Things I heard from the lady in front of me on my flight from Dallas to Huntsville a couple of weeks ago

"I told you everybody wanted to go to Alabama; this is the first full flight I've been on today."

"We were in Billings, Montana and there was snow everywhere. We were two hours late leaving the airport 'cause of the snow -- it's just weird for there to be snow anywhere -- this is May!"

"I wouldn't live anywhere else in the world. I grew up in Miami, but you can find a better place than Northwest Alabama. When I turn on my road off Highway 72, everything else just disappears; the rest of the world stays behind as I go up my mountain."

"Five dollars for a beer is pretty steep. I can get a six-pack at home for $4.95."

It was after this last statement that the gentleman sitting next to me asked me if I was getting some good material. Somewhat embarrassed, I told him I was and that I too was from northwest Alabama, so I wasn't recording her words to poke fun; rather, it for my amusement, reminding me of the dedicated love people have for their homelands, wherever it may be. He and I ended up talking the whole flight and shared some great conversation; he worked with his church's youth group and we talked shop, so to speak.

The lady in front of me had been in Montana for a while and couldn't wait to get home to her little mountain in Tuscumbia, birthplace of Helen Keller by the way (20-30 minutes from my hometown of Florence). I've been meaning to mention put her quotes on my blog since I wrote them down and didn't get a chance to until today. I laughed to myself as I was jotting them down because overhearing her conversation and what she was saying was one of those moments that took me back and reminded me of home. Wherever I go, wherever I live, whatever I learn, and whatever I become, I think there will always be a part of Florence that feels like home; at least I hope so. And things like that lady said, though unfortunately stereotypical of Alabamians and a rigid stance of it being one of the few (if not the only) place in the world that's not gone to pot completely, remind me of the things that I would list about Alabama that make it so great, though I would (again) be more restrictive with my superlatives. The greenery, the trees, the drive down my street to my house, the feel of my house, downtown Florence, the Tennessee River, the parks. It's nice to be reminded of that, especially from a lady sitting in front of you on a plane who had no clue the nostalgia she was providing for a young man behind her.

Redeeming HDTV

With a new TV in our house, one that is extremely tempting to plop down in front of for long periods of time, I've been wrestling with justifying my increased time spent on the couch. Most of it is due to the NBA Playoffs; I'll watch most of the games, especially since I can do so in high definition; of course, any Spurs game is a given. As I've written before, the Discovery Channel in HD is spectacular and gripping. Yes, strange as it seems, I find it gripping. As I watching last week, I saw a commercial for a program called "Sunrise Earth" airing at 6:00 am each weekday. This guy shoots video of nature all around the country (possibly the world, though I'm unsure) and they broadcast it for an hour; no speaking, no special effects, a caption every now and then, and some of the most gorgeous nature captured on film.

I decided to attempt to begin my days with this show, taking in the creation and hoping to propel myself to get going earlier than I'd gotten in the habit of doing. The plan was to start slowly (apologies for those who don't enjoy reading my thought processes), just getting up and watching the show, catching the beginning of Sportscenter, showering, blogging, and then heading to work. I hoped to build to starting my day with "Sunrise Earth" by watching creation, then running through creation to get some exercise, and then getting ready for the rest of the day.

And this morning my hopes began to be realized. I got up, watched some footage of the Acadia National Forest or Park in Maine and ran for 20-25 minutes with Malachi. I don't know if this is an attempt to help justify or rationalize a big purchase (even though I didn't spend a dime on it) or doing the same for my viewing, but I like to think it's using what's available and looking for God's hand in it. Many times I need outside sources of motivation to get things done; I guess my first inclination is to procrastinate and have to overcome that. But what better way to wake up to a day full of possibilities than with God's creation displayed in grandeur. It's a reminder of his greatness and creativity, which he longs to express through each of us.

