I'm A Jerk

No surprise there. Sometimes I withhold saying things on this blog because it might offend people I love. I gravitate towards more sterile posting so as not to make people think ill of me. But the more I live, the more I realize that we all should be able to disagree and not take it personally. And if I can't throw out a dissenting view to get people thinking, then I'm just not doing my job. With that in mind, I offer you something that has been bothering me a long time that I've wanted to harp on:

Fair Trade.

I know it's the new, sexy thing to get behind and, on the surface, it seems to make sense: help the marginalized workers in third world countries become viable sellers by setting up structures to guarantee their success. When I was going to write about this last year, I was partially motivated by this BBC article which presents the holes present in this thinking. Chief among them is that fair trade is yet another instance of we in the West imposing our methodology of success upon the less-fortunate third world worker, once again causing them to become dependent on our consumption in order to survive. Additionally, it works against the principle of supply and demand, as these third world farmers are usually told to produce what we want them to.

I really have no desire to make a fully defended article on this topic, suffice to say that I'm extremely skeptical that fair trade will work over the long haul. I'm not saying fair trade is evil, and I'm not saying that those promoting fair trade are ignorant, but I am saying that while the intention of fighting world poverty is a good one, fair trade won't even make a noticeable dent in the conflict. In fact, it seems to reek of the Western oppression on the third world that many who support fair trade vehemently decry.

Finally, allow me to speak pastorally for a moment. As many churches are now choosing to involve themselves in fair trade, we should be careful how we articulate the issue. Fair trade should not be defended as part of the gospel mandate to serve the poor. Sure, it can be a good thing to be involved in [much like recycling] but is not a more holy endeavor than any other*. This issue is much more convoluted than any might proclaim it to be. We could do much better work by recognizing the tangible ministry to the poor in our midst than to try to reconstruct international economic structures.

There. Now I feel better that I got that out of my system.

*I am not convinced, however, that fair trade is anti-gospel. So Christians who have convictions to be involved in the movement are free to do so. Just don't use Jesus as a way to induce guilt to those who disagree. I liken the situation to playing Scrabble: it's not a Christian/pagan issue if you like it or not, so you can chose freely whether or not you'll participate [unless, of course, you play Scrabble with a Ouiji board. Then Jesus will get ticked]. 

Benefits of a Blogging Wife

The last couple of days we took a mini-vacation that centered around the state of Kentucky. The highlight was our front-row viewing of the Swell Season [the Academy Award winning couple featured in the movie Once] at the Brown Theatre in Louisville. IT . . . WAS . . . EPIC. But, in the immortal words of one LaVar Burton, "don't take my word for it." Read Kelly's description here, as well as her detailed account of our other  activities including two hours we will never get back.

I did bring along our little Canon Powershot camera to the concert and, as a result of our close proximity to the stage, was able to capture some pretty nice pics. They're a tad noisy, but it makes the seem a little gritty. Check them out on my Flickr page.

Three Amazing Ladies

First to my mother, who is absolutely amazing. She's the most dedicated servant I've ever known. Second to my mother-in-law, who is absolutely amazing. She's endlessly encouraging and helped to raise my wife to be just as amazing.

And, finally, to the mother of my child, who is absolutely amazing. She may have the least experience of these three, but she is following in the other two's footsteps and giving her all for our family.

Three amazing ladies who make my life wonderful. I'm truly blessed to have you in my life.

Happy Mother's Day.

Congrats, Grads

It's been ten years since I've graduated college. I'm not feeling old per se, but I'm not quite the spring chicken I once was. SIDENOTE: Speaking of chicken, as I pre-Mother's Day treat, I ran out to McDonalds this morning so we could try their new Chik-fil-A rip-off chicken biscuits. They are surprisingly good. Sure, no Chik-fil-A, but since our closest one is half an hour away [the one at Tower Place Mall does not count] it is definitely worth tyring every once in awhile.

