How I got punked by an early-2000’s era Life Fitness Treadmill.

Having joined the YMCA in the heat of new years resolutions, I found myself relegated to the “older” treadmill.  I punched in a few numbers to start, and selected the “fat burn” setting, enabling the machine to monitor my heart rate and adjust the difficulty (read: the incline) accordingly.

Target heart rate: 128.  Current rate: 121.  Current incline: 0.1.

Let’s get this party started.  I glanced up at the TV in front of me.  A daytime courtroom show.  Awesomely boring, even with subtitles.

Five minutes passed.  Still hadn’t hit the target heart rate. In fact, I was still right at 121.  The machine had adjusted the incline to 8.0 (I assume that’s 8 degrees of incline).  I was starting to feel it.  Back to Judge Joe Brown to pass the time.

Three more minutes passed.  I felt a cramp coming on, which is odd considering this was supposed to be a “low intensity” deal.  I noticed that the incline was on 15.3, and that compared to the machine beside me, I am a mountain climber.  Sweat dropped from the end of my nose, and I had to white-knuckle the heart rate handles to even stay on the machine.  My heart rate, however. was still at 122, which I found strange, being that I could feel my heartbeat in my ears.

It was probably ten more minutes of panting (and 5 more degrees of incline) before I decided to test the heart rate monitors, and let go of them.  It stayed at a steady 122.  The machine was not actually monitoring my heart rate, but some phantom rate!  As tempted as I was to learn how far the machine would go in trying to get to the target, I immediately switched workout type and lowered the incline back to zero, so that I could finish my workout without involving paramedics.

Moral of the story:  the older the machine, the more skeptical you should be of the monitoring capabilities.

Second moral of the story: after you have been abused by the “back in the day” treadmill, don’t try and walk down the steps to the locker room without holding the hand-rail.  You’ll fall down.  People will try not to laugh or make eye contact.  They will be unsuccessful at both.

Unashamed Cave to Peer Pressure.

If you aren’t on facebook, then you haven’t seen the “25 Random Things” notes that have been going around.  At first I thought it was silly to write a note with 25 things and then “tag” 25 people in that note to write their 25 things.  But as I have been reading others’ notes, I have really enjoyed them.  So, in what feels like betraying the “I’ll never participate in chain letters or sappy email forwards” promise I made to myself very early in life, I give you my 25 things.

  1. I’ve fallen out of a raft in a class 4 rapid on the Arkansas river in Colorado.
  2. I’d like people to think that I can properly load and shoot a muzzle-loading rifle just because I have once.
  3. My wife and I had a fight on the way to staff meeting last week that was resolved via text message.
  4. I very rarely read all of the lesson that I teach on Wednesday nights at church before I am actually teaching it.
  5. I once could recite the entire book of Philippians from memory.
  6. I am frequently interested in making people think that I don’t care what they think about me. That’s right, I hide behind “transparency.”
  7. As a (far more self-absorbed than I’d care to admit) verbal-processing extrovert, I talk so much about myself that I find it difficult to find something to put on these lists that people don’t already know.
  8. My pediatrician once told me I’d be between 6’10” and 7’0″ tall.  I got good at rebounding in basketball.  Then I stopped growing at 6′ 1″ and started focusing on guitar.
  9. I once shared the gospel with a vodka-enhanced former KGB agent who was wearing only tightie-whities.
  10. I have typed at least two things that were not true (or not completely true) while making this list and then deleted them.  A few years ago I probably would have left those things on the list.
  11. I’ve flown east all the way around the world in a summer.
  12. I once wrote a song in an afternoon for my wife (who had gone shopping, I think) that included the line “Still long for the day when we get in a fight // and it turns out that I was right.”
  13. I cry at unimportant things like movies and sermon illustrations, but rarely cry at things like funerals of loved ones.  That may be due in part to the fact that I frequently get asked to speak at those funerals, and nerves keep me from crying.
  14. I like to think of myself as a country boy at heart, but I’ll never move away from the city.
  15. I have an uncanny ability to memorize numbers.  I still remember the phone number from my grandparent’s next-door neighbor when I was around 16 years old, and many of the phone numbers of my childhood friends.  It’s not an automatic thing, in that I have to consciously think “remember this.”  But once I do commit it to memory, I’m pretty stuck with it.
  16. I used to have 20-13 vision.
  17. Before my senior year in college, I had no idea what a 401-K or an IRA was, or that it referred to anything financial.  I’ve never balanced a checkbook.  (and I can’t remember the last time I wrote a paper check, for that matter)
  18. According to my boss in high school, I was the fastest and most efficient weed-eater operator he’d ever seen in 25 years of landscaping experience.  That hasn’t given me any advantage in my adult life, to my knowledge.
  19. I’ve driven more of the coolest classic cars (’64 & ’65 GTO, ’26 Model-T,  ’57 Pontiac, ’67 Buick Riviera, not to mention some modern muscle cars like Corvettes, supercharged Mini-Coopers and Chargers) than most folks, due to my grandfather and father’s collection of them.
  20. I have creative passion, but very little discipline when it comes to giving those passions an outlet.  And I am ashamed of my attempts at art, often.
  21. I didn’t drink my first full alcoholic beverage until I was 22 years old.  At one point since then I tried to make up for lost time.  I am learning moderation.
  22. I quit playing baseball growing up because my big brother quit, and I was on his team first.  That and there was a conflict with Boy Scouts.  I think I could’ve been a decent baseball player.
  23. One of my biggest fears in life is that I would not live out the gospel in such a way that my son grows up with a positive view of Jesus.
  24. I’ve been pick-pocketed on a Roman subway.  They stole my camera.  When I realized I was pick-pocketed I punched a plaster wall in anger and hurt my hand.
  25. I’ve run naked (except for hiking boots) through the snow in the Swiss Alps.  There was tastefully long-distance photographic evidence of that, but it was stolen with my camera in Rome.

