brushback pitches

last night, while watching the cardinals pick apart the red sox one single at a time, a few semi-coherent baseball thoughts flitted through my mind. since such thoughts issued forth from a quarter of a bottle of wine fog i planned to keep them to myself, but, since michael of tennessee asked for it, here they are.

• after the cardinals game i flipped over to the dodgers/tigers game and was caught off guard by the quality of vin scully's commentary. vin has been with the dodgers since brooklyn, understands the visible nuances of the game like few others and, since he calls the game by himself, avoids the mind numbing banter that characterizes most broadcasting pairs. is there any reason, other than possible age discrimination, that fox chose mccarver/buck to anchor their national broadcasts? is there a more competent broadcaster in the game than scully? can we convince congress to provide an exception to the cloning legislation so that we can produce about 29 replicas of scully? i need answers...


• to those few thousand, probably imported, idiots who booed renteria at the start of the cardinals game last night: piss off. if we had overpaid renteria we would likely be without the mulder/grudzilanek/eckstein trifecta that has paid such great dividends. show the man some frickin' respect.


• to pastor rick: they are still not as good as they seem, but they are getting stronger. if hampton's injury persists and the marlins continue to struggle we may be able to hoist another banner at busch.


• i'm not the prophet, nor the son of a prophet, but i will make this prediction. suppan will get shellacked tonight and carpenter will win the rubber game on wednesday.


• that last part reminds me of my favorite topps trivia question ever: "How long is the pitcher's rubber? 24 inches." from what i heard, the writer of that question was immediately fired by topps. however, he eventually righted himself by penning a certain, highly acclaimed screen play for paul thomas anderson.


• although i hate to admit it, derek lee deserves to start the all-star game at 1st base. pujols will get the votes, but lee deserves the start. how's that for (painful) objectivity?


• did the last minute, pre-draft signings of weaver and drew signal the beginning of the end for boras? i sure hope so.


• looks like i was wrong about the As and the White Sox. sue me.


• concerning the DL....so sorry to hear about b. roberts and c. barmes and still savoring the announcements about prior and j. gonzalez.


• last night the red sox announcers were whining about the unfair advantage national league teams have when playing interleague games in their own park. save it. the american league and players association can celebrate the lady's aide all they want, but the senior league will continue to eschew it.


• does anyone care that a-rod is utilizing psychotherapy to help him come to grips with his latent homosexuality? i didn't think so.


• funniest announcer bio i've heard thus far: last night scully mentioned that j. bonderman was a member of 4-H during childhood. i wonder if bonderman's widely reported illiteracy reflects poorly on the organization.

okay, i feel kind of bad about the last comment, but probably not bad enough to delete it. perhaps pangs of conscience will strike later. it's not as heartless as my plans for u.s. population reduction or anything...

as always, i welcome your thoughts and opinions. mike of tennessee, i hope this makes you happy.

overheard: excerpts from jean vanier's community and growth

• "envy is one of the plagues that destroys community. it comes from people’s ignorance of, or lack of belief in, their own gifts. if we were confident in our own gift, we would not envy that of others."


• "a community is only truly a body when the majority of its members is making the transition from 'the community for myself' to 'myself for the community,' when each person's heart is opening to all the others, without any exception. this is the movement from egotism to love, from death to resurrection; it is the Easter, a passage, a passover of the Lord. it is also the passing from a land of slavery to a promised land, the land of inner freedom."


• "to love, we must die continually to our own ideas, our own susceptibilities and our own comfort. the path of love is woven of sacrifice."


• a community is not simply a group of people who live together and love each other. it is a place of resurrection, a current of life: one heart, one soul, one spirit."

overheard

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions."

~Rainer Maria Rilke

reasons I am not a youth minister

this morning I spent a few moments over at becky.bear’s blog. becky was one of the early members of s & s. she recently moved onto seattle, where she is pursuing yet another master’s degree, creating a micro art collaborative and creating Christian community among seattle’s sonic youth. i love to taunt becky about her sixteen inch shoes and rockabilly style, but i have only the deepest respect for her character, ability and heart for God. anyway, while i was reading about her attempts to create a vbs according to brian mclaren, i began to think about why i am not a youth minister. as you might have guessed, this is a long way of introducing yet another list.

reasons i am not a youth minister:

thou shalt not give teenagers swirlys. from what i hear that is one of the first commandments in the youth ministry book. yet, i confess, i have broken it.

thou shalt not put “tweens” in the trunk of a car. yet another commandment that yours truly has shattered.

thou shalt not openly laugh at other youth minister’s admonitions. yet this is how i responded when another youth minister told my kids to trash their secular cds.

thou shalt care if the bean dip shows up at the pool party. but i never gave a shit.

thou shalt not encourage tweens to throw stones at one another. yet i have and do. in fact, one of my afterschool kids received a battle scar yesterday afternoon.

thou shalt utilize a number of non-competitive games. i have blatant disregard for this rule and am more than willing to go “Billy” on a child when you put a four square ball in my hand.

thou shalt do stupid, idiotic tricks for missions' money. so i was never willing to stick my head in a toilet, drink regurgitated soda or finger paint with my own feces in order to send more Bibles to Cambodia…shoot me.

thou shalt utilize hand motions while singing worship songs. i only know one hand motion and most people don’t consider it appropriate for worship.

thou shalt not smoke, drink or openly attend and celebrate Kevin smith movies. guilty, guilty, guilty.

thou shalt not react in a violent way when a teen strikes you in the face. um, i’m pleading the fifth on this one.

thou shalt not tear up jesus tees and use them to wash one’s toilet. yet they had to be put to some use.

thou shalt not "hook up" with one of thy youth sponsors. um, yeah. i had to find some way to encourage her to volunteer. at least i never contemplated connecting with one of the kids.

thus ends today’s edition of uncalled for confessions. if you want to read about a real youth minister in action, check out becky’s blog.

musing...

okay, now that I’ve pissed and moaned a bit too much about work, it’s time to return to my previous question. how does one pursue authentic spirituality? before I say anything more, allow me to confess that the whole time i’ve been writing this, david dark has been haunting my head and reminding me that every time I talk about stuff like God, confession and spirituality i don’t know exactly what i’m talking about. so, rest assured that i offer this with more than a little bit of fear and trembling.

first off, let me confess my ambivalence towards the term authentic. this therapeutic term has been utilized to such a great degree by the church growth movement and mass marketers (yes…sometimes I also wonder if there is a difference) that i question its usefulness. usually when people speak about being “authentic,” they are referring to their desire to share their unguarded thoughts, feelings and emotions with the other. instead of talking about “authentic” spirituality i would be much more willing to talk about “honest” spirituality. when i hear the term authentic i envision people sharing their thoughts and emotions in service of an agenda (such as evangelism or the new cell phone plan they are marketing), but when i hear the term honest, i envision people who are willing to share their most deeply held beliefs without discounting their most deeply held doubts. so let’s exchange the warm and fuzzy therapeutic term for a term that, has some sharper edges and carries a heavier weight of meaning.

second, since i am a Christian, when i talk about spirituality, i am restricting my thoughts to Christian spirituality. this does not mean that other spiritualities are without merit, but simply that i am speaking of that which I know (in part). namely, the spirituality which finds its roots in the Jewish and Christian scriptures, is self-consciously shaped by the life, death and resurrection of Christ, is constantly nourished by stories of the spiritual mothers and fathers who added their verse to the epic story of church history and works itself out within the context of Christian community.

now that the preliminaries are out of the way, i would like to share a few, admittedly provisional, thoughts. for Christians i think a better way to frame this discussion would be to talk about confessional spirituality. by using the term “confessional” i intend to convey two different, yet complimentary things.

one, i am using the term confessional to suggest that as we pursue God along this narrow road of faith that Christ has set for us, we should seek to do so humbly by admitting our manifold failures and fuckups, and generously, by listening to those who are upon other paths and those who walk the same path at a different pace and/or in a different way. my hunch is that all of us, from jean vanier and Eugene Peterson to the freshest convert and most naïve seeker have much more in common with the kindergartener who is “following the leader” than an expert who can hold court on how to follow Christ. as we walk upon this road let us be encouraged by one another’s confession that we don’t know the way we are going nor how we are going to get there. for it is this kind of humble confession that provides solace to our lack of certainty and compels us to put our faith in and follow the leader.

two, i am using the term confessional to suggest that confessional spirituality treasures the historic confessions of the scriptures, such as the Shema in Deut. 6:1-4 and Matt. 16:13, as well as the classic confessions of the Christian faith. I once heard andy crouch, creator of re:generation journal and current columnist for Christiannity Today, define orthodoxy as “being able to say the apostle’s creed without having your fingers crossed behind your back.” i really like that definition. i would also like to add that using the apostle’s or Nicene creed as a basis of confession does not require either that we understand the undulating depths of each doctrine or that we have begun to grasp the height and depth, length and width of the love of God. rather, the confessions simply give us a historically sound precipice off of which we can dive into the life of faith.

okay, that’s enough for now. i would like to nuance my explanation of confession a bit and say what I mean about spirituality, but i (a) doubt my ability to do so and (b) have to get back to work. of course, if you would like to question anything i have said, add further reflections or put forth your own ideas, please feel free to do so. as i’ve said before, all of us are smarter than any of us. i’d love to hear from you.

post scriptum--i haven't had a ton of time to edit this. so i would like to ask the grammar queers for clemency.

talk about a devolution…

my attitude towards work has devolved a bit. although a few weeks ago i was fairly content with my job, i am now tempted to stand on top of my desk, pull the “f*ck you, f*ck you, you’re cool, f*ck you, I’m out” scene out of my ass and collect unemployment.

my therapist said that jotting down a list of reasons to remain at lifeway would be beneficial. so, here are my reasons (in no specific order):

i should remain in my position at lifeway because:

1. that long awaited bruce wilkinson interview is always just over the horizon.

