I couldn't allow myself to link where these lyrics come from. Suffice it to say that Steve Perry has become a masscot of the White Sox as of late and Journey's anti-classic Don't Stop Believin' a theme song of the team. So while I withhold my endorsement of this song and band I highly encourage you to click on this title to go to a very cool website!!!
THE CHICAGO WHITE SOX ARE WORLD SERIES CHAMPS!!!
I have very little to say. I watched the game in my church's theatre room, ate some Ruffles potato chips, and some Prairie Farms french onion dip-all while watching my team sweep the world series. It isn't every day that your team wins the big one. In my lifetime the Greenbay Packers have won one Superbowl and the Indiana Hoosiers have won two basketball championships (when I was in grade school). I cheer for the Big Ten in general in college football (except Ohio State and Michigan and Purdue) so that isn't exactly a prime spot for picking up trophies. Who the hell watches hockey? Soccer? Golf is boring. The NBA hasn't been fun to watch since Jordan left the first time and I'm kind of a closet Boston Celtic fan (mostly because my pseudo-spouse Thompson is a Laker fan), but really don't watch any of it. This leaves major league baseball, and with me since I was eight or so there has been only one team of interest-the often obscure, lowly, second fiddle to perpetual hype pushers from the northside, team of Thomas and...Bo Jackson...and Jordan while he was dicking around, the Chicago White Sox. Grand Total there have been four major championships won by teams that I really care about in my lifetime. This one was awfully sweet, mostly because it was so surprising. I hope you all get to experience your team winning the big game, if for no other reason that you get to feel like a part of something successful for five seconds while you eat your fatty snack and sack out. There are loftier reasons we root for sports teams. Sometimes we see ourselves in their style. Often it is an escape from our daily grind. For me, right this minute, it is mostly about a sense of fulfillment-I have not wasted my time cheering for these guys. If you've never experienced it? Stop cheering for the Cubs-or just hang in there-your day is coming.
Oct 27, 2005
Oct 26, 2005
It's the little things that seem to be saving me today.
Song lyric/title today comes from my future wife Mindy Smith. This is from a song called Down in Flames. Camp kids will remember her from her song Come to Jesus. Click the title to see her website.
I believe man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.
William Faulkner in his Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech
As I've looked upon the news coverage and still photos in papers and magazines these last few weeks since Katrina (then Rita and now Wilma) I've thought a lot about how much two images seemed to burnt into my mind.
The first one is the most accessible and seems to be what I retain visually of all tragedy-I can see the World Trade Center towers falling, I can see the Challenger exploding, I can see JFK getting shot although my father was nine at the time. This image is of wreckage and destruction, of people crying and children afraid. It is an image of looters, armed men and women defending their broken homes, and bodies floating in polluted water.
The second image is the antithesis of the first. I have this very real image of boats coming to the rescue of stranded survivors, Red Cross workers delivering meals, young men helping old men into rafts, and old women holding young girls as they stand beyond ruined neighborhoods. WHen I think about it I have this image too for each tragedy-firefighters standing in front of the flag at Ground Zero, the Chellnger crew striding out to meet their mission, little John saluting his fallen father in the flag drapeed coffin.
I keep coming to this moment in life where I've almost convinced myself that the world is chaos and we cannot ever hope to overcome it. Then I see something beautiful and compassionate and I see someone sacrifice some of theirself for others. Then I go the other way and I begin to see nothing but man's potential to be good and do good and care for one another. This is usually followed by the story of a church member being held at gun point or the glorified airing of a serial killer's trial. And who the hell is Nancy Grace? What has she ever done? I digress...
Last Monday Rosa Parks passed away. I always think when we lose people like that, that my generation doesn't seem real capable of producing such heroes. I hope I'm wrong, I've spent years working in Youth Ministry to make sure I am. Here's a woman that did a little thing. She didn't give up her seat. Now the truth is she was tired, had worked all day. Her feet hurt. She didn't get up as much because she didn't feel like it as because she shouldn't have had to. What followed was a beautiful painful movement to fulfill the freedom's this country promises all.
I keep wondering what that image was like-a black woman in Montgomery, Alabama staying seated on the bus. And what is the opposite image-a german shephard attacking an unarmed protestor? The images continue. A black man beaten in New Orleans by three cops-a woman and her daughter being brought to Northern Indiana to live on given dimes and donated possesions in the wake of Katrina. All around us are both sides of our potential to be monsters and saints.
And that is where we come to the moment where who Jesus was/is is of great importance to the conversation. Here is a man that took the most tragic instances and made them beautiful. Not enough wine to celebrate?-miracle. Not enough food to share?-miracle. Brother dead? Daughter dead? Mother dying?-miracle-miracle-miracle. Crucified teacher? Executed king? Savior overcome? Hope lost?-miracle-miracle-miracle-miracle. I know many people have a hard time believing the miracles of Jesus, which lead them to question whether he existed at all, but here's what I would say.
