the musing carnival

In Search of Joel Osteen and the Lord's Favor

2012-01-31T11:48:00.009-06:00

While speaking at a small church in Houston last weekend, I took the opportunity to skate down the street to the Sunday morning service at Lakewood Church. The church might not sound familiar but the pastor, Joel Osteen, probably does. By the way, I say “small church” only because compared to Lakewood, a church of 2,400 is tiny.

This outing might seem surprising due to my history with Pastor Osteen. I’ve made no attempt to hide my distaste for his ministry and message. Joel isn’t a typical preacher. His books are mainstays on the New York Times Bestseller List. He speaks to millions around the world on TV. His church of 47,000 meets in an arena. But like him or not, he’s one of the most influential religious figures in the world.

Osteen is polarizing but he’s not one of those fire and brimstone-types. He’s guilty of preaching on the opposite end of the spectrum. To be harsh, Joel’s messages are filled with “feel good” antidotes wrapped up in “me-centered theology”. He never addresses sin, and has stated publically that he’d much rather talk about happy things. Joel believes that when good things happen to you, it means you are in the “Lord’s favor”. That’s a slippery slope and the karma-like Christianity rubs some the wrong way.

However, I decided to put presuppositions aside and sit in on a service with an open mind. Let’s see what this guy has to say, I told myself. No matter what, I’ll report the facts and only the facts. Below is a play-by-play record of my morning at Lakewood.

7:59am – I am still a few blocks out when I began noticing the large, mobile signs displaying “Lakewood Parking” pointing worshippers into parking garages. Parking is free on Sunday morning no matter where you park but I decide to try my luck with finding a closer spot. My bet backfires. I circle around and park in a garage a few blocks away. (I am not in the Lord’s favor.)

8:05am – I walk out of the parking garage and hop on an idling shuttle bus. As I search for a seat, the small speakers play worship music. The song is unfamiliar to me but joyfully proclaims, “I am loved, I am blessed, Jesus you are mine.”

8:08am – The bus chugs along the perimeter of the large arena known formerly as the Compaq Center. The Houston Rockets won two NBA Championships in the mid-90’s in this building. Yet the teeming crowd on this beautiful January morning suggests that Joel Osteen might be more popular than Hakeem Olajuwon ever was. As I slide off the bus, the shuttle driver shouts, “Have a blessed day.” Dumbfounded, I simply respond “Okay.”

8:10am – Walking up to the door, I ask a lady, who looks like a regular, what her favorite thing about Lakewood is. She replies, “It just feels like home. Everyone here is so friendly.” Moments later, as we enter the bustling atrium, her theory is proven correct. Greeters, wearing nametags and Secret Service-looking earpieces, stand under a large sign displaying Jeremiah 29:11. This is an organized fleet. Osteen will later claim that 4,000 volunteers make Lakewood run every Sunday. Stationed every ten feet throughout the concourse, the greeters are extremely nice. Maybe the nicest church greeters I’ve ever encountered.

8:12am – Blacks. Whites. Hispanics. Asians. People who are obviously rich and others who are desperately poor. Teenagers in skinny jeans and old black ladies in big hats. They all mingle together. I’ll make a bold statement. Lakewood is the most diverse church I’ve ever been in.

8:21am – An usher escorts me to my seat on the fourth row. So close that I can smell Joel Osteen’s hair product. I say a quick prayer of thanksgiving. (Big time Lord’s favor points.)

8:24am – I flip through the bulletin while waiting for the service to start. It contains the normal activities any church bulletin would. Super Bowl party. Couples date night. An upcoming book signing. Okay… almost any church.

8:29am – Several people around me pull out cameras. One guy down the row will record the entire service on his phone. These people aren’t just churchgoers. They are pilgrims on the road to Osteen Mecca. I begin to grow a little uneasy.

8:30am – The lights go dim. Gungor’s Beautiful Things – a fantastic song, by the way – pulses over the line array speakers, producing bass that rattles my ribcage. The 200-person choir stands to its feet. The band rises to stage level on a hydraulic lift as a five-person worship team sprints out to center stage. Remember the song that played before Bulls games in the 90’s? That is the only thing missing.

8:32am – One of the worship leaders, who looks a lot like Jane Krakowski, jumps around the stage in 6 inch heels during “Free to Run”. I’ve never worn stilettos but I’m still impressed.

8:33am – Okay, let me rephrase that. I’ve never worn stilettos outside of Reno.

8:56am –Joel Osteen emerges and welcomes everyone. His wife, Victoria, flanks him. I’m taken aback by just how warm and personable he is. Look, I consider myself a positive guy but Joel Osteen makes me look like Mark Driscoll with hemorrhoids. Joel says, “I know you have the faith. I can tell.” This seems like a presumptuous statement to me. I’m starting to think he’s full of it. Based on the reactions around me, no one shares this sentiment.

9:01am – Joel begins praying. Lots of "bless us" rhetoric. It’s pretty self-centered.

9:09am – Joel is still praying. It’s still pretty self-centered.

9:12am – The band kicks back in as one of the worship leaders, a gorgeous African-American woman, steps out and belts out “There’s Something About that Name.” It is beautiful, absolutely powerful. Hands down the tightest, most talented, church worship band I’ve ever seen.

