Notable Notes

~Coffeeson's baptism went very well. It was a little strange to be standing on the opposite side of the font making the promises rather than prompting others. We had a full house all weekend long, with over 40 friends and family milling around at one point or another. A seminary buddy came down to do it (and I still feel bad about not giving really any other seminary buddies enough notice...your invites were seriously addressed, just not stamped...I suck). It was good to see him besides. If it hadn't been for said over 40 friends and family, worship would have been low attendance-wise.

~Michigan's offense looked at times like they were still running practice drills against Utah. The defense made adjustments and looked a lot better in the second half, but the offense was every bit as shaky as people figured it'd be. I have more faith in Threet than Sheridan at QB...just open up the field for him and let him rip (Exhibit A: the bomb pass to Hemingway for the TD). 2009 recruiting looks good already, with two mobile QBs and a bunch of other offensive skill guys. Gotta give RichRod time to work. Still, the thought of five years of futility against OSU sucks.

~I think I want to learn the bass guitar. I mean, seriously learn it. I know some basic garage-level stuff, but I'd like to go deeper. If you ask me why the bass, and not guitar or drums, I don't really have an answer for you. There's something about creating lines and runs, the uniqueness of the instrument (how many set out to learn guitar or drums instead?), the special creativity that it entails...I just think it'd be fun. Right now I'm weighing whether to actually take lessons, which would

1. Get me out of the house,
2. Provide accountability and discipline,
3. Allow me to interact with other musicians,

or to buy a few books and do it on my own, which would

1. Enable my impatience,
2. Let me go at my own pace,
3. Keep me locked up in my basement with no other musicians,
4. Enable any ADD-related tendencies that I may have, which will cause me to forget about keeping up with it after a week or so.

You can see which one I think is the better option.

~There's been a dog hanging around our house for the past few weeks. The past several days, Coffeewife has purchased dog food and toys, and this afternoon she took her (we checked) to the vet for a check-up. I don't want a dog. I'd want a dog if I had one or two less cats. And in some ways having a dog is like having a second baby, only with fur and a tail. At least cats are all like, "Did you fill my food dish? Yeah? Okay, you can go now." Dogs are all like, "Wanna play? Wanna play? Wanna feed me? Wanna jump around? Wanna play? Wanna go outside? Wanna go inside? Want me to jump on you? Want me to try to eat your food? Wanna play? Want me to do anything that isn't leaving you alone?"

~Coffeeson is teething. I can't deal with both that and a dog.

~I'm so happy that it's fall. The leaves are already changing. It feels great.

The Weekend That Will Be

This weekend is going to be tremendous...ly busy. And it will be a weekend that will bring bittersweet feelings as we move from one event to the next.

On Saturday, I will be officiating a funeral. You may or may not remember something that I wrote way back in May about a wedding that I officiated. The bride had been undergoing treatments for lung cancer, and there had been no license involved that day so that the groom wouldn't have to deal with insurance issues later on. I can remember the look on her face that day when she'd seen Coffeeson for the first time...she'd teared up, she was so overjoyed to finally meet him.

A few weeks ago, things took a turn for the worst. A hospital bed had been moved into her house, and she pretty well had been relegated to it. I visited her last week, and even though she'd been so worn out that she frequently dozed off, she'd been happy to see me. I was content to sit on a chair at the end of her bed, her dog resting its head on my lap while the rest of its body sprawled out next to hers.

When I finally stood to take my leave, I read her a verse from Romans 8: "I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels nor principalities, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." It was the best that I could come up with...some passage about heavenly rewards or resurrection seemed too...I don't know the word I'm looking for. "Easy," perhaps. It's sometimes easy to talk about the life to come in the face of pain and uncertainty...too easy, I might say. So to read something about God's love being inseparable from her no matter what seemed a slightly better alternative.

She also requested a picture of Coffeeson the next time I came. I told her that I would make sure to find a good one. Now, I won't be able to. All of 34 years old, she died on Friday morning. By far, it will be the youngest person for whom I've officiated, and probably one of the most emotional for me, too.

And then on Sunday, Coffeeson will be baptized. There will be about 40 extra people in worship that morning, as both of our families and a few friends descend upon this little church on the hill. A good seminary friend will travel out to officiate, but I still have...uh...get to preach.

Let me tell you a few things about the prospect of preaching to such a large familiar group.

First, the denominational makeup of this group is something to note: UCC, Disciples of Christ, Presbyterian, United Methodist, Roman Catholic, Missouri Synod Lutheran, Evangelical, and Barely Interested. There will be two other UCC pastors besides me and a UCC youth worker, and a Campus Crusade staffperson.

The more daunting thing for me personally is that I know them so well. Friends and family have come to hear me preach before, but they haven't all been here at once like this.

It's also supposed to rain. We were planning on playing that New Ohio Pastime known as cornhole, and cooking out. I guess we'll just have to organize the most amazingly-sized game of Catchphrase instead.

Like I said...quite a weekend lined up. There'll also be the Utah game, which I suppose I'll have to sneak away to update myself on. Or maybe I won't want to. I suppose I'll know by halftime.

