Passing-Thought

PS3 and gospel economy

Jayson and I were strolling passed the local Target after our dinner at Thai Bangkok Orchid on Thursday, when we noticed a gang of guys playing video games outside the front entrance.
"What are they doing?" Jayson asked. I walked over to the first set of guys bundled in coats.
"Are these your systems or Targets?" The guy said the systems were theirs. You could see his breath.
"Do you guys typically hang out here playing video games here at night or weekends?" I asked in amazement.
"We always camp out for the latest console."
"Which one is coming out?"
"The PS3."

A handful of souls, playing video games all night outside Target so they can be the first ones in the doors hoping not to miss out on the limited supply. Now those are devout worshippers! They probably wonder what strange world I live in that I hadn't heard the gospel of the coming kingdom of PS3. Would they have any interest in a new world that can't possibly run out of supply? That economic strategy is bound to disappoint any supply-and-demand based worldview of value.

I am loved

Every so often my friend, Phil asks, "So when are you coming? It's time for you to visit us again." The last time I visited was last year right after Katrina hit. I watched his family mobilize others in the church to house huricane refugees. I was due for another visit.

Phil helped me carry my bags and clothes into the guest room. When we opened the door, it appeared that several items were still on the bed. My initial thought was, "Oh, is this not where I'm staying?" Phil asked his wife Amy. She explained that she had not yet taken the time to cleanup the room after their son's birthday party. I thought it was funny that she had not cleared off the bed in expectation of my coming. I told her it made me feel like I was part of their family that she didn't feel anxious about making everything look all perfect just for me. Sometimes you know you're loved when you don't receive special treatment. I'd much rather people feel they can be "at home" around me than running a hotel in their home.

I am sad.

During Ed Welch’s lectures in Dallas this past weekend, I just heard for the first time that one of my favorite professors Al Groves is in the latter stages of melanoma cancer. I’m not sure how I missed the news. Even when our new professor Adrian Smith prayed with boldness for Al’s health during our Convocation ceremony, I guess I just wanted to believe it was a special prayer for Al’s chronic fatigue.

Dr. Welch spoke of Al most gloriously during his lectures on Suffering. How everyone who visits him goes to encourage and to bless, and leaves surprisingly encouraged and blessed by Christ in him.

My brief conversations and times with Prof Groves seem especially heightened in significance for me. I had the honor providing transportation for him after one of his lecture visits in Dallas. We talked about Sailhamer and movies like Magnolia. I think it was Al who introduced me to Magnolia, which continues to be a redemptive treasure full of treasures.

I’ve been bragging ever since about his Deutoronomic history class. Definitely one of my favorite OT courses. If the Lord ever calls me to be a professor some day, I would cite Al as a chief influence and role model. I am ever thankful that His love for the Lord and intimate knowledge of the Scriptures has overflowed the banks of Philly and spilled down to us in Dallas, as annointing oil trickles down from the head and onto a man’s beard.

studying for biblical counseling final exam

Since I'll be devoting the next week or so preparing (coram deo) for my Theology and Secular Psychology final exam, I thought I'd leave you with a couple more papers I submitted to that class this semester: An eye opening movie with some pizza food for thought. Behold and bon appetite.

Next on Seinfeld: Mailmen are closet mailbox critics

Our mailman knocked on our door today since he had a package for me. I answered the door to receive the package and the mailman paid a compliment to our new mailbox:

"I like your new mailbox. It is much nicer looking than that old one."

"Yeah, it's a little smaller than the other one. I hope that works."

"Well, you don't receive a lot of mail. But there are heavy mail days and the smaller boxes just can't handle it."

"I went for the cheapest box." Pointing to the old box on the ground next to some bird droppings and a broken egg, I continued, "The birds were making a nest out of that one. I just wanted to get one that could close its lid." (Not to mention had the same bolt configuration. I didn't want to drill new holes in the wall to accomodate a different shaped box.)

"I suppose you get what you pay for. Next time when this one wears out, you should consider getting the longer box, instead of the deeper box model."

So, that's how it ended. He began with a compliment and ended with a critique of our new mailbox! He must have a lot to say about mailboxes. I bet that mailman walks around the neighborhood evaluating homes by their mailboxes: "Egads. Get a new mailbox, bud." or "Now this is a man who knows his mailbox." or "Hey, Fred, on the Bradford route, what did you think of the Johnsons' mailbox? Don't ya just wanna stand on their porch all day, taking mail out and putting mail in. Smooth, huh?"

Dallas worships the Stars

Last night, I went out with a handful of guys to see the Dallas Stars play hockey at the American Airlines Center. I'm not big on huge, loud pro sports events (OU college football is a completely different matter), but I thought it would be good to go out with the guys who work or study at the International Linguistics Center. I discovered it was "Christian" night at the hockey game which, as far as I could tell, means they have a Christian band play during intermissions and several church groups come. (I wonder if they consider that evangelistic outreach?)

A few phenomena ('fanomena', henceforth) struck me as a bit peculiar. One is that they'd have such a thing as "Christian" night for an event where the crowd gets most excited over the fights. Secondly, I saw several 30+/40+ men wearing Stars jerseys with some player's name and number on the back. Wearing a sports jersey as a symbol of allegiance is one thing; having a favorite player on the back just seems more appropriate for adolescents or teenagers who are clearly younger than those whom they admire. Furthermore, wearing an individual player's name seems to communicate intra-fan competition: "My favorite player is better than yours!" Thirdly, during the national anthem, the crowd liturgically shouts "Stars" whenever the word occurs in the lyrics. Now, I for one will admit that ever since becoming a Christian, I have struggled with how to sing the national anthem from the heart, because it so resembles the corporate sentiment of a worship/hymn. Perhaps for that precise reason, I found the sports cheer intrusions to be distasteful, a breaking of national corporate sanctity, for the sake of a local entertainment event. I wonder if such a thing could only occur in a culture that has so watered down church worship, that even lesser 'holy' realms of life are sacrificed to the alters of our local entertainment deities.

That said, I did have fun with the guys and the game was suspenseful, though no one lost their teeth or got a black eye. The Dallas Stars won over the Chicago Blackhawks in sudden death overtime, 3-2, winning the spoils of free Taco Bueno tacos for all the fans. Yeah, Stars! :)

V-day : the aftermath

Do couples have an exclusive right to Valentines Day? I think not. Romantic interests aside (but certainly not forgotten), upon my heart was to send something to a few of my friends, I've known over the years. In the past, Valentines Day to me, has been a time to remember friends that for one reason or another I feel obligated to send some token of love to. Sometimes to seek reconcilliation and forgiveness; sometimes to say, "Hey, I still remember you, sorry for not keeping in better touch."

This past Valentine's Day, I remembered my mother, who had sent me a card the previous week. In the morning on my way to work, I called my trusted friend Bill, 200 miles away, to see if he had time to get something for her for me. No sooner had my request left my mouth, Bill was out the door to do the good work. That's how he is, yet it never ceases to surprise me how quick, almost spontaneous his love is. My love for my mother was the goal, and yet I felt unexpectedly blessed by my friend's quick willingness to help out. That's just one instance in which v-day "backfired" on me, throwing love back into my face, even before my mom could thank me for the "three beautiful roses."

There were other such instances, a poem given here, a box of chocolates there, a number of e-cards here and there. Anxieties in the aftermath over how people would respond to these gestures. But, by the end of the week, all that has returned to me has left me surprisingly loved.

a moment of unexpected beauty

I was surprised by one of those moments yesterday that filled me with a sense of fresh awe for the power of the gospel. I had asked my roommate for a ride to work, since my car was in the shop, and I so invited him to stay with me there, so I could introduce him to the campus and what all goes on at the International Linguistics Center. He really enjoyed the media and museum we share with visitors, but I feared he would become bored later in the afternoon. So I said he was free to take a walk. A half hour later I went looking for him, fearing he might be lost or causing other people to say, "My I help you?" every where he went.

I entered into the Welcome Center where we had first gone, and to my surprise he was helping the staff set up the orientation room by carrying two chairs, one under each arm. Now, my roommate Keith is a very kind person, so I should not be surprised. But he is also partially crippled on the right side of his body. I rarely see him do anything with his right arm. If there is someone who might expect to always be served, he is one of those people. But here I find him finding ways to serve others. A man who is physically less than most men, doing what what most men do not and demonstrating a strength that few men possess. Simply glorious! I was as proud as if he were my own son (though older in years much less in the faith); proud of Christ in him.

make room for the new year

I kicked off the new year by making my room more a room with room. Today, I picked up a computer desk from Best Buy and hung a Van Gogh painting my mom got for me a few years ago. I redressed my bed (that I received last Christmas) into a new comforter and sheet set (that I received this Christmas). I assembled a 5 shelf bookcase which I bought from Walmart with a gift card, and unpacked and reshelved several of my seminary books. I arranged my bookshelves so they are easier to access. Then I set aside a few books I intend on reading next:

Echoes of Scripture in the Letters of Paul by Richard B. Hays
Double Lives, Second Chances: The Cinema of Krysztof Kieslowski by Annette Insdorf
Let the Nations be Glad! The Supremacy of God in Missions by John Piper
Writing with Style: Conversations on the art of writing by John R. Trimble
The Auburn Avenue Theology -- Pros & Cons: Debating the Federal Vision (in preparation for the annual AAPC Jan 9-11, 2006).