2. the employee appreciation gifts are priceless (the “magic” jar opener, family umbrella and TogetherEveryoneAccomplishesMore chocolate bar were particularly precious).

3. i've heard that other offices frown on intermittent profanity.

4. i love the 3 unpaid saturdays that i work every year!

5. i could not live without my lifesize cardboard likeness of dr. dobson (and the twinges of lust the aforementioned likeness produces).

6. i would miss conversing with our insightful, discerning shoppers every christmas season (e-i-e-i-fucking-o!).

7. from all appearances the receptionist really, really likes me.

8. i do not want a drunken monkey to replace me.

9. i do not value original thought.

10. i would miss the provocative questions that characterize our monthly meetings.

11. lobotomies are covered in the employee health plan.

12. wal-mart won’t hire me and orange julius won’t let me return.

phew, i feel better. perhaps a little break from my meaningless work was all that i needed!

musing…

for a number of years i believed that substantial training must precede one’s immersion in Christian mission. for this reason, i tried to provide the students and young adults in the ministries that i led with the opportunity to develop the interpretive skills and spiritual disciplines they would need in order to fully participate in the church’s mission of embodied proclamation and compassion. recently a number of things, including the visit of a Haitian missionary to s & s as well as deeper reflection on previous ministry experience, has led me to believe that my assumption (which I think is shared by most Christian education programs and, to a lesser extent, christian institutions of “higher learning”) was at least partially incorrect (if not woefully inept). i am now beginning to realize that the skills and disciplines i sought to teach are more likely to develop in the midst of mission than they are to precede mission. it is the mission of God, not the desire for abstract knowledge or the need to complete a checklist of required qualifications, that compels us to seek His presence through prayer and learn to listen more effectively to His Word. i realize this stuff is probably old hat to many of you, but it has been difficult for me to grasp.

moving forward…

on sunday, june 5 I will be participating in a panel discussion at The Gathering in Salem. the topic for the evening is “pursuing authentic spirituality.” since i am a big believer that “all of us is smarter than any of us,” and somewhat desperate for talking points, i would like to hear what you have to say about this matter. how would you define “authentic spirituality?” what are some of the characteristics of authentic spirituality? how can we contrast “authentic spirituality” with inauthentic and/or hypocritical religious practice? do you question the value of the term authentic in regards to the practice of spirituality? are there any examples of authentic spirituality (i.e., books, music, movies, mentors) that you find particularly intriguing?

if you have any thoughts on this matter, please feel free to post in my comments or email me directly at jeffkelliegentry@yahoo.com. i already have thought through this matter a bit, so i am not completely void of talking points, but i would really like to hear what you have to say. i would love to hear the perspectives of those who do not profess Christ and would be encouraged to hear from lurkers as well. thanks for your help!

happy haiku friday!

circle 'round kiddos

learn how to market our Lord

watch out for the whip

memorandum from captain random

• in the midst of our afternoon walk, dizzy shit in front of her favorite convent. i was not surprised to find foreign objects in her excrement. foreign objects that i have found thus far: pieces of electrical cord, splinters of wood, remnants of my 180 earmuffs, fragments of richard russo's nobody's fool, and tassels from the red and black blanket that becky made us. of all the foreign objects, the tassels are my favorite, since they tend to suspend pieces of her shit and that makes for quite a show.


• kellie and i watched eternal sunshine of the spotless mind again on sunday night. the more i watch and reflect on this film, the more i appreciate it. i love how the story is able to raise metaphysical questions (i.e., the possibility of determinism, the possibility of providence) without ignoring the blundering beauty of the humanity (note the themes of forgiveness, self-awareness and reconciliation). if our preaching, teaching and creating could evidence such a skillful balance of "vertical" and "horizontal" issues, our communities would undoubtedly benefit.


• i decided to surprise a friend by buying two tickets to the upcoming folds/wainright tour for his birthday. the tickets set me back $95. i thought the tickets were a bit overpriced at $35, but it was ticketmasters' $8.50 surcharge per seat that really pissed me off. if folds doesn't score the second, substantially longer set, i am going to bolt. mark, you know i love you if i am willing not only to deal with rufus and his puffy shirt wearing, poof ass, but also pay for the tickets.


• warning: the cardinals are not as spectacular as they appear. their pitching has been mediocre and will have to improve if they are going to make a run in october.


• in better news, gordon edes of the globe reported that the cubs are seriously considering firing dusty baker and replacing him with grady little. this cardinal fan is praying that this will indeed happen and is going to bed with dreams of brock for broglio dancing in his head.


• from the wtf files: after listening to the order of the phoenix on audiobook and reading the first half of the goblet of fire i have become a harry potter fan. i will undoubtedly buy the next book and cannot wait for the movie version of goblet.


• i read an article by john macarthur on crosswalk.com yesterday that sent me up the wall. i was simply shocked by how much my understanding of salvation and judgment differ from his. if you want to read the article, and try to figure out which parts pissed me off, you can find it here.

musing...

early sunday morning we filled our cylinders with coffee and slowly made our way to the beach. on the way she spoke of her divorce, emphasizing both the causes and consequences in manner that was both concise and heartfelt. after listening to her story for twenty minutes or so i felt compelled to play the pastor by offering advice, suggesting a solution or pointing out the first rays of resolution. fortunately, i resisted the compulsion. instead, i simply noted that it seems to me learning to suffer well is the mark of maturity.

sunday evening, while lazily watching television with the pixie, i walked through the conversation once again. as the frames flew through my mind i thanked God for enabling me to resist my compulsion and openly wondered whether my description of maturity was too simplistic. after thinking about it a bit, i think the latter is true. maturity, it seems to me, is not only marked by the ability to suffer, but is also marked by the ability to appreciate the humor of our upended expectations as well as the ability to snatch a thread of hope out of the hands of despair.

thinking back to the setting of our conversation i was reminded of a scene in the wizard's tide by uncle freddy. near the end of the novel, the little boy, who serves as the protagonist, and his grandmother are walking along the long island shore. the boy is overwhelmed by the destructive capability of the ocean, its ability to swallow you whole, produce tidal waves that destroy homes and, in an instant, sink ships. while not ignoring the truth of the boy's thoughts the grandmother tells him that waves of life, terrible and turbulent as they may be, are carrying us towards the shore. surely it takes great faith to believe that the waves of pain and suffering, as well as the more welcome waves of joy and the spray of silliness, are carrying us towards the far shore. but that is the kind of faith i strive for. i hope and pray it is the kind of faith you are striving for as well.

busted balls and broken dreams

they had been waiting for twenty-seven minutes for his father to show up. the afterschool program is over at 6 p.m. on wednesdays, but his father wasn't there to pick him up. it was not a surprise. daddy had forgotten before.

for the first twelve minutes of their extended time together, the tutor and the boy threw a bouncy ball at each other. the tutor was trying to help the boy develop soft hands so that he would become a better second baseman. the boy was trying to throw the ball in the street in hopes that the tutor would curse, scamper into traffic and perhaps get killed. no such luck. the tutor has soft hands.

at 6.13 p.m. the tutor handed the boy his cell phone and instructed him to call his father. his father immediately answered and said he would arrive in "two seconds." no problem, the tutor thought, the father only lives three blocks away. so the tutor and the boy went to the front of the parking lot and waited.

and waited. around 6.25 p.m. the father had still failed to materialize and the tutor knew that he was going to be late for dinner with an old friend. this pissed him off. aware of the tension, the boy started to chatter with the tutor. while chattering the boy slung his keys, which were attached to a curly, elastic cord, around his body. "whap" the keys slapped against the boy's thigh, while he told the tutor how crazy his dad is. "whap" the keys hit the opposite thigh while the boy made fun of the tutor for fretting about his dinner date. "slap," the keys resounded as they slapped the little boy's genitals. "ooooh, ah ha ha," the boy said. "that hurt." ever the educator, the tutor suggested that in order to protect himself from future damage he might want to stop swinging the keys. but the boy just smiled and continued: "whap, slap, slap, whap, whap, slap, slap." after smacking himself in the genitals five times the boy doubled over in pain and stopped slinging the keys.

but, by that point, the damage was already done. the boy's balls were sore, the tutor's ideals were shattered and they were both far less sanguine about the future of humanity.