Give Me a Bit

Yesterday afternoon, as I am wont to do, I sat in an empty sanctuary. There's something about an empty sanctuary fresh off a worship service that adds to the silence. It's as if something had been building up all week and finally released...and in a way, it had. This room sits empty most of the week anyway, but just a few hours removed from it being filled (or as filled as it was for us, particularly on a Sunday in August), it always seems a little more empty. Know what I mean?

So there I sat, a bottle of Mountain Dew perched on the railing, my materials finally cleared from the pulpit (I went home and came back later for them). The grass out by the cemetery was still a nice bright green, though I knew that the fall chill is beginning to make itself known. It may have looked like summer, but it's slowly beginning to feel like something different.

Coffeewife and Coffeeson were off at a bridal shower, and of all places I'd chosen this spot to spend at least part of an afternoon all to myself. It seemed a little absurd, even though I knew why I like it there so much: the silence. Something finally being released. The culmination of another week. Add to it the realization that yet another summer is coming to a close and my favorite time of the year will soon arrive, and you have the makings of a meditative moment for one Coffeepastor.

I don't know if any other pastors enjoy empty sanctuaries as much as I do. I can't imagine that I'm the only one. I don't really worry about it, either.

This was before I shuffled off to Borders and do what I always do: browse for a book that maybe perhaps eventually I'll get around to reading. I'm a lot more picky nowadays when I browse the religion section...a lot of it looks the same. You can choose from a bunch of "Jesus is all about your personal fulfillment" books, or books that try to make the case that God loves this political agenda more than the other, or books that parse out some theological issue or other at great painful length, and a handful of emergent-of-the-week stuff. Browsing all these usual themes have made me tired lately. I feel the need to be more selective: I've either been there, done that in terms of the subject matter, or I want to find something that I'm really interested in, really going to stick with.

And then there's this blog, fresh off my admitting that I can't devote as much attention to 365 albums as I'd like. This blog, that doesn't feel as energized of late even though I've posted regularly enough to fool people. This blog, that has taken a backseat to so many things lately--important things, mind you. Real life things. This blog that I once had so much more time and energy for.

I press on, of course. I press on toward fall and through books that I want to read and posting blog entries. But it's all at a different pace now. I think that I'm still coming to grips with this new pace; still trying to understand it and accept it.

I'll figure out this different pace eventually. Just give me a bit.

July, July

It's really quite fascinating how our own perceptions color our memories the way they do.

I had this blog post all planned out to gush over how thankful I am that July has finally come to an end. And mercifully so. I was going to write about how it just seemed to take forever. I was going to go off on how boring and long and dead it was; how it was the month that just refused to end and how every day was just another horribly slow experience in running on the hamster wheel toward the much more interesting month of August and season of fall.

On some level, that is true. July is not the most hopping month by any stretch at the church. In fact, it is the least hopping. There is no hopping. There is standing still. It made for some excruciatingly dull office hours at times. Planning ahead was what I used to invigorate my spirit. Creating deadlines and tension for myself really helped me through at times.

To aid in what surely was going to be this cathartic release of pent-up hostility toward July, I pulled out my calendar. I looked back over it to see what I could point to in order to help my cause. And then it dawned on me that my perceptions of the month vs. what I've actually been doing are two different things.

Here's how I'm going to remember this July.

I'll remember Coffeeson getting his three-month pictures. Yeah. He's three months old already. We have this one 8x10 shot of him on the wall: he's next to a baseball and smiling right at the camera. That was a one in a million shot. I'll remember how much he likes to giggle now. He giggles at all sorts of things. I'll also remember the ultrasound that he had last week for a...ahem...manly issue. He decidedly did not giggle during that. But for the most part, he's a pretty happy little baby.

I'll remember going to jury duty, only to be told that I didn't have to serve jury duty. The guy was being brought up on various charges related to drunk driving. He actually stood around in the lobby with the prospective jurors beforehand--unkempt hair, scraggly beard, shirt half-buttoned so that his chest hair could pop out in all its glory. I didn't know it was him at the time, but afterwards there was no doubt. Another juror said that you could smell alcohol on him. Good times.

I'll remember meeting with the Emergent Cohort at a little hole-in-the-wall Indian food restaurant in Cuyahoga Falls. The discussion of the day was weighing the views of "the city" in scripture. If you want me to really explain this, let me know. I remember being disappointed when I quickly ascertained that my crab masala was made with the fake processed crab. I hope we don't meet there any more.

I remember attending a church member's graduation party, and the wedding the next weekend, both instances when I was invited to celebrate significant moments in young people's lives. I was applauded before I gave the prayer at the reception. There was "woo"ing involved. Those were fun. I'll also remember the DJ, who reminded me of actor Scott Caan, only playing bootilicious songs so that he could try macking on all the single women.

I'll remember working the Indians game and our spot squarely behind home plate.

I'll remember the Dave Matthews Band concert that I was just at last night. I'll remember the opening act, Ingrid Michaelson ("The Way I Am"...you've heard it, go look it up) rapping "Ice Ice Baby." I'll remember how heavily they seemed to favor "Crash," Tim Reynolds destroying everybody with his guitar solos, Carter Beauford doing likewise during a drum solo on "Two Step," Leroi Moore's conspicuous absence because of a recent hospitalization and being replaced by Jeff Coffin from the Flecktones, who also ripped it up during "#41."

