I have finally identified my wounds that I don't have.

I got to be a guinea pig of sorts tonight. I was asked to pour forth from myself for the benefit of a certain lovely college student's higher education. So I opened up the coffers of emotion and regret with the hopes that, someday, lovely college student's career will bless the lives of many a troubled soul.

I took this seriously from the start even though she tried to play it off as just an assignment. We began with the topic of "choose a personal issue." Not too difficult for someone with layer upon layer of personal issues. But choosing was harder than I imagined because there are somethings that are just hard to say. Nevertheless, we persevered.

I won't get into details but I quickly learned that there are things buried in us that we don't think are problems. During this little exercise, with eavesdropping lovely college student #2 listening in, I found myself dredging up some stuff that I had allowed to make decisions for me. Big decisions throughout my life that have altered my course. But what I have realized is this:

My choices have taken me to and from places, to and from relationships, and to and from God over and over again. Those choices are mine. No one else is responsible for them. I can only look to myself as the one to blame when the choice was wrong. Some choices had instant consequences while others took time, even years, to play out. And people were hurt, and continue to be hurt, by my choices. Summary: when I choose me, me wins. But only me.

I was taught years ago by my grandfather that Jesus was and is Love because He chose. He chose others. Always. First. With no regard for Himself, even to death. Philippians 2 puts it quite nicely. That's where Granddad pointed me to.

How to resolve my past? How to lay to rest the bad decisions of a lifetime? I can't go back, sadly, and make restitution. What I can do is what God has expected of me all along. That is to strive to be like Him. To choose others first, over and above myself.

Scars happen. But a scar is a healed wound, marked forever as a reminder of a bad choice. When I see the scar on my right wrist, I remember to not run headlong, arm extended into a glass door. When I see my inner scars, I remember to not make the decisions that led to those wounds.

I have decided that regrets are not a bad thing at all. They are reminders, lasting memorials to decisions that were most likely selfish and etched out in me to guide me away from making the same, bad choice again.

This probably doesn't make much sense to any of you but it's a great way to spend an evening with friends. I appreciate lovely college student's interest in my life, and #2's willingness to relate.

Oops, I did it again.

I've picked this up in the middle but you'll catch on.

We believe that if we carelessly screw up, we can say a quick prayer and apology, and the mistake will be chalked up to our humanness. It never dawns on us that the mistake might re-define Christianity to someone who is observing.

It might just incorrectly re-define Jesus.

It is for this very reason that we (as a church community) are mostly talk and very little fruit. We say whatever we feel impassioned about, but we only do what we feel like doing at any given moment. We are not meticulous and careful in our faith because we have become the religion of the do-over.

We love that Jesus died for our sins and that His grace cancels out the Old Testament need for sacrifice. Those Old Testamenters -- WOW -- they really had to bend over backward to get right with God: sackcloth and ashes, burnt offerings, weeping and gnashing. I couldn't gnash even if I wanted to. If I did, my orthodontist would make me wear a retainer to bed. We thank God that Jesus made all of those spiritual gymnastics a moot point. Jesus died on the cross. He took the blame. His scars and blood and death replaced the need for mine. That's what grace is -- and we love, love, love grace.

Sadly, we also abuse it.

In an attempt to be a more free church --less bound up in legalism-- we have embraced grace so heartily that we have also eradicated responsibility. We cave to sin and temptation and desires and whims and preferences very easily, especially in the church, and we feel bad fleetingly. Then grace comes in and spanks guilt and we have a half hour of worship and feel awesome. But we don't do a whole lot of the dirty work to truly seek permanent healing -- to truly sprint away from sin with all of our might.

Daily sins, shortcomings, and afflictions are rampantly increasing in the modern church. Why? Because we are seeing grace as a coupon -- as a voucher that allows us to not worry about destructive actions leading to disastrous consequences. It is as if we believe that for everyone else sin leads to hell and death, but for us it leads to a scolding that is quickly forgotten. We act like sinful actions are a cakewalk because we are lucky enough to know about the grace discount.

What happened to the reverence? The heartbreak that is supposed to come from displeasing God?

The truth is, Christ's grace does cover us, but our sins speak lies upon lies to those who have not yet decided if Christ is worth following. To them our choice of what to do about grace may very well mean life or death.