overheard

“boys and girls in america have such a sad time together. sophistication demands that they submit to sex immediately without proper preliminary talk. not courting talk, real straight talk about souls, for life is holy and every moment precious.” ~jack kerouac, on the road

"there is one word in america that says it all, and that one word is, 'you never know.'" ~joaquin andujar, pitcher and bodhisattva

“all that has been said but multiplies the avenues to what remains to be said.” ~herman melville as quoted by david dark in his superb book the gospel according to america

”you can’t say you never had a doubt, and smoked it down, but really wanted out.” ~ben folds, you to thank

happy anniversary to me

today is the anniversary of: brown v. board of education, the first gay marriage ceremony performed in the commonwealth of massachusetts and this blog. as i mentioned to kellie only moments ago, the one-year mark provides a good opportunity to reflect upon the good, the bad and the ugly of this blog and to dream a bit about what it could be. here goes...

the good

• much to my surprise, this blog has been a wonderful instrument of reconciliation. over the past year i have discovered the overwhelming beauty of people i once despised jamie, i'm staring through glassy eyes at you), received forgiveness for past offences (including: smashed worms, studied indifference and unchecked pride) and have regularly been reconnected with people whom i thought had long forgotten me. an illustration of the latter component. a week or so ago i heard from scott ellis, a high school classmate, sublime center fielder, parochial school teacher and all-around good guy. before i heard from scotty i hadn't spoken to or seen someone from bishop kelley high for eight years. simply hearing his (virtual) voice again reminded me that there is no ground, however badly burned and thoroughly salted, that is completely inhospitable to new life. scott's email was more than a friendly invitation to a ten-year reunion. it was a sacrament.


• the process of writing on a daily basis has shown me that i can indeed conjugate a verb, shape a metaphor and deliver a joke. granted, my pronunciation still sucks, but i can use a keyboard to communicate a bit of the goodness, beauty and truth of life to others. because of this another whisper of inadequacy has been silenced and i am beginning to find my "voice." thanks be to God!


• related to latter assertion, i have also found the courage to put a few brushback pitches down on paper. this probably seems irrelevant to you, but for someone who is in awe of, and cowers before, the likes of bill james, buster olney and "the commissioner" peter gammons, this is big.


• the blog has helped me to move from hostility to hospitality. i have found that in the midst of solitude, a practice that is essential to my spiritual life, it is easy to pass judgment on others and establish barriers to community. the blog forces me out of the silence of solitude and into the dialogue of the greater community. the call and response cadence of this dialogue has broadened my understanding of humanity, deepened my compassion for others and driven me back to solitude (where i can continue to become the prayerful, subversive servant that God has called me to be).


• the blog has also enabled me to continue to communicate with, learn from and serve those who are now a part of the city on a hill diaspora.


• in the next year i would like to post a few more pictures of our beautiful, quirky little city, my friends and family (including dizzy) and other miscellaneous subjects. of course, this will require purchasing a camera and actually caring it with me...so don't get your hopes up.

the bad

• my political posts. i am a hyper-opinionated person with strong political persuasions. thus i was not surprised that political propaganda found its way into my posts. however, i was surprised to discover was how much heat and little light emanated from such posts. at this point i simply do not know how valuable it is for a pastor to engage him or herself in sustained, partisan debate. i am not saying that politics has no part to play in my life, but i do not know how to integrate my perspectives on national affairs with my participation in the ongoing subversion that is the Kingdom of God. i cannot promise that you will never hear my political perspectives on this page again, but i can promise that such posts will be marked by a more measured, provisional and generous tone.


• my comments. i cannot tell you how many times i have dropped a crass, unloving or ill-considered comment on someone else's blog. i usually delete these comments as soon as they, in all their published glory, are staring me in the face, but still... over the course of the next year, i want to be as careful about my comments as i am about my posts. as a side note, this lament does not extend to anything i have posted on jon wise's blog. in those comments i have not attacked the session or impugned anyone's character. i have simply tried to defend someone i know well and love more than most.


• too many of my recent posts could be filed under the title of "mental masturbation." while i think a number of these posts are funny and provocative, they don't require much creativity or thought on my part. expect, and demand if necessary, more substantial posts from me.

the ugly:

• the shot of my ass that sat front and center for a day and a half. i'll admit that it was ugly, but will not apologize.

of course, if you have any reflections on the last year, thoughts about this post, or hopes for the year to come, feel free to share.

memorandum from captain random

• every time i hear the twang in john hiatt's voice i realize that the "ole acorn doesn't fall far from the tree." i think that my penchant for folk music is simply a sophisticated expression of my boyhood love of country music. that being said, every time i hear someone talk about new country (read: shania twain, rascal flatts and toby keith) i am tempted to throw the country A-K rack out in the street and go work for a virgin megastore.


• i recently received confirmation from the seminary that they had waived my immunization requirements due to my "stated religious objections." i never registered an objection, but do have a friend who works in the registration department. it pays to have friends in high places


• i've been reading a church growth book by thom rainer and actually enjoying it. shhh! don't tell any of my emergent friends.


• you know you're getting old when an unexpected office meeting makes you doubt your ability to pay the mortgage.


• memo to mr. pearass: you know you are loved when Gentry agrees to accompany you to a rufus wainright show. the aforementioned upright, integrous citizen cannot believe he is going to subject himself to such excesses of cruising, camp and cheese.


• memo to mr. folds: Gentry expects you to make aforementioned evening worthwhile.


• memo to self: keep saying "aforementioned." it makes you sound sophisticated


• that is all. i must now return to the pimp-driven life

please note: the aforementioned post was brought to you by the good folks at LifeWay Christian Stores. the opinions, language and sexual innuendo included within are not endorsed by LifeWay, but are the sole intellectual property of Mr. Gentry.

thursday afternoon, 2:11 p.m.

heart rent
hands shaking
head spinning
and feet cold

against better instinct
i light up and lean on a crutch

is this what it feels like when you speak?
am i reacting to a screaming conscience or a still, small voice?

i not only need the Holy Spirit.
i also need a new hermeneutic.

musing about Lk. 4:14-30

the gospel is not merely a proposition we need to believe. it is also a reversal and release that we need to experience. after being immersed in evangelical theology for eight years i can effectively explain, apply and illustrate the truth of substitutionary atonement. however, as the years fly by i am beginning to realize that this proposition is only a door that leads us into a deeper experience of salvation.

i could not believe the gospel if i had not descended through the depths of depression (and the substance abuse, self-loathing and catatonic nights at a 24 hour, hopper inspired diners that accompanied it) only to find the broken Christ at the bottom. it is this Christ, the utterly forsaken, yet full of faith, that led me to believe that the abyss is not the end.

moreover, i suspect that Christ commanded the seventy times seven because he knew that we needed to extend as well as receive the release of the gospel. perhaps it is not until we have proclaimed release to the prisoners of our expectations and unshackled others from their onerous obligations that we can fully enter into the year of the Lord's favor.

my prayer for you, dear reader, does not differ from my personal petition. i pray that we will fully experience the reversal and release that is offered to us in Jesus Christ. God help us if we settle for a proposition when we can fully experience the year of the Lord's favor.

can anything good come out of west virginia?

"described by his attorney as a white-haired businessman in his mid-50s, christ is moving to west virginia to enjoy a slower lifestyle. he bought property near lost river, about 100 miles west of washington, and has a u.s. passport, social security card and washington driver's license bearing the name jesus christ."

more...

brushback extra: an in-game running diary

the diz is asleep on the couch, kellie has cashed out for the night and alex is drinking bud light and hanging out with his townie team buddies. that leaves me here all alone, watching the cardinals and the dodgers. so i thought i'd thrash up a little brushback extra.

9:20 p.m. the cardinals are up 1-0 due to a first inning pujols homer and an altogether admirable performance by mulder. how am i able to watch this regional presentation on FSN st. louis you ask? because my grandfather surprised me with the extra innings baseball package for mother's day. or maybe it was simply on mother's day. who knows? whatever the reason, i am grateful!

9:26 p.m. danny haren is 1-5 and mulder is pitching like an ace. maybe jocketty did know what he was doing...and maybe i'm changing my official position on the barton/haren/calero for mulder trade again.

9:26 p.m. danny haren is 1-5 and mulder is pitching like an ace. maybe jocketty did know what he was doing...and maybe i'm changing my official position on the barton/haren/calero for mulder trade again.

9:31 p.m. considering how well youkilis has been playing as well as how poorly bellhorn has performed, you have to wonder why francona doesn’t slot mueller at 2nd and ‘youk’ at 3rd more often. the sox would definitely increase their number of productive outs that way.

9:34 p.m. mulder just gave up a double. that wouldn’t have been a problem if he hadn’t walked the #7 to open the inning. @@#$@#$!!! walks and errors. i know all about the former, since i was BB king during my days on the mound. 1-1 knot.

the cards have been on the cusp of putting up a crooked number all night. if they don’t get some runs on the board soon, they’re going to let this game get away from them.