So July was not the black hole of a month that I'd convinced myself it was. Granted, there sure seemed to be a lot of filler in between. But if I said that July was a horribly dead month, I'd be ignoring all of this.

Thoughts Barely Related

Last night, I worked my second of four games in a Progressive Field concession stand. For those who missed it, my church is doing this as a fundraiser - 12 games, base rate for everyone who works + percentage off what we sell. The Tigers are in town this week, and I originally wasn't going to work this one because I wanted to attend as a fan...and then I realized what a copout that probably was, and I ended up working.

Our booth was right behind home plate last night. I'd leave the booth to restock peanuts out front just in time to see Pudge throw the ball back to Rogers, maybe 200 feet from me. Before the game, I watched Magglio and a few others take batting practice. The Tigers lost 5-0...Rogers wasn't his best by any means last night. If the game had even been the slightest bit competitive, I'd have regretted working instead of watching.

I made a lot of popcorn last night. I made A LOT OF POPCORN. And I got pretty sick of the smell of hot dogs. That didn't happen to me last time.

I'm actually reading a book. Yeah, it's been a while. If you want an unbiased, agenda-less take on whether America was intended to be a "Christian nation" and an analysis of the religious devotion of our various Founding Fathers, check out Founding Faith by Steven Waldman. He counters both sides: "they were all hardcore devoted evangelicals" vs. "they were all Deists." It wasn't that simple.

So far, I've learned that some of the early colonies were originally governed under some semblance of "Christian law," and that they could be as oppressive and backwards as some modern religion-based governments.

I've also learned that Franklin, Adams, and Jefferson in particular didn't mind religion so long as it actually taught virtue and influenced people to do good works. They rejected aspects of religion that inspired people to sit around talking about how right they are. Jefferson was the most critical of Christianity's "superstitious" elements, but anyone familiar with the "Jefferson Bible" probably knew that.

I've also learned that there was a lot of anti-Anglican and anti-Catholic sentiment back then, mostly because they associated those particular denominations with England's government. Washington in particular tried to curb this sentiment, mostly to unify his Continental army.

This is a great book. I highly recommend it. It shows that the early American religious landscape was much more complicated than either typical "side" argues, and that making the case that six or seven guys were or weren't devoted Christians over 200 years ago still doesn't say much of anything about how Christian our nation was, is, or should be. I think that the early history of states like Massachusetts, Maryland, and Virginia should be enough to convince people that maybe "Christian government" (and even then, particular denominations of Christians) isn't really the best idea, or even all that Christian.

But a lot of people won't be convinced. And that makes me saddest of all.

Weekend Fun

This was one of those weekends that I just had to write about.

I had a wedding on Saturday. And frankly, I've had a string of good experiences with weddings this year. This was no exception. I enjoyed working with this couple. They've basically known each other their entire lives, and there was little doubt in my mind that this wouldn't just keep getting stronger.

The ceremony involved a cast of thousands: six on each side besides the couple, three musicians, a humongous extended family. When I asked the families to stand in support of the couple, a good quarter of the packed sanctuary stood. I had a feeling that the place would be full - the family is well-known and loved in the congregation, and there were a number of friends presumably from college and earlier there as well (she was in a sorority, so that helped, too).

The other notable thing about the ceremony itself was that they requested that most of the chancel furniture be removed. Our chancel can be pretty cramped, and they wanted something more airy; more room to move for pictures and such. So we left the altar, and stashed everything else in various corners of the building. Keep that in mind for later.

As I stood in the narthex before the service, I was able to observe quite a number of the guests. As start time approached, a woman whom I'd estimate was barely in her early 20s entered carrying a newborn baby girl probably not more than a few weeks old. The way this woman was holding her, her head was just hanging upside-down. And then I overheard this exchange.

Guy: Her head is just hanging there.

Woman: Yeah, I don't know why it does that.

(Deep breaths. Very deep breaths.)

IT'S CALLED "PROPER HEAD SUPPORT." IT'S BABY CARE 101. COME ON.

Later at the reception, she was doing much better. I'd learned that an older couple from the church had approached her, so maybe that's what did it. I'm actually beating myself up a little for not saying something myself.

The reception was billed "adults only," and the CoffeeInLaws saw this as an opportunity to stop up and look after Coffeeson while his parents got to enjoy an evening out. It was held in the reception hall of a Greek Orthodox church, the second time I'd been to a reception in such a place. The Orthodox really know how to host a party, too. They didn't have the vermouth to make a Manhattan, but they did pretty well for themselves otherwise.

Okay, so Sunday morning. Remember how everything had been moved out of the chancel? Well, they did move everything back, so there was no issue there. But when the liturgist stepped up to lead everyone in the Call to Worship, it was clear that the smaller details--such as plugging the microphones back in--had been overlooked. So during the first hymn, I and another church member sitting near the front scurried to the lectern to locate the cable and plug it in. I'm sure it was fun to watch, as I didn't hear a whole lot of singing while this was going on.

The rest of the service, as far as I'm concerned, was pretty forgettable. My sermon didn't feel very inspired, even though Coffeewife later observed that I seemed pretty riled up. I preached on the parable of the wheat and weeds, talking about how there's no place for spiritually stifling and evil (yes, EVIL) things in the kingdom of God. I cited modern examples such as using religion to justify hatred, violence, and bigotry.