Had lunch yesterday with Dominic, who is graduating today from Cincinnati Christian University. Dom was at Eastern Kentucky University, studying to be a pilot, when we had lunch almost four years ago and he said he needed to study religion. I suggested my alma mater. So since he lost so many hours in his transfer, which vastly prolonged his college career, I figured the absolute least I could do was buy him lunch. And props to Jeremy Lawson, another great guy, who's graduating there today. He's getting married this summer and taking a preaching gig down in Kentucky.

Last night, I was at the school to attend the Seminary graduation [CCU's grad school] because my friend/old boss Alex was finally getting his MDiv. While there, I discovered that three people who used to be in my ministry [Dave Brack, Jonathan Bickle, and Beth Mowry] were also getting degrees. At least I used to be more educated than the kids in my ministries. I guess that's no longer the case. Give me another year and things will be back to normal.

So to those I mentioned, and those I forgot, congratulations on getting a piece of paper that signifies a considerable investment of time and money. I'm sure you're glad it's over.

One Way To Help

The tragedy in Burma [Myanmar] is exacerbated by the fact that the military-controlled goverment that doesn't care much for its people. The latest count is projecting that as many as 100,000 people might have died as a result of the Cyclone. People are usually moved to do something in times like these. In addition to any local organized efforts,  I tend to funnel people towards the International Disaster Emergency Service. They are an established organization that have preexisting connections in the region through whom to deliver aid. Their organization is large enough to be effective, but not so large as to claim large portions of gifts for stateside administration. In short, their oversight can be trusted.

Of course, try to keep these people in your prayers.

It Ain't Ovah

I'll admit it: I stayed up 'till 1am last night to catch the final returns in Indiana. The possibility of Obama winning after Hillary gave her victory speech was just too tasty. Of course, she squeeked it out, and all I got was less sleep. So even though every political pundit in America is calling the Democratic nomination race over, Hillary's still not giving up. Sorta like I called it three months ago:

"Their supporters are beginning to truly hate each other . . . neither candidate is going to give up before the convention. Obama will enter ahead in the delegate count and Hillary will press for the Michigan and Florida delegations to be seated to push her over the top. Friends, it’s not even begun to be brutal. The convention will be a melee. After the convention the party will be divided, many will be apathetic, and McCain will benefit."

The problem now is that unless she gets out of this thing before next week, it's going to get even more brutal [if that's possible] within the party. Two of the next three states [West Virginia and Kentucky] will back Clinton overwhelmingly and it still won't change the inevitable outcome. So the only reason to stay in this thing is to further embarrass her opponent, harming him in the general election in November. So even though she said last night [in a most bizarre speech] that she'll support the eventual nominee, she more closely resembles the school yard bully continually thrusting her victim's hand into his own face while innocently asking, "Why do you keep hitting yourself? Why do you keep hitting yourself?"

This is where the DNC has gotta step in and say enough is enough. The only reason they haven't demanded her withdrawal yet is because of the Clinton name. I'd predict that, after this election, the mystique is officially dead. Like it or not, there's a new Democratic day on the horizon.

And the Clinton's won't be in sight.

I Have Reached A New Low

I voted for American Idol tonight. Never before have I been motivated to call in and support a contestant. Until now.

Jason Castro is not very good. At all. Tonight the dread-locked performer did some Bob Marley and Bob Dylan. I'm not really into Marley so I didn't care much for "I Shot the Sheriff." But I do loves me some Dylan so I was looking forward to some "Tambourine Man" and it was OK.

Until he forgot like half a verse. And he filled the void with humming.

And it was then I knew:

I must vote for him.

Face it, this is one of the worst seasons ever and I feel like I've invested in it. I want something in return: I WANT A TRAIN WRECK.

So in my first foray into Idol voting I discovered that you can vote more than once. So I picked up the church cell phone, along with my own and, fully appreciating free calls after 9pm, I started hitting redial.

How many times did I call, you ask.

FIFTY.

Yes, I want this to happen.

Unfortunately, the mere fact that I was able to get in so many times probably means Jason is gone, but at least I did my part.

