Category: family

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I just self-edited…

I was going to write a post just now (in fact, had it all set up to click “post”) about a former Dook basketball player that was not very… well… nice.

I guess it’s OK to dislike the team, but I should probably avoid the public, personal shots.  After all, he’s a guy that needs Jesus, just like me.  And you can’t believe everything you hear on the internet.  And it was all in good fun, but that’s tough to pull off, believably, on a blog.

But in case you all want to draw your own hilarious conclusions, read this article.

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Fishing Trip, Day 1.

5:30 AM Dad knocks on my door and says “It’s 5:30” (which you already knew, but I didn’t, at the time) I mutter something incoherent and grab for the toothbrush in the bag by the bed.

6:15 AM Having swung by my brother’s house to pick him up, we stop at a covered gas station to rearrange the stuff in the bed of the truck without the “help” of the chilling, driving rain.

7:03 AM We complete the first three-sentence verbal exchange of the day, between the three of us. Subject matter? The I-40 bypass around Greensboro, and the relative merits of each route.

8:49 AM I decide to give up in the quest to keep from nodding off in the passenger seat, but realize that comfortable seating and three full-grown males in a Dodge Ram are mutually exclusive concepts.

11:39 AM I come to the crushing realization that Nags Head, NC (population 7,000 in a heavy day, plus some tourists) has far better cell phone reception than Asheville, NC (population 50,000 on the worst day this quarter-century, plus some tourists). I bitterly take it out on AT$T via a passive aggressive Tweet at 11:40.

11:51 AM A Mexican Pizza and two soft tacos are involved. No further details are available for the public, until next-of-kin and physicians can be notified.

12:53 PM After meeting up with my uncle and cousin, we drop our luggage off at the Breakwater Inn. I make the mistake of asking if there is a “fitness center” here. I’ll be walking on the beach to stay in shape.

2:33 PM I get up the guts (pun intended) to hurl the fish bait attached to my line as hard as I can into the surf. It immediately becomes apparent how poor of a decision that is, when the line snaps, sending the 4 ounce weight, rigging, and bait sailing well beyond the breakers.

2:40(ish) PM Some unsuspecting fish gets a fancy lip ring that is unfortunately no longer attached to my reel.

5:00 PM I inadvertently hum an Aaron Neville song out loud, and feel the need to toss my man card into the ocean.

6:20 PM Having packed up the slightly fewer than 1 fish we caught and dropped the gear off at the Breakwater, we find ourselves in “Pop’s Raw Bar” (where bikers and 4x4s are welcomed, according to the sign) enjoying some amazing seafood and second-hand smoke.

7:30 PM I sit down to the laptop back at the Breakwater to find that, to my surprise, “The Fisherman’s Quarters” next door has Wi-Fi. This post is the immediate result.

Here’s hoping we catch some fish tomorrow. Or that I get this Aaron Neville song out of my head. Either would be considered success.

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Grading Parents might take more than Originality.

Lately a trend on the facebook is folks taking a quiz that grades their parents on originality in naming them.  The only metric (as far as I can tell) to factor into the grade is how many other folks were named what you are named during your birthyear.  Making it easy to simultaneously grade highly and win an award for a terrible parenting decision.

Here’s a few of the names Jacqueline and I came up with that we think would grade highly:

(and, by way of disclaimer, if this is your name or the name of a loved one, I mean no disrespect.  All in good fun.)

Festus.  I doubt there were many other Festuses during your child’s birth year.  That’s a guaranteed A.  It’s also a guarantee of the nickname “Fetus” at some point during your child’s seventh grade year, or whenever sex-ed first takes place.

Basil.  This name means “Kingly” according to some baby naming websites.  It also means “condiment,” according to my spice rack, though.  So while you get an A+ for originality, you also get a certainty that your child will hate you by age 20.

Xanthus. This name gets an A, because it has to have a middle name that serves as a pronunciation key.  It means “Golden haired” which means you either have to wait until puberty to name your child, or risk the significant chance that your kid will grow up to be named something that they aren’t.  This also applies to naming your child “Christian,” or “Buddhist,” or “Cable Repair Guy.”

Manville. This name means, as you might surmise, “Men’s village” and thus gives you an A for originality and and a low F for a name that sounds like (and means) “testosterone filled neighborhood.”  Naming your child after a group of people=not cool.

Vanity. In my brief online “research” for this post, I came across this little girl’s name that means “stuck up brat.” You’d get an A for originality, and a strong chance you’d spend way to much on this little jewel when it comes time for prom, sweet 16, and nuptials.  That’s assuming you could find a guy named “Codependent” to marry sweet Vanity off to.