Nowadays, I find myself less and less tolerant of watching fundamentalists of any stripe calling for death and destruction, and in recent years I've greatly moved away from any sort of explanation that begins, "Well, you have to understand their culture..." Pardon me, but that's bullsh*t. There is no culture-based excuse for violence. Period. Thanks for playing. If we want to explore and dig at the roots at how the actions of our own country has contributed to feelings of anger in another, that's one thing. But implying that it somehow justifies innocent lives being taken...that's not gonna work for me.

So all that was weighing heavily on my mind while I wrote my sermon last week, and everyone else had the pleasure (or misfortune) of me spilling it out into their laps.

So after a marathon weekend for ministry, a friend and I went to see The Dark Knight. Coffeewife elected to stay behind with Coffeeson and let me have Guy Time, with the understanding that I'd take her to see it later. The best word that I had for it afterwards was "tense." Heath Ledger is excellent as The Joker, and I could see why I've read two separate comparisons to Al Franken. It was a pretty dark film, exploring the side of human nature that seeks self-preservation above the welfare of others, and humanity's need for someone to step up and be a symbol of optimism and hope. In fact, I didn't experience it as much of a fun summer popcorn movie at all. But I did enjoy it.

That was more or less my weekend.

Standing Inside a Concession Booth with a Hot Dog in My Hand

Note: if anyone can name the song referenced in the title, I'll mail you a cookie.

It was a weekend that put a few things into perspective.

Friday night, a group from my church ran a concession stand at Progressive Field. The Indians invite groups in to do this as a fundraiser - we get a base amount plus a percentage on what we sell. We're signed up for 12 games total; I think Friday was number four, and the first of four games that I'll help with.

The game didn't make it out of the first inning before it started downpouring. Our group was in a part of the park (nosebleeds along the third base line up in the corner) where we could basically watch it roll in. We had some steady business before the game and during the delay...all two hours and 43 minutes of it. We were finally told to start closing down our booth, even though the game hadn't been called.

Eventually, as our group was allowed to disperse, it was revealed that the game was scheduled to start back up again shortly after 10:00. As I made my way toward the exit, I thought to myself, "How awesome of a time would I have if I tracked down an open beer stand and just sat up in the nosebleeds, watching this game to its probable 1:00 a.m. finish?" What a summer memory that would have been.

Pre-Coffeeson, I probably would have. But I had to get home.

Saturday morning, I sit down to check my e-mail. I get one from the 20/30 Clergy Network, a UCC network of young hipster doofuses like me. There is a picture there from some gathering or other that includes two of my partners in crime from Eden, evidently taken at a pub someplace. And I think, "I remember those days, and I can even imagine these two interacting with whoever all these other people are." And I think back to when, at the drop of a hat, it was possible to head out and do that.

Pre-Coffeeson, I would have. Now, I'd have to make proper arrangements first.

The rest of Saturday morning was spent with Coffeeson in my arms. He actually has more and more to say, most of it variations on the word "Goo." He exclaims it, he sighs it, he yawns it, he says it conversationally, he squeals it. And over the past week in particular, I'll be sitting at the office or in a meeting or wherever else, and I can't wait for the next time to hear his little chatter. I think about those "goo"s a lot.

Do I lament missed opportunities, ones I could have taken before Coffeeson came along? Yeah.

Do I regret, in any shape or form, the fact that he's here? Absolutely not.

Am I more limited as a father? Sure. But "limited" isn't the best word, and I might even suggest that that word is used more by people dreading the thought of having children.

"Changed" is a much better word. Because for every outing that I give up, there's a smile, a "goo," a look of curiosity that I have the chance to see or hear. I may be limited in one sense, but at the same time I'm experiencing something else entirely. That's not to say that I miss these other things. It just takes some creativity and discernment about how to keep some of them around.

Some. Not all. Let's be honest.

But that's enough.

Something else that I saw at that game on Friday night while standing in that concession both were all the fathers and sons there together. These were kids 4, 5, 6 years old with their first mitts and their little Indians gear, perhaps getting their first taste of a ballpark hot dog and seeing the field in person for the first time.

And I sh*t you not, I teared up a little. Because it made me think of the day when that will be us.

No last-minute chance to stay for a late game, but there will be a chance in just a few years to come with my son.

"Limited" isn't the right word.

"Changed" is.

"Blessed" is even better.

Father's Day + 6 Years of Marriage

I can tell you this, that if I'd married some rosy dame and she had given me ten children and they had each given me ten grandchildren, I'd leave them all, on Christmas Eve, on the coldest night of the world, and walk a thousand miles just for the sight of your face, your mother's face. And if I never found you, my comfort would be in that hope, my lonely and singular hope, which could not exist in the whole of Creation except in my heart and in the heart of the Lord. That is just a way of saying I could never thank God sufficiently for the splendor He has hidden from the world--your mother excepted, of course--and revealed to me in your sweetly ordinary face.

-From Gilead by Marilynne Robinson

Two More Things and Then I'm Really Gone for a Week

First, an announcement:

Today, Coffeepastor weighs 190 pounds, back down from 198 two weeks ago. I met the goal that I'd set for myself a few weeks back.