9:42 p.m. eckstein and grudzilanek just set the table for pujols. let’s see what happens…I think they are “unintentionally” walking pujols again. that’s going to continue to happen until edmonds and rolen start swingin’ the lumber. i was wrong. they pitched to him and albert hit a three run homer, his second of the night. you should have seen the at bat, he tried to slash the ball the other way and missed by inches, then he tried to pull it down the third base line and missed by inches, and he finished with a flourish by driving a pitch over the left-center power alley. with this guy every AB is a clinic. 4-1 cardinals.

9:58 p.m. a bit earlier joe buck made a self-depreciating comment about how many negative emails he receives every game. it appears that not everyone adores him. much to my dismay, i am on the verge of identifying myself with this disgruntled group. let me begin by saying that i do not expect joe to be jack. just as the missouri will never measure up to the mississippi and eckstein will never measure up to renteria, joe will never measure up to jack. the latter was an icon, the vanquisher of that clown caray and the suggestive whisper of the midwestern ether for fifty years. however, i do expect joe to develop a voice of his own. if, failing to find his voice, he chooses to imitate (as most of us do), he should follow in the footsteps of his father instead of those of tim mccarver and budweiser’s head of advertising. he’s better than that yankee ass-kisser and much better than “slama-lama-ding-dong.” refine your voice, joe, and be your own man. and, in the end, you might reflect favorably on your father’s legacy.

10:16 p.m. nancy drew didn’t feel up to playing tonight. what a surprise! In more serious news, mulder has runners on first and second and two outs. this will probably be the crucial batter of the game. especially since crackhead Bradley is on-deck. mulder struck out repko on a borderline pitch (a number the calls tonight have been shaaady) to end the threat. crisis averted.

10:27 p.m. there is no doubt that the white sox are red hot. but i still think that the twins will take the division. the twinkies are just too deep. on another note, if tavarez is not the second coming of joaquin andujar i don’t know who is.

10:35 p.m. after a rolen error (his second of the night!) there are runners on first and second and one out. another crucial situation…that could lead to a tavarez meltdown. we’ll see. side note: rolen looks as lost in the field as he is at the plate.

10:36 p.m. tavarez induces a ground ball. two outs. with runners on first and third la russa brings in ray “burger” king. we aren’t out of the woods yet.

10:40 p.m. shit. burger let “double play” ledee have it his way and it is now 4-2.

10:41 p.m. burger induces the f-7 and we’re through 7½.

10:45 p.m. pujols takes a pitch under the chin and continues his perfect night with a walk. Pujols didn’t like the chin music, however, so expect one of the dodgers to get a little of the same either tonight or tomorrow. Speaking of which, bissinger provides an interesting view into la russa’s reluctant decisions to bean or not to bean opposing players in 3 nights in august. i just finished the latter work this afternoon and have to give it a b-minus. there is very little innovative or original baseball thought in the book, but the prose is above average and i enjoyed reading about la russa (who will henceforth be known as TLR).

10:59 a.m. the cards just pissed away a first and second, no out scenario. Hope that it doesn’t come back to bite them.

11:09 p.m. though it wasn’t particularly pretty, burger has secured two outs in the ninth and left only a single runner on first. now it’s up to reyes to finish things up. of course, bradley is up. nothing ever comes easy.

11:13 p.m. reyes made bradley look silly and the cardinals are 20-11. this wanna-be sports blogger is going to bed. i’m too old for this shit.

link-o-matic
while ignoring the daily grind of life here at lifeway i stumbled across a couple of links that i thought you might enjoy.

the first is metacritic. this site provides a fairly comprehensive overview of the recent reviews for books, movies and dvds. i have a sneaking suspicion that uncle cade would give it his stamp of approval.

the second is montage-a-google. this engine creates montages of google images. thus you can type in a search term like cardinals, salinger or feces and it will automatically create a montage. i trust that you will use this resource for good instead of evil.

the third is not so much a link as it is an encouragement to click on the thomas kinkade link in my previous post. doing so will not drop you into john malkovich's head or anything, but it will provide you with a little bit of fun.

do enjoy these links, dear readers.

overheard

"start by doing what's necessary, then what's possible, and suddenly, you are doing the impossible." ~st. francis of assisi

"the rush and pressure of modern life are a form, perhaps the most common form, of contemporary violence. to allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of conflicting concerns, to surrender to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything is to succumb to violence." ~thomas merton

"my dear child, you must believe in God in spite of what the clergy tell you." ~benjamin jowett

i'd love to tell you that these quotations arose from my reading, but they did not. instead, (yes, i am almost ashamed to admit this) i found them while preparing an excerpt for jan karon's a continual feast. i am afraid that if i find illumination in the works of jan karon i'll soon be finding spiritual significance in the masterpieces of thomas kinkade. i think i just threw up in my mouth.

happy haiku friday!

come, let us conspire

to kill reciprocity

and give birth to grace

brushback pitches

• the cardinals are 18-8, 10 games over .500 and sporting their best record at this point since 1948. and yes, i'm enjoying every minute of it.


• i've been devouring 3 nights in august by buzz bissinger. the book chronicles a cubs/cardinals series in 2003 and provides an inside view to tony la russa's approach to the game. bissinger provides: a good profile of tony (far superior to the picture george will provides in men at work), a few interesting bits about strategy (including a discussion of the merits of the hit-and-run) and clear, compelling prose. however, i am a little annoyed by the traditionalist bent of the book. on a number of occasions bissinger stops just short of condemning the moneyball/sabr analysis of and approach to the game and, misty eyed, constantly holds a torch for the idealized "baseball man" of the past. i think it is possible to appreciate baseball's past (in fact, i consider myself a bit of a traditionalist), while still appreciating and incorporating more innovative approaches to the game. at several points, bissinger seems to ask "what hath walt jocketty to do with billy beane?" "everything," is my terse response.


• for real: the cardinals, braves, marlins and twinkies. not: the orioles (still a year away), white sox (pitching!) and texas (ibid).


• the yankees are as bad as they look. here's to hoping that george's horse loses at the derby and the boss suffers a minor coronary before midseason.


• jeff brantley is the new joe morgan


• this just in from the big surprise department: kerry wood is on the dl. i've asked it before and i'll ask it again: has any team ever done so little with so much talent? 37 is nothing. try 97!


• bon voyage dave mccarty. he's a helluva nice guy who had no place on a major league team.


• the cardinals were robbed in atlanta last weekend by an umpire who is too timid to set his head over the inside corner and an odd interference play. unbelievable! that being said, it doesn't get much better than watching cox and la russa try to out-fox one another for three games. thanks tbs!


• write it down: i'm getting mlb all access next year. not being able to watch the redbirds is killing me. of course if you, dear reader, want to send a $168 check in a s.a.s.e. to the home office, i'll be happy to order it this year.


• i am not a prophet, nor the son of a prophet, but i wouldn't be surprised if there is a little headhunting, and perhaps a little brawl, down in tampa bay tonight.


• as much as i dislike the guy, i would love to see clemens return to the red sox before the trading deadline. can you imagine him making one final run with the sox? that would be quite a ride! of course, he'll probably sign with the yankees. bastard.

musing

i'm still here. i haven't had much to say lately, so i've kept my mouth shut.

cade slipped me ben folds' songs for silverman last week and i'm really digging it. it's melancholic, introspective and, at many points, right on. the first track on the album, appropriately titled bastard, raised a question that i've been wrestling with for days.

"So why you gotta act like you know when you don't know?
It's okay if you don't know everything
Why you gotta act like you know when you don't know?
It's okay
If you don't know everything"

contrary to the opinion of some, i have always been more aware of my ignorance than enamored by my knowledge. anyway...here's hard evidence of my ignorance.

things i don't know:

• what evangelism looks like for our church in our current context


• whether the cardinals will win a world series in my lifetime


• why i failed to fully experience some of the places i've lived (chief on this list: newtown, ct and waukesha, wi)


• whether i'll be able to steer clear of universalism in my latter days


• if i'll ever escape the clutches of .com


• why ankiel contracted steve blass disease


• why i've never been able to fast


• why my brother won't return my calls


• where the last ten years went


• why i joined a fraternity


• why i seem destined to be an amateur everything rather than a professional something


• whether dizzy will ever stop destroying my shit


• why i have always made a percentage of people, especially christians, incredibly uncomfortable


• the cause of my hypochondria


• how to multiply fractions


• why i'm afraid of death


• why i stopped visiting daybreak


• why my boss is pleased with my relative lack of productivity


• how to reconcile appearance and reality


• why i am so judgmental

a fitting melancholic response to an introspective album. rest assured that i am not depressed and please refrain from stroking my ego or prescribing xanax.

brushback pitch

the cardinals just scored 7 runs in the top of the ninth to beat the reds. baseball is the screwiest game ever...

i love this cardinals team.

happy haiku friday

in the warm, spring breeze

floated questions about God

i don’t have answers

link-o-rama

brian mclaren provides some intriguing, if underdeveloped, thoughts on church conflict. church leaders, as well as any friends and lurkers from pink church, might find this article beneficial.

kevin rains discusses vineyard central's developing theology of leadership and discipleship. kevin is one of the leaders of vineyard central, which is a home church network in urban cincinnati. he, alongside miah, rick and others, was one of the provocateurs who helped give shape and substance to our vision of sinners and saints. kevin almost always has a good word to offer. don't leave this stone unturned.

uncle cade posted a beautiful photo on dizzy dean's blog.

musing

one of the reasons i love reading novel is that occasionally an author will suggest an interpretation of a biblical text that i have never thought of. usually these interpretations are not intended by the author, but their beauty and insights still shine through.

while i was standing in a non-descript parking lot this morning smoking a butt, i read the following passage from w.p. kinsella's shoeless joe.

