Long Winter of the Soul

It's 3 AM on a cold Indiana morning, though not as cold as it has been for two and a half months. Could we be seeing the last frigid days of winter? The groundhog thinks so. I certainly hope so.

It was just three short months ago that I loaded up the family truckster and headed to good ol' Indy…in the dead of winter. As I sit here by the fire and the light of my monitor, wondering what the hell I'm doing up at this hour, I reflect on the icy days of December, January and February. And while it seems that we are finally emerging from the cold, dark past, I'm left to wonder, has my marriage survived the winter?

Sure, we enjoyed the change in climate, the adventure of new beginnings and snow days, but as reality sets in—new jobs, new mortgage, new school—that whole "let's start over in Indiana" idea seems a little more suspect.

Honestly, it has been an adventure. The girls seem to be adjusting well. The job is certainly paying well. We love our new family at The Dwelling Place. And we love being close to my family. But we certainly haven't escaped us…Tracy and I, that is.

We had hoped for a rebirth, of sorts, for our marriage…a fresh start…a DO-OVER. Hasn't quite been as easy as calling "Ghost man on third!"

I knew that the transition would take its toll eventually. I knew that rebuilding trust could take forever. I just expected the new environs to help us cling to our newfound selves. But for whatever reasons—and I'm sure there is a plethora—we butterflies are clinging to the old cocoon. Why haven't we broken free and begun to fly? We're in counseling. We have a great support network. We seem to still like each other (I said LIIIKE, DOTTIE!) and enjoy each other's company. But to say that the flicker of romance is about as dim as my desktop lamp on low would be an understatement.

I'm finding out that marital do-overs are much harder than the ones invoked during child's play. Would the damn ghost man just score already!!! SHEESH! Steal home or something!

Our marriage still seems to be struggling through this winter period. If you read this and think "Aw, not Tris and Cracy," then you haven't been following along with the program. Say a prayer for us. Drop us a line or a note to say you're thinking of us.

We're both committed to making this thing work. We're just not sure we have the right tools. And let's face it, those of you who know me know I ain't the master craftsman when tools of any kind are required to fix a broken thing.

Well, that's all for today, children. Indiana's winter was bearable, but this long winter of the soul is getting old.

How Things Are Supposed To Be

I used to think that Christians thought they had the market cornered on truth. And while that is still a major sticking point for me, I’ve encountered even more Christians who believe they know how things ought to be. Whether it’s a dyed-in-the-wool evangelical who believes colonial America was the utopia we should return to or the modern-day Nostradamus who knows what the future holds and wants to shape it with cookie-cutter precision, Christians want the world to know how things are supposed to be.

For instance, God never intended same-sex unions, planned parenthood, equal rights or stem cell research, so we should ignore the progresses of modern science, women, gay people and minorities. We should continue to step on the backs of the marginalized so that we—and I mean WASP-y middle class Americans—can attain our goals of 2.5 children, 2 cars, two thousand-plus square feet of living space and a dog we can kick when it seems that life is unfair and the world around us is going to hell in a handbasket.

What really irks me about many Christians is that they are often quick to offer the quick-fix formula of prayer, bible reading and quiet time, yet they usually can’t show results to prove its effectiveness. That formula written on a chalkboard would look something like this:


p+br+qt=by

The end result is a better you.

Formulas are nice if you’re an MIT student, but if you’re just a regular Joe struggling to get along in the world, they mean diddly-poo...the latter flung on a chalkboard ain't pretty. Besides, every religion in the world will tell you that some sort of quiet time including meditation or reflective prayer will give you inner peace. The problem results when inner peace doesn’t translate into a better you. If you step out of your “prayer closet” and cuss the first person or inanimate object that does you wrong, then your peace was way too fleeting. If you aren’t charitable, merciful, loving, compassionate and kind, then who cares how many Bible verses you can quote, how many days you can fast and pray or what you have to say about the state of society???