Anyway, I found myself singing "Knowing You" this morning; not sure how that popped in my head, but the verses especially are wonderful:

All I once held dear, built my life upon
All this world reveres and wars to own
All I once thought gain I have counted loss
Spent and worhless now, compared to this

Now my heart's desire is to know you more
To be found in you and known as yours
To possess by faith what I could not earn
All surpassing gift of righteousness

Oh to know the power of your risen life
And to know you in your sufferings
To become like you in your death my Lord
So with you to live and never die

Chorus:
Knowing you, Jesus, knowing you
There is no greater thing
You're my all, you're the best
You're my joy, my righteousness
And I love you Lord

Extending hope

I did one of the most refreshing and exciting things for myself, not only as part of my ministry but for my heart and soul, yesterday afternoon: I went to an advisory board meeting for Urban Connection. If you are familiar with Dallas Central Ministries, then you have a grasp at what UC is about and doing; they were planted in San Antonio a few years ago by DCM, with dreams establishing a similar ministry for our city. One of the moms of some teens in my youth group is part of this board and invited me to go with her to this meeting; I've been wanting to get down there and find out how to get involved, so I was really excited to get to be a part of it, especially since the meeting scheduled a couple of weeks ago got cancelled; I started wondering if this was going to be another great idea that didn't materialize.

Urban Connection is located in two two-bedroom apartments in the Lincoln Heights Courts area of San Antonio, a government-funded neighborhood/barrio. It's not that physically appealling; it's got drug and prostitution problems; it can be scary; a couple of the members at Northside who are cops can't believe that we have women and teens go down there and deliver food -- it's got a horrible reputation. To me, as legitimate as their concerns are and in no way do I doubt them, I find their concern presenting an even stronger appeal for God's presence in that place. And we, his people, serve as his presence. Of all the places that we need to catch up with God and join him in his mission, it's there.

UC is doing several things for the community to serve and be a positive presence in the lives of the residents. They have a food pantry and clothes closet; they have an after-school program for children through teens involving mentoring from volunteers (which one of the community college districts just volunteered to incorportate into a leadership track of studies for their students in the fall); they host a summer Kids' Kamp; they host Bible studies; occasionally teen groups will come down for a week for what's called Urban Experience, which involves living in their building for a week with only the basics that most residents have, complete with power outages and food shortages; there are several other things done through the organization that I'm not aware of to list, but it's the kind of thing that cheers my heart. It's incarnational; it's moving into the neighborhood to love and be merciful and gracious. It's joining with those run-down by life or circumstances or bad choices or sheer rebellion or being born into a tough place to live -- it's being a neighbor and loving that neighbor because that's the kind of people we are being made into.

I'm excited for myself, my teens, their families and our church about the possibilities this summer. This is the type of thing I've been looking, praying and longing to do in this youth ministry. I want to get beyond our walls. I want to see beyond our circumstances. I want to teach by doing, not through words. I want to love the poor, the unfortunate, the downtrodden, the mistreated, the ones who can't catch a break.

I want to do this because I know I'll find God there, already working, already moving, already active. One of the things I've read about these types of ministries (and maybe all ministries) is that one shouldn't go in with the attitude, "I'm bringing God to these people." What one will find is a missional God, though unseen to our eyes, already at work and waiting for us to join him to flesh out his hands and feet. Though a certain hopelessness may exist in places such as these, I believe a longing to hope in something dwells within as well. That longing is sought out in many forms and fashions; but as Peter said, "Why would we leave you? You have the words of life." We have been given by our Creator God the same creativity to bring hope to miserable circumstances and share in a journey to our loving Maker, learning how to love as he does.

God, bless Leslie and the volunteers from within and outside who are out of the salt shaker and into the world. Bring your justice and mercy to the people of Lincoln Heights Courts. Cleanse the hearts of your people and convict us to carry out your love to our communities. Give us your strength and boldness. Protect us as we're empowered with bravery and courage to fight the battles waged not against flesh and bone. Open our eyes to your work and grant us, in your generosity, the joy to join with you in extending hope, creating beauty and manifesting your love.

Partying with outcasts

The more I read the Gospels and the things Jesus said and did, the more I'm struck by the contrast of his being and mine, all the while encouraged that I can become like him. I'm almost finished with The Shaping of Things to Come, one of those books that pushes, challenges, and inspires, and I came across a great line last week that's continued to reverberate between my ears.