9:17 – Bugle solo - yes, bugle solo - brings the crowd to its feet.

9:18am – Joel’s wife, Victoria, begins the communion meditation. She rambles, talks a lot about how God wants us to live the best life. It seems that the “best life” has more to do with happiness and good jobs than submitting to Jesus. She never says the word sin. Not once. Sadly, it’s about what I expected. But then she says, “Jesus came to reverse the curse caused by the enemy’s disobedience in the garden.” That phrase rolls around in my mind during the communion prayer. The enemy’s disobedience?!? So mankind isn’t responsible for sin? Who sent Jesus to the cross? I am as confused as I am offended.

9:19am – The communion bread tastes like notebook paper. (Back out of the Lord’s favor.)

9:20am – A camera crane swings by me, almost hitting me in the head. This is a communion first. (Still out of the Lord’s favor.)

9:21am – As Joel steps up to preach, I look back to gauge how full the arena is. The first two levels are packed all the way around. He welcomes everyone, greets those watching at home, makes a few housekeeping announcements like any preacher would, and begins his sermon. He comes across as being very pastoral. I can see why people are drawn to him.

9:22am – Joel asks everyone to take out their Bibles and hold them high. He has the audience repeat a declaration about how important the scriptures are. Joel puts his Bible down. He won’t pick it up again.

9:24am – There isn’t a sermon text, just a “story from the life of David… a true champion.” The title of his message is “Under Your Feet”, which is based on a misinterpretation of 1 Corinthians 15. The scripture states that God has put everything under his (Jesus) feet. Joel changes “everything” to “obstacles” and “his” to “our” and dives in. I’ll give him this. Joel is such a gifted communicator that few notice he’s preaching an entire sermon on a verse taken out of context.

9:39am – Joel continues to preach, not about what Jesus can do, but about what we can do if we believe. I really did enter this experience wanting to give him a shot. But the more I listen, the more I can’t help but question his message. He tells us that God will cure our cancer, give us a raise, fix our marriages, and bless us if we just have faith. Meanwhile, thousands of Christians put their lives on the line by worshipping in secret across the Middle East.

9:41am – I realize two things. Number one: Joel Osteen is really genuine. Number two: genuine people can be heretics. Don’t get me wrong. I believe that God wants to bless us. But pursuing him only for the blessings isn’t worship. It is idolatry. That’s what this service feels like to me.

9:43am – More music. A prayer time down front. Shots on the big screen show that Joel and his wife are praying with people. Some preachers might disappear backstage as soon as they finish preaching. But there he is, patiently praying with a crying woman. He gets props for that.

9:59am – As soon as the service ends, I bolt from my seat to try to make the “Meet and Greet” near the expansive bookstore on the second level. An estimated 30 people huddle inside a roped off area. I slide past one of the greeters as he zips the stanchion closed behind me. The rest of the crowd is forced to wait on the other side of the rope and snap pictures from a distance. I’ll admit, I feel a little giddy that I got in. (Knee-deep in the Lord’s Favor.)

10:04am – While waiting for Joel to arrive, I initiate a conversation with a Hispanic lady next to me. I ask her if Lakewood is her church. It is. When I ask if she lives in Houston she informs me that she lives in San Antonio. “So do you drive down every weekend?” I ask. “No” she replies, “this is my first time here. I watch on the television.” At this point, I am intrigued and ask if she goes to a church in San Antonio. “No, I don’t like preachers who yell and scream.” She admits, “Joel is so gentle.”

10:05am – I realize two more things. Number one: Joel Osteen is really gentle. Number two: Gentle people can be heretics. 2nd Timothy 4:3 comes to mind.

10:10am – Joel emerges from the elevator. Three handlers escort him down the row. I watch him interact with people. He is extremely warm and caring. I can’t help but wonder if he misses interacting with people on a personal level. The barriers built by super-mega-church ministry are probably exhausting for such an apparent people-person. Joel stops to pray with a family. He gets down on a knee to talk to a woman in a wheelchair. He signs a few books. Next thing I know, he’s shaking my hand.

10:15am – “Good morning, pastor” I say. His big smile causes his eyes to disappear in his eyelids. We make small talk about the service. I tell him that everyone has been extremely nice. He speaks with a disarming Texas accent, “Yes, the people make Lakewood special.” I briefly consider asking a trap question about the persecuted church or questioning how he sleeps at night, but don’t. Maybe I should have. But something told me that this wasn’t the time. Instead, I ask him what advice he’d give a young person in ministry. He puts his hand on my shoulder and says, “Be a person of integrity.” Dumbfounded, I simply respond, “Okay.”

10:21am – Joel disappears back into the elevator and the crowd dissipates. Using the same tricks I employed during an American Idol concert – another story for another day – I successfully sneak backstage. I talk to a few worship leaders and run into Joel again. He recognizes me and is again extremely polite. The “greeters” begin talking into their cufflinks. I assume that I should be leaving. (Soaking in glorious, glorious Lord’s favor.)

10:23am – A wrong turn leaves me momentarily trapped outside on a loading dock. The freeway hums above me as I pull and bang on every locked door. Moments later, I am rescued by a greeter. (Out of the Lord’s favor and then back in again.)

