Last night the Anchor worship team skipped practice and, instead, went to the Auburn Fall Free Fair. The draw: a free concert by the Little River Band. I remember the 1970s and 1980s, when they had a bunch of hits. "Night Owls" was my favorite, but "Cool Change" was great, too. They were the first Australian group to make it big in the States. However, I think only two of the guys in the band last night were part of that version of the Little River Band.

They were very good, and it was fun hearing all those old hits. Kinda like listening to hymns, I guess, for some people. With nearly every song, I thought, "Oh yeah, I forgot they did that one, too." And they left off perhaps their biggest hit, "I'm All Out of Love." As a nice little touch, they did two encore songs, and one was a rockin' version of "Drift Away," the only non-LRB song of the night.

I know--the Little River Band was not exactly Guns & Roses. Maybe 60% rock and 40% pop. But hey, they were big in their day. And now they're relegated to the county fair circuit.

Posted at 03:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I watched tonight's Democratic presidential debate, moderated by Tim Russert. Very interesting debate. I could vote for several of them--Biden, Dodd, Richardson, and yes, even Hillary. I like Obama and Edwards, but don't think they would be effective presidents. However, I would vote for either of them before Guiliani, who scares me.

It's still terribly early, and lots of things can happen, but I'll most likely vote for a Democrat for president. The Republican Party has left me, and that disappoints me. It has abandoned fiscal responsibility, world diplomacy, and even many moral issues, and no longer exemplifies what I want in government. They've taken paths I can't follow.

On so many issues, I'm more in line with the Democrats: capital punishment, gun control, fuel alternatives, tax reform, balancing the budget, global warming, using torture, poverty, the Geneva Conventions, government spying on Americans, civil rights, the role of diplomacy, and the Iraq war.

Yeah, there are plenty of left-wing nuts in the Democratic Party. But I find them less dangerous than the trigger-happy right-wing nuts who infest the Republican Party (and this White House). So unless the Republican Party undergoes some kind of revival, I can't see myself aligning with them.

But Election Day is still a long way off.

Posted at 11:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

When public people screw up and they go into damage-control mode, they tend to utter words like these:

• "I made a mistake."
• "My words were taken out of context."
• "This was blown out of proportion."

Bill O'Reilly expressed surprise that blacks could run a restaurant as well as whites. But he claims his words were taken out of context. The context is that he apparently has an inherently racist worldview.

Politicians continually state that their words were taken out of context. We'll hear that a lot between now and Election Day 2008. I'm sure Hitler, if alive today, would claim that anti-Jewich statements from his speeches were taken out of context. And once taken out of context, things are invariably "blown out of proportion."

People of character simply admit that what they said or did was wrong, and take responsibility. Mel Gibson did that. Don Imus did. Jimmy Swaggart famously cried, "I have sinned." I'm no Swaggart fan, but hey, good for him. There are plenty of other examples of non-excuse-makers.

I listened to ESPN radio while returning from the table tennis club last night. They were talking about Michael Vick. One commentator said, "Michael Vick didn't make a mistake. He made a choice." Amen.

Posted at 10:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

If I think I possess the slightest hint of manliness, the notion can be shredded by going for a blood test. Like I did this morning. The nurse wraps a tournequet around my upper arm, asks me to clench my fist ("Uh, not so tight"), and then begins tapping my forearm, searching for a vein. Tap tap tap tap. Can't find one. Let's try the other arm. Tap tap tap tap. Hmmm. Oh, there's one.

Meanwhile, I avert my gaze, unable to watch, feeling just a bit light-headed. Already.

"I'll use a baby needle," she tells me with a smile. Because I've been telling her what a wimp I am, and that my otherwise understanding wife laughs at my wimpdom when confronted with blood tests.

I feel the poke. I try to keep my mind on something else; don't remember what. Then another poke. "Okay, you're done," she says.

"That was easy," I say with bravado.