"Jesus was notorious (emphasis mine) for being at the wrong place with the wrong people."

His holiness drew people to him; his boldness and honesty for a godly lifestyle made people want to follow him -- and I mean a godly lifestlye in the sense of gracious, loving, accepting, humble and respectful. Too many times godliness is viewed from the lists in Paul's letters about what to do and not to do, instead of understanding and practicing the totality of Jesus' lifestyle from the Gospels first. Read through the Sermon on the Mount and notice how many things that Jesus says are bothersome or seem too difficult to really do.

For instance, I've talked about turning the other cheek in my middle and high school classes several times. I ask about this teaching and way of acting and usually get a response like this: "But you can't let people walk all over you," " But if they keep on doing it you can fight back," or "I don't think he means it literally." Please don't push these responses aside by saying, "They're just teens." I think they reflect in their responses the true struggle that exists to follow Jesus' upside-down thinking -- "You've heard it said...but I tell you..." I struggle with it; it's amazing the reasons I come up with for those texts to not apply to my circumstances.

It causes me to consider Jesus in even grander ways and terms than I'd previously used or thought.

He really was extraordinary.
What he said really goes against everything I seem naturally inclined to do.
And he lived out those words and ideas.

He enjoyed partying with the outcasts of society. He even brought his pupils along -- I can imagine the reaction of parents and others at church if I was taking teens to hang out with HIV/AIDS patients, prostitutes, personal-injury lawyers (don't they seem to have the tax collector reputation of old?), welfare-dependents, homosexuals, drug dealers, etc. The outcasts flocked to him. The religious ones killed him. The wrongs committed against him by humanity, outcasts and religious, were forgiven; he came not to condemn the world, but to save the world.

Not to condemn the world, but to save it. That blows me away. It is much more difficult to join God in salvation projects when condemning is easier. Joining him in the salvation of the world means getting into it and carrying ourselves with a holiness and godliness that fleshes out a mysterious, loving Creator, full of grace and truth. They will know us by our love.

City quiz

This was the second time I took it and apparently changed some of my answers. The first time, I had Boston, San Diego, San Francisco, D.C., and Honolulu as my top five. I don't mind these, though I'd prefer San Diego and Honolulu to D.C. and Philadelphia.

American Cities That Best Fit You:

75% San Francisco

70% Washington, DC

65% Boston

60% New York City

60% Philadelphia

Which American Cities Best Fit You?

Greater value than gold and rubies

I decided yesterday that I'm going to attempt to begin each day with this question: How will I change the world today? I don't know if I'll come up with an answer or even remember to ask myself that question, but I want to try. As I finish reading The Shaping of Things to Come, I'm chomping more and more at the bit of the radical, the imaginative, the cutting edge and the risk-it-all mindset of innovation and mission for church. I still don't know what that will look like in my setting or the possibilities that exist there, but I want to try something. The walls of my office seem to close in around me and drain the motivation and desire to be an agent of change in the here and now. That's one reason the summer is so much fun, even with its busyness: I'm out, I'm doing, I'm involved in missions -- from camps to late night movies to lock-ins and so much more. It's exciting and tiring, but I feel productive -- and that's another post in itself, the pressure felt to be productive at all times, somtimes at any cost.

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I was reading in Proverbs a little this morning, going through my Bible focusing on the verses I'd underlined. Most all of them had to do with wisdom: the pursuit of it, the blessings from it, the God-givenness of it. As great as wisdom is, there still exists room for the unknown beyond wisdom and understanding; there are things that, though wisdom is pursued, gained and used, may not ever be grasped -- and it's ok for that to be. This serves as a great reminder to an analytical person like myself, that all the analysis in the world about circumstances, feelings, settings, ideas, dreams, goals and life as a whole will not necessarily lead to a cut-and-dry answer; it goes back to necessity of mystery in the midst of our "Just the facts, Ma'am" world. So after reading verse after underlined-verse of wisdom bringing joy and being of greater value than gold and rubies, the final verses I'd underlined in the book are in 30:18-19, which read in the New Living Translastion,

There are three things that amaze me --
no, four things I do not understand:
how an eagle glides through the sky,
how a snake slithers on a rock,
how a ship navigates the ocean,
how a man loves a woman.