10:30am – I leave the building through an appropriate exit and start walking the few blocks back to my car. I gave it my best shot. But after seeing Joel Osteen in the flesh, I remain a skeptic. It’s not for a lack of trying to like him. I wish I could. However, I just can’t believe him. There is no doubt that he has a good heart but that doesn’t excuse his message. I need something more to believe in than myself. I need a God that meets me halfway when I don’t have the faith. I need Jesus to invite me in to what he is doing, not the other way around. And when push comes to shove, I need a savior that has everything under “his” feet.

Extreme Makeover: Home Edition Cancelled After Nine Seasons

2012-01-13T17:13:00.011-06:00

Hollywood, CA – After nine years anchoring ABC’s reality television line-up, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition will air its final, and 200^th, episode this weekend. “It’s a somber day at the Disney Corporation,” said ABC president Paul Lee while sitting atop a large pile of money, made mostly by pushing Disney’s liberal agenda. “But business is business and the viewers have spoken. Americans aren’t interested in watching people help people on TV. It’s just boring. Single moms, tornado victims, blah, blah, blah. Americans want drunk girls from New Jersey. Extreme Makeover can’t compete with those other, more dramatic reality shows.” EMHE, which took viewers through the process of building dream homes for desperate families, made efforts to borrow programming ideas from more successful reality shows. Sadly, these attempts never caught on. “There was the time in season 4 when we hired a crew of bikini-clad women and made them sit in tanks full of live snakes.” EMHE host, Ty Pennington claimed. "But they were so jittery afterwards that they were unable to cut right angles." Pennington continued, “The problem with working with reality TV stars is that they actually believe that they are TV stars. Additionally, the problem with working with Michelle Duggar is that her uterus kept falling out on the worksite. That's not safe.” One can’t say that EMHE didn’t try to evolve. Other plans to increase viewership included nine bachelorettes living together, fighting to avoid backstabbing and gonorrhea, all while trying build a house and win the heart of one lucky man at the same time. “We even aired a special show in season 6 where we built a halfway house for former b-list celebrities.” Lee stated. Neither Flavor-Flav nor that other Baldwin brother could be reached for comment. All in all, former host Ty Pennington is maintaining a positive outlook. “I know whatever I do next, I want to help people.” When asked if he would consider doing something in scripted television, Pennington replied, “What’s that?”

2011 Lessons: Torrie Epperson

2012-01-02T12:26:00.005-06:00

Surprise! The musing carnival doesn’t have a nepotism clause! Okay, fine print aside, while this might be my wife Torrie’s first official post on my blog, it doesn’t mean that her voice has not been heard here before. She proofreads nearly every single one of my posts. Regularly, she’ll pull the MacBook over onto her lap and hack away. Occasionally, Torrie will simply reply, “looks good” and push the laptop back to my side of the bed. Other times she will take her reading glasses off, shake her head and say, “you’re weird.” I don’t know why she does it but I do know this. Every time she touches the keys, she makes my 1,000 words a thousand times better.

Torrie breathes life into everything she touches and is my editor in writing and life. They say that you shouldn’t get married thinking you can change a man. If that is the norm then Torrie could make a killing teaching seminars to brides-to-be. Being married to Torrie has changed me, not that it was her goal, per se. But she has made everything about me better. I’m a harder worker and more compassionate person because of her. I have a deeper understanding of Jesus. I don’t have long hair anymore because of her. That alone makes her a saint! Do you remember me with long hair? I looked like Shaggy Doo had a baby with Rob Thomas.

Settle in. You are going to read some pretty incredible words below. Her reflections on the past year remind me that, while she is making me a better person, I still have a long way to go to catch up with her.

Oh, and one last thing. Do me a favor and follow her on twitter. I know she’d really like 99 followers. It has something to do with a Jay-Z reference. Don’t ask. – Eric

Everything they say is true.

Regarding pregnancy, that is. Palmer’s oil really does prevent stretch marks, exercise really does make for an easy delivery, and breastfeeding really does help you lose your baby weight. Everything they say about everything else is still questionable and should not be trusted.

I am woman, hear me roar.

In 2011, I carried a baby a week past her due date, labored intensely for 4 hours, and pushed her out in less than an hour. And she wasn’t a tiny baby either – a healthy 8 ½ pounds. In trying to prepare for this experience, Eric and I watched YouTube footage of childbirths (note to expectant mothers: this is a bad idea). Every time, I ended up dry-heaving in the bathroom, in tears, convinced I could not do it. In efforts to try to build up my confidence, Eric spent many hours telling me that I was strong enough, I was brave enough, and besides, it didn’t really matter, because she had to come out somehow. He told me that I should feel empowered, and that if I could deliver a baby, I could do anything. And I have to admit, once I was finished with the labor and delivery, I did feel like a rock star.

EF5 tornadoes are a big deal.

I recently read that an EF5 tornado is the most powerful storm on Earth, with winds more than 200 miles per hour, compared to 155 for a Category 5 hurricane. It is also incredibly rare. Out of 100,000 thunderstorm clouds, only about 1,000 will produce tornadoes. Of those, less than 1 percent will be rated EF4 or EF5. About one-tenth of 1 percent of all tornadoes will become an EF5. The tornado that took our home, tested my ability to make decisions quickly, threw me head-first into motherhood, and cemented my rock star status was the result of not one, but five supercell storm clouds that converged right on top of us.