Butthole. (pronounced Buh-Thole) OK, so this one wasn’t an actual name from a baby-naming site, but it is one that Jacqueline wants me to make sure I give her the credit for coming up with. (unless you’re offended, then it was all me.) This name would get you the highest possible A, given that (unless there are other cultures where “Butthole” comes across more like “Stanley”) nobody in the world has named their child this, ever.  You’d have some fun times at, say, the nursery when you drop them off and sign them in, as well as more than one chance at an awkward role-call experience on the first day of class, for the rest of his (or her!) life.  “Hello my Name is” name tags would also be a hit.

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We all have things we regret about life. I regret being the good kid.

(this is part of a series of stories being ported over from the old website.  Here’s my story)

That’s not to say I wish I had been a bad kid.  I just wish I had been more aware of my heart’s true condition.

I was the youth group poster-child.  If there was a committee in my church with a youth representative, I was it.  I led Bible studies, I went on mission trips, and I even was an Eagle Scout.  Parents in the youth group all liked me.  I had a master key to the thousand-plus-member church on my key ring.

The problem is, I was a jerk (even if only internally).  I judged others on a curve, demonized their sins and gave myself a pass.  I might never have said it out loud, but I was better than everybody I knew.

The most major problem I had was theological, and is only clear in retrospect.  I saw the gospel, the fact that Jesus died for people, as just a doorway into Christianity.  I thought that once you get through the door, you are a good kid, and the gospel is old news.  This cancerous theology worked itself out in my life in so many ways.  I had this massive us/them split going on in how I viewed other people, for one.  The kids in my high school who smoked weed and drank beer were the “bad kids” and I, along with my Christian friends, were the “good kids.”  We were the insiders.  God liked us more.  And to make matters worse, I even saw myself as better than my Christian friends.  God liked me more, because I prayed in front of people, sang the lead in the youth group musical, and could play the guitar and lead people in singing “Lord I Lift Your Name on High.” What a smug pharisee I became.

Then I started to have trouble living up to my own standards.  God graciously took me to the point of seeing that I still, in spite of all my work, needed saving.  Seeing myself as the sinner still in need of a savior was simultaneously the worst and the best news I had ever heard.  And it’s why I am in full-time ministry today.  The us/them split has been shattered, and I am free to be honest with myself and others about our need for a savior.  God’s grace is heroin, and I am officially a junkie.

God called me into ministry with Campus Crusade for Christ in 2002, and it has been a blast “dealing” grace to college students.  I am passionate about men stepping out of apathy and addiction and into a vibrant and fulfilling walk with God.  I view Jacqueline’s and my ministry as a partnership where we, along with all the folks who prayerfully and financially support us, strive to show Christ to students, both the “good kids” and the “bad kids.”

What about you?  Were you the good kid? The rebel? How’d that work out for you?

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It took me a while to see myself as a rebel. (Jacqueline’s Story)

(in addition to being the latest in new posts that are being brought from the old website, this is Jacqueline’s first post on the new blog.  Let’s hear it in the comments!)

I was playing softball with my three older siblings in the front yard.  It was a sunny day, and I rounded second, willing my 8 year-old legs to run faster.  My brother Josh waited at third, both for me and for the ball.  My dad, across the yard, was leaned over the engine compartment of his mint-green ’60s pickup truck, absorbed in his work.

The ball got there first.  When he tagged me out, I blurted “shit!” and looked up at dad, instinctively covering my mouth.  I was caught.  I idolized my older brothers, and they constantly exercised their vocabulary to one day make it as a sailor.  But even they wouldn’t drop the S-bomb in front of Dad.

As only my dad could do, he called me over to him at the truck and said, “If I ever,” pausing for effect, “hear you say a word like that again, or hear of you saying a word like that…” another agonizing pause… “I’ll tear you up.”

From that day on, I made it my goal to never rebel.  I was careful not to cuss, for fear of Dad finding out and making good on his promise.

I saw God as much the same way, ready to discipline for any act of rebellion.  Which led me to the straight and narrow path of keeping God happy.  My experience with church people told me that there was a list of things to do that were approved, and as long as I stayed on the list, I was good to go.  I had a relationship with God, but it was marked by strict observance of the rules.

It wasn’t until college that God brought to me the verse in Jeremiah that says “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick…”  Those words struck me as odd.  After all, I wasn’t a rebel.  I was a good little church girl.  But here God’s word was telling me I was deceitful and sick.  Worse than that, Jesus said that he only came for the sick.  But the more I thought about it, I began to realize that all my ‘good works’ were nothing more than an attempt to please people, and please God.  They often came from less than pure motives.  That realization continues even today, and the more I learn of my desperate need the more beautiful the cross becomes to me.

Since joining the staff of Campus Crusade in 2005, my walk with Christ has become changing my perspective from the ‘good church girl’ to seeing myself as the rebel in need of a savior.  The best news of all, that I get to share with the girls I meet on campus, is that Jesus came to save us from our deceitful hearts.  And no matter if I beat the ball to third or not, and no matter how I react to getting tagged out, I am safe in Him.

How about you?  Ever have a rebellious period? Or did you, like me, do your rebelling from a church pew?

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