I urge you . . . nay, I IMPLORE YOU, grab your phone and give Jason a vote at 866 . . . whatever-the-crap that-number-is-since-I'm-invested-enough-to-vote-and-blog-it-but-not-enough-to-reach-over-a-little-and-check-the-number-on-my-phone and give him your vote.

And join me in increasing the population of Loser-ville.

At Whose Expense?

While some payday loans are indeed helpful, many of them are criminal. In urban areas, they lure lower-class people in with friendly faces only to screw them over in the long run [such as 300%+ interest on a loan]. I know of one couple who ignorantly took out one of these loans [for $500] and it nearly cost them their house. It's a lucrative business, however, so they don't appreciate when the government attempts to regulate their activities. The Ohio legislature passed House Bill 545 last month, which caps annual interest rates on payday loans at 28 percent. The old limit was 391%. So today, workers for these institutions protested in Columbus, saying that this will drive payday loan establishments out of business, netting 6,000 lost jobs for our state.

First, coming from an industry that loves to play games with numbers, I just can't buy that figure as accurate. Second, if the only way an industry can stay in business is to take advantage of people in a tight spot, then I'm not sure it's the best thing that it continues to exist anyway.

As the economy continues to struggle, the implications of predatory lending here will begin to ripple throughout higher economic strata. If this industry isn't reigned in now, things could get really ugly.

Love The Horse

We like horse racing around here. While watching the Kentucky Oaks race last Friday afternoon, a horse pulled up and bucked his jockey, leading me to tell Kelly, "a jockey fell off." Kaelyn picked up on it immediately, and has been telling is since then, "jockey fall off horse." This has gone on for five days now. I wonder how long she'll keep telling us about that poor jockey . . . Considering that the horse I picked in the Kentucky Derby finished last, I guess I'm no longer able to speak authoratatively about horse racing. But a lot has been going around since the race and I did want to share some opinions about what went down.

Before I hit the controversial topic, you have to give it up to Big Brown. He started from an almost impossible position and, from the get go, ran an absolutely brilliant race. I really don't like the horse's trainer, which is why I refused to cheer for him, but his win was amazing. He could very well win the Triple Crown.

But even if he does, this year will be remembered for the death of Eight Belles. The filly gave it all she had and, considering Big Brown's dominating performance, could have won the Derby in another year. But when both her front ankles broke galloping out after the race, thoughts immediately turned to what caused the trajedy. Unfortunately, everything is now up for being blamed, which has created a witch hunt. Let's look at these scapegoats really quickly:

Blame the jockey. That's nonsense. Don't think the horse's death hasn't taken its toll on him. If there was any prior warning that the horse's ankles were giving out, the horse would've pulled up. This was a freakish accident if there ever was one. PETA has called for the jockey, Gabriel Saez, to be suspended and it's plain ignorance. He didn't break the horse's ankles.

Blame the whip. There has also been some criticism of the way the jockey whipped the horse, but this has absolutely nothing to do with Eight Belles death either. It's just a long standing criticism against the sport that people are choosing to bring up while the spotlight is shinning. These jockeys aren't senseless; they love these animals and are doing all they can to get the most speed out of it. Regardless of whether or not whipping is acceptible, the appearance of brutality towards the horse doesn't help horse racing during a time like this. Even though whipping has been more stringently regulated during the last ten years than it ever has before, I imagine it will eventually go the way of the albatross. Still, don't blame it here.

Blame the trainer. Many have attacked trainer Larry Jones for entering a filly into a boys race. They claim she was overmatched and ran beyond her capacity, which caused her ankles to give way. This doesn't fly either. Practically every year a filly enters the Derby. Eight Belles was a large filly who had run with the boys before. And, as I noted earlier, if not for Big Brown's epic performance, she very well could've won. I do wonder what would have happened if she had actually won the race. Would the outrage be worse, or would she be painted his heroic for winning her last race.

