Mice and Men, To Kill a Mockingbird. I sometimes wonder if I should call it compassion or if I am overly sensitive, but I ache when read such sadness, and I soar when I read triumph.

Movies do the same as the books, they just take less time. Often after watching a movie I will carry those emotions the rest of the day. After watching The Emperor's Club I felt as though I needed to make more of a difference in the life of every young person I knew. After watching Finding Neverland I cried. The sadness stayed with for the rest of the day. Even after watching I Am Legend my week became time for me to prepare (only in my mind) for a post apocalyptic America, and changes I would make to perfect Robert Neville's finely crafted daily routine.

I feel deeply.

I cried on my wedding day. Gina and I had created a slide show to the song "A Page is Turned" by Bebo Norman (look it up) that showed the two of us growing up and then pictures of us together. At the end the crowd would stand, to watch Gina walk down the aisle. I stood and watched the slides, I remembered the memories, and I turned with my friends and family to behold her. Gina floated down the aisle toward me, escorted by her father, and I began to cry. I did not blubber, but more than one tear flowed. I cried because of her beauty, and because I could see my father crying, but mostly I cried from joy. I knew I would never experience a better day. This day my friend, my confidant, my love would become wife and take my name. A name that she would only make better. Only God can understand the amount of love I have for Gina and its unyielding, faithful nature.

I cry at many TV shows, movies, and songs. I even remember crying as I watched Father of the Bride. I might have been 12 at the time, but I remember feeling so upset because she left without saying goodbye to her father. I remember crying after watching The Lion King because losing my own father lingered in my mind. (One reason I believe Disney needs to stop making movies where a parent dies in the first 30 minutes. That can affect children strongly.)

I feel deeply.

I normally end my blogs with a thought about the Father, or some encouragement to change for the better, but today I have no such ending hiding under my finger tips. I write this blog shortly after finishing The Shack by W. M. Paul Young. Read this book. Read this book. READ this book. I have never felt so challenged to confront my stereotypes of God as I have through this book, and I have never read the complicated matters of faith and theology reduced so well to the profound simplicity they should produce in our lives.

I feel deeply and if you feel deeply about something then let it change you.

The Band: Episode 1

2009-01-24T16:53:00.003-05:00

Just wanted to let you all know that I am now in a band! I played in several different bands in high school. Mostly worship and Christian rock bands, with the exception of the first - ShatterProof, worst band ever - but this band promises to be one amazing experience. It is made up of me, an awesome guy known as David Davis, and another friend named Matt Mintz (who is affectionately known as the Mr. Frodo to my Samwise McGamgee).

We have no agenda, and that makes this project special. We simply create music. Everything acoustic and everything good. We want to utilize all of the instruments we play, but not compromise on song integrity, so you will hear guitar, mandolin (me and David), vocals (Matt has the best voice, so we make him sing the most, but we all share the responsibility), hammered dulcimer (me, eventually), and anything else we decide we can play.

Our first official writing session was last night. It started with a trip to Guitar Center. We all love that place and love goofing around. We inevitably always end our time there in the "$1,000 Room", which is a humidified room where every acoustic over $1,000 resides. Last night I fell in love with a Gibson Hummingbird ($2,795) that caused me to rethink my obsession with Martin acoustics. (I love the D-18 and the D-28, not to mention there awesome artist series with guitars by the likes of Porter Wagner, John Mayer, Eric Clapton, and many others. The quality that makes this series special is how closely the artist works with Martin to craft the guitar.) I did, however, find a Martin (not sure of the series) that I loved but the $8,795 price tag was slightly intimidating.

Back to what I'm supposed to be blogging about. The three of us headed back to Starbucks together. (We all work there.) Where we used our own instruments to begin writing as a group. After some goofy songs we settled into our groove, and I was blessed by the talent of my friends. We ended up writing two songs. Good songs. Even by my impossible standards.

I'll end this blog by saying we do not have a name for this project, but here is the lyrics to one of our songs.