And then a cloud descends. I feel faint. The nurse must have drained at least a couple quarts from my arm. She tells me to cough deeply to increase blood pressure, and to put my head back. I comply. Another nurse brings me a glass of water. "You're not the first to feel this way," they tell me. Yeah, right. They keep talking to me. Don't be in a hurry. Would it help to lay down? We have a bed in another room? Looks like your color is coming back. Don't leave until you're ready. We don't want you fainting in the car. These are women who have had babies, trying to keep a grown many from keeling over because he got poked with a needle.

About 15 minutes later, I feel good enough to stand, which I do bravely. And once standing, I feel good enough to leave. I thank the kind ladies, then head out to my car. They told me I should go get something to eat, something sugary. So I went to Bob Evans and ordered pancakes.

Posted at 12:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

It seems that no matter how flat the toothpaste tube, you can always squeeze out enough for another scrubbing.

Posted at 08:05 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Clarence Kopp's funeral was yesterday. He served as a bishop in our denomination 1981-1993, and I worked with him that entire time. Let me make these observations about him from my own experience:

• He would not criticize or speak ill of people. Even people who dearly deserved it. He not only believed the best in people, but I don't think he saw anything but the best. This was a huge, huge demonstration of character.
• He always gave me a totally free hand in editing his material. Some folks have too much ego for that; they take it personally. Bishop Kopp never did. He trusted me to do my thing.
• He brought enthusiasm and positive energy to everything. Always positive, always encouraging.
• He was under-appreciated, to an extent. But not by me.
• Bishop Kopp was truly pure of heart. Him and Russ Birdsall. Such people are rare. No guile, no hidden agenda, no two-facedness, no mixed motives. Folks like that are beloved by people and by God.

For a few years, while pastoring the church I now attend in Fort Wayne, Ind., Dad had then-former Bishop Kopp as a parishioner. Initially, he wasn't too crazy about having a bishop sitting in his pews. But no problem. I've heard Dad say on various occasions, "Clarence Kopp is the best layperson I ever had."

I saw that for about three years, when I was Bishop Kopp's fellow parishioner at Anchor. He drove 40 minutes to get to church each Sunday. He was a mighty presence, yet never one to put himself forward. Always encouraging to others. Pastor Tim said that each Sunday, upon leaving, Bishop Kopp would give Tim a Bible verse. When declining health forced him to give up Anchor in favor of a different church closer to home, it was a sad day for our church. We lost a giant of the faith.

This past week, the United Brethren denomination lost a giant of the faith. I wish more people had gotten to know him up close, the way I was privileged to. He was a man of great humility, of great wisdom, of great love. A man with a pure heart.

Posted at 09:31 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Is anyone else bothered by the last line of Amazing Grace, "We've no less days to sing God's praise/than when we first begun"? It should be either "than when we first began," or "than when we had first begun," which sounds silly. Are we a bunch of musical lemmings, automatically singing bad grammar just because the song's been hymnalized and is therefore considered holy writ?

Posted at 10:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

I like listening to Mike & Mike, the ESPN show on weekday mornings. They often give their picks for upcoming football games, and do it in terms of "the odds." They talk about "the spread" and say things like, "I'll take Green Bay and give you the points." Or they'll take the points.

Here is my admission. I don't know what "the points" refers to, nor do I understand the concept of "the spread." I guess I'm just not a gamblin' man. I've never bought a lottery ticket, don't know how to play poker, and though I've "played the slots," it was a one-time thing in 1988, the only time, as an adult, I've been to Vegas.

What's more, I don't know if I WANT to know what the points and the spread are all about. All I care about is who Mike thinks will win, and who Mike thinks will win. Beyond that, they can takes the points against the spread all they want.

Posted at 11:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Stopped at Starbucks this morning. Not many parking places in front of the Village of Coventry store, and some numbskull had parked really really crooked, taking up two spaces. I squeezed my truck into the adjacent space and went inside, looking for the culprit. About four customers were there. My eyes settled on a 30ish fellow wearing a t-shirt and a New York Yankees cap. Yes, it was him. "Jerk," I muttered under my breath.

I got my decaf and returned to my truck. The car was still there, and Yankee Man was still inside. Being in a particularly juvenile frame of mind, I determined to leave something under his windshield wiper. I found a blank piece of paper in the truck and wrote on it, in big letters, "Is this the best you can do?" Now, the trick would be sticking it under a wiper blade without Bride of Steinbrenner catching me and, in a Billy Martinesque fashion, whooping my butt. This was, indeed, a concern.