I’d like just a few more Christians to spend more time on introspection. Stay in that prayer closet just an hour longer and take a mirror in there with you! Get things in your own life straight before you tell everyone else how things should be. Jesus did say something about the log in your own eye.

I'm not sure how the world is supposed to be according to God's grand design, but the Bible does give me a pretty good picture of how Jesus was, how he lived and what kind of character he displayed. All I'm saying is that Christians should start to reflect Him and quit worrying about everyone and everything else. I'm just sayin'.

Miami, Here We Come!

THE COLTS ARE GOING TO THE SUPERBOWL!!!!

To say that I'm excited is an understatement. As a Colts fan for the last 24 years, I am beside myself with anticipation of the Indianapolis NFL franchise's first Vince Lombardi trophy.

It seems fitting that the Colts will face my childhood favorite Chicago Bears. Truth be told, I still rooted for the Bears through the mid-80's--yes, even the SuperBowl Shuffle team--while getting acclimated to my new team. But even through the Mike Pagel and Jeff George years, I faithfully supported the Indianapolis Colts and now this.

I cannot say enough about Tony Dungy, Peyton Manning and the entire Colts organization. They have proudly represented all that's right and good about my hometown. I was a proud Dungy supporter when he and I called Florida home because his Tampa Bay Bucs were always drafting players out of my alma mater, Florida State. When news broke of his move to Indy, I was elated. I knew that it was just a matter of time before he built a championship caliber team here, like he did in Tampa just a few years ago.

So bring on the Bears and the Miami Beach humidity!!! This is the year of the horse, no doubt about it!

GO COLTS!!!

Coach Knight's Untarnished Legacy

Photo: Sports Illustrated/CNN


Is it just me or do most, if not all, sports writers have an axe to grind with The General? Can we not just recognize his accomplishment for what it is and say "Congratulations Coach!"???

After reading one columnist in the local paper and two more columns on ESPN.com, I am getting a little irritated with the asterisks they want to place beside the winningest coach's record. Is it really that important where the record number was reached? I mean, he could be coaching at Central Connecticut State University for all I care. The man is a legend.

If we're going to put an asterisk beside something, how about we put a bold, 48-point font asterisk next to his dismissal by Indiana. In the footnotes, it would explain how Myles Brand was an arrogant boob out to ruin the famed basketball program in Bloomington. Were it not for Brand's larger-than-Mt. Everest ego, Knight might well have finished his career at I.U.

I'm sure all the Knight-bashers, most of whom get paid to write sports columns, would be quick to point to Knight's declining stats as I.U. Head Coach, but I believe the arrogance of the school's administration and their handling of the situation may have been part of the problem there, as well. Have you ever stayed a week, a month or a year too long at a job where the bosses made it known that they didn't personally care for you? Did your performance suffer or your attitude slide as a result?

I am just saying that for all the negative angles you can take to tarnish Knight's image and his accomplishments, the facts and the statistics speak for themselves.

I challenge any sports writer to take a survey of past Knight players--at Army, Indiana and Texas Tech--and see if the overwhelming majority don't have great things to say about their coach...about how he molded them as players, and more importantly as men, or about how he held academics to such a high standard and helped them to degrees/careers...etc.

So you have a problem with his tact or lack thereof...you don't like the way he addresses the media when they ask stupid questions or display a clear bias...you don't like the level of his intensity or how it is displayed courtside...fine! GET OVER IT!

I, like so many other Knight admirers, will cherish this moment in history and each record-increasing victory. Congratulations, Coach Knight!

The Bad Taste of Christianese

Have you ever eaten Chinese food only to have the aftertaste of MSG-saturated, mystery meat linger on your taste buds for hours? I’ll admit, I’m no fan of Asian cuisine, period. It may have more to do with my mom force feeding us Chop Suey out of a can and my suspicion about the ingredients than is truly warranted, but I usually hit a fast food drive-thru when the rest of my family wants Chinese food.

My avoidance of Chinese restaurants was recently bolstered by a bad experience at one. Similar negative experiences at church now have me wondering if I’ll begin avoiding them like the plague, too. Allow me to explain.