Wake up

Another mornings come

To light the world

To warm your heart

So wake up

I'm by your side

Nothing to hide

With nothing to say

Except I love you

So here we are

So here we go

This feels like home

You feel like home

Say, "Good night"

Rest your pretty eyes

The moon is high

I am here tonight

Good night

Lay your tired body down

Tomorrow comes

It comes fast, for us

So here we are

So here we go

This feels like home

You feel like home

Let Go

2009-01-15T15:49:00.008-05:00

Sickness. Sickness. Sickness.

Did I mention I am sick? Now that I have contracted the chest cold/flu from Hades, I have found time to write. About what you may ask? Nothing important.

The funniest thing about coming down with something: the immediate desire to see your mom. Whenever I am sick I think about the scene from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind when Jim Carrey escapes to his childhood memories to preserve the memory of his girlfriend (which he decided to erase but now has second thoughts). In the movie he is crawling around under the table in the kitchen of his childhood home, in his childhood pajamas, and Kate Winslet (his girlfriend) has taken over the memory and become his babysitter. Everything dwarfs Carrey. The table, the refrigerator, even Kate - he's a 4 year old. He immediately becomes overwhelmed and begins to cry, and says he can not believe how strong the desire to see his mom feels. That's how I feel when I fall ill.

I am married. True. But I just want my mom. She always knew what to do, but she lives four hours away now. I trust my wife, she's smarter than me, but sometimes you just want to say, "Mommy!"

Everyone chooses to hold on to something - I hold on to my mom's healing power. This quality makes each individual unique and quirky. You can picture your quirky quality now. Like the order you get ready in the morning, or how you only brush your teeth in clockwise motions, or maybe you only eat one thing at a time, or maybe you can not stand to put on wrinkled socks. But sometimes we hold on to other items. We remember pain, wrongdoing, and insult, and sometimes we can not let those go.

I know in my family some extended relatives have feuded for years over people smoking in their own house, and I myself have not talked to my wife for hours because she made me feel stupid during an argument. Sometimes these hurts seem insignificant and petty, but some hurts go deep and feel - significantly.

Letting go can intimidate us. It can cause us to think that holding on would be easier than letting go. Once you have lived with that pain for so long, how can you let the pain go. It's part of you. But hurt weighs. Revenge weighs. Refusing to forgive weighs. 2009 just started and maybe that has inspired me to write this, or maybe I am on too much medicine, but the time to let go is now. Whether you need to forgive yourself, a friend, a family member, or even God, do it.

Unforgiveness causes us to miss out on an entire person. That individual may have offended us, but they must have more to offer, and we can not find out if can not look past their offense. I know that I would someone to do that for me if I offended them. And even if you forgive that person and they still keep offended us, we know that we tried and the bitterness that eats at us can move on. The uncomfortableness of seeing them can disappear cause we tried to do what was right. And my Mom (there I am going back to my Mom again) always told me, "It takes a stronger person to forgive someone when they didn't apologize, than it does to stay angry and bitter." I invite you to let the hurt go. That will hurt, but it will heal faster than holding it in.

I have been blogging this entry for a couple of days because I've been sick, but it has been good mulling this over. I just wanted to end with something I saw on TV, in a very unlikely place. I watched Earl Thursday night, and that night on Earl's list he was trying to help his father get revenge on his mom. In the end Earl and his dad have a hilarious crying montage and talk about their feelings. And as Earl's father walks back home to his wife's loving arms to offer his forgiveness Earl says this in the voiceover, "My dad knew that anger was a heavy burden to carry, but revenge only made it heavier. Forgiveness made it lighter. So that's what he did."

Make your burden lighter.

I Have Not Forgotten

2009-01-09T00:25:00.001-05:00

I remember that I have blog, but time keeps forgetting that I need to use it. I'll be back as soon as possible.

DC Trip: Episode IV

2008-11-07T00:15:00.002-05:00

The picture above is the roof of the subway station. The lighting from the sun coming through the glass and the concrete slats made for an awesome picture. I think it turned out well.