People are good.

As a result of that tornado, I got to see just how effective the church is, and just how loved we are. For example, I have not had to purchase baby wipes, toilet paper, or toothpaste since May (not because we don’t use them, but because so many people donated things like that to us). Alice has more clothes now than she did before the storm. We had a place to stay when so many others had to live in hotels and FEMA trailers. We really got to see firsthand how the church takes care of people, and we were able to experience the kindness of people, both familiar and strangers. With the exception of the looters who showed up the next week to steal copper wiring from our basement (c’mon, really?!?), we experienced generosity, compassion, and sympathy from everyone we encountered.

Home is where my little family is.

Over several months of 2011, we really got to test this theory out. In Alice’s short life, she has lived in our original house in Joplin, the guest room of our friends in Webb City, a dorm room in Tennessee, a barn in Carthage, and finally, a tiny rent house back in Joplin. While I may miss our comfortable old house and its charming features, I know that our home is where we are – it’s where we get to make traditions together. Things like family snuggle time, nighttime dance party, and Alice’s bed and bath routine are ones that we can do anywhere, and the ones that we’ll enjoy regardless of where they happen.

Having a baby really does change you.

Without sounding too self-important, I have to admit that I never knew life could be this full before. Sure, I hear myself saying things like “please, just let me pick your nose” and “are you pooping right now?” but I also get a glimpse into our Father’s love for us – in that he gives and gives and we can offer so little in return. Also, rumor has it, Eric’s turned into a real softie since Alice came along.

Vacations are a good thing.

All that changing is exhausting. Parenthood is not for the faint of heart. It’s a big commitment. Between incubating the baby, nursing the baby, and just the general wear and tear associated with keeping a baby alive, it’s vital to take some time off. This is especially true for Eric and I, who had nearly 9 glorious years together before having a baby. I will stand by anyone who says that getting away from the baby every once in awhile makes you a better parent. If a vacation is out of the question, a good nap will cure almost anything. I promise, the dishes can wait.

Normal is a constantly evolving concept.

We’ve often referred to life in the last 8 months as the “new normal”, and even that has changed a few times. It’s important not to get too caught up in what we should be doing at our age, why we haven’t reached all our goals yet, or when we will finally settle down. Instead, we need to accept that our life will change when it’s time and we should just enjoy our normal right now.

Some things don’t matter as much as I thought they did, some matter more.

Things that don’t matter so much: college football, a clean house, and having DVR. Things that do: hearing my baby breathe when she sleeps, dependable friends, and a good home insurance policy.

God hears prayers.

Even the little ones. So keep praying.

2011 Lessons: Krystle Fernandez

2012-01-01T15:52:00.005-06:00

If you are keeping score, you’ll remember that Krystle Fernandez wrote a post in last year’s 10 Lesson series. She had just moved across the country to go to law school and was a perfect candidate to reflect on 2010. Well, she stayed busy in 2011. Since that guest post, Krystle spent the summer working with prosecutors in Asia, earned a spot on the ASU Law Journal and wrote one of my favorite blog posts of last year.

It’s not just the accolades that are impressive. Her story runs deeper than that. Few people have taught me more about following God’s call than Kryz has. Mainly because she reminds me that just because God opens a door, it doesn’t mean that it’ll be easy. Most doors don’t magically fling open. Sometimes you have to do the hard work of prying them ajar. Krystle works so hard that I am convinced she wakes up every morning clutching a crowbar. Hard work. Humble faith. That’s an admirable combo. And in a time when young girls dream of becoming Hannah Montanas and Kardashians, I have my fingers crossed that my daughter will grow up to be a Krystle.

As mentioned, Krystle does maintain an engaging blog but her twitter feed is so cold and neglected that someone should call Sarah McLachlan. – Eric

Don’t be surprised when God answers prayer.

God answered so many prayers for me this year, so much so that it feels like bragging to list them all. There was stuff that I prayed for that was answered immediately and things that I prayed about that were fulfilled months later. But all of my answered prayer stemmed from my initial obedience to pursue a law degree to advance His Kingdom. I wasn’t blessed abundantly for being a good person, far from it. My prayers were the same as God’s will for my life because I was obedient in His calling. The more I recognize that, the easier my decisions get and the more I can be at peace in waiting for things and seeking answers.

Your heart can break, and not heal, and you can still be okay.

I spent 6 weeks overseas this past summer, and God used that time to show me the reach of His hand. I spent my time in Cambodia and the Philippines, and in each place I was able to see the tragic effects of human trafficking. But, God showed me great triumph in such tragedy. His people are hard at work, around the world to combat this evil. As I met the people that – in faith – have stepped out to rescue girls and prosecute the wrong-doers, my heart broke for this world of fallen people, for the girls who are victims of this evil, and for all of the ways that their lives has been turned upside down by their suffering. But, returning from this summer, I didn’t feel broken down. I had indeed left a part of my heart with the people that I had met, but I felt more certain than ever that I was on the path that God had called me to, and encouraged to continue pressing forward.

The world is covered in gray areas.