In seeking God, he says we will find him; our pursuits will not be in vain. Wisdom will be given and granted; his truth will be showered upon us. Yet he still resides in mystery; there are things our minds cannot yet grasp. This is another tension with which we wrestle and live and receive grace: wisdom and mystery. In this world but not of this world. Eternal hope but not yet there. Sealed but constant transformation.

The beauty of flight is astounding. The smoothness of movement is breathtaking. The creations of mankind as they interact with the creations of our God are magnificent. The stirrings and rhythms of the heart, as it beats and breaks and swells and loves...captivating.

The four S's of an Alabama trip

Sunburn: I flew out to Alabama this past Thursday to spend the weekend with my family, celebrating my brother's college graduation. I found out that Mars Hill, my high school, was playing that Friday in the Final Four for soccer. Luke, Bethany, and I made the hour trip to Huntsville to watch the semifinal games that morning. This was the third time for both the girls and boys teams to make it to the Final Four. In my sophomore year of high school, we won the semifinals 3-0, but lost in the championship 4-2. Anna and Bethany were on the girls team that lost in the championship the year they made it. Anyway, it was exciting for both our guys and girls teams to both be there. And they both won to advance to the finals the following day. The games we saw Friday were both great (3-2 win for the girls and 4-1 win for the guys), even with the sun shining brightly down on us as I sat unprotected in the bleachers. So I spent the rest of my weekend with a red face and forehead; it is now peeling, which is kind of bothersome -- especially since I'm preaching Sunday. Luke's graduation was Saturday, so we didn't get to go to the finals; both teams lost, the girls 4-0 and the guys in a heartbreaking sudden death shootout, 5-4. Ahh, but it was fun to watch the beautiful game.

Seremony: Luke's graduation was a little over two hours long. The governor of Alabama gave the commencement address and did a good job; he talked no longer than 15 minutes. It was neat to watch Luke walk across the stage, shake hands with several of the important people on stage and receive a diploma for his studies. I remember that my graduation didn't seem as long to me as it did to those in attendance; it actually seemed to go pretty quickly. Luke didn't have that opinion about his own; he too thought it was boring. When my phone had reception in the gym, I read a few articles on espn.com to pass the time. I also read the order of the ceremony as well as the graduates names too many times to recall. But my bro's a college grad now and the answer to the question of what he will now be doing is, "Travelling for a year." He's going to spend the next 13 months visiting each state for about a week each. He's already got the first 25 mapped out, which he'll be tackling June 2005-December 2005. It was odd telling him goodbye at the airport and saying, "I guess I'll see you in Boston." Some friends and I are going to Boston for Labor Day weekend, which is when Luke's going to be there.

Silliness: Sunday afternoon after church, lunch and a movie (Kicking and Screaming, which was enjoyable, light and funny -- I love Will Ferrel), Luke, Bethany and I went to a park to throw frisbee and kick the soccer ball around. We first went down by the river to McFarland, but the grass there had sticky-burs (the little sticky things you get all over your socks and shoes sometimes when walking through the woods). It did not work playing barefoot in the grass there, so we went to another one (Deibert Park), which was perfect. The wind didn't help us with the frisbee, but we had fun throwing it and juggling the soccer ball. Then Luke started doing flips; Bethany did front-handsprings; Adam watched, for the beginning anyway. Bethany wanted to learn to do a back-flip and I wanted to try front-handsprings while Luke was going to attempt doing a front-flip without using his hands and arms. So Bethany and I stood in place for minutes, starting and stopping our attempts. Luke would take off running, skip like he was going to try it, but stop. Finally, Bethany tried to jump backwards, but pretty much just fell on her back. I then tried a couple of handstands to get used to that feel, followed by a couple of attempts at something I thought would be fun and cool, even though it scared me. The first time I didn't even do a flip; I went up and came back down on my feet. The next time I did a marvelous face-plant in the the ground, jamming my face and neck and leaving Luke and Bethany rolling in the grass laughing extremely hard. I never did land on my feet on my attempts, but it's coming. I did land on my back a couple of times pretty hard, but it was fun. I'm sure people walking around enjoyed it as well.