Grace does not replace change. Grace enables change. It empowers it, makes the change worth it. --Mark Steele

I'm not a church basher. Most churches, I believe, have a sizable number of devout, Christ-like folks. But step back and take an honest look and it's not hard to see that Christians are drifting toward a belief system that makes the narrow way a lot wider, and easier to navigate. It seems that the popular line of thinking is to call one's self set apart without having to live and look, and actually be set apart.

"How many legs does a dog have if you call the tail a leg? Four. Calling a tail a leg doesn't make it a leg." --President Abraham Lincoln

"The philosophy of the school room in one generation will be the philosophy of government in the next." --President Abraham Lincoln

I'm reading this book, see...

Every now and then I go out on a limb and read something from an author I've never heard of. This particular book caught my attention one day but I passed over it until about three months later. I finally decided to read it when I couldn't find anything else that appealed to me.

Really, really glad I did.

I'm sure you can deduce the idea of the book from the cover. Yes, in some cases you can judge a book. This being one of those cases.

The key word in the subtitle is "following." If you ever have a chance to read this, you'll understand.

First of all, this is one of the most serious and most hilarious books I've ever read. The content is naturally nothing to laugh at because it pretty much slaps modern Christianity, modern Christians I should say, right across the lips. And that includes you and me. We are all reminded frequently to check ourselves and our motives behind what we do, but even still, we usually find a way to make everything we think and do sound holy and anointed. We never really get right down to the heart of the matter.

Read it for yourselves. But occasionally, you run across something that says in black and white exactly what that little nagging vibe you've been having could never voice. And you find yourself screaming out in agreement with what you've felt for a very long time. That's kinda how this book has hit me. You know that feeling -- you sense it deep down but you can't say anything because you keeping hearing that other voice that tells you you're just being silly and over-reacting. Well, it's a good feeling when you realize you're not the only crazy person.

Having said that, I am the world's biggest critic of revolutionizing one's thinking based on the opinions of an author. It's really easy in our Christian culture today to find a book that supports our latest whim. People do it all the time. Following the trends, we are all made to think we have to be purpose-driven, crazy lovin', God experiencing, (insert any Lucado title here) Christians or we're not really followers of Jesus. So I in no way plan on making this my new Bible. I just think the author has really nailed the very center of the church's problems today. Self, with a heavy dose of denial and self-deception.

Anyway, good book. Here's a teaser:

Some of the most significant damage done to the credibility of Jesus' message has been the slipshod approach of conveying it by many of His followers. Though there are a significant amount of Christ-followers who have shown excellence in their art and business, the percentages of crappy art and bad business justified with the name of Jesus are staggeringly high. We have made cheeseball films and abhorrent television, believing that an altar call at the end means it won't return void. We have produced derivative music for a dime, putting a capital "Y" on the "you" in a love song and calling it worship. We have made questionable (and oft illegal) financial decisions at the helm of ministries, defending the action by the evangelistic ends justifying the means. We have mistreated people standing in the way of our goal, berated people who disagreed with our goal, and stepped on good people to climb to our goal -- all in the name of Christ. Why? All because people keep trying to fit where God did not create them to fit. And Jesus is the one getting the black eye over it.

Oh, where to begin...

Well, the long, dark night is over. I'm speaking of the work project I was on. We had a four week deadline and finished up around 8 pm tonight in just under two and a half weeks, so everyone's happy for the moment. As of tonight, I have worked 175 hours in April. I feel every single minute of it.

But I learned some valuable things while on that crazy schedule. Our work location was the intersection of Broadway and Depot, just a block or so from KARM. My workmates and I were approached all day and night by the people, some homeless, some druggies, some who just had hard luck, who frequent the area. You wouldn't believe the things you can learn from them. And the things they will offer you for a single beer.

For instance, if you're in the market for a nice, hardly used lock-blade knife, I can introduce you to a guy. If you need a brand spanking new wrist watch, I have several contacts (after declining one offer, he asked me if I knew what time it was. Not even kidding). If it's sex you're after, well let's just say there are options, and I mean any variation you can think of and some you've probably never even heard of. If I were a smoker, I would be the most popular person in the neighborhood, based on the number of people who asked for a cigarette. I now know the complete daily schedule for the KAT buses, and I know Darryl, the guy who drives the city street sweeper truck, well enough to high-five him each night at 11:07 when he rolls by.