On order: Christ the Lord by Anne Rice (who used to write vampire novels); The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoevsky, for an upcoming book study/discussion group.

I'm currently reading The Resurrection of the Son of God by N.T. Wright.

Other endeavors:
1) Purchase a new Dell laptop (considering the Inspiron XPS M140). My 4.5 year old Toshiba Satellite Pro 6100 is wearing out, and seems too slow to run the linguistics software I'm developing with SIL. I've also had trouble doing video editing on my laptop since it doesn't have native firewire or USB 2.0. Furthermore, my laptop is out of warranty. The IT group where I work can do warranty service for Dell laptops, so that's worth the convenience. I've replaced my current laptop three times under warranty!

2) Take swing-dance lessons. Hey, maybe I can learn how to really sweep a girl off her feet! Asking a girl to swing dance is, afterall, a complex social engagement, not too unlike asking a girl to marry.

3) Learn how to play chess, strategically. People complain I take too long to move. I'd like to be able to beat them quicker so they don't have to suffer so long. :) Actually, I hope that improving chess in relation to time can be a character building experience, an exercise in decision making. I have a friend from church who thinks chess applies to everyday life in many practical ways.

4) Learn to speak another language. Okay, so I admit that I took Spanish in highschool so that I would not have to take it in college. But now I really want to learn other languages. I can read basic Ancient Greek and Hebrew. And I have been practicing reading Scripture aloud twice a week which has helped a little. I would especially like to learn German, since several important theology and philosophy books are in German, not too mention music and film. A number of my friends can speak it. But I think it would be best to pick up Spanish. I live in a largely Hispanic neighborhood. Good opportunity to practice.

Prayer request

I have a seminary final exam on Tuesday 13th, Introduction to Systematic Theology, taught by Dr. Sinclair Ferguson. Appreciate prayers! Yeah, it's true, I've been taking classes for almost 5 years now, and I'm finally taking Intro ST 101. (To my credit, I did audit the class under Dr. Gaffin a few years ago.) Well, even Dr. Ferguson says it really should be one of the last courses one takes (i.e. our thoughts about how to approach the subject matter should be determined by our knowledge of the subject matter). After this class, I estimate having about 11 hours remaining in an MAR in Biblical Studies. But I still need to officially enroll in that program. :) Now that I have a full time job, limited funds, and still looking for a future wife....I should finish the degree before I turn 40. :) Actually, I'm ready to be finished with my classwork. Every year, I feel less and less like a student there. Almost all of my fellow classmates have graduated who started with me. And since I only have time and money to take one class per semester, I don't feel like I'm around the other students enough to get to know them. I do enjoy the classes. Dr. Ferguson is a very refreshing professor. When I leave class, my brain hurts, but my heart is warmed from the gospel.

Genealogy and Blogging: a raison d'être

I spent Thanksgiving with my two great aunts, whom I haven't seen since I was a little boy. They are twin sisters to my grandfather Pyle who died before I was born. I asked them to tell me more about my family history from my father's side of the family. And I received the beginnings of a family tree and some stories to hang on that tree as Christmas ornaments.

My father was divorced when I was seven years old, and my mother sought to establish our family upon healthier grounds and to form new memories. Now that I'm older and hoping to start my own family, I feel an instinctual need to reach back into my past, to be rooted genealogically speaking, to recover and rehearse memories of my childhood, and stories received from my ancestors. Forming my own family means much more than just passing on my genes, it means sharing my personal identity, which has a historical family context, a lineage. I have no desire to pass on my family history as a means to justify the philosophy that "blood is thicker than water". That is idolatry and perversion of truth. But to trace God's providential hand, to discover when and in what manner our proximate family lived in Egypt so that we can better appreciate the benefits of our Exodus in Christ and our future hope to enter The Promised Land.

In many ways, the very existence of my blog "Passing-Thought" is connected to this basic (paternal) desire to "pass on" with the existential conviction that all present human thought passes away, as its time confronts eternity. Thus, the title captures "what blogging means to me." "Passing-Thought" is in the singular rather than plural. The blog is thematically holistic in conception, and has its conviction of sticking to its own meaning and reason for existence. It has an organizing principle, even if that principle be the flux process bearing my surname, rather than a pre-determined cloned product. It is a play on words carrying four basic senses:

"Passing-Thought"
1) Each entry represents a time-bound action, in full fleeting glory. A thought delivered from the womb of my mind unto the cradle of the webpage, carrying its own birth-certificate. A blog is chronology of such thought beggetings, each carrying within their cell-structure my psychogenetic DNA.
2) The fixation of such thoughts into public writing is at the same time a means to reach out beyond their time of deliverance, beyond the cradle of the entry, into the hands of those who want to share and remember the experience, perhaps to see something in its face that reminds them of their own time-boundness, origins, age, and inevitability. So, not just a passing of thought from mind to page, but from paged-thought to another's thought.
3) The allowance of blog comments is a means to receive feedback, as from a babysitter, to learn about their time spent with my children, whether they were ill-behaved or give reason to be proud. And to be willing to return the babysitting favor. Thus, in this sense "Passing-Thought" represents an exchange of ideas, an interpersonal give and take.
4) "All flesh is like grass and all its glory like the flower of grass. The grass withers, and the flower falls, but the word of the Lord remains forever." In the ultimate sense, "Passing-Thought" is a confession that all human thought must bow to eternity before the thrice Holy God, when he comes to judge the world in glory. Every thought expressed must seek to pass away, self-sacrificially, otherwise there is no hope to pass on. Not even through their children or children's children. Every word must wear the the attitude "I am nothing, I know nothing" as its logo, in respect to the One in whom is all knowledge.

God said to Adam, "Cultivate and keep the garden."
Blogging as a "genealogical" exercise, in its highest (unselfish) form, is an act of love towards others. In the first sense, it tries to accept that God has given my thoughts, not just for my own use, but in practical service to others, for His glory. It forces me to speak when my perfectionistic tendency is to not to speak until my thought is "perfect". But my thoughts are never perfect, they are always under construction, subject to God's maturing sanctifying work of grace. My task is to plant and water, in the sound hope that God gives growth.

Consequently, the bearing forth of thoughts as children, requires responsibility. I must accept my children as my own, and be willing to accept how they affect the lives of others (and their children); When they misbehave, apologize for not always raising them as I should, in the nurture and admonition of my own Father. When they do well, admit that whatever good I pass on, comes only from my Father.

God said, "It is not good for Adam to be alone."
Blogging as "genealogical" exercise, requires more than self. As stewards of God's creation in His image, man was designed to need female to accomplish his garden task, to bring all things into the fulness of the glory of God. Likewise, if no one listens, I write in vain. If no one responds, I think in vain.

Jesus loves me this I know for his body tells me so

As if His gracious, loving, and all-sufficient Word was not enough! What a blessed joy it is to share in weekly communion! Can we have our wedding cake and eat it too? Yes. Eat up and drink up: the inconsumable Bread of Life, broken for us to have and to hold; the eternal well-spring of his vintage blood, poured out that we might taste and see that the Lord is good. One big corporate hug and kiss from Jesus. This hearty embrace his bride receives, not prudishly as with our arms down by our side, but as those who in fear and like devotion warmly return such affection with thanksgiving. And what better way to exchange our love before we depart for the week with his blessing!

fear of the dark

I was talking to a friend at Starbucks a week ago Friday, and I found out that she had an infatuation with scary movies. "Why do you like watching scary movies?" I asked. "Because I want to be brave," she replied in her Russian accent. I recounted how I used to be afraid whenever I walked in the dark to get our mail from the mailbox across the dirt country road next to our house. "As I would return from the mailbox, I always had the irresistible feeling that someone was sneaking up behind me. So, I would start running, and they would start chasing me." She admitted having the same feeling. I continued, "But after I trusted Christ, I wasn't afraid of the darkness anymore. I could face it." She replied, "I come from a Muslim background, though I never observed the religious routines. Now I go to my host family's church. I'm confused."

I remember as a kid having an irresistible urge to draw pictures of Satan and evil things on a piece of paper during the sermon at church. My mom saw it and scolded me for it. Once, while my father was pumping gas at a station, I drew an angry face in the fogged up back seat window in our car. I soon found myself crying, curled up in fetal position in the seat opposite of the window, terrorized by the image I had created. My mother had to wipe it away for me. But what she could never help wipe away was the cacophony of voices through which I would dare myself to curse God whenever I thought about him as a teenager. Thus, I lived in a darkness of guilt and shame.