Selebrity: On my flight back, I travelled from Huntsville to Dallas, Dallas to San Antonio. About half way into the flight to Dallas, I got my pen out to do a little writing. When I removed the top, ink squirted all over my notebook and the tray. I'm not sure what happened, if the pressure had built up and the ink shot through a hole, but it would be more accurate to call it a gush instead of a leak. I put the pen away and went back to sleeping. The pen thing turned out to be a good thing, though. As I boarded my flight to San Antonio and walked past the first class seating, I noticed a familiar face: that guy looks like John Thompson, I thought. (John Thompson was a basketball coach at Georgetown for many years, a great coach at that; he is now a basketball analyst for TNT.) I noticed his legs were pressed up against the seat in front of him, which one usually doesn't see in first class. I smiled and nodded at him as I walked by, to which he did the same, with a look I thought said, "Yes, you recognize me and I thank you for not saying anything to me." I knew he'd called the Dallas-Phoenix game the previous night for TNT and could be headed down to S.A. to call the Spurs game the next night. Everything was confirmed when I got to the baggage claim area and saw a driver with a sign that read "John Thompson." I walked outside to wait for my ride, but stepped back in for a second to see if he'd been picked up yet, which he hadn't. I went back outside and did see him getting into a car from a distance. As far as the pen thing goes, I might have considered finding him and asking him for an autograph, but knowing it was not safe to do so kept me from it. I will admit that the thought crossed my mind that I should've found him anyway, asked for his autograph, handed him my pen which would've shot ink all over him, and hoped he would mention the incident as he called the game the next night. I could hear it, "I had such an odd thing happen to me yesterday; some young man asked me for an autograph at the airport and gave me an exploding pen. Darndest thing, stupid guy. I mean, if you're going to get an autograph, use a working pen!" And I could've told my friends, "That was me! I was the stupid guy at the airport!" But, alas, I walk away only with the story of being on the same plane as the guy, which isn't that great a story to begin with.

Sunburn. Seremony. Silliness. Selebrity. The four s's you experience in a weekend getaway to Alabama. I think I'll cend that in to the Tourism offise.

So many things going on

My roommate Will proposed to his girlfriend Friday night, thus making her his fiance now (she said yes). He surprised her with an evening on the River Walk and Tower of the Americas (their first date) instead of going to a rehearsal dinner as told to her. Several of their family and friends met at Rio Rio for dinner and waited for them to walk over from the Tower to congratulate and celebrate with them. Glenna was beaming the whole evening; those of us waiting at the restaurant were a surprise, too. Will did very well. It was incredibly encouraging to see their joy, knowing what they've been through together and apart and how faithful God has been to reveal them to each other to be together.

With it official that Will is now moving out (we don't know when), the guys did a bit of grieving, but in a way only guys can. I went with Malachi to buy a TV Saturday since we've been using Will's in the living room; with its departure looming, Mal figured it was time to go ahead and get one himself. The house now has a whopper of a TV, spanning way too many inches to mention in this post. We watched the Spurs game last night and I actually caught a pass from Tony Parker and had some of Tim Duncan's sweat get on me as I brushed against him to catch the alley-oop. Or something like that; I really felt as if I were there.

With High Definition and a new cable package, we have access to the few channels that are broadcasting in HD, one of which is the Discovery Channel. I've never been a Discovery watcher, but their programming is outstanding when watching in HD. Lions, tigers, bears, tree frogs, tropical islands, storms, cows (some with some odd sort of painted-branding...), festivals, and so much more are documented and suck you in, to the point that I started flipping through the menu to find out which show was coming on next. It's the Discovery Channel!! Good grief. I know there's a lot of nerd in me, but this has nothing to do with it. Come over sometime and watch it and see for yourself. Fascinating stuff.