Blame the surface. This is what I thought would capture the most attention. Before the race, every was talking about the differences in tracks around the country not that synthetic tracks have become the rage. Churchill Downs has stuck to the dirt track citing tradition [even though, as my neighbor noted, the historic site now looks more like Vegas] and has refused to switch over. While I feel that the synthetic track is the way to go, it most likely would not have prevented this injury. So you can call for a change, but don't blame the dirt for this.

Blame the breeding. Horse breeding is now total science. Horses are now selected to engineer the perfect runner. But some in-the-know believe that the breeding is causing these races horses to lose bone strength at the expense of speed. I'm not educated enough to comment on whether or not this is true, but it's hard to decifer even if it is. Obviously the breeders care about their animals, witnessed in the lucrative veterinary industry, but the point of the horse is to perform. And if they do produce winners, then the horse's life gets even better in its breeding years. As long as we have the science to create the perfect animal, there will always be give in take. But if the issue is this great for horses, then why aren't we as adamant when it comes to people?

In the end, there's no one thing that you can legitimately blame; it's a freakish tragedy. But since people find it difficult to accept that, I'm sure the inquisition will probably continue. Following so close to the death of Barbaro, horse racing [which is constantly struggling to stay relevant] has a black cloud hovering over it. Perhaps it will take Big Brown winning the Triple Crown to fix the current mess.

Fun Run [Part Two]

The nice thing about running the Flying Pig was my home-field advantage. I'm fortunate to live so close to downtown because I was totally familiar with the marathon course. Plus, I was able to see my family twice without too much work for them. Nothing necessarily surprised me during the run, except the totally different sensation of running with thousands of people in the road as opposed to solitary runs on the sidewalk. As I left the fam and proceeded up the second half of the killer hill, I began to have some conversations with other runners. I continually heard people mention how beautiful park and the area was. I'd respond by bragging that I live here and see it everyday. The irony of the conversations was that these same people lusting after our park could probably live her themselves if they really wanted. So in those brief conversations burning up the hill, I felt it was my duty to work public relations for Walnut Hills.

At the top of the hill, I was about 7 miles in so I decided I would get my first drink at the water station. I had absolutely no desire for Gatorade so I tried to avoid it all-together. Of course, unbeknownst to me, I ended up getting some Gatorade and drank it without realizing it. This killed me because, although usually enjoying the beverage, I wasn't used to drinking that stuff while running.

Then came the split were the half-marathoners departed from the full-marathoners at DeSales Corner. That's where the race began to open up and I felt I could actually breathe. Unfortunately, as there were fewer runners, I never found a good pace person to track down. I think I actually ended up slowing down a little on this stretch. I probably lost some time there.

But then I started the descent down Gilbert Avenue. It was here that my knee started acting up a little, but at least I knew that I'd be passing in front of our condo soon. I saw Kaelyn at the distance. She was having fun running up and down the sidewalk [something we don't let her do regularly because of the traffic flying by on the street]. I picked her up, got a kiss, said a few words and went down the hill for the last couple miles.

As I hit Central Parkway I finally started to feel a little tired. There's a section of Central were you basically have to backtrack, meaning that you run past the turn you'll eventually have to take. And, my knee started to throb, but I knew I only had about a mile to go so I sucked it up.

Running down Eggleston I decided I would push it as hard as I could. I started passing people pretty well. The last turn onto Pete Rose Way [I was doing it all for him] I knew the end was near so I was chugging it pretty hard. As I approached the finish line I could've passed this father and his college-age daughter, but they were having a touching moment so I figured it was well enough and finished a tad slower than I wanted.

As I walked through the masses of finishers I got my free junk and felt pretty good about what I had done. I finished in 2 hours, 6 minutes. I would've like to finish under 2 hours, but I really hadn't set it as a goal or anything. I just wanted to finish and not suck. There were about 350 men in my age group [age 30-34] that ran the half-marathon. I finished at around 200 among them. All-in-all, pretty average. And that was cool.

