Olympic Models

Eric Heiden's 5-medal run is, by far, one the greatest memories for me concerning the Olympics. In 1980, I watched him thrash his competition with ease. He then spoke as a gracious gentleman in front of the camera. I wanted to be like him. Gold medals are special, they make children dream about being great, but what about silvers? I’ve heard some say things like ‘second place is really first place… of the losers!’ or ‘No one ever remembers the runner-up.’ I think this is a tell-tale sign of the times in American Culture. We thrive on being the best. This humanistic view is fueled by the media and over-paid athletes who flaunt their God-given talents and virtues with scenes fitting of a five-year old brat who is trying to muster their own self-esteem.

The Bible is clear that we are to focus on excellence. Paul Writes:

Phillipians 4:8 Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

Paul also urges believers never to give up. Most Christians apply this to their walk with God, and this is certainly Paul’s focus, but it also could apply to life in general. It is a fundamental principal of sports, as well as business. But when does this focus and determination become unhealthy?

In Exodus, God also tells us to have no idols before Him. Can our focus on things such as sports and business be an idol? Maybe we should start by asking ourselves these questions:

Does it consume me?
Does it negatively affect my relationships with God and others?
Does it cause others to stumble?

These are questions that only we can personally answer. We need to examine ourselves and let God convict us what we need to change.

God called us to excellence, but it doesn't always translate into gold medals: sometimes it manifests itself into simply attaining a personal best, possibly being able to go to something as wonderful as the Olympics or being able to face another day at a miserable job. There are so many stories from the Olympics that exemplify both the good and the bad of competitive sports, but I am always drawn back to two quotes from the movie Chariots of Fire by one of the main characters, Eric Liddel:

“Then where does the power come from, to see the race to its end? {It comes} From within!”

“I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run I feel His pleasure.”

I don't know if Liddle really said these quotes, but I sure want to believe he did. Liddle, who went from winning Olympic Gold to being a missionary in China, understood that God created us for so much more than we could know, but not all things that he called us to were directly ‘Christian’ activities. ‘We are in the world, but not of it’: That is not a call for us to be isolationists, it is a call for us to be an example of a better life: a life more abundant, a life where all can be redeemed and love abounds, a life where all that we do can bring pleasure to our Creator.

-Doug

My All Mental Squad

Enough philosophy for a while! Let’s talk about basketball. With the Magic once again faltering into oblivian, I am drawn back to the rest of the league, and more importantly, players who seem to be a few cards short of a full deck. Players in this elite squad seem to have everything physically: they are hardened veterans of the game, but the inability to overcome their own mental demons have crippled them beyond repair. I am focusing on active players. That negates players like Dennis Rodman (The Worm), Brian Williams (Bison Dele), as well as Karl Malone (The Mailman). Interstingly enough Karl was one of my favorite players of all time, this isn't about liking, this is about players exhibiting self-destructive behaviors.

I have my starting five. I am asking people to add to my list with reasons why they are there:

Tracy McGrady: Okay, I’ll admit it! As a magic-fan, I have something against this wall-eyed Rocket. As a Magic player, T-Mac would make comments like “I can’t carry the team!” New flash Tracy: You weren’t. The Magic amassed only 21 wins 2 seasons ago with him as our anchor, and most fans weren’t too sad to see ‘Me-Mac’ part ways with the organization. Tracy’s mouth made fans cringe at both his arrogance and completely disregarding his teammates contributions. There were signs earlier about this guy, but we ignored them because of all of his apparent talent. One of the biggest signs of things to come was his inability to finish out games. Many, including myself, attributed some of this to him putting everything into a game and having nothing left for the end. I know now that it wasn’t really longevity, it was just simply nerves. Many have talked about Steve Francis and his many problems. While many of these gripes are true, there is one thing I like about Steve much more than Tracy. Steve has ice in his veins for that infamous last shot. I am far less nervous with Steve taking that final shot.