Lincoln in the marble. If I'm not mistaken it's built to his original proportions.

The crowded little bookstore in the Lincoln Memorial. You think our tax dollars could afford a much bigger place.

The Vietnam Memorial.

My experience with this wall was more than I expected. I knew of the wall. I had seen pictures of the wall. So I though, "Well now I just get to see it up close." When you stand before this wall you become overwhelmed by the number of names, and when you realize that people were behind these names, you cannot helped but feel moved. I found out that the start of the timeline resides in the middle of the wall, so that the first soldier to fall rests beside the last soldier to fall.

The Washington Monument.

I had no idea that you can ride to the top of this thing. It was really cool. The view is amazing and the inside of the monument is filled with decorative stones from different states and countries.

DC Trip: Episode III

2008-11-06T23:54:00.004-05:00

The newest memorial in DC is the Pentagon Memorial to remember those who died in the attack on the Pentagon on September 11. It was one of the most thought out and thoughtful memorials in DC. There is an enormous amount of detail worked into the memorial, not to mention how serene and peaceful the atmosphere was.

Each individual was given a bench with their name inscribed on the end of the bench. Under each bench flowed a stream that was lit from underneath. If you are looking at a bench and look up and see the Pentagon, the individual died in the Pentagon. If you look up and see the sky, then the individual died on the airplane. There is also a wall that runs the perimeter of the property. At the beginning of the property the wall is two feet tall. At the end of the property that wall is seventy-one inches tall. The youngest person that died there was two years old. The oldest person that died there was 71 years old. Also on the wall were years, and if you followed that year from the wall perpendicularly, out on the field would be benches of people who died who were born that year.

This woman sat and stared at the Pentagon the entire time we were there. We found out from the police officer there that many times family members will come out and sit on their loved one's bench, as was the intention of the monument designers.

This was laid at the start of the property. It is made from limestone from the original building. The stains on it are from the damage sustained during the attack. 184 people were killed in the attacks that day.

The kind police officer who told us all about the memorial. He knew every name on the benches, and their ages, and all sorts of information. It was moving to see how affected by the events he was. This was truly one of my favorite sights in DC.

DC Trip: Episode II

2008-11-06T23:41:00.003-05:00

The current burial site of George Washington. He wanted a bigger vault for the family so this is the result.

This was the orginal Washington family vault. As seen, if I am not mistaken, in National Treasure II.

A tree on the edge of the Bowling Green. This Tulip Poplar was actually planted by George Washington.

Washington had massive flower gardens, but I absolutely loved the shrubberies. Now I understand what the Knights Who Say Ni were talking about.

(Some of you will get that and some of you won't. If you don't get it then you will be punished by being forced to cut down a tree with a herring!)

Part of the slave's quarters. Either Washington was good to his slaves or he packed them in tight, but I was impressed with the size of the living space compared to what I expected.

DC Trip

2008-11-06T23:24:00.005-05:00

I had never been to DC, so Gina and I decided to make a visit over her fall break. The trip came at a perfect time since her dad works in DC right now. That means we had a place to stay, and her mom came, so we had people we loved to see the city with. This picture shows a rare sight in the McGhee family - Gina driving. She likes to sleep and I like to drive, but since the drive to DC took 8 hours I decided to sleep a little on the way.

Our first trip out and about took us to Mt. Vernon (G. Washington's House). The estate still functions as a farm so the grounds were fun to explore. This picture was taken across what they call the Bowling Green, but I call it the ginormous front yard.

As I said the farm was still functioning so I couldn't resist taking a picture of the best side of the sheep. I wanted to see their faces, but they apparently had other plans.

There was a map of the grounds and such. Washington had a unique way of gardening. He had seed beds where he planted crops to let them die and harvest the seeds. He also used natural hedges and trees to fence the different properties.

The original W's ride.

Should I Flip a Coin?