As I look back on my fear of darkness and the irresistible imagination to dare myself with things that might harm me, I think there is more to it than just my terrifying imagination. I was struggling with a spiritual reality. Behind the darkness was a spiritual darkness in which real spiritual powers exercise their dominion through seduction and terror. But these are only the surface of a deeper problem. In a sense, my imagination of wicked things was a means to hide from something more dreadful: the Holy and Righteous God Himself. He was really the only One that was always chasing me, confronting me the reality of our separation. My trust in Christ, then, is not merely the employment of an invincible bodyguard against cosmic bullies, but reconciliation with the One whose wrath is greater than all the power that Satan and his legion can conjure for themselves: they are not only agents of his wrath, but objects.

I have hope for my confused friend. Confusion is a necessary step towards conversion. She will never fully overcome fear of darkness by braving scary movies. You cannot overcome a desert by playing in a sandbox. God still chases. Confusion is evidence that His grace is catching up with her, as He caught me.

a queer in-counter

So, last week I went looking all over for a Squirrel Nut Zippers album and finally found a copy at Best Buy as they were closing--a swinging Hot album, I should add. I decided to check-out at a register with a tall, skinny blonde behind the counter. She asked for my number. I paused.

"Can I give you my cell number?" I answered.
"Whatever floats your boat," she smiled.

I couldn't help but grin. Not because of what she said, but how she said it. Her voice reached a questionably deep tone. My grin soon turned to an uncomfortable silence. As a copy of my receipt was handed to me, the employee's name badge came into full view: "Adam."

how to walk on the ceiling

When I was a little boy, I used to walk around the house with one of my mother's hand mirrors. I'd imagine as I gazed down upon the ceiling moving in the reflection, that I was actually walking, not on the carpet (hidden beneath the mirror), but on the ceiling. Try it some time! :-)

Chigarid

So, on Monday, I went on a hunt to find some Chigarid. I haven't been able to get much sleep recently. Chiggers have been feasting upon me, and as a result the itching has kept me up at night.

After visiting the pharmacy at Krogers and then WalMart, I couldn't find anything but "Chiggerex". I wasn't sure that the stuff would actually kill the chiggers, so I called my mother to find out what she used to put on the bites. I thought it was clear nail polish, but I wanted to be sure. So, she confirmed that clear nail polish is what she used to suffocate them. So, I picked up a cheap bottle of the stuff.

While I was still in the nail section, I noticed a girl talking on her cell phone to her mother, and she was holding some "Chiggerex" in her hand. Astounded, I pointed at her Chiggerex, and said, "I am looking for the same stuff you are!" I showed her where the clear nail polish was. (She appeared to be more eaten up then I was, at least from her visible sores.) Her mom also verified my concern that Chiggerex wouldn't work as well as Chigarid, which the girl said I might be able to find at the local CVS store. Sure enough, the next day, I picked up the last bottle from CVS.

During lunch, I rehearsed the coincidence to some friends in the cafeteria, and found out from one of them that chiggers don't actually bury themselves under the skin, consequently, nail polish doesn't suffocate them. The itching is mostly caused by the infection which the mouth of a chigger creates with its saliva. So, we don't sufficate them to kill them, but they typically die after we scratch/rub them off, leaving their mouth in our skin to bother us for days, as the article below details.

http://www.conservation.state.mo.us/nathis/arthopo/chiggers/

The article even suggests that chiggers here in the Southwest bite us "on accident", and would much rather feed on birds. Consequently, their saliva causes us to itch because we are not their intended host (it has no affect on birds).

In anycase, even if Chigarid doesn't kill chiggers, it is effective in helping to stop the itching, and its "nail polish" like character does help keep me from scratching it and causing an infection.

dreams and loss of control

I rarely have nightmares. But I have noticed in recent years that I have re-occurring dream incidents related to the theme of "losing control". One such incident is losing control of my car, usually not being able to brake. I suppose this could become a nightmare if I suddenly needed to brake on the highway when traveling at a high speed. But this has never been the case. Usually, I am driving in the neighborhood and slowing to park. At that point my car keeps gliding until it hits something. My typical reaction in the dream is to try to calm myself about it, perhaps guessing the damage was not that significant or to assure myself it is just a dream.

In another use of "transportation" as symbolic vehicle, I've had more than one dream where I'm in an airport and I'm not quite sure where I am supposed to go, or how to get there. A sense of being lost, having no sense direction.

Other dreams involve the incident of suddenly remembering some big responsibility that I had forgotten. A common occurrence of this is being in school (usually college) during finals week, and suddenly remembering some class that I had somehow managed to forget to attend the entire semester! Dreadful experience. Along the same lines, I've had the same experience pertaining to working at Sonic Drive-In (where I cooked hamburgers and fries for 5 years through high-school and college). Suddenly, I remember that I'm supposed to work this weekend, and must have forgotten to show up for several weekends. How would I explain myself?

Sometimes I find myself walking into a gymnasium and discovering my name upon some wrestling tournament bracket. I think, "There must be some mistake! I thought I was finished with all this!" Yet, it never seems to dawn on me to ignore the event altogether. So, I typically end up wrestling again.

There are a few dreams where I get so worked up over something I scream at someone close to me (eg. a relative). The feeling of anger is consuming. For people who know me, such outbursts are quite out of character for me. I hardly ever get angry. Irritated and frustrated sometimes, but never outright outrage.

It's hard for me to believe that such reoccuring dreams are simply pointless and random. No doubt they stem from suppressed anxieties during a particular season in my life, or some disharmony in a relationship that I should deal with.

life update

Some of you may be wondering what's been going on with me in the past month, so I thought I'd give you an update.

My work is going well. As I had mentioned in my last update, every morning at 9am the whole team starts off with prayer about our tasks and personal items as well. In my room are about 8 developers. The only thing that separates some of us is our monitors (no cubical walls). We try to keep an open environment to encourage interaction and exchange of information. In other nearby rooms there are 2 design analysts, and 3 testers. Right now I am paired with a seasoned programmer named Steve McConnel. In addition to getting to know my teammates better, "pairing" in our programming tasks has some nice benefits. I get to learn from Steve about areas of the software that he knows quite well and we get to work together to solve a common task. Last week I was paired with another programmer named Dan Hinton to write some tests for some changes we are making to how our software handles undoable & redoable tasks. Since our missionaries do lots of editing type tasks with the software, we want to provide a more reliable way to "Undo" mistakes or "Redo" things they didn't want undone. When multiple programs try to edit the same data, the software hasn't been responding like it should, so we're trying to fix that.

Next week, we'll probably regroup again to work on our upcoming release of a new Lexicon tool that helps missionaries rapidly build dictionaries & print them. Right now we are trying to make sure we have all the features (within reason) needed for missionaries to use the software to do real work. We're hoping to release the tool bundled with some other new tools in the Fall for all of Wycliffe. Then the organization can encourporate these tools in their class rooms for the linguistic students.

Next month, our team will travel to Waxhaw, North Carolina (Mar 6th - 12th), for our annual Language Software Developer's conference. There we will join with the rest of our software team (who is a little bigger than the Dallas group) to talk about what we're doing and to discuss our software goals and how to work together (by God's grace) to make it happen.

My extra-curricular activities seem to take up most of my remaining time. I have no idea how you fathers do all you do with kids (thank God for mothers!) I've enjoyed worshipping on Sundays both at Christ Covenant OPC (who meets at the Wycliffe campus) and Colleyville PCA. Both of these churches, by the way, are the first reformed churches I ever attended (before joining Grace).

On Saturday mornings (7am-8:30--yawn), I've recently started a men's eldership/leadership training course at Colleyville PCA under the direction of Pastor Dale Smith (who is currently working with an augmented session and in hopes to elect other elders later this year.) We are working through a number of books challenging to faith and life in the education of the responsibilities of elders. For what it means to "be an elder" we are reading Biblical Eldership by Alexander Strauch. He challenges the church to recognize the role of all elders to be 'pastor-elders'. Our next main text, Mother Kirk by Doug Wilson, is a combination of essays that helps understand the church and her responsibilities. We are also going through Wilson's Reforming Marriage to help define what a marriage is and, particularly, in hopes that our marriages may be an "a pleasant aroma to God" that preaches Christ's relationship to the church, and not a blasphemous lie about that truth. We are also reading through the Westminster confession of Faith and other readings in order to discuss them and to find ways in the church we can exercise some level of responsibility. I'm struggling to keep up! (Let alone waking up Saturday morning!)

On Wednesday evenings, I've been blessed by the prayer & fellowship of the saints of Christ Covenant OPC. Every week a group of 20+ members (including several children) meet at someone elses house to give praise to God and offer prayer (and to enjoy snacks afterwords). We typically begin by singing a psalm and/or hymn selection. The pastor has us focus on praying for something specific (such as thanksgiving and/or confession of sin). Then after singing again, he catechizes us from the text that was preached on Sunday morning, asking us (including the kids) to remember the main points of the sermon and to discuss them. Then after another song, he might pass out prayer requests from our mission works near and far, and have us pray through those. Followed by a time of prayer for needs in the church. What has been most edifying to me is the wisdom and enthusiasm of all the little kids, both in answering questions about the sermon and in their prayers! I've never heard so many little kids praying together amongst adults, some of them even confessing their particular sins, or giving thanks for things important to them in their life. I really get a good sense that these covenant children know that church is for them, and that their covenant relationship with God and others demands the obedience of faith. The church seems very committed to each other as a family. I was amazed to see this evidenced one prayer meeting by the number of people who met at elder David Mahaffy's house in Plano, which is probably 45minutes (or more) away from most of the church. Even though it was the Wednesday night before Christmas, still, the living room overflowed with people eager to sing and pray to the Lord.