I mustered my pseudo-courage and exited the truck, standing on the passenger side of this felonious car which, I noted, was a Mercedes. Jerkboy drove a Mercedes. But just as I prepared to dart to the windshield vicinity, a 50ish woman with poofy blonde hair, the type of woman who occupies an expansive suburban home and spends vast quantities of time at the beauty parlor being pampered, exited Starbucks and headed my way. Headed to the Benz, in fact.

I slunk back into my truck, paper still in hand, mission unaccomplished. I started up the truck and pulled away. But as I drove past this woman, now at her car door, I gave her a Look. You know, a Highly Disapproving Look. I don't think she noticed. But if she did, I'm sure it tormented her upwards of three seconds.

Consolation prize: on the way to work, I passed a silver Corvette broke down beside the highway, the hood up, the driver peering at the engine in puzzlement. I felt happy.

Sometimes, the awe-inspiring transcendence of my maturity overwhelms me.

Posted at 10:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Connor turned one year old today, September 19. Since December 1, he has lived with his parents in our humble home. He's the first baby that I, a 50-year-old, have ever held. It's been a delight watching him grow. He's one happy kid.

Pam had several presents for him, and so did Allen and Carolyn. Connor's attitude was pretty much, "What the heck am I supposed to do with this?" Allen and Carolyn would tear a piece of the wrapping, and Connor would grab it and pull. Or, he would just shake the present until it fell out of the wrapping.

His favorite was a toy remote control. He's always trying to grab out remotes (TV, VCR, DVD), and will sprint-crawl if he sees one laying untended. Now he has his own remote, which makes various sounds (our real remotes make no noise, which I guess makes them inferior).

Connor also gets to ride with his car-seat pointed forward now, not backward toward the trunk. He gets to watch Daddy drive.

Posted at 11:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Pam and I watched some of last year's "Dancing with the Stars" and found it fun. Last night Pam said she'd like to watch it regularly this time, because Marie Osmond and Jane Seymour are participating. She likes them. I want to watch "Dancing with the Stars," too. But for me, the draw is Mark Cuban, the billionaire bad-boy owner of the Dallas Mavericks. I'm a Cuban fan. A fan of his basketball team, of his blog, and of his approach to life.

In explaining on his blog why he agreed to participate in "Dancing with the Stars," he wrote the following:

I'm the first to admit that I'm the luckiest guy in the world. I can honestly say I wake up every morning with a smile knowing what a wonderful family, friends and life I have. It's the exact same way I felt when I was broke.

Money makes so many things in life easier, but it can't buy you a positive outlook on life. Fortunately, how any of us approaches each of our days is completely up to us. It's not something you can buy or sell. It's not hard to put a smile on your face every day, but for some reason some people find it impossible to do. Not me.

The opportunity to do something unique that makes me smile is something I try not to pass up, Dancing with the Stars is just that....I'm going to be out there to win, but I promise you no one is going to be having a better time than me. I can promise you that.

When I'm 90 years old and talking to my grand kids and hopefully great grand kids, I won't be the grandparent who tells them about the things I wished I had done and how they should experience life, I will be the grandparent with tons of great stories that hopefully inspires them to live their lives to the fullest.

Posted at 11:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Last Sunday I skipped church to play in the Indiana Open Table Tennis Tournament. I didn't do well, which was probably a sign of God's judgment. Today in church, a lot of people ribbed me about skipping church to play ping pong. But it was all good-natured. No legalists contending that my priorities were messed up, or that I was setting a poor example. Nope, everyone was cool and good-humored about it.

Anchor's really a great church.

Posted at 10:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Pam and I watched "Shoot 'em Up," with Clive Owen and Paul Giametti. Pure, 100%, unadulterated, gratuitious violence from beginning to end. And for both Pam and me, a disturbingly guilty pleasure. Wouldn't necessarily recommend it to anyone...and yet, I'd see it again. I'm not sure if this says anything about my spiritual maturity.