Chris Webber: Can one play fate a player to a life of being a team-virus? In Webber’s case, I’d have to say yes. College Basketball fans will ever remember that fateful 1993 championship against North Carolina where he tried to call a timeout with none left. Webber’s attitude and ability to give NBA teams amazing hope going into finals give him the virtual lock as the king of disappointing finality. Now he signs on with the Sixer’s. Wow! Could dysfunction be better paired? I submit to you that it could not!

Allen Iverson: Scoring master… Ball-hog extraordinaire, Allen stands alone as the most selfish player in the NBA. Tattoo-laden, locks-a-blazin’, and ‘tude ever-present, Iverson, shoots his entire team out of games. There is no doubt that he has talent: every game is a parade of circus shots and great steals, but watching his teammates stand around and watch the Allen-show, tells you all that you need to know about how the Iverson’s game plan is killing them. It’s not that Allen is bad, though it is apparent that he can’t be coached: he takes stupid shots, with players wide-open under the rim and unfortunately he makes many of them: this has built his ego to an intolerable level. Amazingly Webber and Iverson together have made for an odd little happy family. It remains to see if crazy can negate crazy.

Latrell Sprewell: Did you know he tried to choke his coach, P.J. Carlisimo, in the middle of a game no less? Enough said.

Paul Pierce: My last guy is a great player with a lot of heart, but firstly, he spells his name wrong ('Pearce' looks so much better!). The Celtics need this guy and his amazing playing potential. What they could do without are his total lapses and disappearances in key parts of the game and season. Pierce has numb-moments where his defense just doesn’t exist. He shoots long-silly shots and then yells at refs because they won’t call fouls. All the while, his team is looking for a little leadership, not an adult cry-baby. Come on man! Come to the game!

I have a couple of runner-ups: Kelvin Cato, Alonzo Mourning, and Anferne Hardaway (he still is barely playing) to name a few. There are many more… please join in.

-Doug

Forever Friends

I grew up in a small neighborhood with a small group of close friends. We did lots of things that were both fun and spooky. My best friend was Bruce Linnebery. Bruce and I were inseparable. One time we were throwing a broomstick in the air to see how high it would go. Bruce ended up watching the thing land right on his own forehead. He was a little mad for a while, but ten minutes later we were off to do other things.

My friends and I stuck together like glue. We even got to play on a little league baseball team together. Bruce played first, Greg Mite played catcher, and I was our second baseman. We were the three amigos, the Earp brothers, or Moe, Larry and Curly! We would play sports, get in trouble, trade comics and cards, get in trouble, share sodas, get in trouble, build forts, and, as I mentioned before, get in trouble.

Age changes the way we look at friends. For instance, there were no girls allowed in our circle. Girls were strictly forbidden but each of us, at one time or another, had a crush on some girl and would try to bring them into our circle... it always resulted in the girl crying, us getting spanked and the girl never talking to us again, yet we still kept on trying. Today, friendships are a lot more complicated.

In our circle of friends, we have all walks of life. From old to young, and male to female, we cover the gammut. We also categorize our friends. For instance, there are my friends at work, from church, from school, and from the basketball court. There are friends we refer to as just 'acquaintances'; and there is a group of good and best friends.

I have a few friends that share the label 'best' friend. I think it really depends on timing, my mood, their mood, my need, and their need to determine my best friend of the day. Each one of these people I would go to bat for, and they would for me as well. As a song says 'Friends who've cried for me, and friends for whom I'd die for!' these are the people who keep an eye out for you, and will stand with you to the end. My theory is that my best friends are not the ones that are there all of the time, but the ones that are there when I need them most.

There is also that group of 'friends' that we equate to parasites. These are the types that only call you when they need something from you. I associate them with the friends of the Prodigal son or the doctors who couldn't cure the woman’s issue of blood and took all of her money, leaving her broke and sicker than when the process started. This group leaves you disappointed and frustrated and thankful for your good and best friends.