2008-09-29T22:36:00.011-04:00

How do you make big decisions? Flip a coin? Draw a straw? "My mother told me to pick the very best?" Should decisions come easy? If I had the answer I would not sit here confused and blogging and you would have to watch TV or read a real piece of writing instead of my dilemma.

I graduated last May from Johnson Bible College with a BA in Youth Ministry and Preaching. I decided my senior year of school switch from a BS to a BA. In doing so I effectively signed four semesters of my life over to biblical Greek. Tough. I loved Greek. My favorite class. The class opened my eyes up to the world of biblical scholarship, a world of intriguing discussions and harsh, but good-natured criticism. At the end of my five year journey through college I had my diploma in hand, a part-time job as Youth Minister in a neighboring town, and hopes of graduate school after my wife finished her year of graduate work.

In scientific research and experiment the researcher must control and implement variables. I feel I have found a variable in my life since graduation. I graduated in May, but I'm not sure what decision I will come to. Since the mission trip with the youth group I have grown much closer, and c0-directing VBS helped me learn more about the congregation. VBS also let them in on the fact that I have not matured since the 7th grade. My wife and I have become fast friends with this congregation and their children.

As September turns to October I realize that I have worked at the church for over a year. Does not seem like that much time has passed. This summer for the church brought new life to the congregation and has drawn me further into that life. Therein lies my dilemma. I have hopes of Master's degree and even a PhD, but I also hope to enjoy ministry before I consider teaching at a collegiate level. Knowing this, how do I choose? Hopes of more education and hopes of ministry. The Emmanuel School of Religion will provide me an incredible opportunity for a first-rate and affordable education within a two hour drive of Knoxville. At the same time the ministry at the church has picked up momentum and I am building a rapport with the students. The children at the church make every time I teach an awesome and fun experience.

How do I choose? How do I decide between working toward my future career and the career I'm building in the present?

I'm doing my best to stay objective, but some friends from K-town are too dear to me to not enter into my decision. I know that one day I will look back on this and see God's timing, but for now, I feel like I'm in the dark.

How do I make this decision?

Tales of Bravery and Anti-Freeze

2008-09-17T22:32:00.003-04:00

Some time has passed since my last blog, so I thought I would let the world in on my life lived on the edge. (In case any of you were wondering, that sentence was a joke.) I have fought bravely on the front lines of life since then, and I have lost. I have sustained no major loss, but laziness has plagued my bones. No self-respecting adult should begin their morning at 11 AM, but lately I have. Two seasons of TV on DVD have found shelter in the caverns of my docile brain, and my house remains a wreck. When will motivation find me?

So I sit in my favorite chair, writing about laziness on my new Macbook, surrounded by the clutter I have yet felt compelled to organize. In the meantime I have started a career at Starbucks and learned the arts of the coffee barista. I have faced the coffee dragons (as I like to call them), and I have survived the fiery blast that spews forth from their condescension. Sometimes bravery means not reflecting the attitude which the dragons breath down on you. I cannot say that I did not struggle with my attitude, but I remained sincere and helpful, and that will defeat most dragons as they normally receive swords in return for their actions. Bravery: not writing someone off when you have every right to do so.

I'll proceed on, as not to bore you. (I'll try at least.) Today I opened for the first time at the Bucks. 5AM. Ugh. I believe whole-heartedly that God did not intend man to rise before the sun, but I found myself staring down the road into the darkness with my headlights keeping me company. Stupid AM. I managed though, with the help of four espresso shots. Afterward, I took a well deserved nap. Incredible. If only Napping competitions existed, I would not do anything else. Mmmmmm - Sleep.

Nap behind me, I headed to West K-Town to pick up my wife from student teaching. Let me take a quick moment to tell you about the phenomenon that is my wife. Beauty. Humor. Heart. Charm. Love. One day she will achieve sainthood, until then I will remain her favorite sinner. The one guy who did not deserve her, but she still choose to share her heart and home. Blessed.