"i stare in awe at the acres of figures in front of me; to translate this situation to reality would be like trying to stuff a cloud into a suitcase."

if there is a better interpretation of hebrews 11, i haven't heard of it. although kinsella was talking about the 1919 black sox, this passage opened my eyes, so that i found myself starting at abraham, isaac and jacob, who were standing alongside more familiar figures like bob howard, alan taylor, grandma and uncle henri. let us stare in awe at the acres of people in front of us, friends, and be entranced by their faith and beauty.

the return of...the beverly police log

monday, april 11

2:14 a.m. an essex street man complained of dermatitus

5:35 p.m. a man was taking photos on dodge street

10:21 p.m. barking was reported on chase street

tuesday, april 12

9:28 a.m. a broughton drive resident was being followed by a verizon truck

wednesday, april 13

12:22 a.m. a car was reportedly rolling without headlights on essex street

4:41 p.m. a bad smell was reported at beverly commons drive

thursday, april 14

5:50 p.m. a man holding a party behind a fountain on elliot street

9:13 p.m. a shortell avenue man was reportedly using power tools

sunday, april 17

12:36 a.m. an abbott street resident (may or may not have been named james) reported someone looking into his windows (irony of ironies...the peepers got peeped!)

11:41 a.m. an elderly woman was reportedly leaning against a pole on spring street

12:19 a.m. a cabot street resident threatened to injest medication

1:11 p.m. police responded to a report of two asian men sitting in a car

11:43 p.m. a person was reportedly in the trunk of a car on cabot street

suspected power tools, staggering elderly women and the first appearance of sinners and saints. it was a hell of a week folks. a hell of a week!

saturday evening inspiration

"Sometimes you feel inadequate, because you are inadequate."

Dr. Haddon Robinson, Harold John Ockengea Distinguished Professor of Preaching at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary

brushback pitches

pedro is going to win 22 games this year. and it isn't going to mean a damn thing.

his last start aside, i am starting to question the wisdom of the mulder trade. i am slowly realizing that we traded a young tim hudson, and perhaps a neo-natal mike piazza, for an aging mulder. please forgive me, and my close friend walt jocketty, for being wrong on this one.

teams i would least like to face in the playoffs. if i'm the cardinals (and I am): florida, atlanta and houston. we haven't seen pitching staffs of this quality and depth since the bravos of the early 90s. if i'm the red sox: minnesota, oakland and new york. the first two because of pitching, the third because of godzirra and his massive attack.

it appears that paul depodesta knows what he's doin'. it's time for the national media to cut him some frickin' slack!

carlos zambrano is andujar reincarnate, wood doesn't have a high enough iq to be an ace and prior is about as durable as nancy drew. even before nomah's injury i knew that the cubs were in trouble.

terry francona's a horrible tactician...but at least he's one helluva nice guy! ortiz will finally win the MVP this season. could the curse of the bambino be replaced with the plague of the fever pitch? enough about the red sox.

in case you're wondering, i'm still pissed that they named them the nationals.

feel free to add your thoughts.

memorandum from captain random:

fact: if you are a little person (read: midget) with a penchant for acting you will never be unemployed.

i have decided to give up smoking...as soon as dizzy gives up nipping. a man needs accountability.

i can't help but laugh my head when i read sentences like this: "the amazing love of God for me penetrated my heart in a new and deep way that night." there are so many things that i could say about this sentence, but none of them are appropriate. so instead of being vulgar, i'm going to move on to the next chapter, "arousing adam." john and stasi eldredge bring so much to the unintentional comedy table.

if you aren't watching the office on tuesday nights, you're missing out. us collard people love it!

alex took me to the sox game on tuesday to celebrate oklahoma land run day, earth day or my birthday. i can't remember which. the convergence of these days makes celebrating my continued existence rather complicated. anyway, i enjoyed the fenway experience as always and was relieved that fever pitch has left nary a mark on the fenway faithful. our section was filled with interesting conversations about pitch counts, arguments about a certain player's age and the liberal spiking of coca-cola. there was no evidence of either a conga line or an under accomplished comedian in section 13. that being said, we were not left without a big mouthed (i am tempted to say something else that wouldn't be very nice) idiot in our section. when shea hillenbrand, a red sox product who was traded in 2003 for bk kim came up to bat she stood up and yelled "traitor." when i reminded her that hillenbrand did not leave of his own volition, but was traded, she wittily retorted, "he's still a traitor." she needs to get her big...mouth back to the bleachers, where she belongs.

unfortunatery, there were no godzirra sightings at fenway.

you know you're getting old when one of the kids in the middle school youth group you sponsored decides to up and get married.

in the last week the pixie agreed to let me put seats from busch stadium in the living room, watched the clemens/oswalt duel with me and bought a panoramic, framed photograph of busch stadium to commemorate land run day. did i mention that she wants to play strat-o-matic with me? i married the right girl. now, if i can only convince her that watching baseball and chewing red man golden blend are inextricably linked...

musing

yesterday i almost wrote a post about how frustrated i am with punctiliar (read: stop/start) models of conversion. my frustration is partially rooted in theology, but its primary impetus proceeds from my experience. i cannot point back to a single moment in time in which i was "saved," but can, and do, tell stories about how the refreshing waters of the Spirit have slowly altered the riverbed of my soul. anyway, it's a good thing that i left the post unwritten for wendell berry's living analogy of restoration, as told to us by gordon macdonald, "shows" this truth much more powerfully than i could ever "tell" it. you can check out the gordon macdonald article, in which he also includes a kind word for brian mclaren, here.

this journal article, and the post on jamie's blog have reminded me once again that i need to give macdonald a close read. as neal windham and rick would be quick to add, berry's books deserve a place on my shelf as well.

ct has also featured a piece about the life of lonnie frisbee, one of the most intriguing early leaders of the calvary chapel and vineyard movements. you can check out that piece here. i am so glad that the three dimensional testimony of this sinner and saint is being told.

may the peace of Christ be with you on this beautiful (in new england at least) spring day.

the unexpected sermon

late afternoon sun
  the dog is romping
  i am reading

eight year old voices
  and the metallic grind of scooters
  reverberate

feet on the window sill
  buechner sliding into a crescendo
  and then, and then

the dog tears the curtain
  an eight year old startled
  i am revealed

amen. i am revealed

reasons to get up in the morning

the older i get, the earlier i rise. although this practice keeps me from exercising my spiritual gift (read: sleeping), i think it is more beneficial than not.

in order to provide self-motivation for the days i do not want to either rise or shine and in order to remind myself of the beauty of this exercise we call life, i decided to jot down a short list of reasons to get up in the morning.

1. prayer (i realize this sounds overly pious and "preacherish," but i ain't gonna lie)
2. npr's morning edition
3. equal exchange coffee
4. west coast baseball scores
5. morning kisses from dizzy
6. morning kiss from kellie
7. trader joe's rasberry preserves
8. seeing the sun rise over the packy (read: package store or local liquor merchant)
9. hot water and consistent pressure
10. my morning shit (i know, i know, but it's my favorite shit of the day)
11. tom's of maine, wintergreen flavor
12. looking for good words from friends (read: obsessively checking for blog updates)

that's all for now. i'll try to post something more meaningful tomorrow.

link-o-matic

if you've ever been involved with campus ministry, like to laugh and don't mind being offended or making fun of others, you'll love which circle!

back in the days of the horse and buggy, there was a blogger named miah who introduced me to this site. he was a good man, that miah.

oklahoma, circa 1986

i've never thought of myself as a sentimental person. long distance commercials do not phase me, i would never attend high school reunions and the room doesn't get "dusty" when espn classic airs reruns of the 1985 world series (filled with profanity maybe, but not dusty).

that being said, for the last week or so, i've been immersed in memories of my childhood. i've been waking up on summer mornings only to find my baby brother, snug in his yoda underroos, sleeping beside me. i've run through the two and a half neglected acres we called the jungle, where i've redug the trap doors that fooled no one, found dirty condoms on "rock island," sent my brother home after he fell through thin ice lest he get hypothermia, and caught crawdads, hundreds and hundreds of crawdads, and subjected them to horribly creative deaths (slingshots, the blacktop death march and dismemberment are just a few of the options). i could go on. i could tell you about mavis jarvis and in-house suspension, what my friend gabe taught me about my vocation, officiating floor hockey games in the gymnasium, but i won't.