On Tuesdays, I've been involved with the singles group bible study at Bethel (now PCA). We're going through Ed Welch's book, When People are Big and God is Small dealing with overcoming fear of man with the fear of God in the Christian life.

This coming Tuesday, I hope to start taking a seminary class on the Doctrine of God by Dr. Sinclair Ferguson. I still have 15hrs remaining for an MAR in biblical studies, and Lord willing, will finish that up in the next two years.

In my "spare" time, I try to find something around my friend's house to improve, or make beautiful. Saturday mornings I often shop for things to clean or improve the house. But I think I've come to realize that I don't really have the time or money for keeping such a pace. There is no end to things that can be done for home improvement. That said, I do think that the house seems more like "home sweet home" every week. Last night, I even invited a seminary friend (Paul Buckley) over for dinner. My cooking labors were not in vain. So for dessert, we watched a "pyle" movie. :)

I just bought an mp3 player (and a cassette adapter) so I can listen to my pastor's sermons (among others) in my car to/from work every day. (I have some catching up to do.)

Sander Timothy Johnson

Was born today!

http://www.opcnorman.org/blogs/Pastor/archives/000118.html

2004 OU RUF Halloween Party (Oct 30)

I took a few pictures at the recent OU RUF Halloween Party (at the Staffords - Saturday, Oct 30).

http://share.shutterfly.com/osi.jsp?i=EeEMnLFs5ctGIP

You'll notice several of the pictures are kind of blurry--somewhat a recent trend of mine (I typically eschew the flash). Besides, it is apropos to have a ghost effect for the holiday! (Hey, you should see some of the scary pictures in my outtakes!!)

The main focus is the pumpkin carving contest and bobbing for apples. Not very comprehensive. Missing is the lovely feast in the kitchen, the mult-user Halo in the backroom, the Stafford's nameless new puppy, not to mention close-up shots of all the creative costumes. (If you squint on the last couple of group pictures, you can make out some costumes.)

I came as "Neo Puritan", a hybrid character (John Owen meets the Matrix). I had an idea to come to the halloween party as a puritan, due to my love of irony (the puritans, I believe, were against celebrating such pagan holidays). But my attire was completely black and it reminded me of Neo from the Matrix, so I took my sunglasses along with my (New King James) Bible and some cinnamon Altoids. So when people asked who I was, I would say, "I am Neo Puritan. I bring good news from the city of Zion, but eternal damnation to all those who will not repent from the Matrix. Would you like a red-pill?"

My favorite costume vote went to Jessie's Alias (which I mistook for Lola, from Run, Lola, Run! with her red hair). But apparently she fell short of the number of votes that Kim received dressed as Della.

Other highlights of the evening: I met Julie Serven and children for the first time, even though I've known Doug Serven for three years. I also found out that one of the Stafford's daughters went to the same Elementary and Secondary schools I attended as I was growing up in Norman (Eisenhower & Longfellow, respectively). The Staffords also used to attend Wildwood Community Church which was where I went while I was at the University of Oklahoma (1994-1999) before joining Grace Presbyterian. (Grace happened to be a PCA church at the time.)

2004 OKC Conference on Reformed Theology (w/Jim Elliff) (Oct 29-30)

I recently posted my pictures from 2004 OKC Conference on Reformed Theology w/Jim Elliff (October 29-30, 2004).

I found the conference refreshing to my spirit, especially the first two lessons. One dealing with the relationship between the Spirit's sovereignty in our understanding of the truth of the gospel, and the second dealing with true faith as shown by the Spirit's activity in working true repentance in the heart and mind. True repentance is happy to leave sin vs. a sorrow that is no more than sorry for sin or a confession that is merely naming sins. Some things I really needed to hear! The lectures are available now online, and will continue to be a blessing to those who are able to hear them.

By the end of the conference, however, I wondered if his presentation of sanctification could have been strengthened by emphasizing its Christ-shaped goal. Not only is holiness a doing away with sin, but a growing up in the image of Christ, individually and as a community. The work of Spirit in the life of the church is the same Spirit who worked through Christ's life, death, and resurrection. As it stands, the conference seemed to be four separate sessions about the work of the Holy Spirit, without an attempt to fit those sessions into a more unified picture, of summing all things up in Christ. Likewise, the word "gospel" was used several times, but was not defined or fleshed out in a way that concretely related the work of the Spirit with its content.

The final session "The Method and the Mystery" was perhaps the most challenging pastorally, drawing fresh implications from the book of Acts for evangelism. For instance, he suggested, that pastors being "devoted to the ministry of the word" in Acts means more than locking oneself up in one's study only to preach on Sunday. The elders didn't have time to look after the physical needs of widows because they were too busy preaching the word! Another application he drew was an analogy between Paul's habit of teaching in the synagogue, and our need to bring the gospel into liberal churches.

Now, in general, I am skeptical of making modern applications from the book of Acts, assuming that the foundational experiences of the church remain normative for us today. The book seems clearly redemptive historical in character, at pains to show that all that Jesus promised to do through the apostolic witness, this He did. Nevertheless, I think we all still struggle with how its once-for-all foundational character remains normative for His building project upon that foundation. Shouldn't the book, afterall, be used for the shaping and governing of our ministry? Jim's radically challenging suggestions thus warrant our consideration.

If I had to guess, I would say that Jim's favorite session was "The Spirit and Divine Visitation" which drew from the history of revivalism, especially among puritan reformers like Jonathan Edwards, in order to encourage us to look for similar outpourings of the Spirit and what we should expect them to look like. I must admit, I was most skeptical of his conclusions in this session. Does the Bible teach that we should expect cycles of future outpourings or baptisms of the Spirit (like those experienced in Acts)? I tend to think that we simply should pray that God would work powerfully through preaching, sacraments, and prayer, and trust that He is answering that prayer, even when there no spectacular display to behold from Sunday to Sunday. The next spectacular display given for us to expect is Christ's physical return in glory.

Second Golf Score

On Tuesday, Nov 2, 2004, (National Election Day) I went golfing with my pastor and two of my friends. Westwood Park (2400 Westport Drive, Norman, OK, 73069) is a nine hole course, mixed par. It was cold and windy, which on the one hand is a terrible day for playing, but it also meant we didn't have to worry about many other golfers on the course.

Here is our final Score Card. (Pastor Scott had to leave early.)

This was the second time I've ever played a full golf course. For some reason my tee-offs tend to curve to the right. There's certainly room for improvement. But the other guys think I have good potential.

Wedding Announcement: Elisabeth + Greg

Tuxedo Measurements (again!)

Yesterday, I had my tuxedo measurements re-taken by Bill Cosby--yes, that was his name-- at Al's Formal Wear (Al's Crossroads #778, 7100 South I-35, Suite 7116, Oklahoma City, OK 73149. (405) 632-5639).

The engagement is the wedding of Greg Yankey and Elisabeth Gifford on Saturday December 11th, 2004. Apparently Elisabeth does not trust measurements from Tuxedo Specialists in general, and far less from Men's Warehouse. She told me that several people have had less than perfect measurements from those shops. Elisabeth used to work with Bill at a tuxedo shop, so she has some experience in the business. (And it's her wedding, so I do what she says.)

Here are my new measurements from Al's.

• Shirt Size (Neck / Sleeve): 14.5 / 33
• Coat Size: 37R
• Chest: 34 in
• Waist (/Outseam): 28R / 40.5
• Overarm: 42 in
• Hips: 34 in

The measurements do seem to be more detailed than the ones taken during the summer at Tuxedo Specialists, adding Overarm and Hip measurements. The Neck and Sleeve measurements were a little larger, perhaps resulting also in the larger Coat Size (from 36 S, to 37 R). I don't remember the coat from the measurements taken at Tuxedo Specialists to feel too small for me though, so I'm not sure it'll make too much difference.

college, time, and accountability

It was good to see Linda and Victor DeBrunner at Prairie Kitchen (Norman, OK) this morning. They were two of my Electrical Engineering professors at the University of Oklahoma (1994-1999), and still teach there. It is Oklahoma Sooner vs. Texas Longhorn weekend, which is an official holiday for the campus, so Linda and her husband were celebrating their day off by having breakfast together. I had just finished a men's Bible study there over the opening chapters of Isaiah. (The Bible study meets there every Friday morning at--YAWN--6:30am, under the teaching of the local PCA Pastor, Mike Biggs.) It just dawned on me, after I departed the DeBrunners, that Linda had introduced me to their five or six year old child with whom (I believe) she was pregnant (and gave birth to) while I was taking EE classes at OU. It appeared also that she was blessed with another one on the way. I think guys are generally slow about recognizing such things, especially early in the morning, but once in a while we come to our senses (with the help of some coffee). :) Above all instruments that were made to tell of time or to measure it, children, by their growth, demonstrate to the previous generation that time is actually ticking. :)

College seems like a blur to me now. Perhaps graduation did not give me a full sense of closure for it. Maybe because I commuted and never fully felt the solidarity of the college community. Or maybe because a month later I started taking seminary classes part time and still have yet to finish a degree from it. In any case, I still have dreams where I am back in college and realize that I have somehow forgotten to attend one of my classes for most of the semester for which I now have a final exam. Phew! I am always so thankful to awaken (and escape) from those dreams! But I wonder about the significance of such dreams. Perhaps I have negletted responsibilities in the present that need to be dealt with for which I am accountable? There are so many ways we can "escape" from the difficult things in life that need attending to. And I suspect those things are often deeply rooted in our past. For that reason, college remains in my mind an unescapable metaphor for life and eschatology.