Life is truly like a box of chocolates.

Now, on to something more important and much more painful (for me). It's confession time again. I say again because it seems I do it a lot.

Some of you have had to listen to "someone" over the past couple of months rant and rave and rail about a certain new pastor who was hired at a certain church that a certain, as well as dashingly handsome, blogger attends. I, I mean "he", fussed and griped, complained and whined about everything from his salary to his haircut, or lack thereof.

What I'm getting at is that I've been a very poor example, unless the example you're looking for is that of "most divisive and strife-causing church member," in which case I'm awesome! I really have ran my mouth a lot about someone that I'd never even met, and all because of, well, I really don't know why. Maybe I'm just good at being a jerk.

But on Sunday morning, about five minutes into Rev. Johnson's sermon, I started feeling something. Not sure what it was, but it was something. So I began to pay close attention to the something as I listened to what the pastor had to say. It wasn't long before I found myself agreeing with his points. Then the something got really loud. And my face got really hot. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. My next thought was...

"Oh, great. Now I'm starting to like the guy."

No joking. Right there in my choir seat, I felt my heart and attitude flip-flop instantly toward our new pastor. So I hung on every word for the rest of the sermon and realized how much I liked his vision for our church and how much I agree with what he believes God wants to do here.

God. God is big. Huge. Powerful. And...gentle enough to turn a small, cold heart around without so much as breeze blowing. God is really something.

So I apologize to those of you who may have had to listen to my bad attitude. I have no excuse other than just naturally being a _______. You can choose your own word.

And I'm really, really glad that God doesn't let me make His decisions for Him.

Some things just make me smile.

On my way to work today, I saw my very, very, mostest favorite indicator of spring. I've been so busy lately that I almost forgot to notice them. I would love to have the opportunity to go out and photograph some of them but, alas, time will not allow. I am talking about the redbud tree.

I'm not sure when or where I developed my fascination with redbuds but I think it probably comes from my childhood. In the front yard of the house where I grew up, there was this big, full redbud that bloomed each year. I swear it looked electric to me. So now, every spring, I drive around and look at them. You can have your dogwoods and Bradford pears, just give me my vibrant, vivid, electric redbuds.

Truck-blogging

Yes, that's right. I'm posting from the cab of my truck. It's lunch time and I was taking the opportunity to prepare my lesson for Sunday morning. Time is limited so, as I once heard my granddad say, "Make hay while the sun shines."

As I was studying in 1 Corinthians, I read a verse that is one of those that you know you've read a million times but this is the one time it just blows you away. I won't belabor the Easter point so as to not take away from your celebration, but I will leave you with this one, short verse that screams "Hallelujah!" to me.

If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied. --1 Corinthians 15:19

Happy Easter, everyone.

Here's a glimpse into my one-dimensional life.

I realize that it is probably of little or no importance to you, but here are some pics from my little chunk of paradise. Above is my only view of the outside world. Lovely skylight, don't you think?

And here is my "office", so to speak. By the way, two of us use this space at the same time. We sit on those walk boards that you see. Not much leg room, hence the sore knees and hips.

And finally, this is a close-up of the world of a color-blind phone man. Don't ask me to explain it, but even with severe "ocular deficiencies", this makes perfect sense to me. Those of you who are astute will see a repeating sequence of 50 different colors. And, in case you want to count them, there are 4200 individual wires staring back at you.

Such is the isolated existence of yours truly; twelve hours a day of what you see above. Since Monday afternoon, I've actually spoken to only 5 different people, which puts my social interaction on roughly the same level as a home-schooled kid. Don't be too surprised if I run up and throw my arms around you the next time we meet. I mean, seriously, all I need is a volleyball with a hand-print for a face and a name.

However, I did get to see something very cool today. Under the bridge where all this work is taking place, several local ministries set up today to feed the homeless people in the area. I'm not sure how many volunteers they had but they had a huge number of folks taking part and I got to hear part of the sermon that some guy preached. Of course, it was difficult to make out from 15 feet underground.

Nonetheless, it was a pretty neat thing.

But praise God for the beautiful spring weather! I have the worst case of spring fever in history. It's gonna be a great summer.