It can be hard to live by scripture, which can seemingly disclose truth in black and white, and yet still exist in a world that appears covered in gray areas. For me this comes up in areas most often related to the law, as that’s what I spend a lot of my time learning and writing about. The laws relating to juvenile sex trafficking, the state’s involvement in childhood obesity, the role of child protective services, foster care, planned parenthood, etc. All the messy lines between what should the role of government be vs. the role of the family vs. what I believe should be the role of the church – this to me, is all gray, charcoal, graphite, whatever you want to call it. But it isn’t black and white. I hope that things always appear gray to me though, because that’s what keeps me praying for answers, having conversations with friends, and ultimately seeking God’s authority on these topics that don’t seem simple. The more I wrestle with something, the more I learn about God’s will, His character, and the role that He wants me to have in whatever I’ve stumbled across. So, confusing as it may be, I’m thankful for the gray matter.

You can have too much of a good thing.

Rice + six weeks in Asia = enough said.

Ignorance can be bliss – but it’s still ignorance.

I spent a lot time this year with people who are on the front lines of combating sex trafficking, both domestically and internationally. I also spent a lot of time researching the issue. I worked one semester in juvenile court, and I saw many broken teens and families. In all of it, the more I learned the sadder I had the potential to feel. I really did find myself wishing that there were some things I hadn’t ever learned about. But then I realized, even if I think I would be happier in ignorance, it would still be just that. I would be turning a blind eye to the suffering of this world and missing opportunities for God to use me. Don’t be afraid to learn about the tough stuff, it will grow you, and change you, but for the better.

Sometimes the movie version of a book won’t disappoint you.

I have to say that The Help was both a fantastic book and a great movie. It’s always a risky thing to read a good book and then go see the movie – because the characters are either exactly what you expected or they’re ruined for you, and you’re left disappointed. But, in this case, I cried in both versions, and loved it.

There’s great power in friendship.

One of my best friends lost her dad this year, and it was sudden and heartbreaking. My friends and I were spread out across the country – but we all made it to her in 48 hours. As we all hugged her on the way in to the funeral, I realized how important it was that we had come. We couldn’t take away her pain or her hurt – but we were there. I’m glad that none of us hesitated to come and that we didn’t underestimate the importance of friendship.

Dancing Queen is universal.

The microphone was forced into my hand this summer at a hole-in-the-wall karaoke bar in the Philippines. I was with a group of Filipino law students who all loved to sing, so the pressure was on. I can’t believe it, in that moment, I became my mom. I chose the well-known Abba song, and I sang it as the rest of the room joined in. Love it, hate it, but almost everyone knows the words…”young and sweet, only…”

Beware of time wasters.

You know the list: Angry Birds, Facebook news feed, Pinterest, Twitter. They lead to procrastination - take it from an expert.

If you are bothered by injustice – act.

The things that get under our skin do so for a reason. Don’t just shake your head and think “isn’t that a shame,” get involved! This world is full of “causes” that need voices, hands, feet – the Body of Christ. If it seems impossible, then it is. Apart from God, that is. So, dig in, get your hands dirty, allow your heart to break, and go for it. He is right beside you.

2011 Lessons: Jacob Epperson

2011-12-31T12:07:00.003-06:00

When our next contributor, my younger brother Jacob Epperson, agreed to write a post for me, I was excited to see what perspective he would bring. We’ve been brothers pretty much his entire life so naturally, people often ask if we are similar. I respond, “We’ve got a lot in common… I’m taller one… and he’s the smart/nice/bearded one.”

As a professional counselor, Jake spends his days pouring into people who can do nothing for him in return. That’s truly selfless, truly honorable and truly Jake. Where I am quick with a rebuttal and even quicker with a joke, Jake is patient. He listens well and responds purposefully. I watched him from a distance at his recent grad school graduation. His classmates were drawn to him. Not because he is the “cool kid”. They are overrated, anyway. I’m sure they were huddled around him because they know that when they talk, he listens. That’s only one of the reasons I am honored to let him speak here.

You’ll appreciate his insightful observations below. When you’re done, make sure you follow him on twitter. The funniest tweets money can buy! – Eric

Tell a good story.

“How does a good story begin?”

“Umm...There once was this boy.”

“Ok, what’s next?”

“He was wearing one shoe.”

“Great. And then…”

This is an activity I do early on while working in group therapy sessions. We go around the circle, adding to the story one sentence at a time. Coming up with the next sentence, each person has an idea of a direction they want the tale to take. But of course, it doesn’t end up going where any one person is steering it on their own. With the story on its second or third lap around the room, Person 5 is able to say ‘But then he saw it was a Dragon!’ only to have Person 6 trump the line by saying, ‘But, luckily, it wasn’t a dragon at all, but a horse dressed in drag.’ This story doesn’t end until, as a group, we reach the ending. Needless to say, I’ve heard some good stories. And I’ve heard some great lines. These are the lines that bring the most laughs. However, the more I do this group activity the more I realize there are lines that I appreciate more than the zingers. Due to the flow of the story, Person 8 might be stuck with, ‘And so he walked...’ The Horse in Drag is great, but there’d be no horse or dragon if someone before didn’t make The Boy “walk on the green grass and around the brown wall.” A big chunk of my days are as boring as ‘And so the boy ironed his shirt.’ But I’ve learned to appreciate the mundane. It is there that I learn and develop the skills that enable me to hold my own when I see the Dragon, or Horse in Drag, around the corner.