As I started to walk back to my car, I realized that my day didn't quite work out like I had planned. When I parked the car in the early morning, I had locked my keys and wallet in the car so I wouldn't have to worry about keeping them with me. At that stop in front of our condo, Kelly was going to hand me the key on a rubberband and I would keep it on my wrist to the finish. Of course, the exchange never took place, so I was stuck down by the river with no car key. I happened to see an old college buddy down there who lent me his cellphone. I called Kelly and told her I would just walk the 2.5 miles home.

It was weird to pass people still running the course. I was going the other way, having already finished, and they had a few more miles to go. And for the second time that morning, I was climbing up the hill at Gilbert. I made it to the front door about forty minutes later, went in, and sat down, knowing that I had traversed around almost 17 miles this morning. Another 9 miles, and I would've gone a full marathon.

Oh, and we had church tonight, but I wussed out and decided to sit while I was preaching. My knee is really hurting, but it'll be fine by tomorrow.

Ending thoughts here:

First, I love my city. Cincinnati is awesome. The crowds of people who came out and shout encouragement to people for hours just speaks to the kind of people in our town. That, plus the beauty it possesses, [both natural and man-made structures] are among many things that make me proud to call this place home.

And finally, sitting here typing up these thoughts, I can't help but think if I'll do this again. I'm just not sure. As I admitted before, I really don't like running too much. The accompishment will be fun to reflect on, but I'm still not convinced it's worth the boredom of training.

I mean, if I run the half-marathon again, it would just be to shave off minutes. And, for me, running the full-marathon is still a major time commitment, one I'm not sure I can do while pastoring a church, finishing grad school, and still trying to have some kind of family time. I imagine that I'll wait about ten years, hit a point in my 40's where I'm looking for a new challenge, and give it a go then.

But at the end of the day, I had a blast. And even if I don't run, I'm already looking forward to the Flying Pig next year.

Fun Run [Part One]

OK, so I thought I'd let you know about my day running the Flying Pig Half Marathon. It's a little lengthy [so much so that I made it a two-parter], but I want to get it all down so I can remember how it went. So if you wade through all of this, you must really like me. I went to bed early last night. Fearing that I might sleep through my alarm, I set the alarm on my cellphone. Good thing, since the volume on my clock radio was muted. If I didn't have my back-up, I'd probably would have slept right through. Fortunately, I had all my stuff laid out and was out the door in five minutes.

I parked on the eastern side of downtown, since the race ended over there by the Reds stadium. I found a nice space right in front of P&G and proceeded to walk almost three-quarters of a mile over towards Paul Brown Stadium. I had planned on meeting my friend John who was running the full marathon, but just couldn't find him. I practically walked all around the stadium looking for him. I finally gave up, which was probably a good thing since Kelly said he was smoking me. So I ended up navigating the course solo.

The scene at the starting line was hilarious. Some people were loose, some people were incredibly serious. The lines at the port-o-lets were insane. You were supposed to stand near the area where you projected you would finish. I figured it would take me 2 hours, 15 minutes, but didn't bother pushing to get that close, so I hung out at the 2 hour, 30 minute starting group. The closer it got to the actual start time, the more people surged forward. As it started getting past 6:30 and we were still standing around, an anxious tension worked through the crowd. Then the word came through about a fire down on Eastern Avenue. It not only delayed the beginning of the race but proceeded to add some extra length to the full-marathon course [lucky them].

Almost fifteen minutes later, the race finally started. It took me 7 minutes just to get to the starting line. Once I hit it, I started a slow, somewhat annoying jog. I was just trying to find space to work through the crowd. What really ticked me off was the large number of walkers who were consuming space. Don't get me wrong: I don't mind that people wanted to walk the course, but they shouldn't be ahead of people trying to run. It was all I could do not to run into people.