Anyway, Gina students teaches and I pick her up on Wednesdays after school so she can attend church with me and we do not waste too much gasoline. On the way I noticed that the Taurus (whom I call Melvin) reached pretty high up on the temperature gauge. I do not like when Melvin reaches the toward the "H" that rests above that safe zone. Melvin never lost his cool, but he came close. When we reached church I looked under the hood, and sure enough the reservoir held no signs of coolant. So after reaching a fever pitch of stress (this activity involves me calling my dad and questioning him like a mechanic, calling a mechanic, surfing the web, and inspecting the engine) I decided filling the reservoir was my only option, and until something serious happened I possessed no reason for freaking out. God talks through my car.

I sometimes worry I will die of a heart attack because I can hardly handle my anxiety. I tell the students in my youth group to bring their worries to God, but I find myself unable to follow that advice. Still, again and again, God finds me driving to the mechanic praying for my car (sounds dumb, but I stress so much about my vehicles) and he provides. Too often I rely on myself, whether my car breaks down, or my bank account looks like a creek in the desert, or I forget why I am a minister. Too often when I cross those deserts, I look back and see God's working. When will I learn?

Trust will lead to the fulfilled Christian life. Trust. Practicing this simple word will allow us to open up to the leading of the Invisible God, but trusting what you cannot see can feel like walking through the forest blindfolded. Even though trust is hard, trust moves us forward, especially with God. Though the disciples found themselves in great danger, more than once, they would not have seen the miracles if they did not trust the carpenter's son when he said, "Follow me." Trust.

Trusting God can seem like starring under the hood of your car. You want to make a move, to fix what's wrong, but you cannot see where to start. To trust, just start. I will learn to trust if you will.

Book Review: THE ART OF RACING IN THE RAIN

2008-09-05T12:36:00.004-04:00

The Starbucks that my wife (and now I) work at has a montlhy newsletter, and one month I read the featured book and the manager asked me to write a review of the book, and I oblidged.

THE ART OF RACING IN THE RAIN

a Book Review

I had no plans of becoming involved. I had only come to Starbucks to enjoy some coffee and maybe read the paper, but instead I found something else. I asked my wife (Gina – an employee of the Seymour, TN store) if I could read the books on the shelves and just put them back. She told me to hold on a minute and withdrew to the back of the store, and emerged seconds later with a different book. The book, hardback and blue with a picture of dog on the cover, was the “partner copy” of the next book Starbucks would carry. So I returned to the corner with the comfy chairs, sipped my bold with a shot of espresso, and began to read The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. I became involved.

The narrator and chief character in the book is Enzo, a dog. Enzo feels his time to become a man has come. He saw a show on TV about how Mongolians believe good dogs become men in the next life, so they bury them at the top of a hill to enjoy the wild before they enter their human body. Enzo loves TV and his favorite channel is the SPEED Channel as his master, Denny, races semiprofessionally, and has done so ever since Enzo has known him.

Garth Stein has created an immediately lovable character. Enzo represents an extraordinary level of contemplation for a dog, which he attributes to his education watching TV while Denny and his family work and go to school. Choosing to convey this story through the perspective of the dog expresses superb writing on Stein’s part, which allows the reader to experience a very human story from a very unhuman perspective. Stein begins the story on the eve of the dog’s death, and the reader joins Enzo as he takes a look back over his life. He remembers the farm where he spent some of his childhood; he remembers the passion and sacrifice it took for his master Denny to succeed professionally; he remembers the pain the whole family felt at the devastating loss of Denny’s wife Eve; he remembers the court drama between Denny and Eve’s parents over the custody of Denny’s daughter Zoe; Enzo has seen a lot. In the end Enzo has valiantly helped the Swift family through their trials and longs to see Denny become the champion he is, and all of this with Zoe at his side.

Garth Stein has fashioned a beautiful story that will break your heart and lift your spirit, and he does all of this through Enzo’s eyes. He brilliantly intertwines racing principles with the story and then applies them to the story, the chief of which says, “That which you manifest is before you.” If you read much, or if you don’t read much, you must read this book. It will make you laugh out loud as Enzo gives reasons why humans evolved from dogs and not monkeys, and it will make you cry as the family experiences the terrible loss of a wife and mother. Again, whether or not you read, you should read this book. I give it two paws way up.