If anyone wants to hang out, come around after midnight.

Well, Easter Sunday is upon us once again. That's awesome! The children are all dressed up, the ladies have all gone to a lot of trouble to look their prettiest, and a big dinner is in store for most of us. The traditions never really change and that's okay. Because something else that hasn't changed is that Christ is still risen, His tomb is still empty, and His work here is still ongoing. What a great day.

On a related note (related to Christ), tomorrow I start a new work schedule. I'll be working 12 noon until 12 midnight for six days a week. That's a grind by anyone's standards. But I volunteered for it so I won't gripe (too much). Actually, I have a little word of testimony about it.

With this tortuous schedule also comes extra money. Why else would anyone volunteer to spend over half of each day at work, right? A little extra never hurts so I thought, "Sure. Why not." But I learned something a few years ago that applies here.

I've never been one to work much overtime. I prefer free time to overtime, to be honest. Money just isn't that important in the big scheme of things. But occasionally, I have no choice but to work extra. I began to notice that each time I had to work over, it wasn't long before a need arose for that extra money. Every time. Without fail. The money I picked up over and above my regular pay always, always, always met an urgent and unexpected need.

So I finally (I'm a little thick) realized that God has ways of taking care of His children that we don't always expect. It isn't always a surprise check in the mail, a long lost relative's inheritance, or a Franklin under the couch cushion. Sometimes it's just an opportunity that He provides, even if those opportunities cause me to complain and fuss a little bit.

So when the opportunity came about for me to land this crazy, grueling shift, I decided to jump at it. Could be that God has something planned for the extra cash. Wow. God's smart.

But I may not be the most pleasant of persons for a while. Consider yourself warned.

Details... and nightmares.

Sacred Storm - Final Exam from Faith Promise Church on Vimeo.

Finally, our first Sunday School outing! And probably our last for a while. I'm pretty much tied up the entire month of April. But that's another post.

If you are in the College and Career class, or if you would be, were it not for other commitments, then feel free to join us this Friday night for a trip to see Sacred Storm. We'll meet at Stock Creek at 6pm (leaving by 6:10). Admission is free. I have no idea how long it will last so eat first if you're easily hungered, like me. Seating is limited so cross your fingers.

Now, if you know me, then you will appreciate the sheer terror of this next little item. At work today, I felt my hand tingle. Well, more of a tickle than a tingle. I looked down to see this lovely lady tip-toeing across my knuckles.

I freaked. In fact, I'm still freaking.

A few quick notes...

Dazed and Confused, pictured above, came over for "girls" night. We talked about boys and watched New Moon. No pedicures, though. But I did cling to one male/caveman ritual -- steaks on the grill. Oh! Microwave cookies, too. You ain't lived until you've had chocolate chip cookies from the microwave. I wonder... why would anyone ever use an oven for anything?

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This is for my Sunday school class. Not that any of you read this anymore, but, just in case, we're planning on going to Faith Promise Church this weekend for their Sacred Storm production. It's called Final Exam and I'm told it deals with the spiritual warfare involving a college student. I've heard nothing but praise for their previous productions so it should be good. Details to come on Wednesday night.

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Finis.

Yeah, I know. I'm a slacker.

I haven't exactly been the faithful blogger here lately. I would give the tired old excuses about work and having little free-time, needing more rest and all that jazz, but that's not entirely the whole truth. And half a truth is still a lie, right?

Truth is, there's a lot of ch-ch-change going on right now. Not earth-shattering stuff necessarily, but change nonetheless. Things at church, things at work, and especially stuff with moi have me... well, befuddled is the word that comes to mind. I've just been sort of foggy lately so I haven't had much luck at putting thoughts together. But change is sometimes good, and even when it isn't you just have to pray hard and roll with it until something gives.

Let's shift gears. I'm reading a book that I think is really a cool idea. It's called Lucifer's Flood and it's about an ancient scroll that is found and determined to be the diary of one of the fallen angels. It gives the account of the war in heaven and the subsequent events of creation. The diary was written by a demon who had no special purpose or gifts and found himself guilty by association because he was too afraid to choose a side and aligned himself with Satan because he figured if things didn't turn out, God would forgive him. He quickly regretted his decision. But he was expelled just the same as the rest of the rebels.