(Note: The churches in this story shall remain unnamed.)

I attended a Christmas play performed by the children at my parent’s church just over a week ago. It was your standard fare of “us versus the world,” evangelical mentality, focused more on what’s wrong with the world, and in this case politically-correct municipal government, than it was with the miraculous story of the Savior’s birth.

I was impressed that the pastor did not get up to preach before or after the play. That was pleasing and quite atypical for an Assemblies of God church. The pastor’s wife, however, felt the need to begin preaching after the show because no good AG service can end without a proper altar call. She went on and on about blood sacrifice, covenant relationship, Jesus’ atonement for our sins ad nauseum. I was disappointed. Why ruin a perfectly good performance by the kids at church—my niece as Angel #2 in the Nativity was a Tony-worthy performance—with Christianese? Did the pastor’s wife really think that people would accept the offer of Christ after a kid’s play??? It barely even touched on the Good News of Jesus!

A few days later, I attended a Christmas Eve Service with my parents at their old church. It wasn’t any better. Instead of a reverent Communion Service, we were surprised to find ourselves taking in a musical performed mostly by puppets. That’s right, I said puppets! It was like Jim Henson meets Jimmy Swaggart, only the latter would NEVER have approved of the music.

We heard rip-offs of everything from Jay-Z to Van Halen. When some long-haired puppets on instruments began performing a song called “Santa Claus” to the tune of Van Halen’s “Panama,” I almost got my girls and left the church. I laughed. I cried. It was the worst Christmas Eve Service ever!

At one point, I turned to my wife and my mother and bemoaned how I missed the Catholic Church. And right on cue, the pastor of the church—I’m not sure of their Protestant affiliation—got up and gave an altar call. Do I even need to question the relevance? Not even an on-the-fence heathen would have fallen heavenward from laughing so hard at the sight of a Sammy Hagar look-alike puppet singing “Santa Claus.”

Thanks to recent experiences at church, I now have the bad taste of Christianese in my mouth. It has lingered there now for days. I’ve tried everything from mouthwash to meditation, but cannot remove the foul flavor from my buds.

Truth be told, I’ll eat at 10 Chinese restaurants before I’ll visit either one of those churches again. I hate Christianese that much!

Jesus Was On NBC's Today Show!

Did you see him?

Jesus made a surprise appearance this morning on NBC's Today Show!

In the spirit of the holidays, Today Show producers decided to share a video from NBC's Minneapolis affiliate. It was part of a series called "Land of 10,000 Stories," an obvious play on the Minnesota state motto. The piece by KARE-TV's Boyd Huppert is called Art of Compassion and it painted a living portrait of Jesus. Who knew he lived in Utah?

The article hardly does justice to the video segment aired nationally by Today Show. It literally moved me to tears. Here is a woman, moved by compassion for others and her passion for the arts, who is being the earthly representation of an unearthly kind of Love.

If you read or have read the New Testament accounts of Jesus, then you know that he said to look for him in some unlikely places. Well, NBC found him on a farm in rural Utah, loving complete strangers and bringing healing to their inner wounds. I was humbled by the unlikely appearance.

In everything give thanks...

Today I am thankful for my wife...for her courage, strength, optimism, perseverence and her love.

Our marriage has overcome some mountainous obstacles, not the least of which was a seemingly insurmountable challenge we faced over the last six months. With God's grace, we made it over the summit and are carefully navigating the steep, rocky decent on the other side.

I am thankful that our marriage did not succumb, like so many others, to the perils of infidelity, insecurity, apathy, depression, grief or pride. We fought through as a united front to get to where we are today.

And though our next challenge was self-made, we face it with more courage, excitement and unity than we've ever had in our married life. I am thankful for this next adventurous leg of our journey, and that I have such a willing and competent partner with which to share it. I am doubly thankful for the two blessings we carry on this leg of the journey with us--namely Merikathryn and Makenna. For their sake, as much as ours, I am thankful that God helped us over the summit in September of this year.