Here's my secret: fish, chicken, salad, fruit, exercise. No fast food, limited sweets and soda.

Boo yah. Slightly leaner me.

The next goal is 185.

I rule.

And now, to mark the beginning of summer, here's a meme:

1.) What first tells you that Summer is here? Memorial Day. My church has a cemetery, and our local American Legion does a brief service to mark the occasion, with me playing a part. I usually attend a cookout somewhere after this. It's a good and distinctive way to kick things off.

2.) Name five of your favorite distinctively Summer habits or customs.
Baseball - Tigers and Indians on TV, and hopefully a game or two at Jac...uh...Progressive Field.
Sitting on my back stoop looking out amongst the slowly sprouting corn and the setting sun, usually with a book and some kind of beverage.
The Sweet Shop - the local ice cream stand. I love me some Reese's Cup blizzardy-type goodness.
Daytona - a week at a condo owned by the CoffeeInLaws.
Dave Matthews Band - it's not an every-summer thing, but we do it when we can...and we will this year. It'll be my third time seeing them.

3.) What is your favorite smell of Summer? Even though it usually causes me to sneeze, I love the smell of freshly cut grass. This is closely rivaled by the smells at the ballpark.

4.) What is your favorite taste of Summer? Either the Reese's Cup ice cream thing, or a beer and a dog at a game.

5.) Favorite Summer memory? My cousin and I used to spend nearly the entire summer at our grandparents' house in New Jersey. Usually in the midst of this, we spent a week at Long Beach Island. But mostly it was the two of us on bikes all over the neighborhood, listening to music, buying comic books and baseball cards, drawing, watching girls, camping out. I'd look forward to this trip all year.

HT for the meme goes to Nachfolge.

The fatherhood circle...

...is now complete.

My Weekend

I thought I'd write a little about my weekend.

I had a wedding on Saturday. Normally, this fact does not thrill me. Many couples treat weddings like big stupid Cinderella cultural events, and thus Getting The Church and Getting The Pastor become just two more items to check off a big stupid Cinderella list, and organizing the wedding party during the rehearsal is like herding deaf, greased-up cats.

I might be exaggerating a little. But sometimes, this is just how weddings feel for pastors.

Anyway, I said normally, this fact does not thrill me. This weekend's wedding was one of the exceptions that I've enjoyed during my ministry. I've become very close with this family over the past year, and really met the bride during somewhat of a chance encounter: she's been undergoing treatments for lung cancer, and her future in-laws asked me to visit her one evening while she was in the hospital. A few months later, I baptized both her and her 9-year-old son, ministered to her after her mother's death, and have continued to support the entire family during a poor prognosis. I was also able to come to know the groom--who hadn't been much for religion or guys like me beforehand--very well.

On Saturday, they got married. For insurance purposes, there was no legal document involved. It was solely in the eyes of God that these two were married, with all the genuine love that they both had in their hearts for one another. The ceremony saw a couple mishaps, but I could tell that these would simply become part of their history together rather than The Ultimate Ruination of The Perfect Day.

Coffeeson came to the wedding, and slept through the whole thing. He slept through the reception, too. They'd ordered two kegs of beer for the reception, which I avoided because 1) it was Bud Light, and 2) I'm trying to stick to my new discipline (5 pounds lost and counting).

The CoffeeInLaws were up for a brief stay this weekend, as they had their own wedding to attend in the area. Between my duties on Saturday and my duties on Sunday morning, I actually didn't see too much of them. But what I did see was good.

Sunday morning was a full day. Our vocal and bell choirs combined to end their musical season with a piece called "Lord, I Stretch My Hand to You." It was a beautiful piece. I recommend it to certain Ohio-dwelling singing and bell-ringing pastors who may be reading this, if they haven't heard of it.

And then I had a baptism. I love baptisms. I love the potential that we celebrate together, the celebration of new life, the prayers and promises made. This little guy was all of four months old, and was a little fussy until the water touched his head. Then he got this wide-eyed look on his face and became very still. As I walked him down the aisle, I told him that we'd pray he'd never lose that look of wonder about the world. And I couldn't help myself: while he was still fussy, I jokingly let it slip out that "you remind me of someone."

That someone had been up half the night with no end in sight. So the Coffeefamily didn't make it to worship that day.

My sermon, by the way, did not feature any sort of "sacred conversation." With it being a baptism Sunday, it didn't feel right layering the UCC-recommended subject matter over top of it. I used Matthew 28:16-20 to tie baptism and the Trinity together, and I said a lot about how the Trinity isn't about trying to solve a math problem, but about three different kinds of experiences of the same God, and then praying that the one baptized has and claims that experience for himself.

Finally, I closed out the program year for the senior highs with our monthly after-worship discussion group. After a strong fall together, spring had hit a few snags due to snowy weather and Coffeeson's arrival, so I wanted to make sure to close out our year properly. I've taken a "Gospel According To..." approach to this discussion time, using movies, TV, and music as jumping-off points for discussion, and this past Sunday I used the Family Guy episode where Peter pretends he's a miracle healer and God visits the plagues on him.

Looking back, I probably won't use Family Guy again. Even though this was a tamer episode, it still had a couple points that made me cringe sitting with our youth. The Simpsons by comparison is much more age-appropriate.