Posted at 11:13 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

When I'm traveling and the event's done, I want to get home. No staying another night in a hotel. So though MinistryCOM ended around 5 pm (6 pm Hoosier time), and it was eight hours from Nashville to Fort Wayne, Ind., I decided to go for it. If I got tired, I'd get a motel. Until then...well, let's see how far I could go.

As it turned out, I had no trouble staying awake, with the help only of one of those quickstop faux-cappucinos and XM satellite radio. I listened to news and the comedy channel (the clean one, with guys like Bob Newhart, Dangerfield, Clower, etc.) until I crossed the Indiana border around 9:00. Ate in Jeffersonville, and headed out again, with 200 miles to go. I now switched between two XM stations that mix oldies with contemporary music, cranked the sound up...and it got me to Fort Wayne.

I crawled into my own sweet bed, already occupied by my wife and two cats, around 2:00 in the morning. So I made good time. Pam said when she would wake up, she'd say a prayer, "Keep Steve from getting tired." Ah, despite the late hour, God was listening.

Posted at 12:10 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Dawn Nicole Baldwin is CEO of AspireOne, which helps churches (mostly very large ones) with branding and web strategy. She's a real authority on branding, particularly as it relates to the church world. She's tightly associated with Willow Creek. Here are some tidbits from her afternoon session on branding.

• Ask, "What do we, as a church, want to be known for?" If we're not intentional about defining who we are, others will do it for us.
• "Brand experience" includes many ways people interact with you: word of mouth, your website, mailers, publications, your logo, and much more. The brand is not just the logo.
• Brand strategy: ask these three questions: Who are you serving? What are your unique strengths? How do you reach people with impact.
• When ministry leaders say, "We need a brochure,"...do they really? I face that at the denominational level. Everyone wants a brochure, and I don't think they're all that valuable.
• Blanding: trying to be all things to all people. You water all your uniquenesses down.
• She doesn't like churches giving different brands to a bunch of church ministries. She doesn't like having different URLs for the various ministries. Prefers having everything under the single brand of the church and the church website.
• Identify your biggest fans (brand advocates). In churches, your church's biggest fans are often new Christians.
• Sometimes the senior pastor is such a presence that he is the brand. Go to the website for Houston's Lakewood Church. You'll see Joel Osteen plastered everywhere. You wonder whether the website is for the church or a commercial for his books.
• Seacoast Church is a multi-site church with 11 campuses, one of which is five hours from water. Did the name "Seacoast" fit them? They decided that their brand transcended geography.
• She gave away some gifts. One was to the person who had been in his/her communications role the longest. A gal sitting in front of me said "16 years," and nobody could top that. So she got a free book. After the workshop, I told her, "I've been doing my job for 26 years." But since the focus here is local church communications, I didn't inject myself.

Posted at 11:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

• We're meeting at The People's Church, a megachurch in a community on the outskirts of Nashville, on the south side. You could call it a suburban church, I suppose.
• The MC is Evan McBroom, who heads his own communications consulting firm in Indianapolis called Fishhook. He said we communications people are like sled dogs--someone's always whipping us from behind, and the view ahead isn't so great, either.
• The church's worship team led us in both the morning and afternoon keynote sessions. Very good group, superb sound. I need to look up the song "Mighty to Save," so we can do it at Anchor. "My Savior, he can move the mountains...."
• The keyboard player nodded his head throughout most of the singing. He tried to find things to do with his left hand (which, in a band, isn't really needed)--grab the side of the keyboard, adjust the microphone...anything to keep it away from the keyboard. That's tough for a keyboard guy.
• Terry Storch, the Digerati Pastor at Lifechurch.tv in Oklahoma, gave the morning keynote. LifeChurch is a highly innovative, multi-site church which has the coolest church homepage. They have their own church in Second Life, a virtual reality world. At least one person became a Christian through it. Storch is very highly regarded by Christian communications people.
• Storch talked about how the communication revolution has affected the church. The Guttenberg press brought the printed word, radio brought the spoke word, TV brought the visual word. The internet, at least what's called Web 2.0, is all about participation. Churches focus on one-way communications, while the web is about multi-faceted communication.
• He said "Church 1.0" is all about service times. "If you want to know what we do, come to the church at our times." But with "Church 2.0," people want your content anything they want it, not just when your church doors are open.
• "Churches are al about a building." If it doesn't happen in the church building, it's not "church." He said he led more people to Christ at Starbucks than inside the walls of his church. He mentioned the idea of the "Omnipresent Church." The church is about people, and it happens constantly, not just at designated times.
• Rather than go "out" to do outreach, we should be "in" communities like MySpace and Facebook. We can make relationships online, and then turn them into physical outreach by meeting those people in person. He said his wife met two such persons already.
• We used the phrase "Each one reach one." But that's addition. We now need to think, "Each one invites everyone."
• 1.2 billion people in the world (out of 6.6 billion) are connected to the internet today.