Thanksgiving has a whole new meaning this year, like it did in 2001.

Because I have received so bountifully, I want to learn to be a more cheerful and active giver. Generosity has not always come so easy for me, but I am slowly learning. I hope that you, too, have plenty to be thankful for this holiday season. I also hope that you remember the poor and the downtrodden in your community. Don't let this opportunity pass to be a blessing to someone in need. That said, I encourage you with the following:


The Cheerful Giver
-----------------------------
But this I say: He who sows sparingly will also reap sparingly, and he who sows bountifully will also reap bountifully. So let each one give as he purposes in his heart, not grudgingly or of necessity; for God loves a cheerful giver. And God is able to make all grace abound toward you, that you, always having all sufficiency in all things, may have an abundance for every good work. As it is written (in Psalms 112:9):


He has dispersed abroad,
He has given to the poor;
His righteousness endures forever.

Now may He who supplies seed to the sower, and bread for food, supply and multiply the seed you have sown and increase the fruits of your righteousness, while you are enriched in everything for all liberality, which causes thanksgiving through us to God. (2 Corinthians 9: 6-11, NKJV)


Proverbs on Giving
------------------------------
Whoever gives to the poor will lack nothing,
but those who close their eyes to poverty will be cursed. (Prov. 28:27, NLT)

Blessed are those who are generous,
because they feed the poor. (Prov. 22:9, NLT)

He who oppresses the poor taunts his Maker,
But he who is gracious to the needy honors Him. (Prov. 14:31, NASV)

Those who shut their ears to the cries of the poor
will be ignored in their own time of need. (Prov. 21:13, NLT)

Human Trafficking? C'mon it's Slavery!

Let’s be real and just call a spade a spade, for once. Human trafficking is nothing more than modern-day slavery. The “trafficking” of human life in any era sickens me, whether it is Asian women sold today on the black market as prostitutes or the African male sold years ago as a slave. People are not disposable commodities to be bought and sold or traded for, period.

The fact that this is part of our American heritage saddens me. I hate that I cannot raise my daughters without facing this grotesque reality. Sure, while they are young, I can try to teach them to be colorblind and to treat all people as they would want to be treated, but the sad truth is, we’ll have to cross that bridge one day.

One day, when my daughters are old enough to understand and make rational judgments about such matters, I will have to explain to them what racism is and how it festers like an open wound on the soul of America. When my daughters hear racial slurs at school or one of them is taunted or teased for being 50% African-American, I will have to tell the story of slavery, discrimination and hate that mars our collective, national past.

I hate that.

I want my daughters to believe that all people are created equal like it says in our Declaration of Independence. I never want them to look down on others for reasons of race, religion, gender or nationality. I want them to learn how to love all people no matter how different they are. But in being honest with them, I have to teach them about our history. I have to let them know the events that have shaped our society. I have to let them know about the prejudices that helped to shape our family. Maybe they will learn not only from their parents’ and grandparents’ mistakes, but from the mistakes of our forefathers, as well.

I wish I could teach my girls to be colorblind, but history and society won’t allow it. Maybe their generation will finally put an end to slavery once and for all. And maybe, just maybe, they’ll have the courage to call things as they are, and not hide behind politically correct, yet morally reprehensible terms like “human trafficking.”

Your Florida Home Awaits!

Nestled on the oustkirts of Tallahassee on a canopy road is this 5-year-old, one owner home. It features a spacious 1900 sq.ft., split floor plan with four bedrooms and two full baths. Great location for schools--Canopy Oaks Elementary--and for shopping--two minutes from Oak Valley Publix, CVS and Dollar General and 10 minutes from Tallahassee Mall. Easy access to I-10 from Capital Circle or U.S. 27 (Monroe St).



Nearly half an acre with fenced back yard, room for pets to run and frontage on Old Bainbridge Road. Spacious two-car garage with room for an SUV and a family-sized sedan.