i will, however, confess that i am becoming a bit sentimental. as the years pass the edges of my childhood experience, the fear, failure, my inability to hold my own in honors math, are wearing off and leaving me with a deep sense of wonder. and wonder ain't half bad. in fact, wonder seems to be leading me just a bit closer to the holy and hidden heart of it all.

overheard

"i keep hearin' whispers, that everything's gonna be
all right. you put some goodness back and you take your stand and you hold on to him for dear life."
~bill mallonee, songwriter (numb)

"you cannot tell people what to do, you can only tell them parables; and that is what art really is, particular stories of particular people and experiences."
~w.h. auden as quoted in mark miller's experiential storytelling, pg. 77

"i was no longer stasi. i was sacagawea, indian princess of the west, a valiant and strong woman."
~stasi eldredge in captivating, pg. 3

pitcher as pedagogue

if only i'd known what life would throw
i would have stood still in that box
feet planted, head still, anticipating the schoolyard four seamer

if only i'd know that seams imprinted
could never compare to a ruptured heart
hands back, bat still, short stride

if only i'd known life that life could throw
exploding sliders, cutters in on my hands, shit you can't explain
i'd have taken my cuts, legged a few out, counted the r.b.i.

out of fear i recoiled from the pedagogue
terrified of failure, timid towards pain
backed out of the box, dropped the bat, walked away

but i no longer have a choice
feet planted, bat still, short stride
i have to take my cuts

fear and failure be damned.
i'm going to take my cuts.

fever pitch, part deux

second, it does not work as a romantic comedy. this is true for at least two reasons. first, even a second rate preacher, such as myself, can tell you that you should not wait twenty five minutes to introduce the primary conflict that drives the story (this applies to other genre of literature and film as well). the failure to raise the conflict between fallon's rabid fandom (which is about as realistic as elton john's rabid heterosexuality, by the way) and his broad's yuppie sensibilities, sinks the film from the start. second, fallon and barrymore have less on-screen chemistry than prince charles and lady die. hell, they have less chemistry than me and airport girl! note to the farrely brothers, when viewers have a hard time believing that the main characters would engage in a one night stand, it's going to be a bit difficult to convince them that they would be involved in a long term relationship. for some reason the directors also thought it was a good idea to turn the gender roles on their head by having "the girls" in the movie spend time rock climbing and boxing, while the guys nanced around in an apartment, begging for tickets like strippers for singles, and the lead character faced rejection with pathetic tears instead of a twelve pack of sam adams. playing with gender stereotypes is one thing, but making it difficult for the women in the audience to identify with the female lead and making absolutely verboten for any hetero man in the audience to identify with the male lead, causes more problems than it solves.

the movie also fails on the third level insofar as it is a miserable adaptation of a nick hornby novel. nick writes wonderful novels about how terribly narcissistic, single men discover their humanity and open up their terribly narrow souls. as we have seen with high fidelity and about a boy this theme can be done by american filmakers, and done well. but to turn a nick hornby novel, with the exception of how to be good, into a chick flick is a cinematic sin of the first order.

in sum, i hated this film. in my humble, subtle opinion, ebert and roeper can take the two thumbs they extended in support of this film and stick them up their asses.

whew. i feel better. i should also admit that while i hated the film, i loved the evening. hanging out with kellie and leanne is was tonic for the soul.

dear reader, do sit on your hands until the next edition of jaded reviews, when i will provide my thoughts on john and stasi eldredge's captivating. just to whet your appetite, in the first three pages stasi has already described a conversion experience in which she realized that "i was no longer stasi. i was sacagawea, indian princess of the west, a valiant and strong woman." it was at that very moment that i realized this book is going to be good.

my long awaited review of fever pitch part 1

the primary problem with fever pitch is that it does not work on any level.

first, it does not work as a baseball movie. as most of us have experienced personally, and even more of us vicariously, a baseball field is a beautiful and often magical place. if you ask any true baseball fan, they can tell you about the first time they exited the tunnel at yankee stadium and saw the deep green expanse of left center, walked up to bush stadium and viewed the arch inspired facade or wound their way up to the upper deck of royals stadium, where they were greeted with a magnificent view of the fountains (not to mention I-40 I-70. thanks uncle cade!). unfortunately the cinematography of fever pitch fails to convey either the physical beauty of the field or the lyrical beauty of a perfect wind-up or the sweet moves of a short stop turning two. the stock footage of the games is decent enough, but the shots that the farrelly's directed were horrible. i'm convinced that the blind imbecile who willingly purchased petey the bird could have made more of those shots. in true fenway fashion i would have to say, cinematographer, cinamatographhhher, cinamatogrepherrrrrrrrrrrrr....you suck! furthermore, the portrayals of the fenway faithful were utterly unbelievable. i've been to fenway and have sat close to where the quirky, irrepressible fans sit, so i can assure you that their dialogue is not pg-13 material. i have heard profanities at fenway that i never knew existed and the hometown faithful have made me blush more times than i can count. fans at fenway do not fail to use the f-bomb, they do not talk about "the curse" (they leave such ignorant talk to mindless muckrakers such as Shaughnessy) and they do not fail to discuss subtle nuances of the game, such as whether a one out sacrifice is mathematically sensible or whether lefty-lefty pitching substitutions make an ounce of sense. the fans at fenway, and i'm talking about the real fans--not the beachball pounding, wave joining, blathering idiots who populate the dunkin dugout environs of the bleachers--know baseball better than any fans in the world. when i am there, i am proud to be one of them. turning them into jibber-jabbing, non-cursing, conga-line dancing idiots is reprehensible. on second thought, its worse that that...it's filthy! finally, it does not work as a baseball movie because the narrative ark of the season is never in doubt (hence, no suspense whatsoever) and the filmmakers profane the game by subliminating the story of the season to an idiotic, insipid romance. if you're going to make a baseball movie, make a baseball movie. the narrative arc of the baseball season can sustain a love story here and there (think jake taylor and his sexy librarian, crash and his nun of the "church of baseball"), but do not subliminate the baseball to some player or fan's affection for some broad. okay, i need to get to work. more to come...

finding solace on the smoking porch

around noon on a saturday afternoon, i tried to find solace in a warm cup of coffee, a warm spring breeze and the four thousand incendiary ingredients in my cigarette. but alas, i felt almost crushed by the weight of monotonous work, ministerial responsibility and academic drudgery. but then, whispering through the soft northern breeze i heard the voice of my Savior, "come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and i will give you rest. take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for i am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest in your souls."

in that moment, i collapsed into Christ, wherein i found rest from:

pastoral responsibility
the accusations of conscience
the persistent, piercing voice of self-rejection
the futility of punching buttons
my failure to be present to those i love
the consequences of past sin
my fear of commodifying Christ
the parable that i am to pen for homiletics class
my barely submerged longing for home
my failure to listen and speak life into those i love
my increasing fear of death
the pervasive doubt that consistently counters my faith
and the list goes on.

dear God, i am so thankful for this momentary experience of the rest that both is and is to come. send your Spirit to guide me towards a deeper understanding and experience of the rest that is available in Christ.

my prayer for you, sinners and saints, friends and foes, commenters and lurkers, is that you too will collapse into Christ and so find rest for your weary and burdened souls.

an existential car ride

my occupation arrested my vocation, he admits,
suspended between sentimentality and hope.

what once brought me pleasure
now renders me fat and tired.

the place i called home
has turned into a hospice

i've moved beyond becoming
in order to struggle with being

it is time for the past to impregnate the future
for becoming to issue forth from being.

happy haiku friday!

torn weezer t-shirt

tucked into brand-new gap jeans

past kisses present

memorandum from captain random:

kellie is going to make me see fever pitch. go ahead, laugh, i can handle it. i figure that submission in this instance will save me from later trips to see meaningless drivel like mona lisa smile and murder-in-law. i've heard that holli-brooke is hot to see the later. perhaps they can go together.

at least we won't have to pay for this abusive adaptation of nick hornby's work. we got free tickets for enduring sound problems during the previews for the upside of anger. i would give the latter three stars. fine performances, horrible plot twists. regarding the latter, let me be the first to say only southern children get stuck in abandoned wells.

while we were driving back from his grandfather's interment, josh told us that the receptionist at the mortuary had died unexpectedly the day before. he then said that "apparently, she was the life of the place." we about died.

funniest line of the week: "you had me at blood and semen." ~peter la fleur in dodgeball. is there any end to the entertaining mutations of line?

if you are a fan of crash davis, you'll love ball four by jim bouton. i hope that ron sheldon kicked some royalties bouton's way. otherwise, sheldon is a shameless plagarist.

i've been surprised to find myself returning to a number of christian practices, such as morning devotions, that i once rejected. i think that there is a lot of value in the faith of our evangelical mothers and fathers (pronunciation note: evangelical, pronounced eh-van-gel-i-cal is code for acceptable, Evangelical, pronounced EEE-van-gel-i-cal, often with a southern twang, is code for unacceptable) passed down to us. once we deconstruct the guilt and manipulation with which such practices were foisted upon us, i think that many of us will return to them. a positive, corporate, illustration of this assertion is the way that evangelical, but not Evangelical, churches have been rediscovering the beauty of christian liturgy.