Be direct and to the point.

Be direct and to-the-point.

Do the BIG thing.

You know those times when you’re stuck between two options of equal pull and can’t come up with which direction to take? It would take years for me to make these types of decisions. I can’t put my finger on why this is so. I’m just indecisive. (And cheap, but that’s only part of it.) But not anymore! Ever since a beating I gave myself for choosing the lamer of two options, now when I’m given a choice, I choose the bigger. For example, not long ago my stepbrother invited me to join him at a gun show. With guns. Lots of them. Miles and miles of thousands of tables piled high with millions of guns. I’m not sure if I either know or care less about guns. But it was either go with them or eat a Pop Tart and watch my dog stare at a wall. So I went. It doesn’t matter if it was fun or not. I wasn’t sitting at home wondering if I should have gone. Doing the BIG Thing has given me experiences worth writing about. And making these decisions within seconds and moving forward has freed up my mind to think about important things.

There’s no place like home.

Important things, you say? Part of the reason for choosing the gun show was because it meant time spent with a couple step-brothers. One flies helicopters for the Army. One is a businessman in Tulsa. The three of us don’t have much time together. The lesson is this. Whatever the activity, whenever the time, wherever the location, I want to be with the people I care about. This trumps the “neat” or “exciting” any day. I’ve been able to do some “cool” things in my life. Spending that year living on Mt. Fuji is nothing to shake a stick at. It’s not something I regret. Heck, watashi wa nihongo wo hanashimasu, for goodness sake. But after the honeymoon period and jet lag wore off, it was just me on this iconic volcano reading about my loved ones on Facebook. I hope you don’t hear me sounding ungrateful for this totally once-in-a-lifetime experience; this was a very important year for me. But give me an 8-to-5 job in Muskogee, OK, doing the mundane if it means I’m around you. Japan is overrated. So suck on that, Godzilla.

Know the difference.

There is honor in staying in a challenging and trying situation, riding it out through the dump, the cold winter times and the worst days. And there’s also a lot of wisdom in knowing when it’s time to quit. It takes courage to do both. I respect people who make the decision to do either.

Jump.

It’s okay to try new things. If I’m not careful, my natural tendency to be timid (and lazy) will come out of hiding. Pointing back a few notches up the list, I don’t naturally do BIG things. I don’t like doing NEW things all that much either. I’m comfortable flowing with routine and letting everyday happen. Whether this makes you cringe or not, I would almost be okay with working at the same job, spending time with the same people, eating the same things at the same places. I’m a creature of comfort and habit. I have been for a long time. But boy, has the excitement really kicked up this year! Being willing to break my mold, take a deep breath and jump in has allowed for things to happen that I would have missed if I’d stayed in form. I still move with caution, but also with wisdom and courage. I am willing to take more risks. The payoff is worth it.

All things for good.

I can’t deny that all things will work out for good for us somehow, someway. They have for me so far, and I have no reason to believe this will not continue. Example? One of the greatest things for me came from hitting a tree with my car and finding out about it a month later. That’s an entirely different blog. For right now, since “this” worked out, I’m confident other “bad” situations can be turned around as well. It about did me in, but now I’m going forward. If I live, then I’ll run with a limp.

It’s a hard knock life.

Jay-Z says to tell a story about a kid with a gun, but to not tell why he has the gun in the first place, is lying. I don’t encourage kids to walk around with guns. That’s not the point of this line, anyway. The point is, the Kid doesn’t wake up one day and just go get a gun. It is the background that leads to this: the danger of his surroundings; the actions he’s seen modeled since early on; the fear he has been burdened to carry around. These are the things that have boiled up in his past - and present - that led him to carry the gun today. This doesn’t excuse violence but it does help me understand. Empathy for this Kid comes quickly when I open my eyes to what he’s up against. This line of thought ties in directly to conversations I have with people on a daily basis. People don’t just wake up one morning and decide the type of person they want to be, or how they will struggle. We can’t tell what they’ve been up against as we bump into them throughout our lives. But knowing that they’re in the middle of a long fight helps me treat them with understanding and compassion. “Be kind to everyone, for we are all fighting a hard battle.”

Don’t worship idols.

It’s never worth it.

Walk through the valley.

“Mountain tops are for views and inspiration, but fruit is grown in the valley.” (Billy Graham) I will not spoil this with commentary. Thank you, God, for providing me with valleys. Thank you for teaching me in valleys. Thank you for showing me you’re with me in valleys. I will not be afraid.

2011 Lessons: Taylor Brown

2011-12-30T12:55:00.003-06:00

For the past five years, Taylor Brown and I have collaborated on various projects at CIY. I have come to appreciate his insight and desire to beat up an idea until it comes out presentable on the other side. He’s one of my favorite creative partners. Starting next week, we’ll work together in the same office. I can’t wait.

Few people I know dare to press the envelope like Taylor does. The words he writes are so real, so out there, but also resonate so familiar that you find yourself thinking, I know exactly what you mean. Taylor speaks with emotion, writes with a desire to see truth bubble to the surface and drinks his coffee black. A true Renaissance Man if I ever saw one.