Politics or Circus Ring?

2008-09-03T11:23:00.015-04:00

Lately I have listened to talk radio more than usual. It has proved good entertainment since the Democratic National Convention and now the Republican National Convention. If they only passed out free popcorn!

First came the drama with the onslaught of Clintons at the DNC, but they proved (quite surprisingly for me) that they remain dedicated to the party. Endorsing Obama at each of their speeches put them into a better light. Obama's speech, however, proved charismatic but with out much more detail than usual.

The big drama came as McCain announced his VP choice: Sarah Palin, Governor of Alaska. McCain immediately took the women's issue and put it in the hands of the Republicans, making this voting year historic. No matter which way an individual votes, they vote for a minority ticket. Pretty cool if you think about it.

I must admit, McCain's VP pick impressed me. I love listening to talk radio as this situation plays out. The Democrats screech and wail about Palin not having enough experience for a VP slot, and in perfect political form the Republicans cry out and scream that Obama does not have enough experience for a Presidential slot. What fun! The best part lies in the fact that the hosts actually do screech and scream on the radio.

The issue that bothers me concerns Palin's family. Palin and her husband have 5 children, the youngest (if I'm not mistaken) has Down Syndrome. Many questioned whether Palin could perform as VP and raise this child considering the challenges he will face. Next came word that Palin's 17 year old daughter is pregnant. Suddenly her daughter has become the same media fodder as Brittany and Paris. I find all of this drama over Palin's family unfair and unreasonable.

As American people and families, we should be encouraged by this family's success in politics and continuing dedication to each other. If Palin chooses to pursue success in politics and raise her children then I respect that, her family is not America's business. Obama himself even said that the subject should remain off limits.

I do not understand why her daughter's pregnancy remains such a common subject on TV. Maybe there exist some who would say if Palin cannot control her family, she cannot fulfill her role as VP. Who knows? I'm not sure why media coverage surrounds this poor young woman, but I want information that furthers the election, not coverage of Palin's daughter who has been humiliated enough having her mistakes paraded in front of the whole nation.

I often feel that voters cast votes based on the wrong subjects or on who dresses the best or has the most charisma, and I do not feel this problem is entirely the voters' fault. The media has done nothing to help inform America's voters, but rather turned our political system into a circus (the media did have help from the government though). Before Presidential candidates were chosen, I knew nothing of John McCain except he was old and the Vietnamese tortured him during the war. The only information on the news at night concerned Barak and Hillary. Only until now has the Republican party put itself in the spotlight, and it seemed they had to force their way in.

I urge you to make a decision based on your own research. Listen to the debates, listen to their speeches from the respective conventions, and read about each candidate. I strongly feel that the media in America no longer presents clear, unbiased information if they do decide to talk about something of value.

Well, I think I will stop the rant here. I will save my other political pet peeves for later. I just hope that before November we can rely on someone in the media to provide real information. Until then I will just continue to listen to the democrat and republican hosts on 100.3 FM WNOX, Knoxville's Big Talker. This station provides a good balance of both sides, you just have to sort their opinions out yourself, and they have a good selection of intelligent and entertaining local hosts. So until November rolls around, I'll be here, waiting for the sky to fall, pigs to fly, and the circus to leave.

Losing

2008-08-26T23:42:00.000-04:00

Confession time: As a young boy I was a huge fan of New Kids on the Block, unfortunately. I did not own any of the dolls or the bed spread (in case any of you may be thinking that), but I did own a cassette and a coloring book. I remember after a time, the fragile tape inside the cassette broke, and I could no longer listen to my favorite tunes. I cried. Hard.

At the time the loss of my tape devastated me. At five it would prove trivial as I moved on to other stages, but I had only just begun to learn about losing.