Anyway, I'm enjoying it as light reading and find myself pondering just how much the future and final battle between good and evil will resemble the first one. I imagine it will be over quickly.

Here's an excerpt that I thought was especially profound. Adam has just been created and the demon has a very strong opinion about God's choice to allow man the responsibility of free will.

There were many trees in Eden, but only two that mattered: the tree of life and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. God told Adam, "You are free to eat from any tree in the garden, but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. For when you eat of it, you will surely die."

Considering the consequences of the cosmic rebellion, surely someone in heaven must have tried, albeit unsuccessfully, to convince God that His insistence in giving Adam the ability to choose between one thing and another was a terrible idea that had no possibility of ending well. If God couldn't be talked out of the free will idea, He should have at least let Adam practice a little on something that had no consequences. Let him choose between an apple and a kumquat. Don't let a novice's first choice be one that could alter the balance of the whole world.

The choice to obey or not is far too dangerous to be experimented with. It should be banned from every universe. I could be the poster child for why free will is an eventual disaster for anyone who has it. The ability to defy God is the cause of all my misery. Lucifer decided he could rebel against God. One-third of the angels chose to follow Lucifer. And what did it gain for us? Loss of everything we once held dear - loss of our home with God; loss of our purpose for being; loss of our high place; nothing but loss with regret, despair, fear, and hatred becoming our destiny.

Why does God insist on imposing free will on creatures who cannot possibly use it correctly? He knows what is best for everything He creates. We would be so much better off if He just eliminated the choices. I would not be wasting my existence sitting on a perch in the service of a tyrant if God had only restricted Satan's ability to defy Him.

It is that part of God's nature I cannot understand. He created all there is and all there will be, and He made it perfect. Then, for no reason anyone can explain, He programmed in a fatal flaw. Into every intelligent life form, God deposited the ability to defy its Creator. Can someone help me understand why this was a good idea?

This, of course, is the (fictional) view of a (fictional) being that chose to separate himself from God. As someone who has chosen the other way, I can understand very easily why God chose to give the ability of choice. Because forced love isn't love at all. I think what the demon is experiencing is the reality of not being able to blame his actions on someone else.

Have a great week, you'uns.

This is a "Thank You" post, but a few days late.

You see above a bird's-eye view of Winterjam, more specifically Third Day. I'm sure you recognize Mr. Powell on the screen. I've heard countless bands in my well-worn life, but I really think these guys are the best live band I've ever heard. But that's not what this post is about.

This is to thank my dear, lovely friend, Vanessa. You see, I had plans to go to Winterjam with family Thomas when Vanessa called and asked if I would like to sit with her and a crew in her company's skybox at Thompson-Boling. Well, DUH! She said she had four seats available and, coincidentally, we needed four seats. In the meantime, the number we needed changed to five so I called her back and regretfully declined.

Then, about two hours before the show, she said some seats opened up and I could bring my five. SWEET!

As you can see, the seats were fabulous. Perfect, I would say. And private, not crowded, and the bathrooms didn't have troughs.

The show was great. We all had a blast, even though Juli was terrified of getting too close to the edge, to the point that she crawled on hands and knees up the steps. Trust me, it was snort-worthy laughter.

Vanessa, I don't know if you read these posts anymore, but just in case you do, I think you rock! So do the Thomases and the Reagans, who have continually commented on how gracious you are to have let us come and hang out with you in such sweet digs, especially since we don't hang out enough, anyway. That's two really big favors I owe you now; favors that I probably will not be able to repay.

Honestly, God is really good to have given an idiot like me such great friends. It seems I'm always in amazing company, no matter where I am.

Safety-toed shoes optional

Here's a better picture of new niece. She's all cleaned up and pretty in this one. You should probably get used to seeing these posted at random here.

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I've heard a lot of good stuff about Dr. Golden's sermon today. I couldn't be there for it 'cause I was providing the voice for shepherd-boy David in the Can-Do Club. That was fun, but very exhausting with the seven words I had to say.

From what I've been told, God's Word was never spoken as plainly as it was today. That's awesome. I mean, really, really awesome. I think we need more of that in churches today. I know that sounds kinda weird, but it seems that most of the time preachers put all these disclaimers on their sermons or water them down to be less offensive. Or less convicting.