FOR SALE BY OWNER - $245,900

5069 Old Bainbridge Road

Call for appointment:

(850) 878-6893

Tree Hugger Homer

Okay, no one who knows me would ever label me a "tree hugger," a Homer for sure, but not an avid environmentalist. Still, my newfound appreciation for all that God is and all that He's given us, I find it a bit disturbing that societies as advanced as ours cannot deal with rampant pollution, raping of the earth's natural resources, and the like. We really need to get some kind of handle on our consumeristic, addictive tendencies, because right now we don't even have a grasp! But I cannot say it as well--or as humorously--as the writer of this article:

http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/5237038.stm

Thanks to my friend Roger in the UK for linking me to it!

The Wheeling Covered Bridge, near the farm, was built in 1877...pretty cool piece of history 

This is Cornutopia, btw! 

My great grandfather's farm house...beautiful but in need of repairs 

Francisco, IN...near Princeton (my birthplace) 

My grandparents on mom's side...buried at Fairview Presbyterian in Francisco, IN...near where my great aunt was buried last Friday 

Pics from my recent Indiana trip... 

My baby turns 5 today! Hard to believe, but she's got me wrapped right around her little finger! HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY SWEET GIRL!!! You are SO big and I'm SO proud of you! 

Indiana Wants Me...Can I Go Back There?

Having an emotional day--my last day in the town of my birth--as I prepare to leave for home in the morning. I haven't been back to Princeton in awhile and things have changed. At my great aunt's funeral this week, I found out that one of her two surviving siblings has a controlling share of my great grandfather's farm. His plans are to demolish the age-old farmhouse and reconstruct a new one on the site. Many of my relatives and I wish that he'd just restore Grandpa Dunning's homeplace, so that we can continue to reminisce every October at the Dunning reunion held on that property.

Besides my uncle's plans to alter this family icon and place of so many childhood memories for me, the entire area is undergoing change. Many farms have sold their mineral rights to a strip mining company who is raping the land for it's rich coal. For those not familiar with this type of mining, it pretty much destroys the landscape. So instead of green fields of corn and beans as far as the eye can see, there are mounds of dirt, clay and coal within a mile of my family's farm.

Adding to my melancholy, many of the town's old homes and buildings have been let go or simply demolished due to lack of funds or interest in historic preservation. In fact, the McConnell home downtown where I first learned to tie my shoelaces is no longer there. That took me by surprise during an early morning walk on Friday. The town square looks ratty...hardly the proper backdrop to a classic courthouse that is one of the few historic places being adequately maintained.

I wish I had unlimited funds to purchase the family farm from my great uncle and do something to help boost the local economy, preserve more of the town's rich history and relocate back in the place my grandparents all called home (and several generations before that on mom's side).

Call it nostalgia or whatever, but I've got this pull back to my roots that I can't explain. If only I could afford to move back here....more on this topic once I get the pictures that I took today developed (didn't bring my digital camera with me like I shoulda)...

Fathers' Day Tribute to Bowden

In honor of Fathers’ Day which just ended about an hour ago, I wanted to take a moment to reflect on my favorite pastime, watching FSU Football. This is an appropriate reflection for post-Fathers’ Day since the coaching staff of my favorite college team boasts a famous father-son tandem. All I have to say is Bowden, and every football fan in the country knows the family name. If only the word nepotism carried the same recognition value by the elder Bowden. If you know anyone in the FSU Athletics Office, you might want to pass along this definition and the proper phonetic pronunciation of the word (ne-PO-tism):

Favoritism shown or patronage granted to relatives, as in business.

You see, Bobby’s son Jeff serves as a receivers coach and co-offensive coordinator (co- because he couldn’t do the job himself). He’s languished for years in the role of play-caller and overall architect of the Seminole offense. The underlying fear among the Seminole faithful is that Bobby will put a vote of confidence in his son as successor if the wily ol’ veteran ever retires. Dadgum if that don’t beat all!