A man lived named Jesus. His life was recorded and I'll bet exaggerated, but in all stories there is some truth. Part of Jesus' truth is that he came to offer us a way to look at the world that did not remove the sadder images, but transformed them. All death is just a new beginning, all suffering the price of freedom, all love the gift of life (even when it hurts). Throw out the miracles and Jesus is still a pretty miraculous character.
Now look at your life. Are there some beautiful images? Rejoice in them. Are there some sad ones? Write them down. Now put a line through every one that affects your soul ( I define soul as the part of you that is forver!). How many do you have left? If it's one or more you are either lying or need to go see a clergyman right away. Earthly struggles pass. We need heroes, willing to stick up for what is right. But the justice of Earth passes to. Do I kow what awaits us? Absolutely not. But here's betting Rosa has a seat there.
You have a soul that will last forever. Fill it with love and beauty. You have a life that may end tommorrow. Be heroic whenever possible. Balance your sadness with hope. Never give up on yourself or our shared potential to be better.
I believe man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance.
William Faulkner in his Nobel Prize Acceptance Speech
As I've looked upon the news coverage and still photos in papers and magazines these last few weeks since Katrina (then Rita and now Wilma) I've thought a lot about how much two images seemed to burnt into my mind.
The first one is the most accessible and seems to be what I retain visually of all tragedy-I can see the World Trade Center towers falling, I can see the Challenger exploding, I can see JFK getting shot although my father was nine at the time. This image is of wreckage and destruction, of people crying and children afraid. It is an image of looters, armed men and women defending their broken homes, and bodies floating in polluted water.
The second image is the antithesis of the first. I have this very real image of boats coming to the rescue of stranded survivors, Red Cross workers delivering meals, young men helping old men into rafts, and old women holding young girls as they stand beyond ruined neighborhoods. WHen I think about it I have this image too for each tragedy-firefighters standing in front of the flag at Ground Zero, the Chellnger crew striding out to meet their mission, little John saluting his fallen father in the flag drapeed coffin.
I keep coming to this moment in life where I've almost convinced myself that the world is chaos and we cannot ever hope to overcome it. Then I see something beautiful and compassionate and I see someone sacrifice some of theirself for others. Then I go the other way and I begin to see nothing but man's potential to be good and do good and care for one another. This is usually followed by the story of a church member being held at gun point or the glorified airing of a serial killer's trial. And who the hell is Nancy Grace? What has she ever done? I digress...
Last Monday Rosa Parks passed away. I always think when we lose people like that, that my generation doesn't seem real capable of producing such heroes. I hope I'm wrong, I've spent years working in Youth Ministry to make sure I am. Here's a woman that did a little thing. She didn't give up her seat. Now the truth is she was tired, had worked all day. Her feet hurt. She didn't get up as much because she didn't feel like it as because she shouldn't have had to. What followed was a beautiful painful movement to fulfill the freedom's this country promises all.
I keep wondering what that image was like-a black woman in Montgomery, Alabama staying seated on the bus. And what is the opposite image-a german shephard attacking an unarmed protestor? The images continue. A black man beaten in New Orleans by three cops-a woman and her daughter being brought to Northern Indiana to live on given dimes and donated possesions in the wake of Katrina. All around us are both sides of our potential to be monsters and saints.
And that is where we come to the moment where who Jesus was/is is of great importance to the conversation. Here is a man that took the most tragic instances and made them beautiful. Not enough wine to celebrate?-miracle. Not enough food to share?-miracle. Brother dead? Daughter dead? Mother dying?-miracle-miracle-miracle. Crucified teacher? Executed king? Savior overcome? Hope lost?-miracle-miracle-miracle-miracle. I know many people have a hard time believing the miracles of Jesus, which lead them to question whether he existed at all, but here's what I would say.
A man lived named Jesus. His life was recorded and I'll bet exaggerated, but in all stories there is some truth. Part of Jesus' truth is that he came to offer us a way to look at the world that did not remove the sadder images, but transformed them. All death is just a new beginning, all suffering the price of freedom, all love the gift of life (even when it hurts). Throw out the miracles and Jesus is still a pretty miraculous character.
Now look at your life. Are there some beautiful images? Rejoice in them. Are there some sad ones? Write them down. Now put a line through every one that affects your soul ( I define soul as the part of you that is forver!). How many do you have left? If it's one or more you are either lying or need to go see a clergyman right away. Earthly struggles pass. We need heroes, willing to stick up for what is right. But the justice of Earth passes to. Do I kow what awaits us? Absolutely not. But here's betting Rosa has a seat there.
You have a soul that will last forever. Fill it with love and beauty. You have a life that may end tommorrow. Be heroic whenever possible. Balance your sadness with hope. Never give up on yourself or our shared potential to be better.
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