As if that wasn’t enough, Taylor is also one of my favorite singer/songwriters in the biz today. Is that what they call it, Taylor, “the biz”? Cruise over to his website and buy his music now. That place where your ears connect to your heart will thank you. That place, by the way, is known as your neck. Also, be a saint and follow him on twitter. Land Ho! – Eric

The Deck.

After six months on the road, I didn’t know what I wanted. So, naturally, I learned to build a deck. I tore the old one down and dug holes for posts. I raised joists and laid planks. At one point I held a board as my dad swung furiously against it. We needed it to fit in place. I looked out over the Blue Ridge Mountains, breathed deep, and felt the year slipping away. “I’m tired,” I thought. Then Dad smashed his thumb and blood exploded like a grape.

Have seen.

After wringing the blood from my shirt, I picked up Hemingway’s book on bullfighting: “A Death in the Afternoon.” In one chapter, Hemingway dryly discusses the different seating options in a bullring. Suddenly, you hear emotion come to his voice as he states, “If you have plenty of money (and) want not to see but to have seen a bullfight…” And he continues his instructions. I sat there, covered in blood, sweat, and tears realizing I’ve lived my life to “have seen,” not to actually see. I’ve traveled, related, and performed just to be the kind of person who has done it--not to actually be in life.

Run.

Self-care seemed the best place to start this life of truly seeing. So I strapped the running shoes on, slapped a knee brace around my leg, ran down my street, threw my fists in the air and yelled, “Adrian.” Then walked the fifty yards back to my house. Thus the turning point from shrugging off my existence to actually nurturing it.

Rest.

Sitting in my counselor’s office, I nervously crossed and uncrossed my legs.

“What do you do to rest?” He asked.

“I sleep sometimes.”

“Like naps?”

“Oh, not many naps. Just go to bed at night.”

“Yeah, you need to learn to rest when you are awake.”

“Right.”

I’m still learning. I don’t think watching “Walking Dead” counts, but I’m learning to simply be alone and free.

Redemption is a cruel mistress.

I decided I’d rest, run, get healthy. I wasn’t going to “have lived,” but truly live. This all sounds great until you actually do it. Then it sounds miserable. I’ve decided Redemption isn’t as nice as she looks in all her pictures.

The Monster.

Sometime later, I wrote a story about monsters with Eric. Beforehand, he sent me this article. “Above all, and it is the supreme characteristic of every monster who has ever been portrayed in a story, he or she is egocentric. The monster is heartless, totally unable to feel for others…” (Christopher Booker) I tilted my head towards the ceiling, and wailed, “I’m a monster!”

Roommates.

I learned that wailing “I’m a monster” from the room above your sleeping roommates is a hard thing to explain late at night.

Tone made Tea.

So, I went over to Tony’s house. He made me some tea. I told him some dark secrets, hung my head, and said,

“See, Tone, I’m a monster.”

Tony smiled at me and said, “Taylor, I’m glad you are setting goals and stuff, but it seems you’ve forgotten the key ingredient.”

“Crap, what did I forget?”

“The Spirit.”

Balance.

It seems every year is an endless battle to learn the balance between improvements and grace. To never let yourself give up or burn out. To never let your own improvement be what defines you. Just be. Let God do what God does. Do what you do. And always the two shall meet.

Where else?

Remember Jesus telling the crowds to rip into his flesh and gulp down His blood? The crowd says,

“Never mind, He’s crazy. He’s a crazy man,“ and they take off.

Jesus looks at the disciples and says,

“What about you. You aren’t going to leave too, are you?”

Peter gives a pretty awful answer.

“Where else are we going to go?”

John winces.

“You have the words of life,” Peter says.

I have felt what it means to be tired for various reasons. I’ve scratched my head at Jesus. However, for 2012 I’m opting for this lackluster answer,

“I have found no other place to go.”

2011 Lessons: Curtis Winkle

2011-12-29T20:19:00.005-06:00

One of my favorite things about the musing carnival is that it gives me a platform to introduce you to some cool people. Over the holiday weekend, a few of my favorite people will share ten(ish) lessons they’ve learned over the past year. We’re not claiming to be experts. But these people are trustworthy because they walk around with their eyes open. They write things down and most importantly, they ask good questions.

I can’t think of a better guy to lead off than my friend Curtis Winkle, who leads a fantastic team of creative folks at a noisy, little publishing company outside of Oklahoma City. I’ve been around their office a time or two and have witnessed his leadership firsthand. Beyond just being a good boss, I can tell you that, after spending countless nights on his couch, he is an even better family man.

Mr. Winkle loves the written word and you’ll dig his thoughts below. Curtis has the rare privilege of allowing other people to tell their stories. For once, I’m honored to return the favor.

If you’re into thoughtful political discussion, English Premiere League soccer and great books, I highly recommend following Curtis on twitter. To find out more about his day job, click here. - Eric

Fine things are (sometimes) worth the price tag.

I’m admittedly a cheap person. I typically work with plastic pens, cook with supermarket-brand cheeses, and buy my clothes at Target. But this year I wrote on a nice journal, with a quality pen (a gift), and the experience was more pleasurable than I expected. So much so that it actually changed the way I wrote. I won’t start splurging on cheese just yet, but I’ve realized that sometimes when you pay for quality, you get it.