In college, I had a friend who would call me, and the conversation was exactly the same every time. It would go something like: 'Hello Doug?... How are you doing?... That's great! Listen, I was wondering if I could get you to do __________ for me?!'. I'll give the girl some credit though. She had more backbone than most guys I know. Unforturnately, I could rarely turn down people asking for help, and I would reluctantly concede to donate my time.

Friendship is a funny thing. True friends are concerned with giving, not taking. You don't keep tallies any longer because it doesn't matter. You can be separated from true friends for months, years even, get together and it will seem like time has just stood still. True friends scratch deeper than the surface when they ask how you are doing because they really want to know and help if they can. True friends don't expect much, but are just as happy to be around you as you are around them.

I was thinking the other day about what kind of friend I am to God. There are times when my prayers are more like wish lists than true conversations with Him. Sometimes I pray and pray and forget to listen to God's response. When I hear others talk poorly about God, or mock Him, do I get offended, or do I sit quietly with my hands in my ears pretending not to hear the slurs? On the other hand, what kind of friend has God been to us? God has been far better than even a 'best' friend to us. He has stood by, nurtured us, built up our confidence and protected us from the enemies' evil plots.

I have nothing to offer God, but my heart, and He has offered me so much. God's tally sheet is simple: we owe Him everything, and we deserve judgment. There is nothing we can do to earn His love for us, yet it is given freely. Sometime I think we need to sit back and really look at our relationship with God. We also must realize that we can't manipulate God too well: He knows our motives and heart so bluffing isn't very effective. In prayer time, I am trying to make an effort to verbalize my feelings on issues in my life, rather than always asking and thanking God for His hand in my life. I do this with my best friends, why wouldn't I do this with God?

The reality is that all friendships are somewhat lopsided, but that shouldn't matter one bit. We can never repay God for His love, mercy, and grace shown to us through Jesus, yet God is our friend, and He has no tally sheet to those cleansed in the Blood of Jesus. God has allowed us to enter His circle of friends and for that I am eternally grateful.

-Doug

Motivational Growing

It was a long time ago, but the memories are vividly etched in my mind. Little league baseball was an experience that few should miss out on. I was eight and had never really even played catch before trying out for the team. I can remember my dad and I going down to Sears and buying my first mitt. It was a dark brown leather mitt similar to Ken Griffey's (Senior that is). I can remember walking down to the field for the first time. It was a warm, slightly damp day, under the shaded oaks of Rockwell International's intramural park.

Though playing baseball was great, it was not the thing I remember most about my time on the Rockwell Dodgers. It was our third baseman... well baseperson actually. Over two seasons, I played with three of the Reese children. The younger brother and sister were not much into baseball, but the oldest of the three, Kate, was one incredible ball player.

Kate could throw a bullet of a ball from third to first, and was as consistent a hitter as anyone on our team. As far as age, I was one of the youngest on the team, and she was one of the oldest, so two and a half years separated us. She constituted the first girl that I liked that was close to my age. Before that, there were only babysitters, my sister’s ballet teacher, and one of our neighbor's oldest daughters, a girl twelve years my senior. I really liked Kate and she really disliked me... Ah! Isn't love grand?! The next few weeks would be some the strangest times of my entire life.

Eight year old boys don't really know how to express feeling very well, at least compared to us men, and as a result, a lot of trial and error occurred. First I tried grossing her out: frogs, crickets, spitting food out, the usual genre of unveiled disgustingness. I found that Kate could not be phased by such things (I think she must have had older brothers or been raised by a pack of wolves or something), and her retaliations were always swift and brutal. I had many a baseball thrown at various parts of my body, not to mention fists, even a bat once. It was time to progress to plan B.

I tried to be really nice to her, but one of my friends found out that I liked her and told Kate: this was not good at all. I know this is a shocker, but girls can be really mean when they want to be. Kate would taunt me to the point of wanting to abandon love all together and hit her right in the nose. What saved me from her beating the tar out of me was that I was not allowed to hit girls. My solution was to make some silly comment and just run away. I was miserable beyond measure.