Valiant Trogdor (June 22 - July 30, 2004)

On Friday afternoon, July 30th, 2004, Trogdor Burner gave his life, saving the lives of his close friends from a serious car accident. On duty Officer A. Turner reported, "It is a miracle anyone came out alive. That DVD burner must have took most of the weight."

Pyle Driver, Trogdor's employer, was the operator of the vehicle that violently startled Trogdor and his co-workers from their nap in a sports bag. Sony, one of Trogdor's friends rescued from the bag, was obviously shaken up: "I didn't know what hit us. All of a sudden we were all scrunched together. Before I could ask if everyone was okay, it became so tight that we couldn't breathe to scream."

Witnesses report seeing Pyle Driver in a purple Ford trying to back over the bag. One woman named Jordan seemed angry: "That man was a raving maniac! It didn't look like no accident to me. I saw him try to accellerate over them two or three times before stopping the van to assess his damage."

Pyle looked on as two gentlemen rushed to jack up the van in order to free the bag which was lodged next to the front-right tire of the car. Cory, one of the gentlemen, acted quickly: "We didn't have time for questions. We just knew we had to get them fellers out ASAP." Andy, who helped him, could find some good in it all: "Tragic moments like these can really pull people together. A minute earlier in traffic, we're all angry at each other. A minute later, we're all asking how we can help and making sure everyone is alright."

Thankfully, Canon and Sony, digital cameras, were not harmed in the accident but the Tripod twins were permanently crippled. Trogdor had received serious head injuries rendering him unconscious. An ambulance rushed Trogdor, a DVD burner, to the nearest computer hospital. Canon, rode in the ambulance with him: "He looked in one piece. I thought he'd pull through for us. If you looked closely, you could see his face was disfigured a little, but that was all." Trogdor died a few hours later at the nearest computer hospital from an aneurism sustained from the concussion. All passengers were wearing their safety belts at the time of the collision.

Trogdor and his friends Canon & Sony had just returned together from a long week at Camp TEJAS Bring a Friend in Amarillo where they had helped Pyle shoot several kids for memory sake. Canon did not recognize any tension with their employer: "Pyle seemed like a quiet guy and friendly. But we did start to feel uncomfortable driving with him when he was pulled over for speeding a few hours before the accident. He told us not to tell anyone, and seemed unusually quiet on the way home, even for Pyle."

Mr. Pyle Driver swears it was an accident: "I dropped off my employees at their house, but forgot to check if someone had escorted them inside. When I backed into them, I thought I had hit the curb, so I gassed the van few times to get over it." Pyle said he was still grieving for the loss of Trogdor but recently found a replacement. Trogdor's relatives, the Plextor family, said they suspect foul play and would file charges.

This is News-Reporter S. Reavis reporting.

a fly on the wall at 2004 PSW Youth Camp

Lights!
I just returned on Friday from my presbytery's annual summer youth-camp. I had the honor of serving as the camp photographer. What a challenge! The past three years I came as a counselor. Last year, I helped Keil Coppes, the regular photographer, by contributing some of my digital shots for the slideshow. This year, in Keil's absence, I got promoted.

On the surface, being the photographer appeared all too easy. Taking candid shots as a photo-journalist and sharing them with others is one of my favorite hobbies. Secondly, being a photographer does not require the physical stamina of a counselor. Counselors need to endure the 7am meetings along with daily sports activities. I usually have to start running 2 miles a day, 2-3 times a week, at least 2 months prior to camp in order to be in shape enough to at least not be embarrasingly out of breath during the team sports. This year, I ran a little behind in my running schedule.

Camera!
However, I soon realized that being the photographer was just as challenging as counseling. It can be the loneliest of occupations. The entire camp world is mediated behind the steel bars of my camera lens. The photographer must lose his team identity as an impartial judge. Never allowed to join in any reindeer games, except insomuch as Referee Heisenberg says the observer is never separate from those he observes.

But my solitary confinement was anything but involuntary. I had to force myself to put my camera down, join in the lunch line, eat and play with them, lest I miss out on the joy of fellowship. The daily chapel services especially helped to redeem my soul from spiritual bankruptcy, renewing a proper perspective on the week, and motivated me to seek friendships from out behind the camera. Friends sought my company.

The most frustrating thing about the job is how obsessive photography can be around so many interesting people doing so many captivating things. You simply cannot capture it all, from all the cool angles. Good shots are slipping away all the time, even as new ones arise. Thus, I was once again reminded of my limitations as a human observer, and had to learn to humbly accept my apprenticeship under my Master Photographer Omnipresent. Unlike most flies on the wall, I only have been given one eye.

The most difficult task of the week, however, was not the picture taking; it was the picture giving. Looming over my head was a 30minute time slot at the end of the week in which I would enable the campers to re-live the entire week. Thus the countless cool shots missed from lack of omnipresence became the best friend of my want of omnipotence. By the end of the week, the confines of my stream of pictures became an unmanageable ocean, a whelming flood fit for Leviathan. Over 2000 decent photos in 6 days plus about 5 hours of raw video. A director/photographer who is his own producer/editor must be a master of sacrifice. Again, I kneel before the alter of God.

Action!
Thursday evening around 10pm, a hundred and some campers and staff members applauded my labors among them. I'm not sure what I did to deserve such acclaimation, especially since up to that point, few of them had seen any of the fruit, just a man behind a camera. I had only been able to put together movies of the first two days in time for the slideshow. The two movies brought about an enthusiastic moblike encore pressing me to flip manually through all my photos of the rest of the days, while playing through a list of songs given to me from some camper friends of mine. The camp staff graciously gave me enough time to show all my pictures for the mob of campers. But when I started skimming through my raw video footage they wisely requested that we find a good stopping point.

Lessons Learned
I would certainly enjoy being a camp photographer again in the future. I certainly believe that having more footage is better than not enough, but at the same time, the editing process is very hard when you have so much you want to share. (That's why directors like adding bonus material to their DVDs.) So, in the future I might try to get a couple of really good shots from events, along with shorter video clips, rather than taking a lot of shots and a lot of video. Video especially is hard to edit, because you must spend time watching a lot of the material to see what you can use. If I could cut down on the footage, it would save me some time producing a slideshow. Secondly, camp is not the time to learn new software. I spent too much time early in the week trying to find the right format to save my video files, whether or not to try to build a DVD project, and trying to figure out how to use Windows Movie Maker. If I would have decided upon file formats and editing software before camp, I may have had enough time to put a video of five days instead of two. If I really want to keep it simple, I would just have Windows XP do a slideshow of the pictures I want to show, and play a list of songs with Media Player. However, if you want to rearrange photos in something other than file name or time created, then Movie Maker or Power Point may be the way to go. The advantage of Power Point and Windows XP slideshows would be that you have live control over when to change to the next picture (which is good if you want to give people more time to laugh at a picture, or to clap for someone they know). Making a movie looks more professional and its possible to make a Video CD or DVD out of the material. I would also try my best to record more of the songs sung/performed during camp (chapel, talent show, etc). If you can use songs recorded at camp, you don't have to worry about copyright issues, and it helps others to remember the experience of camp and its theme and message. I would try harder to reinforce the theological theme & message of the week in future productions.

I didn't have enough time to keep track of how many pictures I took of whom. It would be nice to have an easy way to do that. I thought about making shortcuts to photos of people and storing them in a folder for each person. I didn't have the time to do that though. So, I tried to do my best to take and share pictures of everyone. Not sure if I accomplished that.

I'd recommend in the future that the camp photographer learn from the camp staff what particular things to be looking for each day as part of the staff 'show'. That way, the photographer can be prepared and know what to capture, rather than being just as surprised as everyone else (and miss some of the action). If at all possible, the camp photographer should also be omniscient with respect to the skits and talent show also. That way we can capture all the surprises for future memory. For instance, in one talent show skit, I was zoomed in too far on a certain character, when all the characters changed their leg positions simulataneously. I completely missed it.