Posted at 11:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (4)

I'm in Nashville, Tenn., attending the MinistryCOM convention, which is for Christian communications professionals. About 300 people are here, and most work for megachurches. Good people, passionate about what they do, and highly competent. Seriously, these are some way-competent folks.

In one workshop, the leader asked how many of us were the entire communications staff. About one-third of the hands went up. He said, "Your job is difficult, because nobody else understands what you do." That describes most of my career. Except for a couple years in the early 1980s, and six months in 2006, I've had no one with whom to "talk shop." My coworkers and superiors appreciate what I do, but they aren't conversant in my skills (writing, graphic design, web design). That's the way it goes. I'm the only United Brethren person here, period. I'm not sure we have any communications fulltimers on staff at any of our churches.

But many of the MinistryCOM attendees come from churches with an entire communications staff. I ate lunch with a trio from a Wisconsin church--the woman communications director, the web guy, and a graphics guy. I enjoyed being able to converse knowledgeably with each one, since those areas are all strengths for me. That's what happens after years and years of having to do everything yourself. You're forced to accumulate additional expertise.

This is only the third MinistryCOM convention. There are quite a few first-timers this year, which is nice. I attended last year's convention in Phoenix and profited tremendously from it. It took little time for me to realize, "This is a conference I must attend every year."

As is the case at any Christian (or secular) conference, plenty of individuals stand around by themselves. They came alone, like me. We stand against the walls or in corners. Or, this being a group of communications people, open up a laptop and check email. It's too easy to disappear into your computer, which is like erecting a big "Do Not Disturb" sign to fend off social advances. I tried to connect, but couldn't. During the morning, I sat beside another Mac guy; he snagged a connection, but I couldn't. Go figure. Probably too many people logging on. A number of people mentioned their inability to connect, though not in a complaining way. Church people are adept at complaining, but I haven't noticed that here. Of course, I'm not exactly plugged in.

The break times are great. They have Nature's Valley Sweet and Salty Nut granola bars. I tried one. Yum. I took another. In the afternoon, I took two more and ate them before the concluding session.

Now I'm back in my Ramada Limited hotel room, with my full-barred wireless signal. I called Pam at music practice, and now I'm ready to head out to the Nashville Table Tennis club, which meets on Thursday nights. Some southern rednecks are gonna get the chance to whomp on a Yankee.

Postscript three hours later: The table tennis club wasn't what I expected. Of the 12 guys there, 9 were Asian, most of them very good. One guy had a 2500 rating, another was over 2000, and their US Top Ten player was absent (his wife was having a baby). Nevertheless, I played extremely well, and ended up with a 3-2 record. Very fun. Sure beat any alternatives I had for the evening.

Posted at 07:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Some years ago, I watched a TV documentary about the Manson murders which focused some attention on a sister of Sharon Tate, whose mission in life seemed to be showing up at the parole hearings of the Manson girls and making sure they aren't released. Twenty-five years after the murders, she remained angry, embittered, and unforgiving. It struck me as intensely sad. Her life is defined by something that happened in 1969.

I don't know how I would behave under those circumstances, but I hope I would be able to get on with my life.