Later that same year (I assume. I am not completely sure of ages or timing.) a friend of mine died tragically - Stephen Cole. Only five or six years old, he was riding his dirt bike around a designated area and was struck head on by an oncoming dirt bike bearing a 16 year old. Stephen did not survive the collision. I remember my parents sitting me down to explain, as best they could, what happened when people die. I honestly cannot remember much of the conversation. I do remember not going to the funeral.

In fourth grade my Dad took me and my sister out of school early. I had no clue why he had done so, but I happily left my class behind doing busy work. I found out that my Mawmaw's husband had died. Bill. He was her third husband. She married first at age 14, but he was abusive so she divorced him. With two kids in tow she married Paul who gave her five more children, of whom my mother is the youngest. Paul died when my mom was 16. Mawmaw then married Bill. I did not know Bill well. He mostly kept to himself when we came over, sitting in the front room and watching football. He did give us candy, and terrible handshakes. You know, the ones that make you concentrate on how strong you look. His death did not leave much of mark on my life, just a knowledge that my Mawmaw had strength I did not understand.

Just a week or two before tenth grade my Grandma McGhee died. Great-Grandma McGhee. What a lady. According to my grandpa's legend, she had survived the Trail of Tears as an infant when her mother hid in the mountains. She was full-blooded Cherokee. As a child she worked to provide for the family washing dishes and the compensation she received her mother pocketed. At a young age Grandma McGhee stood on the train tracks to stop trains for the daughter and son-in-law of the outlaw Maw Barker. After such an eventful childhood Grandma McGhee raised eight children, including the most ornery and rambunctious Paul McGhee. (My grandfather, from whom I take my middle name.) Grandma McGhee fought a slow battle and when she died I must say I was not taken by surprise. I loved her, but now she could live forever. I was happy for her. Her funeral brought out the absolute worst in all of her children except my grandfather. As they gathered up the most valuable items, my grandpa and dad took the two things she loved the most: her bible and her porch swing (the place where we all got to know Grandma McGhee). I learned two things during this time. One: People, including family, can become horrid creatures, full of spite and insult, at the exact time you need them. Two: My Dad is a real person. I saw him cry the first time at her funeral. We stood in front of the casket, he said, "She thought you were somethin' special boy." Then his face curled up with sincerity and he cried on my shoulder. Not a wail of mourning, but a deep cry, one that proves your humanity. Humans lose.

Last November my friend Sam died. Born with a heart condition, his first surgery was at six months. He battled illness his whole life, and received a heart and double-lung transplant at sixteen. Sam had a glad-hearted mean streak. He acted gruff, but he meant well. I met him at Johnson. He lived down the hall from me. He was my friend. The last year of his life he lived at home in Nashville. I visited as often as possible, and we emailed and MySpaced constantly. He always called me brother when he signed an email or left a chat. Sam had a brother, but he called him "Bub." It means a lot to know he called me brother because Sam knew more about God than anyone I have ever met. He was my friend. My brother. I cried a lot at his funeral, not because he died. God was getting to know Sam, and Sam was getting to know God and his new body. Sam needed a new body. I cried because I had lost. I had lost the first person, other than my wife, who I had sincerely loved out of no obligation. I had lost the one person who told me to cut the crap. I had lost my friend, my brother. Humans lose.

Everyone has stories about losing. Losing hurts. Whether you lose a ball game your have prepared months for, or you lose a child, losing hurts deep down. Often people say, "Why?" Just this year I know of several people who have experienced miscarriages, who have lost jobs, who have lost family to the War, and lost loved ones to death. One night, when discussing a close friend's miscarriage, my wife said, "I'm not saying God caused this, but why would he let this happen? Why would he let that baby die?" She did not understand this loss.

I have thought about losing a lot lately. I thought about how God let the Devil hurt Job, and Job lost. I thought about how Lazarus died when Jesus arrived too late, and "Jesus wept." Jesus loses too. I thought about how I lost my friend at five, and my Grandma McGhee, and Sam. I thought about how my friends lost their baby and how it cripples their marriage. I asked, "Why?"