Make sure, if you are using multiple digital cameras, that the time settings are synchronized; otherwise, when you store the photos in the same folder and try to view them chronologically, they will look out of order.

Thanksgiving
Keil Coppes for sharing his Camp Photographer Cookbook with me.
John Aaron, Collin Mirsky, Cassi Fenner & Rachel Bassett for contributing the cool, variegated playlist for my camp movies.
John Brack for shooting the skits for me.
Mike Loggins for shooting the banquet and dance night for me.
David Brack and Alan Story for helping to set up the projector for me.
Betty Brack and camp staff for organizing and executing such a great camp.
Cooks and Facility Staff for food & shelter.
Preachers & Teachers for instructing us what it means to be a friend of God and good neighbors of one another.
Jonathan Hall, Sierra Reavis, and Andrew Moody for sharing their camp pictures.
Campers for being themselves, even when they know I'm watching them.

Appendix - Equipment specifications and implementation:

Hardware
My Sony DCR-TRV38 digital video recorder and my Canon Powershot A20 served me well. Only once did I need to switch to my 64 MB backup card before the time-period expired. Two sets of 4 AA rechargeble batteries were enough to keep my camera running. After every major photo-intensive period, I'd trade out my camera batteries for the fresh ones in the charger. Of course, at night I'd also charge my batteries. For my video camera, I had a 4-hour battery and a 60-minute battery that was more than enough to get me through a day of taking clips.

My 128 MB compact flash card allowed room for 200 pics @ 1600 x 1200. I also had five blank 60min (SP) DV tapes. And I found that the LP mode on my video camera gave me an extra 30 minutes without a noticeable difference in quality from SP mode. For the talent show, I mounted my camera on a tripod, but decided to squat down with the tripod on its shortest height along the first row of seats. That, along with my 6hr battery, gave me the freedom to move around and catch the action without having to shoot over the heads of the audience.

For recording the chapel sermons, I plugged the TAPE-OUT signal from the sound system into my MIC input. I used Syntrillium's Cool-Edit 96 to record and edit the wav files.

Software
If time was both my greatest enemy and greatest friend, then my movie-editing software was his closest companion. Early in the week I had decided to go with Microsoft's Movie Maker (XP) for producing my camp video. I do not regret that decision. The interface was easy to use and not cluttered with bells & whistles. But as loading time for movie projects increased with each picture and video clip added, I realized that progress required making a new project for each day; especially, since the software would hang on me ever so often. grrr. On the day of the slideshow, I also realized that rendering time for Video-CD quality was about 3x the movie time. As a result, I managed to only fit the first 2 days into 2 movies totalling about 16 minutes (I had hoped to fit each day into 5-6 minutes, totalling about 30min). For the rest of the days, I simply had to flip through my photos manually while playing through a list of songs that I had collected for my movie projects. The camp staff also graciously allowed me to skim through 60 minutes of video tape from the first day.

Tuxedo measurements

(Update 11/11/2004: See related blog (on 10/27/2004): Tuxedo measurements (again!))

I had my tuxedo measurements taken today for John & Sarah's wedding on July 11 in Scottsboro, AL.

Shirt Size: S 3
Coat Size: 36 S
Chest: 34/41
Waist: 29
Outseam: 40.5
Neck: 14
Sleeve: 32

Curtesy of a lady that works at Tuxedo Specialists (Carriage Plaza, 2001 West Main, Norman, OK 73069, 405-364-4335. Fax 405-360-5944). I was surprised how fast she measured me and how she memorized all the measurements before writing them down. She verified the coatsize by having me try one on. Her dark red/purplish hair (dyed?) made her green eyes pronounced, so I told her that she had pretty eyes. She was thankful and said she doesn't hear that often. On her counter was an open book, The Da Vinci Code.

2004 Hawaii Trip (Friday & Saturday, May 21-22)

Friday evening we said our "farewell" to Harlan & Dana since they had only agreed to let us stay with them for the first week. Before we left, I cleaned the bathroom, washed the bedsheets, and left a note: "Thanks for putting us up (and thanks for putting up with us)".

First, we went to the Crossroads Coffee House at Scoffield Barraks Army base. It is a Christian ministry which used to focus on single soldiers, but now it also ministers wives and children of soldiers are in Iraq. I had a latte while Bill had a fruit drink. After Bill showed some little kids up on how many mini-basketball goals he could make in 1 minute, he beat me at a game of pool. We helped the staff clean up afterwards and headed over to Pastor Pete's.

Bill had planned to ask Pastor Pete if we could stay with him, but Pete was sorry to inform us that he had already promised to host a Campus Crusade missionary. But he did remind us of some things we could help him with at the church building construction site, so we planned to help out Saturday morning. We said that it was okay if he could not provide us shelter. We could just sleep out in the car in the driveway. After Bill menaced Pete's personal administrator Cecil, we decided it would be safer to stay somewhere else.

We found lodging at the Navy base at Pearl Harbor in the Bachelor Officer Quarters (BOQ). The apartment was nice, especially for $25/night.

Saturday morning, we went to Pastor Pete's house and he sent us to City Mill (home/garden/hardware) store in a pickup truck to find some trash bags, before meeting him at the church construction site. At City Mill, I called and asked Pastor Pete if he could bring some sun-block from his house, and he suggest that I also look for a hat. So I asked a man there where the hats were. The garden hats reminded me of what chinese rice farmers wear. Unfortunately they didn't have a small size. The man asked if there was anything else he could help with, so I asked him if they had a Hanzo sword. At first he didn't understand what I was asking, but then he said, "No, I think you need to ask Uma Thurman for that."

We met Pastor Pete at the construction site and he showed us what needed to be done. The first thing we did was pick up several pieces of scrap metal, pieces of wood, and boxes to take to the dump. Then Bill wacked weeds while I weeded the flowers. Scott & Athen passed by on their motorcycle and waved. (Apparently Scott had been doing this kind of stuff while Bill was gone. So he was glad to have a break.) Then we loaded up the back of the pickup with some cinder blocks for Pastor Pete's back-yard. Apparently Pete's next door neighbor had complained that his air-conditioner unit was too loud, so Pete went out of his way to create a sound-box for it with the blocks, so they could run the air-conditioner at night.

Bill and I mowed Pastor Pete's yard and he provided us dinner--chicken salad. Pete had felt bad that our meal on Wednesday at Long John Silver's had made me sick, so he wanted to give me something with more green and less grease. Not bad. We helped Pete's wife Martha with the kitchen. It was not long before we started talking about relationships and then she asked me whether or not I was interested in someone and about the kind of girl I was looking for. (Bill tells me she is matchmaker minded.) We talked about that for some time, until I asked her about her thoughts on the courtship vs. dating issue. She seemed a little defensive when I tried to argue the courtship line (though I did not know it well enough to defend it).

To be quite honest, Friday & Saturday nights seem jumbled in my mind, but to the best I can recall, on Saturday Bill drove around several places and neighborhoods he had known. After walking on a couple of military beaches, we visited the family of his friend Clark. Clark showed us his civil-war industrial-strengthed iron coffee grinder and let us taste his home grown cherry tomotoes. His accent reminded me of my uncle Jerry, so I asked him if he was from Broklyn. He told me he was from that region in New York, an Italian with catholic roots. We spent a while watching famous clips of rodeo bull riders. Each of those cowboys must have their own personal chiropractor. And I wondered what the average lifespan is for the rodeo clowns that throw themselves in front of the bulls to distract them from the dismantled bullriders.

2004 Hawaii Trip (day 6)

Wednesday May 19

Bill finally decided to take me around the island on Wednesday to show me some beaches. I prepared my camera equipment while Bill prepared his Jeep for the journey (IMG_6452). According to Bill, these Jeeps have great engines but are notorios for their poor cooling systems. So, he made sure it had plenty of water. We started off on Kam highway to take the long way around the island in order to avoid rush-hour traffic. I rolled down the passenger window so I could take some pictures of the scenery as it passed by (IMG_6464-6535).

Our first destination was to visit a couple of Wycliffe missionaries who were working on a Hawaiian Pidgin Old Testament(IMG_6539-IMG_6553). Joe Grimes had asked me if I would like to be a part of his Hebrew session at Zippy's in Mililani with his partner Earl Morihara. Joe had already led a project to complete the New Testament and now was in process of working through the Old Testament. This morning they were in 1 Kings. Bill and I tried not to interrupt them as they talked through a rough draft of a passage, but I wanted to know more about Pidgin, so I asked Joe to tell me about its origins. We also talked about Pidgin and its community's cultural identity, since to perhaps most english speaking ears, the language sounds like some kind of gangster slang. He told me about its origins in a mix of cultures from Japanese to Portugese involved in plantations in Hawaii in the mid 1800's. Within a generation, Hawaiian English Creole ("Pidgin") became the language of heart and thought for many people in the Hawaiian Islands. I wondered about the relationship between language and cultural identity. Brittish culture probably thinks Americans have degenerated their language in a similar way that Americans look down upon "slang" cultures. And those who are looked down upon despise those who dismiss their value. I'm thankful that Wycliffe Bible Translators are taking the road to become all things to all people. I have every confidence that God's word alone can tear down cultural pride in a way that unites diverse cultures through love in Christ, rather than a superficial Nazi-like concept of pure-race, Westernization, or ivory-tower tribalism.