I'm not advocating that good ol' shin-kicking, toe-stepping kind of sermon. Too often you hear people talk about how "that preacher up there shore stepped on mah toes!" But that usually can be interpreted as he preached a sensitive sermon that so-and-so should have heard. Stepping on toes is a good thing, but only if the owner of the toes takes it to heart that God was speaking to them.

We are definitely living in the age of the ear-tickler. So it's refreshing and praise-worthy when a man of God brings a relevant sermon to a church body that needs to hear it. But it's truly awesome when he brings it in a humble and compassionate manner.

Next topic -- as mentioned to the right, Sunday school this month is about how church is done wrong these days. I'm looking forward to this because if you take an honest look around, you can see how churches are getting out of line in some areas. I'm not throwing stones here because I believe it's common to all churches. I haven't read too far ahead so I don't know all that we'll discuss, but it's a good time for us to take a look in the mirror and compare how our way of doing things matches up with God's way.

Who knows? Maybe we'll step on some toes.

Allow me to introduce to you...

Miss Kinley Elizabeth Dockery.

This is my brand new niece. By brand new I mean, like, 2 hours and 15 minutes ago. She tipped the scales at a whopping 5 pounds, 8 ounces, and an astounding 18 inches long. I have thrown bigger fish than that back.

But it's official. I am now a full-fledged, sho' nuff uncle. You would think that I would remember to take my camera with me to the hospital to record the birth of my first niece, but no. I had to use my Blackberry. Not a very good start to my uncle-ing. I'll grow into it.

Congratulations to proud parents, Mitzi and Shane. And praise to God for once again showing me the amazing wonder of His creation.

This has been the most non-blogging week ever.

All is silent here in blogger-land. For some reason, that strikes me as odd. But, I suppose we all have our reasons. Me? I've thought about it, but sinus ickyness has put me in bed early.

On a vaguely related note, I have to say Hallelujah! for the weather today. I confess that this winter has really gotten to me. I usually take the weather as it comes with minimal complaining. Working outside will do that to you. It is what it is. But this long, cold, wet winter has broken me. I AM OVER IT.

I can't remember the last day that I was able to remove a single article of outerwear. I've had to wear a toboggan (which I hate to wear) everyday, and with a hard hat over it, it's more uncomfortable than a prostate exam. Not to mention that with these ears, a toboggan hardly does its job well.

But today, oh lovely day, the sun shone in my world. I was out of my coat and coveralls before lunch, no toboggan all day, and the sun actually burned my cheeks a little. Not bad for mid-40's.

Funny how a warm (relatively) day can improve your spirits. I was like a kid all day long. My mood was much better, and I didn't even gripe about having to work until near-dark.

But, never fear. As always here in our little neck of the woods, we'll have all the little sub-winters to deal with. That's okay, though. I can make it until spring, I think.

Also, I would like to say, "Praise God. He is faithful, He delivers, and He doesn't forget about us. Even when we may think He does."

It's coming...

When I was but a wee lad, one of my favorite shows was Captain America. It ran in '79 or '80 and starred a guy named Reb Brown. I don't recall seeing him in any other shows.

I've never been the type to follow shows religiously. I usually watch television when I have time or between books. Truth is, I could probably save a lot of money by getting rid of my tv and never miss it. But then I couldn't watch my cute little red-head on 7th Street Theater. That I would miss.

I notice how people today all follow shows with passion. I doubt that any of them are worth it, really. But folks would rather die than miss Idol or Bachelor or CSI or any of the other addictions out there. I guess I just don't get it.

I don't think there's anything wrong with watching tv so if you think I'm gonna rail against the mind-numbing tool of Satan, sorry to disappoint you. But I do think that the quality, or I should say standard, of shows these days makes it necessary for us as Christians to guard our minds with greater care. I say this from much experience.

A few years ago, I didn't really censor what I watched. In fact, I personally owned seasons one and two of the Chappelle Show, and countless other movies that are not for the innocent. If you've ever seen or even heard of Dave Chappelle, then you know why that is a problem. But I was eventually very heavily burdened by the conviction that I didn't need to view such things. God started getting on me about how my life matched up with the things I was teaching and professing. So, with some regret over the amount of money I had spent on DVD's, I purged my collection. It only hurt for a minute.