Does he know how to punch bad guys?

Ethan (3 years old) in reference to Benjamin (9 months)

A Worship-Leader’s Pocket Guide.

I’m preparing music to lead at a conference coming up, and in doing so I get to spend a lot of time listening to potential songs and a diverse array of worship leaders and their different tendencies.  I have come to a tentative conclusion: the more famous you are as a worship leader, the more obscure are the things you can get away with saying as interludes between songs.  And the shorter the sentence and farther from context, the better.  Three word phrases like “faith is rising” or “sing it prophetically” have the most impact as obscure worship-phrases (OWP for short).

In an effort to increase effectiveness and urban appeal among worship-leaders, I’ve compiled the following Guide to Obscure Appropriateness in Leading Worship, or GOAL-W for short.  Using this scoring system, you will be able to determine not only your level of obscurity and thus greatness, but where you are most fit as a worship leader to serve.

Handy GOAL-W

  1. You slip in the name of a lesser known Old Testament prophet.  +2 points.  +3 for each usage of Melchizedek.
  2. You forego using a verb.  “Jesus Glory Beautiful” as an example.  +1 point.
  3. You never open your eyes and are able to switch between songs and toss out an OWP +3 points.
  4. You use a Scripture reference, but only the address.  “1 Chronicles 3:4” as an example.  +2 points for New Testament, +3 points for Old Testament.
  5. That Scripture reference is Ezekiel 23:19-20 +10 additional points.
  6. You use the phrase “close your eyes and imagine with me” -10 points.
  7. You utilize the word “shekinah” +3 points for first use, -5 points for each subsequent usage.
  8. You instruct the audience to turn to their neighbor and say something. -25 points and automatic 5-minute timeout. (we’ll excuse one time per service for the purpose of reminding folks that this is corporate worship.  After that, timeout.)
  9. Your three word sentence becomes a 5 minute story about what God is teaching you right now.  -5 points.  We didn’t ask you to give the sermon, just lead the music and keep your talking short and obscure, music (wo)man.
  10. The sound guy claims there was a “feedback issue” when he cuts the mic off halfway through your story.  +4 points for the sound guy.
  11. You sing your OWP after you say it, for emphasis.  +3 points.
  12. You turn that sung OWP into an impromptu chorus and encourage others to begin singing “bring shekinah Amos arise” over and over.  +5 points for every minute you can keep in going.
  13. You utilize any of the following words/phrases in your OWP:

“dry bones” +1 point.

“purpose-driven” +2 points.

“emphatic” +1 point.

“sheep and goats” +2 points.

“prodigal” +3 points.

“Mark Driscoll” +5 points, unless it is part of a story, which has previously been outlawed, and will result in a -6 point score.

“amber bock” +2 points.

“effervescent” +4 points.

“Infinite improbability” +3 points.  If followed by the word “drive”, +10 points.

“horsemen” or “apocalypse” +3 points.

Scoring Chart:

-40 or below:  Maybe it’s time to just cut the word “shekinah” completely out of your vocabulary.  And while I’m at it, I think you need to consider a job as a story-teller.

-40 to -10:  You are definitely a talker, but either you are not obscure enough, or you got caught off guard by the rule against having folks turn to their neighbor and say “neighbor….”

-10 to 0: You seem well fitted for a job in a small, quiet church where the last worship leader was a real talker.  A -35 guy who gave a five minute intro to every song.

1 to 15: You are the type of worship leader who does more dancing than talking.  You’ve got the Dave Matthews/Carlos Whittaker feet thing, and occasionally throw out a one-liner.  You’re a mysterious guy.

15-20:  You’re no Charlie Hall, but you are gunning for him.  People come up to you after church and say things like “what did you mean when you said…________” You’re on your way.

20 and above: Michael W. Smith doesn’t read my blog, to my knowledge.  But if he did, he’d have to admit this is where he scores.  He makes Obscure Worship Phraseology into an art form, and nothing less.

I hope you’ve enjoyed my fun poke at one of the things that makes me laugh about Christians.