I finally decided that if she wouldn't like me, I'd just have to play better ball than her. That would show her! I had vision, goals and motivation: a strikingly effective combination. I progressed from a part time outfielder to getting the full time position and my hitting improved to the point that I even made the alternate position on the all-star team in spite of having such a poor batting average at the beginning of the season. This enthusiasm was climaxed when I hit an in the park grand-slam. It was an error-laden play that should have only been a base-clearing double, but this is little league and that’s all you need to know.

Kate never did return my affections, but by the end of the season, she had developed a healthy respect for me and she even stopped hitting me. As a result of my little crush on her, I became a much better player and in the following season, was one of the elite players in our little league organization. Kate moved on to the next older league and only her two younger siblings remained with me, but something really good came out of my misplaced motivations. I even survived the heartbreaking loss of Kate.

'All things work to the good of those who love the Lord and are called according to His purpose.' I've always fretted with this scripture since I don't feel like all things work to my good and I feel strongly called to God's purposes. All of our experiences are for a reason, even though there are events that I would have liked to avoid, there is a higher plan associated with wisdom and it is God who has hold of the map.

My first inclination is to look at the little picture rather than the grander scheme of things. Someone once told me that if you really want to see how important a news article is, wait a month and read it again, if it still has significance, then it is probably of value. As we are all too painfully aware, God's time table is not our own and God is also much more into fitting the seemingly random events of our life into His big puzzle. Focusing solely on our current state is much like the person who looks in their checking account and says 'Let's throw a party because I have a $1500.00 balance in my checking account, so I can buy some great food and drinks.' What this person has forgotten is that the rent is due in two days as well as the utility bills. It is the simple principal of cause and effect that we so often miss.

Our view of events must be panoramic. In other words, we must look at events now, the elements that led up to this point, and its long term significance. After doing these three things, we must be able to accept that, in spite of the circumstances, God is still in control of everything. This process is as hard as any other element of the Christian walk because it is the basic precept of faith. Faith is really the acknowledgement and accepting that something will be completed that we don’t have control over.

Faith requires us to accept experiences as building blocks to God's higher calling, realizing that they could be necessary for the overall good of His master plan. I'll probably never see Kate again as long as I live, but I've never regretted the experiences of that summer for a minute. It all worked to good, in spite of the hardship it caused me while I was growing up and going through it. I also eventually learned that giving girls frogs doesn't work too well, even in these modern times.

-Doug

Give It A Rest

As a kid, Saturday morning was the most important time of the week. There was no school, mass, I could wake up when I wanted to, no morning bath, and most importantly, no homework! I could stumble out of bed, dragging my comforter and pillow downstairs, get the biggest bowl in the house, a spoon, a gallon jug of milk, and my favorite cereal, plop down in front of the television and watch Bugs Bunny, Mighty Mouse, Josie And The Pussycats, and other cartoons, eating cereal and slurping the milk in the bottom of my bowl for hours.

By noontime, I was ready for college football. I would go up and change into one of my Ohio State outfits and come down and watch the game cuddled up next to my dad. I would sit back and watch Woody Hayes get furious on the sidelines, my dad would cheer about great plays and complain about referees' calls, my sister would be trying to catch our dogs to put them in dresses and have a tea party, and my mom would be busy preparing us lunches fit for kings. There was nothing particularly spiritual about these times, but it was a wonderful time in my life, nonetheless. We were the Joseph family, living in tensionless harmony.

After the 'big game', me and my friends would get together and play football in the backyard. We would pretend to be Cornelius Green, Pete Johnson or Archie Griffon battling Michigan or Purdue and winning of course. Before we realized it, it was getting dark and it was time to go home. After getting my mom to let one of my friends sleep over, we would play all sorts of games and stay up as long as we possibly could. These were the great days of restful Saturdays.

God rested on the seventh day. He sat back and watched His creation scurry about over the land He made with His own hands. Many people, including myself... especially myself, confuse a 'day of rest' with God's commandment to 'honor the Sabbath and keep it holy'. Going to Church on Sunday mornings is not exactly rest for me. Between having to get two children ready for church, numerous obligations, and the cares of life and marriage, the word 'restful' would not exactly be first on my list of adjectives to describe it.