After departing, Bill had realized that his keys were locked in his Jeep. Although it was not his custom to lock it, I had asked to do so, since I had all my computer and camera equipment in it, and I had heard that burglary was very high in this area. Bill was not dismayed, however, since he had experience in breaking into his Jeep. (hmm...how did he get this Jeep anyway?) I found a local laundry shop and the lady at the counter was gracious enough to allow us to take a hanger so we could break into our car (IMG_6554-IMG_6556). We were gone in 60 seconds.

We stopped at Pastor Pete's for a little bit, and he took us to lunch to write a list of things that Bill and I could help him while he prepared for his trip to Uganda. We ate at a Long John Silver's with an A&W Root Beer shop. By the end of the lunch, Pete had written a list of things for us on a napkin. After entry 7 there was an ellipsis (...) followed by entry number 1000 which read "have fun". Today, Bill and I decided to skip to entry number 1000.

North Shore Beach (IMG_6557-IMG_6578) was pretty but the waves were not impressive. The first thing that Bill wanted us to do at North Shore was jump off a cliff (IMG_6564). 25 feet (give or take a leg). Not too intimidating from the bottom, but I knew that things would look different from the top. Bill prompted me to follow him, but I pretended to stay behind simply to film his jump. Of course, when he finished, he wanted to return the favor. My first defense was that I didn't enjoy the feeling of falling and so it didn't sound like fun. But Bill quickly trumped me with a triple-dog-dare: "Are you a man or not?" So, I accepted my fate and climbed the cliff. Once I got up there, I waved to Bill and decided that philosophically pondering the jump for any duration would not prove my manhood, so I found a spot to jump and went feet first. Fear tried to grip me half-way down, but was quickly drowned by the water below. Salt water thrusted its way into my cavities, nose and all. (If you ever have an urge for an enima, try this.)

The Hawaiian beach is no welcome for single Christian guys. The distant ocean falls from the blue sky and meets us at the shore laughing, "Where is your romance? See all the beauties here? Look long, but do not touch! Only long." Bill reminisced of his lost love (IMG_6573). This was the beach where he read her last letter. I tried my best not to wonder why the quiet girl next to us was sitting alone (IMG_6575). The waves would retreat from the shore only to gather again for a repeat attack.

We left North Shore in search of better waves. I spotted some waves at Sunset beach and found a good spot for some pictures (IMG_6581-IMG_6629). Before too long the local surfers were riding there (IMG_6600). Then, after picking up some snow-cones, we stopped at Turtle Bay to see some more rocks (IMG_6631-IMG_6661). There we asked some righteous sea turtles if they could help us find Nemo (IMG_6638).

Then we made our trek back "home" to Kaneohe (IMG_6662-IMG_6692) in time for evening Bible study. A light from heaven showed us the way (IMG_6696- IMG_6702).

2004 Hawaii Trip (day 4 & 5)

May 17th & 18th (Monday & Tuesday)

Both Monday and Tuesday were quite similar in character. Bill began his ritual early morning attack around 5 or 6am, which led me to initiate a pillow fight (one of my favorite forms of martial arts). He landed a few shots on me, but I felt that my reflexes were quicker and my blows were more strategically placed. I had the advantage of having the high-ground (standing on the bed) while he stood on the floor. Pillow fighting is much like other forms of martial arts. If you can get the right combination to the head, you can throw someone quite off balance. Of course, getting hit in the head is also quite aggravating. Sometimes your pillow can be snatched from your hand, but with a good block, you can obtain it back. Both of us were able to maintain our composure, smiling like we were unflinchingly under control. Eventually, we decided to cease fighting and lay back down to catch our breath.

But I wasn't about to believe that the fight was truly over. Bill is like the scorpion who stung the turtle who agreed to let him ride on his back to cross a river. If he can't win decisively, Bill would rather go down with a splash. That's his nature. So, as soon as Bill laid down at the foot of the bed, I decided to slip off the side of the bed just to be safe. Fortunately, the covers on the bed were left bundled up, giving the impression that I was still resting naively beneath them. But I had my eye on him.

Bill soon twisted himself into a low-crouch--an excellent position for stealth attack upon the bed. With a shout, Bill sprung upon the bed, striking a fatal blow to the empty comforter. Before Bill could assess the futility of his damage, I flanked him from the side of the bed with a super-combo to the head. Bill retreated from the room after a few meager return strikes, and I laid back down upon the bed, watching the door. Then, to my amazement, I noticed a 1.25 gal jug of Wesson Canola Oil hurled towards me. Thankfully, it landed on the bed next to my knee, barely scratching me. Somewhat crazed with unbelief, I sprung from the bed with the Canola oil and advanced towards Bill, who seemed a little worried about what I might do. But I kept my cool and ran past him calling him crazy and placed the Canola back in the kitchen.

Early Tuesday morning Bill issued a pillow attack while I lay in bed. But within a few seconds we were engaged in a wrestling match. Now, you must understand that in my day, I was a wrestler of rank. Bill knew this, but perhaps felt it was of little significance with his height and weight advantage. In no time, Bill was on his back, with his head dangling over the side of the bed in a half-nelson that led to a craddle. I let up a bit, in order to push Bill off the bed, but he regained footing, so I let him go. Stubbornly, he advanced again, so I posted myself in a ball, maintaining hand control, so that he would have to expend more energy than I. Realizing he wasn't getting anywhere, Bill gave up, saying, "I win!"

The rest of the day on Monday and Tuesday, I spent doing email, writing these stories, and uploading photos. It was somewhat overcast on Monday, so I didn't feel like getting out. Tuesday was a brighter day, but I still felt like there was much I could do inside. On both days Bill left me at home while he went out for a few job interviews. But Harlan's love bird Tweaty kept me company (IMG_6422). I'm not sure how much he really likes me, though, since he bites me when I try to pet him.

Tuesday evening we visited Gerald at his house, since he was taking off to be with family for his mother's final hours who was dying of cancer. Gerald recounted for me some of his memories growing up, when I asked where he grew up. Being a military kid, he had memories from several places. We prayed for each other, and especially that God might be glorified in her dying as He was in her living (she is a believer). Even though I just met Gerald a few days ago, I feel that I already know him. He reminds me so much of my friend Andy in his speech, humor, & personality (as well as looking a lot like another elder I know (Alan) from Abilene, TX). When I told Gerald that he reminds me of Andy, he said in good humor, "Well there's an interesting individual I must meet!"

2004 Hawaii Trip (day 2 & 3)

Day 2 - Saturday, May 15. (Cloudy. 75 degrees. 75% chance of rain)

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Saturday we got up early (IMG_6314) to prepare to attend Harlan's seminary graduation ceremony at the International College and Graduate School. It had begun raining early in the morning, and I lamented my choice to leave my rain-jacket behind on the mainland. Bill had told me it hardly ever rains for sustained periods. But it continued to rain the entire day (IMG_6316, IMG_6317), washing out hopes of seeing mountains and the beach.

The rain continued through the commencement ceremony (IMG_6322-IMG_6324). But it did not dampen the spirits of those attending and rejoicing in the Lord over those who were graduating. Harlan received an MDiv from President Jon Rawlings (IMG_6326). The president's personable daughter gave each a hug and indigenous crown (lay).

The reception time was a good opportunity to meet pastors and church leaders in the area. Perhaps a church in this area would like to hear about computer technology in the ministry of Wycliffe Bible Translators? I had the honor of speaking with Dr. Youngblood who himself is an OT translator for International Bible Society (NIV). Jon Rawlings showed me the seminary's library, small, but the largest in Hawaii, comparable to the campus library at Westminster in Dallas. He also helped me connect with Joe & Barbara Grimes, Wycliffe missionaries in Hawaii who are translating the Bible into Pidgin. I also had a nice talk with Mr. Rawlings's college-aged daughter who seemed friendly and interested in photography. Bill and I helped to clean up after the reception.

We hung out at Harlan's house until dinner time and decided to go out for Tai food at Chao Phya Thai. We wanted to share our entrees so we had to order foods without nuts (Bill is allergic to nuts, even coconut milk). I ordered one of my favorite curry dishes: panang chicken. We ate while a local Hawaiian sung Hawaiian love songs on his ukulele.

Day 3 - Sunday, May 16. (Partly Cloudy. 75 degrees. 25% chance of rain)

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On the third day, we arose again, early around 5 am (which is about 10am in Oklahoma). Bill began his morning antics, including trying to get me out of bed by poking me in the side. (He makes me a little jumpy in the morning.) He then proceeded to turn off the bathroom lights while I was trying to take a shower. I locked the door, but there happens to be another side door to the bathroom that I couldn't lock. I resolved to take my shower in the darkness. Now where did that bar of soap go?