I asked the kids to name all the Ten Commandments, and they did it with little trouble. So how about that?

That was my weekend, more or less. It was a good one.

Back on the Wagon

When I graduated high school, I weighed 150 pounds. It was pretty much all metabolism, as I didn't necessarily eat the healthiest. Portions weren't huge, so maybe that helped.

By the time I graduated college, I weighed 185 pounds. There were many late-night runs to Burger King. There were also many meals obtained from the pasta bar, because 1) it was really freaking good, and 2) the stuff on the line usually looked so unappetizing to the point of making me angry. My tuition was paying for this nasty crap?

Uh...anyway.

After a while in college, I realized how unhealthy my diet had become, so I tried to take steps to rectify it. Walking around campus to classes and other activities was a plus, but I knew that I needed to do more. I tried working in more salads, and I began exercising during my senior year: first semester at the new fitness center twice a week, second semester in my on-campus house with standard push-ups and sit-ups. I still didn't cut out Burger King, and still gravitated toward the pasta bar a lot. To my shame, I think that part of the problem was that I'd rationalize that, since I'd worked out that day, I could then have fattening food. At best, of course, these things would just cancel each other out.

The summer between college and seminary, I was a camp counselor. The combination of the summer sun and walking all day caused me to lose 10 pounds. By the time I got to Eden, I weighed a nice lean 175.

Then I blew up in seminary. More late night runs (and regular meals!) to fast food...I actually would guess that during my first two years of seminary I probably ate McDonald's 3-5 times a week. Admittedly, some of this was "emotional eating:" it took me a while to adapt to my new digs. This was complemented by a lot of sedentary time reading books and writing papers. I had a couple false-start attempts to establish an exercise routine, but these petered out within a week or two.

Entering my final year of seminary, I weighed almost 210 pounds. I hated how I looked and how I felt. I had another couple false-start exercise attempts my first semester with plenty of fast food.

My final semester, I decided to get serious. I flat out cut myself off from fast food, I cut way back on soda and alcohol, and I went to the gym 3-4 times a week.

Guess what started to happen.

I saw myself backing down toward 200, then toward 190. In fact, I decided to make it my goal to weigh 190 by the time I graduated. After a while, it was nothing to spend 30-45 minutes doing cardio. After a month or two, the sight--even the thought--of a McDonald's cheeseburger made me nauseated. I easily met my goal by the time I was handed my diploma. I had lost 20 pounds by not half-assing it any more.

To cut down on the story, I started to stray after a while. A new ministry position and a move upset my routine. I tried taking regular walks around the cemetery and we even bought an elliptical machine, but I couldn't get anything established. Still, it had become apparent that 190 had become my new "plateau weight."

A little over 2 years ago, Coffeewife and I embarked on the South Beach Diet. Between the diet and finally making good use of the elliptical machine, I got myself back down to 175. But through various compromises since then, I gained it all back.

The reason that I'm writing all this out is because in recent months I've started to creep back up toward 200, and just the thought of it makes me angry at myself. So over the past week I've been climbing back on the exercise machine, and have cut out crap food. The best part about it, I think, has been that I feel the same determination that I felt back during that final semester of seminary. I'm taking this in 5-pound increments: first 190, then 185, and if I'm ambitious enough, all the way back down to 175. But I'm not getting ahead of myself.

I suppose that all of this is to tell you two things: 1) it can be done, and 2) I want to do it. It seems to me that this has become all the more important with a new baby around, because dealing with him has involved plenty of sitting around and plenty of quickie, unhealthy meals.

So far I'm back down to 194 from 198 after a week and a half of this renewed ambition. I've already noticed steady improvement in how much I can push myself on the elliptical machine. Eating well has come fairly easily as well: we just don't buy a lot of the crappy stuff.

I hope that I can stick with this. So far, it's working.

I'm Bummed + I'm Excited + I'm Nervous

I got a voicemail the other day that I have yet to return from a seminary friend. During this voicemail, he mentioned how much he'd miss me during Eden Seminary's annual Herbster alumni gathering. I hadn't thought about it in a couple weeks until he brought it up, which bummed me out. Herbster is today. I'm not there. The reason is simple and perhaps obvious: with my luck, I'll pull into the seminary parking lot, my cellphone will ring, and it will be Coffeewife saying, "My water broke." Yeah, that's not going to work.

So here I sit, thinking about St. Louis and how that first view of the arch would have evoked a certain feeling of homecoming. I sit thinking about all my buddies whom I won't see. I sit thinking about places like Kaldi's and Racanelli's and Vintage Vinyl. I sit thinking about professors I'll miss joking around with and former churches that I served as a student and Central Reform Synagogue and Forest Park Hospital and the St. Louis Zoo and the Muny and Ted Drewe's and our freaking awesome apartment after we moved out of our on-campus Eden apartment.

I think about all that, and I'm bummed.

But I'm also excited. Today is Opening Day. The Tigers with their potential 1000+ run lineup (and their questionable bullpen) kick off the season against the Royals. Meanwhile, the Indians start against the White Sox in about a half hour or so. I thought about wearing my Verlander jersey around today, but it'd just get covered in cat hair and I don't want to deal with that. At any rate, this should be another back-and-forth kind of year for the AL Central. Maybe we'll finally see a Yankee-less postseason.