Before I knew it, I was in Northern Kentucky. In my training runs, I never drank water before six miles in so I avoided the early water stations all together, which helped save me some time. I spent the first four miles weaving in and out of people, using other people to keep a good pace, and making decent time. As I headed down Seventh Street, I found a guy I used to play soccer with; I hung with him for about a mile. Unfortunately, the late start gave the sun more time to come up so the straightaway through downtown, while very awesome, was blinding. The end of seventh began Gilbert Avenue [my home turf] and I was more than ready for the big hill. Plus, I knew that Kelly and Kaelyn would be waiting for me halfway up at the entrance to Eden Park.

As I reached the intersection there were my girls with our friends Paul and Carol. They had made some signs for me. This is what greeted me:

Yeah, that #11018 was my marathon number. I stopped and chatted for a little more than a minute with them and began my trek through the park.

I'll come back with part two to let you know how the race ended up.

Runnin'

Resting up for my own run tomorrow, I'm sitting in living room, wrapping up my sermon slides for tomorrow, and watching everything go down at Churchill Downs. Kelly asked me what has gotten me so interested in horse racing. I think marrying a Lexington girl and inheriting a father-in-law who was somewhat interested in it got me started. A couple of trips to Churchill Downs got me into somewhat. I think at the end of the day, I'm enamored with the history of the sport as well as the fascination with fast horses.

Anyway, it's fun to watch. I'm surprised I don't go to Turfway and River Downs more often.

A couple of final thoughts: 1) I'm holding with Monba but if I was putting down money I'd look at Colonel John too. 2) It's now been 30 years since the last Triple Crown winner. Amazingly, in the 1970's, there were three in the span of six years. I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever see one in my lifetime.

About The Shack

I don't read fiction. I just feel that there are enough true narratives out there to keep me busy, that I have little use for fiction. Plus, if I want a fake story, I can pop in a DVD and be finished in a couple of hours. This is just one reason among many that will keep me from reading the new book The Shack by William Young. But because it's becoming somewhat of a Christian phenomenon, I've tried to familiarize myself with it. So anything I state here should be taken with the understanding that I haven't actually read the book [well, the first chapter is on the web, so I did read that], but I'm not convinced that my ignorance should prohibit me from commenting about it.

Here's the quick synopsis from the publisher:

Mackenzie Allen Philips’ youngest daughter, Missy, has been abducted during a family vacation and evidence that she may have been brutally murdered is found in an abandoned shack deep int he Oregon wilderness. Four years later in the midst of his Great Sadness, Mack receives a suspicious note, ostensibly from God, inviting him back to that shack for a weekend.

So when Mack goes to the Shack [seriously] he gets to spend a weekend with the Trinity. Of course, the author has to anthropomorphize the Godhead, so The Father becomes an older African American woman, Jesus is a Middle-Eastern looking guy, and the Holy Spirit is Asian lady. Apparently, the weekend is spent in deep conversation where Mack finally forgives God and the murderer. Basically, it's a theological, fictional narrative that's supposed to teach people about the Trinity.

Like I said, I've not read the book, but based upon various reviews I've examined, I have a few observations.

1. The most important thing to understand is that theological fiction is a ridiculous genre. I know that many of you love to read that kind of informational fiction, but when you try to make truth digestable in the form of metaphor, you end up with useless mush. Remember the way The DaVinci Code claimed it was based on a true story? In the months that followed, scholars ripped its claims to shreds. But there are probably thousands of people walking the face of the earth who read Dan Brown's book and think it's actually true.

It was the same thing with Tim LaHaye's Left Behind series. Christians ate those books up, and many people think that his view of the end of the world is how it will really happen. If people could read these books and just be content to have enjoyed it is recreational fiction, I'd be fine with it. Unfortunately, people can't [or won't] distinguish between truth and fiction and I end up having to de-program people and explain what the Scriptures actually say about an issue.

2. One of the reasons people like these books is that it makes the reader think that he's more knowledgable without having to wade through any heavy research. One reviewer on Amazon wrote,

This book quickly became one of my most favorite books of all time. I have wanted to share this with everyone I know with the statement: "THIS is who God is and what He's REALLY like!!"