I also got to watch European soccer. I've never followed the European leagues, other than the occasional highlights and checking of the Champions' League standings. Fox has a channel called the Fox Soccer Channel, which is devoted to soccer broadcasts, so I got to watch a French League game. As far as club soccer goes, the European leagues are top class. All the best players in the world want to play there, whether English Premier, the Spanish Liga, the Italian, German, or French Leagues, it's like the NBA or MLB for soccer. The game was so smooth and rhythmic, not choppy and long-ball like in the U.S., though MLS is getting much better. It was refreshing to watch, especially with the World Cup around the corner next year.

As exciting as all that was (and continues to be in the case of the TV), the weekend wasn't all hunky-dory. I wasn't with my Mom for Mother's Day. And on top of that, her mom (Grandma) has been in the hospital since Friday. The doctors are still not sure what they're going to do; one wants to do a biopsy on a lung to make sure it's not anything, while the other would like to treat it with medication, figuring that surgery would bring on more problems than there currently are. Mom and Aunt Cathy got to spend time with her in the hospital, though, and she was much more comfortable than she'd been in previous weeks with the care and meds they were giving her. But it still stinks that she's got to be there. I will be seeing them at the end of this week, though, as I travel home for Luke's graduation, so that's a nice consolation.

And one of the grandmother's of a couple of my teens passed away Friday. I'm going to the visitation this evening to see them. One of the guys is a junior and the other is an eighth-grader -- there's also a college freshman girl in that family; my heart hurts for them and wants to help however I can. She was such a godly woman, a true lady in its finest sense; she was a wonderful grandmother to them.

And there are a couple of other situations I can't write about that break my heart for different people and different reasons. I've always hated how so many teens have to face such awful circumstances through no fault of their own. It really ticks me off at Satan and his croonies. Jerk. Really. We are in the midst of battles raging around and within. Attacks come constantly. Yet his presence exists throughout; his hand is on us, holding us, whether felt or not, known or not, acknowledged or not. It still hurts, but he still heals.

I'm realizing that while I often feel this time of year (April/May) that I'm not too productive, I'm constantly processing things in my head that are extremely exhausting, preparing for Senior Sunday, then the interns arrival, and then the summer. And then the school year. And I don't even have a wife and family to consider. I don't know how those of you who have families do it. I was talking with a good friend of mine last night about our respective parents and how they did all they did with four kids: mine moving from Brazil to the States with four under the age of seven, hers moving many times to many places with the military, both treating all their children with love and special attention, knowing how to interact with each as she or he needed. Wow. So please don't take this as overwhelming; I realize my plate could look a lot larger. I was just reminded that just because things don't seem to be physically productive, the mental checklists I'm going through and creating and marking off are things I need to be doing.

Which reminds me that this too shall pass. God's taking care of me and things are going to work out, not by my strength but through his working in me and in many others.

Up and down we continue.

Residual effects

Flossing is not something I enjoy doing. I don't know many people who claim that as an all-time favorite. Though it doesn't really take that long, it seems so bothersome to do. And so, for most of my life, excluding the first five days after each visit to the dentist, I haven't flossed and -- as far as I knew until this past week -- it hadn't affected me.

I went to the dentist on Wednesday for the first time since I'd moved to San Antonio. I had taken about a three year break from doing so, completely because I never made an appointment. Or picked a dentist from my insurance's list of people I could go to. Mom lovingly encouraged me the past couple of years (in ways only moms can) by asking how my plans for making a dental appointment were going. I almost made it a New Year's resolution this year, but knew if I did it wouldn't be until 2006 at the earliest that I actually completed it; it was turned into an unofficial resolution -- "Ok, Mom, I'll do that within the first three months this year." So I was off a couple. But, and this is so strange, I was proud of myself for booking the appointment and finally going -- like I'm a big kid now -- that's just strange and I can't believe I just wrote that.