We had our latest baby doctor appointment this morning, which brought to light the information that Coffeewife is a centimeter dilated and 25% effaced. We're both convinced that he's coming early. He's been measuring ahead, which could just mean that he'll be big, but it could just mean that he'll be early. I told Coffeewife today that my latest source for anxiety comes not from changing diapers or midnight feedings or what of our worldly possessions he'll eventually break, but from that whirlwind moment when labor begins: loading everything into the car, the trip to the hospital, the birth itself, and the suddenness of it all. I've been thinking a lot about the frantic nature of that moment, the upheaval and readjustment and quick response that it will involve, and I just hope I'm ready enough.

Of course, the only reference point that I have for this worry is the moment my brother decided that he was ready to enter the world. I was six and didn't know what was going on. Most of that is a blur to me now, but I remember a lot of quick movement. Now I know that at least once we get to the hospital, it'll probably be something more like what I've seen on "A Baby Story" where every couple has their little handheld camera in the car, and Mommy's all peaceful: "Yep. We're on our way to the hospital. It won't be long now." And then they get there and play checkers on the bed for a couple hours. It's that first few moments of gearing up for the whole process that I think I'm anxious about.

"The first can come at any time." Shut up.

My Cohorts in Emergent

So last night I did something I'd been meaning to do for a few months now. I headed over to meet up with the local Emergent cohort.

For those unfamiliar with this, groups of people sympathetic to the emerging/Emergent church conversation set themselves up in local clusters called "cohorts" to talk and have fellowship together.

Last night's discussion centered around words used in church circles that may be out of place or that have been overused or misunderstood. The word our leader came with to kick off the discussion was "excellence." I shared that the word "excellence" belies a certain idea of the church's meaning or purpose, namely that we (whoever we are) are presenting a product to you (whoever you are) and we want to achieve excellence in presenting it. What this model neglects is a more communal idea of the church where we are in mutual relationship rather than some being presenters and others being consumers.

Other words/phrases we talked about were "missional," "emerging," "accountability," and the one I brought up, "go to church." In fact, I'm using Peter's misunderstanding of the transfiguration to rag on that phrase in a couple weeks. More on that later.

I had a great time connecting with other local emerging types, one of whom, incidentally, was Jeff Greathouse, whom I've blog-known for quite a while now. What I appreciated the most about this group is that it wasn't a bunch of pastors. It was a good mix of pastors, a university administrator, a couple house church members. I told them as much that I liked the mix. I fit right in, too. I thought I'd spend most of the time feeling things out and getting comfortable, but I ended up jumping in with both feet.

I even learned a little more about the difference between the Church of Christ and the UNITED CHURCH.................................of Christ. Did you know that fellowship halls are evil? Me neither.

So all in all, a good time. I look forward to future meetings with this group, as it really fed my soul.

Some Stuff Happened

And thus I hit my halfway point of glancing across the parking lot, looking at my place of work, shrugging, and then doing something else.

Yesterday was a good day, as perhaps the graphic below indicates. We headed over to my parents' for the day for food, finally getting around to exchanging presents, and what we thought would be an afternoon of wincing through the Capital One Bowl. As it turns out, there was a little wincing involved, but all in all it was a surprisingly enjoyable game. Michigan, as others have written, showed what could have been if 1) everyone had been healthy, 2) they hadn't believed their own hype before App. State, and 3) Carr had been a little more adventurous. A strong game by everyone, including Mike Hart. My brother and I turned on him a little after he fumbled a yard from the endzone and then laughed about it jogging back to the sideline. Yeah. Real funny. The rest of the evening was spent playing various games including the most vicious game of Catchphrase I've ever been a part of.

Today was spent looking across the parking lot, shrugging, and moving on. Then after Coffeewife left for work, I meandered over to Barnes and Noble to make use of the gift card I received from my in-laws. Thanks to the entire Christmas experience this year, I have a stack of books from which to choose for the first time in quite a while. I've got a book recounting the history of the Detroit Tigers, I've got a devotional book, I've got a memoir...there will be no need for any book purchasing for quite a while, and honestly, at the rate I've been reading the past few weeks, that'll be okay.

Of course, I have had a few ministry/church things on my mind this week. But I'm refusing to write about them at least until Monday. Honestly, I needed this week like I needed...uh...something I really freaking needed. Good similes are in short supply.

But enough about that. Maybe tonight I'll take down the Christmas tree.

Post-Christmas Lull

Now begins a brief period of time when there are no meetings...

...there are no visits...

...there's only one sermon and worship service left to prepare before vacation...

...there's one little bit of gift-giving left...

...there are only a few days left until the Capital One Bowl (sigh)...

...when do we take down these decorations?...

It's quiet...almost too quiet. The next few days for me, I think, should entail some reflection on Where It's All Going, or something. Maybe I'll even bust out that retreat idea I had months ago and use it as a guide.

But hey, stay tuned for a couple year-end-themed entries. It's gonna be great.

Fourth Monday of Advent/Christmas Eve

"Silent Night," the way it'll be sung in my hometown church tonight...