So one piece of fiction nails who God really is? Look, I've spent the past few weeks studying through deep theological writings and it's kicked my tail. I would much rather prefer to read a 200 page story to glean this information but if I want something worthwhile it's just not possible. For thousands of years theologians and philosophers have been contemplating the nature of God and William Young nailed it? The blessing to the theological fiction writer is that he never has to leave research footnotes. So the interpretation offered by the author is not necessarily orthodox Christianity but whatever he thinks Christianity should be.

Allow me to explain it like this: some people tend to hate science and math and prefer arts and stories. Likewise, some believers who disdain intellectual, systematic theology gravitate towards The Shack approach where it's all boiled down to a pretty story. But interestingly enough, when it comes to your house or car or the airplane you're flying in, you're hoping that people who assembled it used blueprints and/or schematics as a guide, rather than a watercolor painting. Even though you might not like those things that are difficult to understand, there is definitely a place for it. Why won't people tolerate that when it comes to God?

3. Some people love these books because it seems like a new expression of the Christian faith. Removed is any sense of staleness the accompanies "traditional Christianity" and people become enamored with a fresh way to live the Christian life. Therefore people will cling to it, and claim this is the God that they want to hear about. And then they get pissed off at their church because it isn't enough like The Shack. Many will claim that the book pushed them forward in their relationship with God, but I would speculate that it actually transported them into an understanding of God that isn't necessarily true. But since it's enjoyable, it's gotta be right, eh?

Wrapping things up, I'm not saying that everything is terrible about this book. In fact, I hear that it makes some powerful points. But if you're thinking of restructuring your entire Christian faith to conform it to the philosophy of The Shack, then we probably need to talk. These kinds of books are fads [remember Jabez?]. It'll be something new next year. So don't get caught up in the hype and go read the Chronciles of Narnia instead.

By the way, if someone wants to lend me a used copy of the book, I'll do a thorough examination. For a more detailed review [by someone who actually read the book], check out Tim Challies reflections here.

UPDATE: Of course, my college buddy Greg not only knows the guys behind the book but also designed the book's website. He vouches for the guys and has been following closely the controversy closely. You can read his brief thoughts here and here. Additionally, one of the guys behind the book wrote a defense article of the book here.

Looking back at what I wrote earlier, I think my criticism doesn't lie as much with the work itself as much as how people have reacted to the book— in some instances treating it as salvific. I would suppose this is no fault of the author, but in our hyperactive culture, we need to talk about balance constantly. All this insures that I'll definitely have to get my copy of the book and see what I think.

Disappointing . . .

 . . . that no one's chimed in about Derby horses. A little too high-brow for y'all? Well let's bring it back to the people and go where I've seldom gone yet this year:

American Idol.

Talk about disappointing.

This is absolutely the worst season I can ever remember. All of the hype about how good this season would be was just that— hype. Just look at the front runners to win this thing:

David Archeleta [not even caring if I spelled it right]: Sure, the kid has a decent voice [not as fantastic as everyone thinks], but his awkwardness makes Taylor Hicks look normal. Can you tell Simon is secretly rooting for him to lose because he knows that no one will buy those albums?

The other David [no, I haven't bothered learning his last name]: Yeah, he's had some good performances, but it's feast or famine. He can be really bad. I think he's popular because he reminds people of Daughtry, but he's no Daughtry. I'm not sure he'll have much of a career either.

In short, this season's been a waste. As I've testified before, the DVR hooks us into this show, but I'm at the point where I'm ready to quit. Doesn't really matter who wins. It's starting to feel like the Reds:

Wait 'till next year.

So pick a Derby horse already.

Pick Your Horse

The Kentucky Derby is Saturday. I love it. Some year we'll make it down to watch in person. I was all set-up with my pick a few weeks ago but the horse [War Pass] got injured and was withdrawn. After careful analysis, I have made my pick for the Derby: Monba.

Join in the fun: check out the Derby's website to study the field and make your pick. Leave your choice in the comments section below and if you win . . . you're well on your way to a gambling addiction.