I've never really enjoyed going to the dentist for a couple of reasons. First, I don't like the sharp-thing they use to scrape my teeth; I've always been afraid someone would accidentally pull out a tooth with a quick swoosh of said instrument. Secondly, and this is the main reason, is because going to the dentist always felt like a test I was going to take and knew there was no way to bluff my way through it. I've always been a great test-taker, regardless of the amount of time I'd studied -- and I usually did prepare at least a little for each test in school. The dentist was another story; I knew I couldn't go in and tell them I'd been flossing -- they knew. There was no way to hide it or write around it or guess through it or distract them with fancy talk/writing, whatever. They can probably tell what I'd been eating for the past six months. Anyway, I always went in with a sense of defeat, as well as preparing to be scolded and made to feel guilty for not doing what I should've been doing.

(Do ever wonder if this is what it will be like before God? I have and think it's similar in some ways and others not. The fact that nothing will be hidden is accurate, I think. As far as scolding and guilt go, I'm not sure how that will be assuaged, but I know that grace will abound and there will be redemption, a transforming of the ugly into the magnificent. How that's played out, I've no clue. But I'm very curious about the concept of saved by grace, judged by works -- that God saves us, but holds us accountable for what we've done; not salvation by works, but very similar to wheat and chaff: the good is kept, the other is destroyed. That probably deserves its own post.)

Anyway, I came out of my appointment with another appointment to get two cavaties filled. I've got three or four other spots that he's going to watch, which he says could get better if I regularly floss, which I've been doing.

I'm now reaping the consequences of events that have been years in the making. The things I do now do have an effect on my future. By not flossing for so many years, I now get to spend money on two fillings and possibly more! I've got no one to blame but myself. And I'm ok with that. I understand. It makes sense. The actions I take in the present will reap some harvest in the future, whether for good or ill. By not flossing, I've been planting seeds of destruction in my teeth, which are now producing a need to be dealt with before more harm is done. Which leads me to consider what other kinds of seeds I'm planting and what their effects might be. Are there seeds of trust? Of joy? Of friendship? Of love? Of goodness and peace and forgiveness? Of grace and hope?

In a way, I'm reminded of Epic and a thought Eldredge considers about God's love. As great as our God is, he took (and takes) such a grand risk in love. He loves his creation and offers his love to us, risking our rejection of it. He gave and gives us the choice to love or not. And he risks it all. Though it is not a stagnant invitation, though along with the offer he romances and blesses and woos and sprinkles his very being in everything around us, he does not force. He does not manipulate. And he's not making a sales-pitch. He offers life-as-it-should-be. He offers redemption of the mess we've made. He offers his presence in the midst of the mundane, the pain, the sorrow, the heartache. And he's given us that same power: to extend his grace, his presence, his love, his peace, his joy. Not by force, but by freedom. We give, we offer, we love without strings, without vengence, without walls, as he has done for us. And the more we accept his offer and invitation, the more swept away we are by his holiness; the more like him we become; the better acquainted we are with his music and we in turn extend the invitation to his dance of life to our world.

Finding his rhythm of life sets us free amidst the fallenness of our world to join him in the redemption of it.

Basketball rantings

I stayed up last night watching the Spurs defeat the Nuggets for a 3-1 lead in the first round of the NBA playoffs. They won in overtime and the game wasn't over until past one o'clock Central Time. Not only did the overtime contribute to the length of the game, but the officiating (especially in the third quarter) was awful. Grant it, the refs have tough jobs and from what little soccer officiating I've done (games involving 8-10 year olds are not as intense, for the kids anyway, as an NBA game -- the parents are a different story) I know I wouldn't want their jobs. Yet, against both teams, atrocious calls were made. Phantom calls were made. To make matters worse, there were calls that seemed so obvious that went unnoticed, which made each time they blew their whistles that much more bothersome.