there's twenty of them!

the way up is down

the moment i heard of his grandfather's death, i knew i needed to attend. so after speaking with crummy, i called a couple of friends and we decided to trip together. we planned to leave at 2 a.m. on tuesday morning and arrive home sometime before wednesday. i knew that a day trip of a thousand miles would shred me for the rest of the week, since i am much closer to thirty than i am to spring break at daytona beach, but suspected that the trip would be worth it. i was right.

i am honored to call crummy my friend. after scoring in the 99th percentile on the LSATs and matriculating at george washington, josh decided to go to seminary. at the seminary he struggled through the doubt, cynicism and damn-near despair that few students escape, but he kept at his studies and graduated within three and a half years. after completing seminary, josh had a decision to make. he could begin candidating (seminary-ese for applying) for pulpits or he could go home to carlisle, pennsylvania and provide home care for his grandfather, who was slowly dying of a brain tumor. josh made the right decision.

for the last six months josh has lived in his grandfather's home, overseen his grandfather's affairs and served his grandfather in every which way (up to and including changing his adult diapers). he also took an overnight inventory clerk at target so that he could start paying off his student loans. josh sacrificed the opportunity to work his way into a wealthy firm in order to serve God and His people. he then chose to sacrifice the christian ladder of success in order to serve his dying grandfather. his reward? serving his grandfather during his dying days and letting his grandfather die in loving, familiar arms. josh said he wouldn't exchange the last six months for anything. i am inclined to believe him.

i was so proud to sit in an aluminum sided assembly of God just of I-83 in carlisle, pennsylvania and hear my friend eulogize his grandfather. my intent was to honor my friend for eschewing the good in order to do the best. the tears in his eyes and the strength of his embrace suggested that my intent was correctly interpreted.

there are some people of whom you can truly say, "with friends like those, who needs enemies." i know such people, because i was once one of them. but in the years since i chose to stumble towards Christ and try to serve His church, i have been surrounded by friends who enable me to love and serve not only those who love me, but also my enemies. i am surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses. for this i am so grateful.

overheard...a good word for my fellow bloggers (not to mention myself)

"one of the arguments we often use for not writing is this: 'i have nothing original to say. whatever i might say, someone else has already said it, and better than i will ever be able to.' this, however, is not a good argument for not writing. each human being is unique and original, and nobody has lived what we have lived. furthermore, what we have lived, we have lived not just for ourselves but for others as well. writing can be a creative and invigorating way to make our lives available to ourselves and to others.

we have to trust that our stories deserve to be told. we may discover that the better we tell our stories the better we will want to live them."

~henri nouwen, bread for the journey, entry for april 29th

consider this an invitation to Reverend Billy's Church of Stop Shopping

pastor rick, i just received a vision of God's higher calling on your life. this spectacular vision simply appeared on boston.com. i would encourage you, along with all you other sinners and saints, to check this out!

overheard

alan creech of the vine and branches community has written an insightful piece concerning the individual and communal expectations that confront those who participate in communities like sinners and saints. if you are involved in this type of community or are interested in being a part of one, i would encourage you to read it.

please continue to pray for John Paul, our brother.

for Christ's sake

Please pray for Pope John Paul II as he participates in "the fellowship of sharing in Christ's sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, attain the resurrection from the dead (Phil. 3:10)." John Paul has often said that teaching Christians how to suffer is an important part of his mission. Ask God, through the ministry of his Holy Spirit, to enable John Paul to bring this teaching to a good and holy conclusion.

"just easin' the tension, baby. just easin' the tension!



is there a particular piece of jesus junk that you find especially reprehensible? if so, feel free to share!


please note: the purpose of this piece is not to disrespect Jesus Christ, but to ridicule a piece of jesus junk that i find particularly reprehensible and irreverent.

overheard

i think i'm growing prematurely sentimental. recently i have awoken from a dream only to find myself sitting in a wicker backed roller chair in my grandparents living room, the vestry at bishop kelley or, more disturbingly, on the quad at the citadel during hell night. anyway, these unexpected travels made the following passage from uncle freddy all the more potent.

"the words time and tide trace their ancestry back to a common indo-european root, and part of what they still have in common after going their separate ways all these years is the sense of ebbing and flowing. time, like the receding waters of the ocean, bears all of us who are time's children farther and farther away from the near shore and closer and closer to the mysterious depths where we will finally come to our time's end...but the tide that carries us farther and farther away from our beginning in time is also the tide that turns and carries us back again. in other words, it is true what they say: the older we grow, the more we find ourselves returning to the days when we were young. more vividly than ever before, i think, we find ourselves remembering the particular house that was our childhood home. we remember the books we read there. we remember the people we love there." ~a longing for home, pgs. 1-2.

john irving wrote the the prayer for owen meany in the late eighties. yet this passage, which wryly comments on the gary hart scandal that took place during the 1988 democratic primaries, could have been written about many politicians before and since. read this passage and tell me that you couldn't hear dr. james saying something like this.

"what do americans know about morality? they don't want their presidents to have penises but they don't mind if their presidents covertly arrange to support the nicaraguan rebel forces after congress restricted such aid; they don't want their presidents to deceive their wives but they don't mind if their presidents deceive congress--lie to the people and violate the people's constitution! what mr. hart should have said was that nothing unusually immoral had occurred, or that what happened was only typically immoral; or that he was testing his abilities to deceive the american people by deceiving his wife first--and that he hoped the people would see by his example that he was immoral enough to be good presidential material!" pg. 269.

i've also heard a few encouraging words from a lurker known as becky. she's probably been reading your blog for a good while so be sure to stop by hers and say hello. i would also like to encourage the aforementioned lurker to join the conversation by commenting here and there.

finally, for all of you emergenty types, i stumbled across a blog that you might like. anthony smith is an african-american disciple who has blessed us by adding his voice to the conversation. you can find him at postmodernegro.blogspot.com.

on a wednesday morning

the light appears earlier
the days are getting longer

the whispers more frequent
the prayers a bit stronger

often i ignored you
whenever i heard your sound

but now there's no denyin'
what was lost has been found

"what's lost is nothing compared to what's found, and all the death that ever was, set next to life, would scarcely fill a cup." ~uncle freddy

lump in the throat, yet loathing

my research started with a lump in the throat. i thought that was a good sign. as i meandered through the basement of the goddard library, i was overwhelmed with the smell of decomposing journals, the generative hum of florescent lights and the sight of my old study carrel. it was in this basement that i spent so many hours learning to parse hebrew verbs, exploring the antinomy of divine sovereignty and human responsibility and deconstructing the seeker church. as i walked through the stacks i remembered the encouraging solidarity of working beside april during my second year and the conversations i had with jen about her stalker during my third. then, when i stumbled upon the imaginative yet kitschy carrel of dawn richardson, i almost lost it. i don't know why. perhaps i was overwhelmed with a sense of longing for those who have moved on or, wonder of wonders, God really did bring some good out of those years spent in the library basement.

anyway, after i collected myself, i made my way over to the copier, where i planned to copy two commentator's thoughts on philemon. i began by pulling out my wallet, putting a $5 in the slot and was greeted with an immediate response on the LED: "Exact Change Needed."

no problem, i thought, i will go to the other end of the basement and use the second copier. once i got there i put the five spot in the slot and received another immediate response: "Maximum Credit $4."

i took a deep breath. okay, i don't have any singles since i needed $4.60 worth of copies, but i can go upstairs to the front counter and get change. "can i get five singles," i asked the j crew model at the desk. "uh, i don't know if we have change," she said to the floor and made her way to the drawer. once we were over there, she rustled through a drawer while i looked at the snowy screen that displayed the security camera feed. "that's a nice view," i quipped. "uh-huh," she responded. at that moment i realized she reminded me of the freshman year ice-queen that neither i nor anyone else was ever able to thaw. so i shut my mouth and extended my hand as she gave me five singles.

i then made my way down to the photocopier in the basement and slid a single into the slot. there was no response from the slot and no message on the screen. no problem, i thought, george is just wrinkly. i took out another crisp single and put it into the slot. absolutely nothing. "damnit!" i thought to myself, but didn't say it, since there was a studious and probably sanctimonious student sitting behind me. besides, i am trying to curb my cussing.

once again, i made my way up to the desk. can i get five dollars in change, i asked. "uh, i don't know if we have it," the ice queen replied. "can you look?" i asked with a little (christian) edge in my voice. she made her way over to the drawer and slowly, methodically, carefully counted out five dollars in change. "thanks, i said," and went back to the copier.

once i arrived i plugged my quarters into the machine and began to make copies. the first one was washed out, but i was fairly non-plussed. i simply darkened the image and continued my copies. "page eleven, twelve, thirteen" i counted to myself. "page sixteen, page....what? tray 2 needs paper. what the..." but of course, i kept such thoughts to myself. i opened tray 1 to find paper, and was sorely disappointed.

so, once again, i made my laborious way up to the first floor where i stole copy paper out of another printer and stomped my way back downstairs. "page seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty." once done, i exhaled and exchanged the word biblical commentary volume for the new international greek new testament commentary.

page one didn't capture both pages of the commentary so i adjusted the setting. after adjusting the setting i pushed start and another botched copy came out. finally, while adjusting the setting again, i accidentally hit start and the machine made a copy of nothing. "shit!" i finally said, kicking the copy machine for good measure. in response i heard the student sitting at the desk turn towards me, undoubtedly in an attempt to shoot a little conviction my way. if he had only known what was going on inside, i thought, as one of dennis leary's lines crept into my mind: "fuck! i know fuck is a bad word, but you're fucking making me say it!"

so it was, with only half my research done, i stormed out of the library.