As an FSU alum and 18 year supporter of everything garnet and gold, I am downright scared about the next season with the junior Bowden in the coaches’ box, headset on ready! I’ve been following the “Fire Jeff Bowden” bandwagon as it fills and refills each season (or after each loss). I’m concerned that its movement seems to stall about December 1st every year, after the disappointment of yet another sub-par season fades away.

I want to keep the momentum going lest FSU officials feel that things in the Seminole Nation have calmed and that the tribe is one. We cannot rest easy knowing that another season looms just over the horizon. The excitement of Seminole Saturday Nights (and the occasional Thursday) is about to light up the west side of Tallahassee. Thousands of warpaint-clad fanatics will clamor for seats inside the Bowden castle so they can go hoarse doing the fearful warchant. And yet, we’ll still have to suffer through countless 3rd and long situations and drive-killing, mind-numbing reverses. Again, we’ll watch the Bowden braintrust abandon the run quicker than Weatherford can say “hike!” And, again, we’ll hear senior Bowden make the same, weary excuses for junior.

If you care one iota about FSU football, you’ll help me man the bandwagon that will hopefully steer Jeffy to a faraway place where football is merely an extracurricular exercise. Don’t let the pressure up. Visit my friends at www.hirejeffbowden.com and show your true Seminole pride!

Oh, and Happy Belated Fathers’ Day to dads everywhere!!!

Defending the Bridegroom?

I've considered myself a Christian since childhood, but only got serious about the cause of Christ at age 18. During my adulthood, I've witnessed many well-meaning, and not so well, but misguided attempts by those who believe they've cornered the market on truth and discernment to correct the rest of us. These self-appointed defenders of the faith--of absolute Truth--have made it their life's mission to point out the fallacy, the error, the downright blasphemy and heresy of those who don't hold to the same absolutes, propositions or interpretations of Scripture as them.

Lately, I've had a run in with a number of these hypocritical and hypercritical people. Since stepping out into this mysterious conversation often termed the E.C. (for emerging church or emergent conversation), I've been called everything from a weak-minded twit to a dangerous heretic. And not that insults hurled at me by anonymous online do-gooders really do much lasting damage, but I get tired of having the same debates over and over again.

Most recently, a forum that I participate in was singled out by a rogue, rightwing unit of the Calvary Chapel denomination, called Apostasy Alert. The leader claims that me and my online cohorts were trying to take the modern church back to the Dark Ages and Romanize evangelical Christianity all over again. The message thread was about one woman's nostalgic use of the rosary, a family heirloom, to aid her in contemplative prayer. The discussion was blown way out of proportion by the leader of Apostasy Alert and taken out of context to support her anti-Catholic rhetoric.

But I don't mean to single out one organization. There are thousands just like it in every denomination of Christianity. Want proof? Just Google the phrases "false teacher" or "false prophet" and you'll get over 20 million and 9.7 million hits respectively. Yes, I said million.

I understand that these people/organizations stake their tents to the Pauline warnings against false teachings (see 2 Cor. or 1 Tim.), but honestly who appointed them as God's watchdogs? When does Paul's letter to a first century church or a young disciple override the commands of the Christ to "love your enemies?" In Matthew 7 and Luke 6, Jesus tells the hypocritical defenders of the Torah to take care of the speck in their own eye. And wouldn't alleged heretics and apostates fall under the category of "enemies" to Christianity? So when do we turn the other cheek? Only if admitted pagans and heathens speak against us?

My problem with these defenders of Truth goes even further. Since when does God need any human to jump to His defense? Isn't Jesus the Bridegroom? Why on earth would a bridegroom need to rely on his bride to defend his honor, let alone the Bridegroom who is Christ???

If these self-appointed watchdogs, loaded to bear with Scriptures and ready to cut-and-paste at a moment's notice, were to put a tithe of their time and energy into actually helping a widow, a prisoner or an orphaned child, wouldn't they be exponentially more fulfilled? They might actually find the Jesus they're so worried about defending. We need more love and grace in the world, not millions of self-rightious do-gooders hellbent on making sure everyone understands how wrong, lost or hellbound they are!