And if you respond that you're waiting until tomorrow afternoon to see the what post position the horses start from, then you probably already have a gambling problem.

More Stuff Only I Care About

In soccer news . . . Manchester United made it through to the UEFA Champion's League final where they'll play either Chelsea or Liverpool— making it an all England final.

If ManU wins it, I'm going to have to get Emily to get me a celebratory t-shirt. I still have the one I bought back in 1999 when they won three different leagues in the same year.

Just Overheard On The Baby Monitor

Our napping-though-partly-awake daughter singing the following Rihanna lyric: "Um-brella . . . ella . . . Ay! Ay! Ay! My um-brella . . . ella . . . Ay! Ay! Ay!"

Understanding the CJ Situation

For those of you who are confused about all that's happening with the Chad-Johnson-Wants-Out-Of-Cincy debacle, the Sporting News has a great explanation of salary structures and Mike Brown's hard-line stance. As much as it pains me to say this [because you know I've criticized him before], Mike is doing good with this situation. But he still did nothing this off-season to help the team improve.

And does anyone really think that Chad could actually make the Hall-of-Fame after all of this? It ain't happening.

Kant Do It

Ready to wrap up another Xavier class. As of May 6th, I'll be a mere three classes shy of graduation. This class has really killed me. I have yet to figure out the professor's grading system. I just don't share the same passions as she does theologically and its bringing me down. I'm trying not to sweat my GPA, focusing more on what I can learn.

I have a paper due next featuring, among other people, Immanuel Kant. If you've ever read Kant, you know it's kinda like working a Rubik's Cube while blindfolded [was that guy on Beauty and the Geek?].

Anyway, I'm still lumbering through Kant, just not successfully.

Good Enough For Me

I know I shouldn't do it, but I continually gravitate towards comparative living. I define "comparative living" as reflecting on your life by putting up against someone else's. Basically, if there's anyone that I know that is from a similar background as me, and has taken a similar career path to that of my own, then I will critique where I am in comparison to them. I'm not convinced it's a healthy way to live life. It's a constant problem I struggle with.

I'll admit that I engaged in some comparative living this afternoon. Kelly was in the office so, on our day-off together, Kaelyn and I drove to Bright, Indiana to help out my sister-in-laws preschool. I did some songs for the kids on my guitar. There was about forty or so total kids for the sing-along.

SIDENOTE: working a crowd of kids at a Christian preschool is tough. They're really not the laughing type. Sure, I could have said the word "poop" which would have earned some laughs, but I didn't want to leave Mandi a mess to clean up after we left [I mean, from concerned parents because of my potty language. It's not like there would have been any actual feces involved].

As I drove back to the city, with Kaelyn knocked out in the backseat, I thought of other guys in ministry my age who have "arrived." I'm not quite sure I can quite relate to that process of arriving. Instead of speaking in front of thousands on a Sunday morning, or traveling across the country to do a book signing, I'm singing "Shake a Friends Hand" to a bunch of preschoolers.

Not exactly where I envisioned being after ten years of ministry. This is when I lust after what others have. Not their possessions, but their influence. I feel as if I could be doing more but am relegated to lower tasks, like playing songs for children.

But something that happened earlier in the afternoon helped me reevaluate my constant comparisons.

When I went to sing to the preschoolers, Kaelyn didn't like it. In fact, she hated the idea of sharing her daddy. She burst into tears, breaking into her hyperventalating cry. Eventually she had to be taken out of the room by Mandi. When I was finally finished with the songs, Kaelyn came back in. I picked her up and she nuzzled into my neck and immediately stopped sobbing. It was in this occurence that I had the epiphanal moment of my day:

This . . . kid . . . loves . . . me.

She doesn't give a rip what I do as long as it's with her. It's an unbelievable feeling— something that brings a wave of contentment into my life, driving the jealousy and envy from my soul. I don't know who else has this feeling, but I imagine there are a lot of people who would covet it.

And that should be good enough for me.