I can deal with bad officiating and missed calls; that happens. Playing sports you learn that some games they'll go your way, some games they won't. For the most part, it evens out. What really got to me last night was watching the attitudes expressed by some of the players for the Nuggets, especially Carmelo Anthony. Coming in last year, he was heralded with LeBron James as the new face of the NBA, a great young player with star quality from the outset. He had a great year last year, arguably better than James' Rookie of the Year-award winning season; Melo went to the playoffs, too. Over the summer, there were several incidents that set Anthony up for some falling out with the public and his image: pouting about playing time with the Olympic team; appearing in a questionable DVD with shady people; being caught with a small amount of marijuana in a carry-on bag, belonging to someone else; hurting his ankle near the preseason, which didn't allow him to get off to a great start and allowing questions to arise about his toughness and commitment.

Through all of that, I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I wanted him to succeed. While I was never a fan of his during his one year of college due to not following the regular season closely, he seemed to be a good player, a likeable person, and was contributing to a winning team -- surely that's got to count for something. But watching him play this series, my mind's changing. He, along with two other Nuggets, clocked Manu Ginobili near the end of Game 3, not in a "this is the playoffs" type of foul, but a "we're frustrated because we don't know how to stop you" kind of way. It was ugly and he got thrown out of the game for it. The reaction? Ginobili plays out of control and Melo is getting fouls. Game 4 saw more trips to the free throw line for Anthony (14) than in the previous three games combined (10). Sure, he was more aggressive and posted up more often; but some of the fouls he got called his way gave the appearance of shady business.

What really got to me, though, was the way he, along with Kenyon Martin and a couple of other Denver players, carried himself and his attitude through the game. Martin fouls out, yells in frustration, pouts, makes a big commotion, and stays on the court (knowing it was his sixth and final foul) until he is escorted off. In striking contrast, Tim Duncan is called for his sixth foul, even though he did NOTHING to make Anthony slip as he turned towards the basket -- didn't even touch him! -- and he pulls at his jersey, jumps around in frustration a bit (without the scowl, though), but then gathers his teammates together to leave them with the charge, specifically Tony Parker, "You've got to win this game. You can win this game. Finish it out." It wasn't about him; it was about the team. He above all players should've have been frustrated with some of the fouls called against him, but he carried himself in such a classy, responsible manner. And that foul -- it seemed that since it was Carmelo with the ball and he ended up on the ground, he needed to go to the free throw line.

The reaction to the fouls called is understandable, but as the third quarter developed, they had to sense that that's how things were going to be called and it needed to be dealt with, not whined about or made into a spectacle. A couple of times after play was stopped I saw Anthony giving a little cheap shot at Bowen, seemingly trying to get him riled up. That bothers me. It bothers me that that's how he and some of his teammates play. It bothers me more that the league lifts Carmelo up as a great treasure and commentators talk about the great style of basketball the Nuggets play when the reality is that the team beating this series should be in that place. Why can't great sportsmanship and competitiveness be glorified, as Duncan and Ginobili display so well? Why can't the focus be on teams instead of individuals? Why do players with those kind of attitudes, especially young ones like that, get so much of the attention?

I've read several places that the NBA should really take note of the NFL, especially in marketing themselves. The NFL sells its teams; the NBA sells its players. I believe this is one reason the quality of play diminished so much over the past ten years; the Jordan era may have had much to do with it. As much good as he brought and did for the league, Jordan may have continued and solidified the players-first pitching of the game. I think that's why some of my questions at the end of the paragraph before this one are being asked -- it's been a selfish, me-first league with a game that is supposed to be played as a team. Sure, there will be All-Stars, superstars, and once in a lifetime players, but shouldn't they shine through their team instead of in spite of them? Jordan didn't win until he found that place. The Pistons last year showed that team came before me and could overcome the superstars. The Spurs showed it the year before, too. What is needed is a team that knows its roles and is comfortable and capable of playing those out.

I guess last night reminded me that the good guys don't always get the attention deserved. And yes, I believe whole-heartedly that the Spurs are the good guys -- and that that doesn't necessarily mean the Nuggets are bad. I think that at the end of the playoffs, they'll be rewarded for their efforts and recognized for the great team they are. It would be nice, though, for their style (hard-nosed defense, share-the-wealth offense, never-let-up attitude), their teamwork, and their passion to be noticed as what is right and good for basketball. Maybe it will be.