I really haven't missed any of it and I think I sleep better at night. On some level, I feel that my witness and my relationship with God are better for it (duh, right?).

My point is that we teach and preach holy, Christian living but do we really want to practice it? We pat ourselves on the back for our influence and testimony out in the world, but do we really have the testimony of Christ that we think we do?

Television, movies, music, books and magazines, you name it. The world of entertainment has rapidly grown more and more ungodly. Now, you can roll your eyes and call this old-fashioned Bible-thumping if you want, but there really isn't any gray area here. We have to get our lives in line with what Christ wants if we're going to make any progress for Him. Especially those of us who are teachers and people of influence in the church and student ministry.

I have many other areas of my life that need this same tweaking and with God's help, I hope to bring them into Biblical standards as well. We're back to that whole accountability thing again. Funny how we always come back around to that.

So, here's to Captain America and all the other decent shows that seem to have gone the way of the dodo. You know, the kind that don't require running the kids off to bed. So go ahead and watch your favorite shows, but why not make your favorites a past-time instead of a passion? Better yet, why not change your standard of favorite?

Amen! Pass the plates.

Pip, pip! Cheerio!

Life truly is like a box of chocolates. At least my work life is. I went to work today expecting a normally cold and crappy Monday. I was right for the most part but there was this one little thing...

As soon as I got to work, we were sent to Tazewell Pike to replace a broken pole. FYI: Tazewell Pike at 8:45 Monday morning is comparable to... Daytona Speedway with grumpy drivers. Nevertheless, off I go. We set up our work area and blah, blah, blah, work talk, work talk, more blah.

My partner, David, was up in the bucket so I was standing in this driveway near the pole. I glanced toward the house and saw the homeowner, whose yard this broken pole was in, walking down toward me. Great, here comes my daily tongue-lashing for blocking a driveway/muddying up someone's ditchline/gumming up traffic/not having the phones repaired fast enough. You'd be amazed how belligerent people get sometimes, and just because we are easy targets.

So the guy approaches me and I remove my hardhat and safety glasses (out of courtesy), put on my best public relations smile and await the tsunami of obscenities and hatred that typically comes my way.

He says, " 'ello, chap! Might I trouble you with a query?"

I snicker inside my head, not sure if he's messing with me or if I'm having an Alzheimer's moment.

So, to avoid seeming like a smart aleck but hoping to break the tension, I reply, "Query away, my good man!"

The guy lost it. He nearly busted a gut laughing.

"I wasn't expecting that!"

"Well, I didn't expect to be called "chap" in northeast Knoxville." And we shared a good laugh or two and he eventually reveals why he came down his driveway in thirty degree weather to talk to me. Turns out he was just curious about where he could place his new mailbox post in relation to our new telephone pole. His mailbox was wiped out by the same car.

He said, "I don't know all your regulations because I'm not from here."

"No kidding." And we laughed some more.

"I just moved here from England and your community ordinances and the like are very odd. By the way, what do you call those here?"

"You mean the pole? The telephone pole?"

"We call them telegraph poles over there." Interesting.

"What part of England?" I'm sure it must have sounded like Ainglund to him.

"I was born in Cheshire, it's near Manchester. Then I moved to London and then here to America."

He said all of this in the most pleasant English accent I've ever heard. He looked the part, too -- very clean-cut, Tom Hanks hairstyle. His voice was sort of in between baritone and tenor and his eyebrows lifted when he emphasized a syllable. I never got his name, but it should have been Neville. Or Pip.

We talked on and I told him I have researched my family history to England, the township of Headley-Hampshire, and have thought about visiting there just out of curiosity. Believe it or not, he actually knew the place.

"It's quite lovely there. It's in the south. You simply must visit. You should plan on at least two weeks, though. London is so filled with things to do that you will have to drag yourself out of there. Here, let me recommend a hotel; near Tower Bridge, I believe it's called the Tower Hotel. Very nice, four-star but affordable. And take the trains when you can. It's the most fascinating way to see everything. There's a depot near that hotel."

I couldn't resist. The opportunity presented itself so I just couldn't stop myself.

"Platform 9 3/4?"