A few weeks ago, I watched something similar on MSNBC, this time about a woman whose brother was senselessly killed by two teenagers about 20 years ago. The woman was stuck in time. She had never allowed her family to take another family picture, because it wouldn't include her brother. The others had moved on, dealt with their grief, but she hadn't. She remained angry, embittered, and unforgiving.

Through a special program (whose name I can't recall), this woman was able to go into the prison, meet with one of the killers, and ask him anything she wanted. It was interesting to watch. The man was as contrite as anyone could expect, with no excuses, and through the prism of TV, I felt he was fully sincere. He, in fact, had developed what seemed to be tremendous maturity and character within the confines of prison; his life was defined by his crime, but he was able to move on. But the woman left that meeting even more determined to keep the guy in prison; determined to show up at any parole hearings to state her case. This, too, struck me as terribly sad.

A few days ago, a news show mentioned a woman who lost someone in the World Trade Center. She was among the relative few who refused to accept any survivor compensation. She, too, remains angry, embittered, unforgiving. Stuck in 2001. She says, "I want answers." To...what? She, too, struck me as a tragically sad figure. Someone you probably don't enjoy being around. Someone who has crafted her identity around the tragedy of 9/11.

I can't claim any knowledge of what it feels like to lose a loved one to senseless violence. But I would hope I could move on with my life. I would expect better of a Christian.

Today is 9/11. There are World Trade Center survivors still fighting over what will replace the towers. Some want to make it a perpetual memorial to their loved ones. On MSNBC this morning, Mayor Michael Bloomberg talked, in a diplomatic way, about the need to move on with your life. He mentioned the death of his father when he was 21, but that he and his sister, despite their grief, completed college and began successful careers, and now, looking back, the grief is gone and they only have good memories of their father. Their example is not sad.

Posted at 08:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I sat down on a toilet in a public restroom, and somebody moved into the stall right next to me. It felt very eery. It's never exactly comfortable to use a public restroom. But now, the experience inflicts all kinds of anxieties. I even found myself, for the first time in my life, reflecting on my stance.

Thank you, Senator Craig.

Posted at 10:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

Came across this Mark Twain quote today. I'd never heard it before:

"History doesn't repeat itself, but it does rhyme."

Not an exact copy, but certainly reminiscent.

Posted at 10:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

We had a cookout in Convoy, Ohio, at my brother Stu's place. They bought a fixer-upper from the bank a couple months ago, with several acres and a barn and several small buildings, and already they've got the place looking nice.

In the afternoon we played volleyball. Stu's four kids, in their 20s, were leaping and diving and covering the whole court, effortlessly and tirelessly.

I used to be able to do that.

Posted at 11:02 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

In his resignation speech today, Senator Larry Craig mentioned the support he had received form his fellow Idahoans. Idahoans? How awkward is that? Not as awkward as trying to make a name out of Indiana. Indians? Nope, can't do that. Indianan? Nope. That's why, if Craig hailed from Indiana, he would have cited his fellow Hoosiers. Wisconsin is another ungainly name. Wisconsinian? Wisconsinite? I suppose most Wisconsin people follow Indiana's example, calling themselves Badgers.

The best state name is Texas, which is inhabited by Texans. Not Texasians, just Texans (though I do refer John Wayne, in some movie, referring to Texicans, which is akin to Mexicans). Kansas does the same thing, making its people Kansans (Kansicans?). But Texan is much cooler sounding.

Many states conveniently end with an "a" or "ia," so you can just add an "n" and be done with it. Georgian. Pennsylvanian. Arizonan. Minnesotan. Of course, some states do some contortions, such as Florida, which makes it's people Floridians, stressing a whole different syllable.

States ending in "an" just add "ian." Washingtonian. Oregonian.

What do you call people from Mississippi? Mississipians? Probably. Michigan people are strangely named Michiganders. I don't know what they call themselves in Maryland, Maine, Massachusetts, Hawaii, or Connecticut. Mainelander? Seems like I might have heard that before, but I'm not sure.

America was named after the explorer Amerigo Vespucci. I'm not sure how "Amerigo" became "America," but I'm very glad that I'm not an Amerigoan.

And that, children and Miss Teen USA contestants and our friends in South Africa, is today's geography lesson.

Posted at 10:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)