With most people, vacation is also not rest. When I go on vacation, I usually need another week to recover from my 'restful' time away from the office. As I see it, there are really three big types of rest set out in the Bible: mental, physical, and spiritual. These categories are not clearly defined at all times and they definitely cross, but they are still identifiable.

Mental rest would be the type of rest, where you have separated yourself from the problems, and pressures of everyday life and focused on more pleasant and nonessential matters. Some people escape to their workshop and build things in this time, while others fish to get away. I like sports, but mostly I play my guitar to mentally rest myself.

Physical rest is the most obvious. This rest involves removing yourself from any physical activity. Sleep and lounging around on the couch are the more obvious types of physical inexertion. I like to write and work on my computer and both of these are physically relaxing to me.

Spiritual rest is one of the most overlooked types of rest in our life. I'm reminded of a song by Twila Paris named 'The Warrior Is A Child'. In this song, she says: 'Even soldiers need a quiet place to rest.' Darkness cannot dwell with light, and as a result, we live in a constant battle between the principalities of darkness and the Spirit which dwells within us. Even when we are winning the battle, the war takes its toll on our spiritual body. There needs to be a time when we can get alone with God and enter into the Holy Of Holies. We can enter this type of rest through worship, or quiet times with the Lord.

In the book of Proverbs it says: 'Trust in the Lord with all of your heart. Lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.' True rest is in the hands of the Lord. He is the rock in which we can stand on and He is the strong arms that hold us when we are weary.

Finding time for all three of these types of rest is imperative to maintaining sanity. Also, certain types of rest place stress on other types of rest. If I am playing sports, I may be mentally resting, but physically, I am exerting energy. All night prayer meetings rest my spirit, but they too tax my body greatly.

Finding balance even in rest is imperative. Rest is essentially an escape or solace from daily activity. As a self proclaimed workaholic, 'rest' is a word that I am not overly accustomed to. As a result, opportunities to rest are cherished and I look for ways to increase them all of the time: to getting back to sharing my Saturday mornings with my pillow, a blanket, good cereal and Foghorn Leghorn.

-Doug

What Could Have Been...

We all have opinions on what are the greatest teams of all time. We also can site what we think are the greatest seasons of all time: when a team had a miraculous comeback to win the championship, or perhaps, an unrivaled dominance for an entire season. But then there are the “what could have been" seasons: if tragedy wouldn’t have struck what could have happened. There are plays that have defined a season, not just the game, but transcend the game to define the entire course of the rest of a season.

This idea started with me thinking about my beloved Bengal’s: the second play of this year's wildcard game against the now Super Bowl champion Steeler’s. Carson Palmer injured his knee, cripling their very potent offense, which resulted in a 2-touchdown loss for Cinci’.

Here are some more examples:

Bostonians will never forget Bill Buckner. Game 6 of the World Series against the Mets, who were down 3 games to 2 in the series, defined what curses are made of. That ball trickling through his hobbled legs lost Boston yet another series: the final game was arbitrary.

Washington Redskins and anyone who has watched televised sports will remember that infamous 1985 Monday Night Game where Joe Theisman’s leg was snapped like a toothpick by Lawrence Taylor. Jay Schroeder came in to replace Joe, and connected on a play with Art Monk to give the Redskins the victory, keeping their playoff hopes alive. Schroeder performed admirably, but their loss to the 49er’s 2 games later ended their playoff hopes.

Yet another Bengal Story: In 1989, when they were in the Super Bowl, their nose tack Tim Krumrie broke both bones in his leg on a routine tackle. This was probably the 2nd most watch injury of all time (Theisman’s being the first). The two-time pro-bowler's monumental task was to stop one of the NFL's top runners in Roger Craig. Craig ended up running for over 100 yards and had 2 critical 1st-down pickup in the 49er's winning drive (both up the middle where Krumrie would have been).