I came to the conclusion that we have no way of concluding God's hand in such events. We can see God working through people and timing, but as for the ultimate cause of such events humanity just cannot see that far back.

In The Chronicles of Narnia: A Horse and His Boy the main character, Shasta, and his companion, Avaris, flee on horseback from an army. During the flight a lion begins chasing them. When they have almost reached their sanctuary the lion reaches up and tears into the girl's (Avaris') shoulder and scares the her horse. They reach their sanctuary hurt but a little quicker than planned. Later Shasta meet the Lion, who turns out to be Aslan. Shasta asks Aslan why he hurt Avaris and her horse but the Lion interjects and says, "Child, I am telling you your story, not hers. I tell no one any story but his own." Avaris lost.

Often we feel as Shasta feels. We do not understand how God could do such terrible acts, but unlike Shasta we often do not know if God truly caused them. Just like the story our friends lose, and lose often. To comfort ourselves we conclude that God wants to teach us a lesson or needs us to grow, but I think God moves deeper that.

I believe that YHWH has built much of his nature into Creation and when tragedy happens, whether by God's design or by natural laws, we can learn about God. Every time we lose God may not be forcing us to learn, but crying with us, as Jesus did with Martha. Maybe this time God let the world turn, maybe He let creation move on its own, and He lost when we lost. This, however, displays the might and tremendous awareness of God. When we just happen to draw the short straw and that truck plows into your son's bus, God has placed enough of himself into this broken world that we can learn about him as he grieves with us. In our grieving with him we learn more about him. We grow closer to him. We understand him. We lose with Him.

Love Out Loud

2008-07-10T08:34:00.000-04:00

Group Workcamp Report:

Dear Church Family,

Thank you so much for your prayers and support during the youth mission trip to Ohio. We had a great time. The night we arrived we we split from our group into "work crew" with five other people from five different youth groups. We worked with these crews at the work sites painting, scraping, priming, nailing, drilling, and an other tasks needed. Each person in our youth group was able to meet five new people, so by the end of the week we had 50 new friends.

Each work crew had a resident that received their help. Each day the resident was invited to devotionals held by the work crews. Some residents came and some did not. I remember Susan telling me that her resident rarely had anything to do with her crew, until the last day. At close to finishing time, Susan's resident came out and talked to her. They talked and talked and continued talking. Even though it took the resident all week to warm up to Susan's crew, they were able to make an impact for Christ, and it was shown in a talkative way.

Not only did we participate in physical labor we had a program every night where we interacted with that day's theme. Here is a list of the themes:

1. Love Out Loud Risks

2. Love Out Loud Serves

3. Love Out Loud Multiplies

4. Love Out Loud Forgives

5. Love Out Loud Lasts

During these programs we saw skits and videos and listened to Roy present how we can Love Out Loud. The programs were simple, but grounded, they lacked all the glamour normally associated with these kinds of events, and just presented truth. Our youth, and adults, responded maturely and thoughtfully to the presentations and took serious time on day four to examine themselves. I am positive that each of us has returned home with a new revelation or commitment to God.

Needless to say, this week was a difficult week for work as it rained three out of five workdays, but the kids responded with stubborn determination, and out of a little more than 50 worksites, 34 were finished, and over 11,000 man hours were given to the good people of mid-Ohio. After experiencing such incredible events and giving so much to the Lord, he was gracious and gave back to us a renewed spirit, a refreshed commitment, and a reignited passion. The 10 from our church that returned from Ohio are not the same 10 that left. Ask anyone of us and we will share our experiences and our new zeal. Those that went are: Bill, Loren, Randy, Jesse, Susan, Roy, Laura Faith, Micalah, Sara, Sarah, and myself.

Upon returning we have all made commitments individually and as a group to "Love Out Loud" here in our community and we hope that our spirit is contagious. Again thank you for all your prayers and we hope you will join us as we "Love Out Loud" here in Maryville.

In Christ Alone,

Sam

P.S. Ask Randy and Bill how it feels to be completely destroyed in air hockey by yours truly.