He horse-laughed. He said J.K. Rowling has done more to advance the English culture than "any resident of Buckingham Palace." He then shook my hand (in a very awkwardly English way), and bid me farewell.

It just proves how random life can be sometimes.

I've started something fun...

Fun for me, anyway. I'm reading the Bible chronologically. Maybe some of you have done this. It's really alot like a one-year plan but it's divided into sections according to the order in which they took place (as far as the theological community is concerned) instead of how the books are ordered.

For instance, you read several chapters of Genesis but then skip to Job and read it in its entirety, then back to the remainder of Genesis. I never really considered that Job took place that far back. I'm fascinated by that, to be honest.

But I'm enjoying it and it kinda puts things in a different perspective. If you're a complete weirdo like myself, then you can envision yourself as a traveler sort of walking a timeline and stopping at different intervals and watching the events of the Bible happen in order. That's what I do.

I think I'll call it, "Chuck's Excellent Adventure." No phone booth, though.

Righteous, dude!

"Allow myself to introduce myself..."

Actually, this is the Wolfe family. Pictured here (around 1910) are Louis and Maggie, with children Delia, Louis David, Eliza Pauline, Cleo, Mandy, and seated second from the right, Sophronia Isabella. She is my great-grandmother.

Some of you know that I've been working on a family tree. These good folks are part of that tree. The photo was used in a 1996 News-Sentinel article about my cousin Gene who was trying to correct mistakes made by the government regarding our bloodline. He spent seven years traunching back and forth between the Bureau of Indian Affairs in Washington, and the tribal government in Cherokee, N.C. He eventually got everything straightened out and has agreed to help me trace the Indian bloodline by providing me with the mountain of information he gathered.

Tracing this line has been the real problem because the records only go back a few generations. In fact, Louis is as far back as I have been able to trace. But Gene has assured me that he has information that goes back much, much further, so I am really excited. This comes with some guilt because I did my politicking with him at the funeral home. Make hay while the sun shines, I always say.

Anyway, just thought I'd share. I think it's interesting that great-great-granddaddy Louis (I think this is where I got my cheekbones) was a holiday kinda guy. He was born on Christmas eve in 1871, and died on July 4th, 1936. My great-grandmother, who was known as Isabella, was born in 1896 and died at 100 years old. I remember going out to see her when she lived nearby in her late eighties. She was always laughing and had this big... well...typical old lady figure that shook when she would get really tickled about something. It was more of a cackle than a laugh. I keep looking at this picture of her and can't help but be amazed at what a beautiful girl she was.

It's a family trait.

Laundry day

It's Thursday, in case you didn't know. What you may or may not know is that Thursday is typically laundry day here at Mr. Chuckles's's's house. I am usually very busy on M, T, and W, so this is the perfect night for me to come in from work, shower, don my pj's, and be a housewife. I call it therapy.

I do two loads of laundry per week. Always. One for anything that's not dark, and one for everything else. If anything fades or colors blend, I'll never know it anyhow. I just cram it in there and forget about it.

But my duds get clean and they feel snuggly soft and smell good, so I consider it successful.

But what if...

...we had a laundry day, spiritually speaking? Follow along, here. What if we all had a day, or days, if necessary, where we all aired it out? A day to pile up and sort out all the stuff that makes life complicated and shove it into the mix and churn it until it comes out brilliant white and spring fresh.

I can say with a fair degree of certainty that we all have issues with people. We smile and act all polite and loving, but corral the crowd into separate herds and the eyes start rolling and the criticism begins. I'm guilty of it, and honestly, you are too, aren't you?

Maybe I'm being unrealistic but I wish we could all suck it up, put on our thick skins and hear what people say about us when we aren't listening. You've wondered that, haven't you? Haven't you been around a group of people who are tearing down someone and you have a sneaking suspicion that YOU are the inside joke when you aren't around?

And what about the ones you tear down? Don't you sometimes feel bad for speaking or thinking things about someone that you normally overwhelm with kindness?

I can't help but wonder how great it would be if the air between us was clear. If we came face to face with the truth that we really aren't always right, that other people are just as put out with us as we are with them, then maybe we could see things more clearly.

There is an old Cherokee prayer that says, "Oh Great Spirit, grant that I may not criticize my neighbor until I have walked a mile in his moccasins."

Yeah, I went there.