What are some of your stories?

Which One's Stupider Game

Welcome game fans to today’s installment of 'Which One's Stupider'. Today we have three worthy contestants who will vie for that coveted title of which one is the biggest knuckle-head. Well, let's not waste anymore time and introduce our three contestants:

Contestant number 1 hails from the great state of Ohio, where he attended The Ohio State University, under the tutelage of Jim Tressel, he was a part of their National Championship team. The fame and glory of winning was clearly not enough for our wiley youngster so he decided to falsify police records, skip classes, drop out of school, and make up false allegations against his former team. But he didn't stop there! Not a chance! This guy decided to be represented by the ever-controversial Jim Brown and challenge the early-entry rule of the NFL. Unphased by his inability to get this overturned, he eventually made it into the NFL with the Broncos willing to take a chance on him in the 3rd round of the NFL draft. Showing up out of shape and a little slower than his college days, a minor injury helped the Broncos be motivated to cut him, leaving him, once again unemployed. Eventually this little go-getter ended up in the back alley of a bar robbing patrons at gunpoint. Let's have a big round of applause for our first contestant:

Maurice Clarett

Contestant number 2 is a man surrounded by success, an older brother in the NFL was all the role model this young little tike needed. Following in his footsteps, the youngster went to Virginia Tech. The potential in him was undeniable: many were quick to note that he actually possessed better skills than his brother. It was spring and the world was his, unfortunately there was the lure of young girls, minors to be exact. Frank Beamer is a man of principal, but the talented boy had the magical spark he needed. After serving a 1 year suspension, he was back on the team and looking pretty good, until he decided to intentionally kick a player from the opposing team in a bowl game. Frank's hand was forced and he cut him from the team. Still, there were plenty of NFL teams that would take a chance on this guy: after all he was the complete package. Later that week, he thought it was a great idea to point a gun at three teenagers in a McDonald's parking lot. Without further ado, let me introduce contestant number 2:

Marcus Vick

Our last young fellow also resides in Ohio. There was little indication of the instability of this player when he was in College at West Virginia. In a game with Rutgers this feisty fellow received two personal foul penalties and was ejected from the game. His coach benched him for half of the next game, saying that he was as disgrace to his teammates and the university. Undaunted, he eventually made it to the NFL draft where he was picked up in the third round. Being a rookie Wide Receiver on a team with two of the best in the NFL is tough, but this guy established himself as a reliable and talented third choice. On a routine traffic violation stop, this young scrapper was found having marijuana in his vehicle. The Bengal’s suspended him for a game for this, but he proceeded to perform well on his return. On the 2nd play in the AFC wildcard game against the Steelers, he got injured after making a spectacular catch from Carson Palmer. Palmer was also injured on the same play. Two weeks later he was arrested in Florida for brandishing a stolen 9mm gun with hollow-point rounds, pointing at a group of people, right in front of a Police officer. Let's waste no more time and introduce contestant number 3:

Chris Henry

And the winner is....

Childish Things

It was a normal day, like any other one, in the middle of winter. The skies were clear, blue and cold was the principal component of these northern, Midwest mornings. Outside, the ground was covered with the fresh white snow of the midnight blizzard that preceded it. In the distance the sound of the snow plow coming to clear the streets could be heard. This is where the bright hopes of young children could be made or vanquished. I can remember staring out the window of my room and praying things like 'Please God, let this snow be high enough to cancel school!'

I kept a yardstick in my room to measure the snow and before the sun had risen, I would run out in my underwear in twenty below weather to see if I would have to go to school that day. I would then go in, grab a cereal bowl, milk, and cocoa puffs, and sit by the television set, waiting to see if my school would be on the list that would be closed for the day. There was some sort of triumphant joy in having school canceled. It was as close to heaven as any kid could ask for: hours of sledding, snowball fights, hot chocolate, ice forts, catching rides on people bumpers, and endless colds ensued.