Proper Apparel for the Pimp-Driven Life



Additional apparel can be found at BustedTees.com.

a (wretch-free) book recommendation: real sex: the naked truth about chastity, by lauren f. winner

Finally, a Christian consideration of sex that is (almost) as delightful as the act itself! With exegetical acumen, historical awareness, pastoral sensibility and surprising wit Lauren Winner exposes the half-truths the church and the world have told us about sex. She then proceeds to help us develop a Christian understanding of sex that is biblical, communal and God-honoring. Real Sex is an invaluable resource for college students whose queries cannot be answered by "True Love Waits," Christian communities that desperately long for a return to sexual fidelity and pastors who want to speak a good word about sex into this postmodern context. A remarkable resource!

happy haiku friday!

on the day you died

you forgave their ignorance

will you forgive mine?

maundy thursday

"could you not wait with me for one hour?" the Lord asks, after the t.v. transformed me into a drone and i have drifted off to sleep. "watch and pray, so that you will not fall prey to temptation" of the american dream, apathy and your own small, self-centered expectations, i quickly add. "for the Spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak." weak in what way, i wonder, for it seems perfectly capable cultivating the lusts of my heart and maintaining the wall of pride that surrounds it. maybe Jesus isn't talking to me, i surmise, for it is the Spirit not the flesh that feels weak within me. if, indeed, He is within me at all.

so, rent with contradiction i remain in the garden, for it is to this place of darkness, suffering and self-doubt that the one i hesitantly call Lord has called me to go. i sit in the silence, i try to pray, i wonder whether i am the betrayer, and i fall asleep.

welcome to the garden. though i cover my face on account of failure, i am glad you are with me. please pinch me when i am tempted to slumber. please help me to watch and pray.

overheard

"there is no downside to winning. it feels forever fabulous. but there is no teacher more discriminating or transforming than loss. the great secret of athletics is that you can learn more from losing than winning. no coach can afford to preach such a doctrine, but our losing season served as both a model and template of how a life of how a life can go wrong and fall apart in even the most inconceivable places. losing prepares you for the heartbreak, setback and tragedy that you will encounter in the world more than winning ever can. by licking your wounds, you learn how to avoid getting wounded the next time."
~pat conroy, my losing season

"one secret of life is that the reason life works at all is that not everyone in your tribe is nuts on the same day. another secret is that laughter is carbonated holiness."
~anne lamott, in plan b: further reflections on faith

mid-morning time wasters

in honor of dr. james' post and my own digust at having lived the pimp-driven life, i am proud to present the first annual purpose driven makeover contest! the purpose of this game is to find parking, er, i mean, to carefully examine the photos below and clearly identify the five components of pastor rick's purpose-driven makeover. the winner of the contest will receive a sparkling, slightly damaged, copy of pastor warren's aptly named what on earth am i here for? good luck!

mid-morning time wasters

if you find yourself searching for a little levity this morning, i would encourage you to surf on over to the following sites.

DateJesus (if you're not easily scandalized, feel free to click on the "bathe" link as well)


Wait Wear


i was so inspired by the second site, that i sent the creators an encouraging email. if you would like to read the aforementioned email, check out my comments.

early afternoon time wasters

pray tell, when you meditate upon this image divine what line from happy gilmore comes to mind?

hell hath officially frozen over

krista has a blog. i'm so happy i could shit! seriously.

gratitude

i live in a world of great reversals
    a few of which i'm awake enough to see
i've seen sinners become saints
combatants become friends
the handicapped unveil the holy and hidden heart of me.

all these reversals, these sacred surprises
    continue to startle and overwhelm me
a bastard buoyed by family
an enemy among friends
a shepherd led by sheep

i live in a world of great reversals
    a few of which i've been able to see.

happy haiku friday

pastor never-nude

pitches for the razorbacks

how i love rem sleep

and now for something altogether different

if you read this blog (poor soul) and live within shoutin' distance, feel invited to sinners and saints' 3rd annual saint patrick's day party. we're going to be drinking da green beer and bumping and grinding at the wilcox's place from 7-12 tonight. if you need directions, feel free to shoot me an email at jeffkelliegentry@yahoo.com.

suck my white ass blogger!

on my way to the library

cabot street is becoming my via dolorosa. it is upon this way that i live and, i suspect, it is upon this way that i will die.

my first stop along the way is the cinema, where i hope to connect with Ken the wunderkind magician. over the past several months we've shared snippets of conversation about dogs, accounting and running off to join the circus. though i'm no marco the magi, i suspect that one day our roads will converge. he's out for the evening, so i leave an invite to our patrick party and forget to mutter a prayer.

immediately thereafter i make my way across the walk. an impatient yuppie, vigilantly indifferent to state law, honks and i raise my silver mug in a mock toast. as i pass the italian restaraunt renowned for its peas, mikey (or is it mickey?) appears and compels my second, altogether unexpected, stop. i remind him of our plan to ferry drunks and he promises to join us. as i continue to make my way to the library he chooses to hobble along beside. he reminds me of his shredded tendon and i call him a cripple. after addressing me in the same manner that i address dizzy, he tells me that he has an interview tomorrow at the family dollar. as soon as i break into a smile and offer him a pat on the back he tells me that he has also retained a lawyer. apparently mikey is planning to sue the commonwealth for services that shouldn't be rendered. i shake my head. one step forward, one step back. in the midst of such inertia the only thing i know to do is pray, so i lay my hands upon mikey's grubby sweatshirt, petition God to open a door at the family dollar and leave the other stone in the stream unturned. after "amen" i embrace this bear of a man and realize, in that very moment, that i love him in ways not only ideal but real. he hobbles off and i finally make my way into the library.

but i don't get through the lobby before running into a recently shorn "moppy." he bemoans the sad state of affairs that is bennett street, speaks longingly of past interactions and forwards his blessings as well as his phone number to the tockeys. for my part i confess that sexual sobriety is one of the constraints of Christ that i actually appreciate and remind him that though the coffee has gone cold (quite literally by this point, damnit!) i will still be around. after all, i am landed gentry who works in the area and helps lead a local christian community. upon mentioning the latter i look for any hint of interest, but am unsurprised to see none. with that i fold his number into my wallet, pick up my cold cylinder of coffee and make my way up to the quiet area.

where i now sit, avoiding the work to be done while still doing something that is undeniably important. God, i do not have the energy to walk this road nor the discipline needed to take it step by step. i need your energizing Spirit to keep my feet moving, your incarnate Son to continue revealing the way and your faithfulness to underwrite my faithlessness as i stumble down this via dolorosa.

memorandum from captain random:

if the scourge of prostatitus has truly passed, why do i feel like i'm sitting on a golf ball?

books on tape are a panacea to dull workdays (recently completed: confederates in the attic and be cool. in answer to your question concerning the latter, yes. currently residing in the ghetto blaster: the hundred days by patrick o'brian).

leanne has been haunting our hood lately and, to be honest, i don't mind. this is a bold statement coming from a man who does not like to open the circle of trust or expand his sidebar. but i get the feeling i might be doing both at some point in the near future.

dizzy is a mouthy little bitch. that's all i got to say about that.

marrying an elf is the best thing i ever did. aragorn has yet to lead me astray.

you guys can have your "march madness" if you want, but please...keep your sweaty, gym rat shit out of april (the month in which they finally open the gates to the elysian fields).

i preached in class today. i've preached in front of bible college students and seminarians for six years and it still scares the shit out of me.

after i stopped trembling, i found a way to slip in a little narrative about the pimp-driven life into my sermon. how 'bout them apples?

i've been reading a lot of richard russo lately. can't get enough of him. ditto lauren winner and stanley grenz.

congressional hearings on steriods?! in the midst of making sense of a budget that completely omits war spending, debating the future of social security, and considering whether or not to piss on the senate's long standing tradition of honoring dissent through filibuster, they are going to spend hour upon hour discussing which syringe punctured who's ass in what major league locker room! unbelievable. if you want to press criminal charges, empower the f.b.i. if you want to regulate baseball, lean on the owners. if you want to do govern well, do some real frickin' work! yes, this means you, john mccain. okay, inhale, exhale. inhale, exhale. phew.