Stille Nacht! Heil'ge Nacht!
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Nur das traute hoch heilige Paar.
Holder Knab' im lockigen Haar,
Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh!
Schlafe in himmlischer Ruh!

Have a blessed Christmas.

Third Monday of Advent

It's being posted early because my home internet is not cooperating. I'm actually writing this from the church, which I don't particularly like to do, but Coffeewife just left for work and the combination of the weather and the lack of attention to the local roads is keeping me from what I really want to be doing. So I have the time.

A friend of mine is being ordained at the exact moment that I'm typing this. Way to stay on top of things, county workers.

Worship went pretty well this morning. The little trio that I'm a part of did our rendition of The Barenaked Ladies' "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen." We'd sung it a few Christmas Eves ago but figured we could dust it off and do it again. And then I got up for my sermon and totally demolished the view of Mary where she's all starry-eyed and slightly British. Ever notice that in a lot of movies based on the Bible, everyone is slightly British? Yeah, I made fun of that. A lot. Afterwards I had two people come through the line saying that they were laughing so hard at that that they'd started crying. I think that's a new level of preaching for me! I even channeled some of Lewis Black's hand gestures. If you've ever watched him, you know what I'm talking about.

I sent my senior high kids home without Charlie Brown today. The weather was getting too craptastic and I just wasn't going to mess with it. I myself have not yet settled in to watch it, so this may be in my evening plans.

The rest of the week is a very light one for me, work-wise. Wednesday evening is our Blue Christmas service, but otherwise it's that part of the month where I figure it's better to leave people to their holiday planning. I have to clean the house myself to prepare for some out of town visitors this next weekend, so that suits me just fine. My Christmas Eve reflection is already written, so that's one less thing, too.

First Monday of Advent

Today should be the last shopping trip that we have to make. That greatly excites me, because that means for the next 3 weeks I won't have to worry about that stuff. I can instead turn my attention to sitting around in my pajamas drinking coffee and laughing at everyone else.

Yesterday was a good day. First, the worship service went very well. I'm kind of a stickler for singing Advent hymns instead of Christmas carols, although I'm not completely rigid. This being "not completely rigid" attitude in part comes from the fact that our hymnal only has maybe three Advent hymns in it. The old E & R hymnal, which we still keep in the pews, has a much better selection, but still not enough to cover four Sundays. So I end up pulling a lot of Advent tunes from the E&R and then mix them with a few lesser-known, lesser-sung Christmas carols from our main hymnal (also in part to placate those who want more Christmas during Advent). So for instance, yesterday's original lineup was "Come Thou Long-Expected Jesus," "Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence," and "Of the Father's Love Begotten."

I say "original" lineup, because when I wandered into the sanctuary while the organist was practicing "Of the Father's Love Begotten," I remembered that after we'd sung it the previous year I'd vowed that we'd never sing it again. It's not a bad song per se, but it's a horrible melody. So I guess that's to say that it is a bad song, or at least very hard for a congregation unfamiliar with it to sing. So at the last minute I announced that we'd sing "Watchman Tell Us of the Night" instead. That tune is much more familiar to people, I think.

The other big event of the day was going to see one of the church's kids in the play version of A Christmas Story. He'd landed the role of Ralphie for the second straight year, and this year the church had been able to coordinate a group to go see him. We were in the middle section right down front, which was a lot better than my seat up next to the lighting booth last year.

And this morning, there's a nice dusting of snow on the ground. One thing that I love about the setting of my home and the church is that when you get a snow like this, it makes for a beautiful scene. Waking up to this while I make the coffee and switch on the Christmas tree lights is a great start to the day.

Next Monday, I'll have babies on the brain. I have a baptism on Sunday, and then early Monday morning we find out WHETHER IT'S A BOY OR A GIRL!! WOO!

Post-Halloween

So this year, the Coffeehousehold had one trick-or-treater. That's actually one more than we've had the past two years combined. Why is that, you ask? Because we live in a freaking cornfield and parents understandably don't think it's worth the drive for their kid to get one more chocolate bar.

The only reason we even had one was because I made an announcement before worship on Sunday. And knowing full well that we won't get many, we always make it a point to make it worth people's while: this year we picked up some full-size Snickers and Milky Way bars. "Fun size?" How is making your candy smaller "fun?" No, we go for the gusto. People are missing out, man.

Anyway, the one who did make it up (which we were entirely too excited about) was a little girl who'd just turned a year old. Her mom carried her up to the front step and had her all decked out in a little duck costume. We let her pick out a Milky Way, which she wasn't old enough to appreciate yet. Coffeewife even scooped up our cat who loves to escape out the front door, and let the two interact. Our cat kind of got the raw end: a few hard pats on the head, a slight tug on the ear...but he's so laid-back that he didn't seem to mind. They even touched noses. We later considered that a good sign of how he'll deal with the baby.

Articles like this make me nervous to have a daughter. Hey, let's tempt all the neighborhood child molesters as much as possible while encouraging children to lose their virginity at age 10! Screw that. Here's a garbage bag with some holes for your head and arms. When you turn 18 you're allowed to show your neck and elbows. I'm kidding. Sort of.

Anyway, hope you had a Happy Halloween.

(HT to Church for Starving Artists for the disturbing article link.)