His pattern of attack, spontaneous as it is, is somewhat predictable. While I was getting dressed, I heard him trying to sneak around to me through the side door to the bathroom. I quickly whipped around to the door and attacked him with an eagle claw maneuver, which eventuated into a 5-step exploding heart technique that I learned from Beatrice Kiddo on the movie Kill Bill (appropriately named) . Bill fell to the ground after five-steps.

We drove around the Island to Mililani and I saw the Hawaiian sunrise for the first time since my visit. We stopped briefly at the pastor's house to get a key to the school building where Trinity Central Oahu PCA church is meeting temporarily until they finish building their own. Bill and I helped set up for worship. Setup was no insignificant task. We had to fold up all the cafeteria tables, set up several rows of chairs, an entire sound system for the praise band, and a children's room. A woman offered me a Jumbo Jack for my labors (which I discovered is a Jack-in-the-Box hamburger. Yes, we have those on the mainland, but I never eat there.)

The worship service was edifying though it didn't follow the traditional order of worship that I've grown accustomed to (e.g. there was no call to worship or closing benediction. Is that okay in an Presbyterian church?). Harlan later told me that Hawaiian culture in general is not into following tradition. We sang contemporary praise songs and Pastor Pete delivered a five-point sermon on discipleship. It raised in my own mind the interesting paradox that salvation is both entirely free and yet costs you everything (while legalism is somewhere in between).

There were several Sunday School classes following the service, so I chose the survey of the poetry/wisdom books taught by Gerald. They were using Bruce Wilkinson's book on Talking Through the Bible. Gerald apologized for not making it through all the wisdom books. I personally felt like it would be more beneficial to slow down more! Of course if your goal is simply to give a brief overview and introduction to each of the books, that's all you need to do. But I don't feel like I learn much from Bible blitzkrieg.

Harlan, Dana, and I went to Zippy's for lunch with Harlan's niece Carissa (IMG_6327-IMG_6332). Zippy's is a Denny's or Chili's style restaurant with a variety of kinds of food to select. Their table-booths were sectioned off like cubicals, open to allow you to talk to the people in the booth next to you. I chose chili & frank over their exotic Pupu Platter.

On our way back home in the van, I got my first decent glimpses of the steep and rugged mountain sides in Hawaii (IMG_6334-IMG_6335).

Bill met me at the house to take me to Hickam AFB beach for the afternoon where we met Gerald (IMG_6336), his boys, and others from church. I finally had the opportunity to try out my underwater enclosure for my Canon Powershot A20 digital camera. Now, the enclosure had arrived in the mail by UPS the morning we were leaving for Hawaii; it was a miracle it arrived when it did! At the beach, the water was too dark for underwater visibility, but it was a brighter blue than I've ever seen.

Most of the boys dug trenches in the sand to channel water from a fountain. The youngest helped Gerald build a sand castle (IMG_6344, IMG_6376-IMG_6382). The guys played frisby (IMG_6393) and some kind of nerf torpedo/bomb thing (IMG_6360). Before we left, Bill helped Gerald's boys wash up (IMG_6402-IMG_6404) and gave them high & low fives (IMG_6405-IMG_6407).

Bill and I then rushed off for evening service to Honolulu Bible Church (Reformed Baptist) (IMG_6410). We made it in time for the pastor's sermon over Christ's critique of hypocritical teachers in Matthew 23. In conclusion Pastor Mather exhorted the congregation to pray for their pastors and the pulpits in Hawaii that they might not fall under the same criticism.

Afterwards, we went out for some decent Greek food in Honolulu. I told Bill that I have to constantly remind myself that I'm on a small rock in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, rather than in Seattle or some college town on the mainland.

2004 Hawaii Trip (day 1)

Day 1 - Friday, May 14th.

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Friday morning was somewhat hectic. I had only just arrived from a week long software developer conference at Wycliffe's International Headquarters the night prior. We needed to be at the airport around 1pm and Bill and I weren't sure how we were going to get there. Bill calls me to tell me to wake up his sister Evie and ask her if she can take us. So, I quietly knocked on her door a few times, to no avail. But eventually she arose and agreed to take us.

After stopping by the ATM, we dropped my car off at my mother's place (an emergency car shelter), and then drove through McDonalds to take advantage of their new 34 second policy. Bill tried to throw them off by breaking a hundred dollar bill.

When we reached the airport, Bill & Evie's father Rogers (an FAA employee) was there to help us avoid any further delays (IMG_6232). Evie was seriously dying to go with us. (I informed Evie of my plan to kill Bill and take her with me instead, but I didn't follow through with it.)

The plane trip to Las Vegas (our layover) was relatively uneventful. I tried to study the Psalms while Bill tried to tell me not to play like I'm all spiritual or something. "Don't you get tired of reading the Bible?" Within a few minutes, I had Bill reading it also.

The Nevada terrain was very beautiful from a bird's eye view (IMG_6234 - IMG_6242). Upon landing, Bill exercised his muscles (IMG_6240) to help a young lady next to us with her bag from the overhead compartment.

Our layover was a couple of hours, so Bill and I decided to take a taxi down the strip (IMG_6243-IMG_6248). We soon realized by the traffic (and consequently our ever increasing taxi fare) that we'd only have time for a meal. So, the taxi driver dropped us off at a "hole in the wall" Italian restaurant named Battista's (IMG_6250-IMG_6257). He advised us to expect a 30 minute drive back to the airport due to traffic. Bill paid the cab driver the exact fare, but I made him tip for his services. (The cab driver seemed to wait a little bit, as if giving us a chance to redeem ourselves before calling someone to break our legs.)

Now I noticed that Battista's actually had "Hole in the wall" in their subtitle. To me, that's almost like telling me that you ate at a "great restaurant", only to find out that the restaurant is literally called "Great Restaurant". So, how can a restaurant with "hole in the wall" in the title, actually be a hole in the wall? In advertising it, don't you cease thereby to be it?

Well, curiously, we weren't disappointed. The atmosphere was romantically lit. The tables were elagantly set, and the walls (and ceiling) were filled with interesting antiques and autographed pictures of famous people with the owner. We tried our best not to let our imaginations think that the owner had mafia connections (an Italian in Las Vegas owning a restaurant that's been around for over 20 years.) Bill seemed a little uncomfortable that we were eating together in the romantic environment, so I tried to make a scene about us needing to "come out the closet". He was embarrassed. We imagined a time when we might bring our own wives here in the future.

The dinner plates were at least $20 each, but they came with house-wine & cappuccino for dessert. My manicotti was among the best I've had anywhere, including the side of spinnach. My mocha/cappuccino with whipped cream was the best I've ever had (although, I must admit I haven't ever really had it, and mistook it for hot-cocoa).

After finishing the meal, we found another taxi and found our way back to the airport in under 10 minutes. Even a police man was impressed by his driving (IMG_6260).

Our airplane was a charter flight, probably contracted by casinos in Las Vegas. We found plenty of slot machines at the terminals (IMG_6265-IMG_6268). I noticed that one of the machines would sound a bell every 15 or 30 minutes, apparently to give the impression that people were actually winning something.

We waited an hour or so to board the plane around 7:45pm (IMG_6274-IMG_6301). It was dark by the time we took off, so we were captured by the lights from the city below (IMG_6307-IMG_6309).

The trip seemed to take forever. We watched Master & Commander, followed by some comedy with Gene Hackman (I was more interested in snoozing). We were probably over half-way through with Cheaper by the Dozen when we landed around 11:30pm in Honolulu (around 4:30am central time).

Gerald, a friend and elder of Bill's, picked us up at the airport. He took us to his house where we spent at least a half-hour putting water back into the radiator of Bill's old Jeep. Then Bill drove me to Kaneohe to stay the night with his Hawaiin friends Harlan & Dana.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.

high-school: salutatorian

I stood there listening to the silence of several hundred people. I couldn't even hear a baby crying in the crowd. Amazing! The only thing I heard was the sound of my own thoughts saying, "Wow, it is unusually quiet."

Several hundred people sat there listening to my silence. God must have struck my tongue with a mute spirit. It gripped me long enough for my fellow salutatorian Steven Kennedy to knudge me in the side wispering, "Look at the paper." At first, I thought, "No, it will come to me." I was halfway through! I didn't panic. Nor did I feel embarrassed...

Now, traditionally, the salutatory of our graduation ceremony included a prayer in the opening address. My teacher, however, said I was permitted to say something else. I'm sure many people were disappointed, even offended that I did not pray, but I was agnostic at the time. I composed something more appropriate for my conscience and more politically correct for the secular occassion.

One or two short paragraphs, that's all. People had warned me about trying to do it from memory, but I was confident I could do it. I had memorized and recited the whole thing several times in my head before our march into the stadium. I don't remember being particularly nervous either. Short, sweet, simple! But it never came to me.

"Look at the paper". The persistent incantation of my friend Steven was finally effective. I looked down to my paper to finish the salutation.