I wonder if we ever really do grow up, or do we just get older? Living in Florida, there are no more blizzards to blame, but hurricanes and tropical depressions have, on occasion, forced me to be absent from work for a couple of days. I still like cool 'gadgets' that whirr and buzz, but their price tags are a little more than the M-80's, Sling Shots, and balsa planes of my youth.

When I wake up, my hair still sticks every way except where it should be. I still insist that my underwear is just fine, though it may have more holes in it than a block of Swiss cheese. Doctors and shots are still big menaces to me as well!

Every opportunity I get, I try to by my friend's children Legos so that "I can help them learn how to use them”: “Hey kid! Give me that slanted roof panel for my cool spaceship! What do you mean 'I'm hogging all the pieces?! And 'grow up'? I’m the adult here!” One big difference is that I pay for all this cool stuff myself!

Sometimes I wonder about my Christianity in much the same way. I feel like I am still battling the same problems that I have always had, since when I considered myself a 'baby Christian'. My vocabulary has improved, my head knowledge of the problem has also increased, but the fact is that these challenging areas still face me daily. Sometimes I want to scream and hide from them, but when I poke my head up, they are still there and usually they have brought friends.

God has called us to mature in Him and He has provided a sound playbook for doing just this. Does this mean we are going to have to face some issues that are going to humble and aggravate us? Absolutely! There is always a price to pay for growth, but remember that God is always standing there to nurture this process. Growth doesn't always imply that problems are going to go away either. Remember Paul's thorn in his flesh and God telling him that 'My grace is sufficient for you!' Conflicts will come and go, but God never leaves. In a way He is your worst nightmare as a parent: there is nothing you can hide from the Guy! He is omnipotent and omniscient. On the other hand, through Christ, He has opened a door that gives us freedom from the sin and sorrow of our existence. God's love for us is immeasurable.

And thus, the ultimate growth in Christ is to do the following things: accept fault for sin; repent of sin; ask for cleansing through the blood of Jesus Christ; and praise the Lord for His mercies. Growth is really being able to recognize our error, fessing-up to them, and humbly approaching the thrown. It is this and only this that will separate the men from the boys.

I still have a lot of growing to do, and I still look for ways to procrastinate my way though some of that growth. Whether I like it or not, God is going to complete His work in me. And while I'm still maturing though, I hope I can not lose sight of where I have been. God loves children, and even commands us to come as little children, trusting solely in His words and commandments. And thus, the child that dwells in me must coexist with the adult that I have become. These two forces oppose each other at every turn, but God acts as the go-between, smoothing temperaments and mending fences. And now, as an adult, I still hope and pray that the snow is deep enough to let school out, not for me, but for the child that I was and keep deep inside.

-Doug

Welcome Technically Challenged

When I was younger, I would read about children teaching their parents how to use their VCR and I would get a chuckle. It is ironic that in many ways I have become that technical moron. My VCR still blinks at 12:00 and I shy away from cars that have too many buttons on them. I breathe a sigh of relief when I am able to find and properly use one of the 5 remotes for our entertainment center. I impatiently press the ‘Menu’ button on the DVD player when all the Interpol warnings are shown on the screen.

This is not to say that I am not technical. I am a generator of technical components. In my profession I am pretty much at the top of the technical heap. I write code to control precision devices for NASA, amusement park rides, full-motion simulators, and even lay out my own circuit boards. I do all of this, yet I refuse to change my thermostat from the good, old, analog-based knobbed model to one of those new-fangled digital ones. I have a website for my company and it looks like a child created it.

Augustine once wrote that 'there is nothing new under the sun', I think he needed to attach a small addendum to this proclamation: ‘except for gadgets’. Gadgets are increasing in our lives and our dependence on them has grown as well. I am 38 and when I was a kid, I can't even imagine my parents deciding if I would really need to have my own cell phone or not? Their debate was to give me a dime to make a call from a pay phone.

I am starting this Blog, and I am once again behind the technical curve. As I fumble, please pardon my dust and I hope some of my stuff catches your fancy.

-Doug