Parenting is not for cowards.

My wife and I were blessed with our fourth son this year, and as we worked through this transition as a family, I was reminded again of how much care and attention children need, and how self-serving I really am. In my house someone always needs fed, changed, engaged, played with, broken up, or hugged. This leaves little time to bow at the altar of Curtis. The broad road, the natural one, is this: grow frustrated, yell at my children, argue with my wife, wallow in my misery. The narrow road, the spiritual one, is this: die to my self, keep my eyes on the big picture, pray for grace and patience, and be consistent in both discipline and affection.

I have wretched penmanship.

I mean awful. Part cursive, part print, sometimes all capitals, sometimes all lower case. I’ve made a resolution for 2012 to write at least one letter every week to work on this. Handwriting is a skill fast being replaced by typing and coding, and I’d like to do my part to keep it alive.

I can affect change.

I can sometimes put up mental barriers and believe there are things in my business, my family, or my church that I can’t change. But, as victories this year have shown me, the reality is if I do my homework, frame my proposals well, strike the right balance of respect and assertiveness, my ideas can be embraced, and I can improve the world around me. The only real limitations are the ones I impose.

MRIs are terrifying.

I lay flat on my back, strapped to a plastic bed. “We’ll see in you thirty minutes,” said the nurse. The bed lurched backward, sliding me headfirst into a tube just about wide enough for my torso. I closed my eyes. Then opened them. The gray plastic casket stared back, five inches from my nose. I pressed the panic button she had generously provided. Several pep talks and a Xanax later, I slid back in and they got their photos. If you ever have to have one of these, take my word for it: swallow the pill first.

Growing up is good.

Through a book club on Neil Postman’s The Disappearance of Childhood this fall, I was challenged to put away childishness—in my thought life, language, behavior, even my dress and tastes—and to appreciate fully the experience of adulthood. Activities that have taken me much time and energy this year—studying scripture, reading thick books, debating big questions, cooking and eating more complex foods, attempting to get into classical music—have also proven the most rewarding and brought more richness to my life and mind.

Making things with your hands is intensely satisfying.

Inspired by a good friend, I began making bread this year. It began with sandwich bread for my family, and since then I’ve tried my hand at apple-cinnamon, chocolate yeast, sourdough, and honey-wheat loaves. At a time when as many as ten of my sixteen waking hours are spent at a computer, handcrafting something physical has proven a great joy.

The end is frightening.

Not that “end,” but the end of a project. Sometimes I (and often my clients) have a project I’ve been working on for months, even years, and I like working on it, I like to romanticize it, grumble about it, and say I can’t wait to finish it…but I don’t. Because if I finish it, I will have to subject my creation to the opinions of others. Frightening indeed.

There are many parallels in parenting and managing a staff.

Both children and staff members need you engaged in what they’re working on. They need to be recognized when they do well. They need to be developed so they can grow in their understanding. They need a long-term vision painted for them. And they need to test their boundaries. They need to do as much as permitted, and at times cross those lines. And like a shepherd I must be faithful to reprove and guide them back to safety.

God’s power is manifested in my weakness.

When I have been unfaithful, he has taught me faith. When I have been unwise, he has supplied wisdom. I can only boast in this: whatever good I’ve accomplished this year is because of Christ’s sanctifying work in me.

2011 Resolutions: Rewritten

2011-12-27T23:17:00.007-06:00

Every December I make a list of things that I am going to do during the upcoming year. It’s noble, of course, to be so ambitious, to stand at the precipice of a new year and dare to claim that you will accomplish anything. Something beckons us to dream. So we make resolutions. We say them aloud.

I made such a list almost a year ago. I promised myself I would learn some new things and develop some good habits. On the surface, they seemed like solid goals. That was, of course, before I knew 2011 was going to be so bat-droppings crazy. Hindsight has caused me to look back on it. And from here, my list is pretty silly.

Here’s the deal. I’m asking for a do-over. I’m asking for permission to write my 2011 resolutions over again. Don’t get caught up in the physics of it all. This isn’t too outrageous. Solid writing is all about rewriting. So let’s just all pretend I was granted the luxury of bending time. Let’s say I could write a letter to “2010 Eric”. If I could, I think I would get my resolutions right this time around.

These are the things I am going to do last year. Here are my 2011 New Year’s Resolutions. Round two.

Make a movie.

Find a good friend. Fly around the world. Tell the stories of the most faithful people you have ever met. Interview people who have given up everything in the name of Jesus. I tell you this in advance, 2010 Eric, since you tend to think you are a pretty solid guy. But you won’t deserve to be in their presence. Work hard. Put in a lot of hours and tell their stories well. This will be one of the most meaningful projects you’ve ever worked on in your life. But don’t get carried away. You’ll enter the film into several film festivals. And you’ll get rejection letters from Sundance, Telluride and Toronto. But their lack of approval won’t matter when you talk to a 17 year-old kid who, having just watched the film, is ready (and capable) to change the world.

Be good to your friends.

Halfway through the year, a tornado will hit your house. Everyone will be okay but you will lose everything. As difficult as the fallout will be, the adjustment to the new normal will be made much easier by the people around you. Help will come from every direction. Old friends from high school. Co-workers. Family. On a rainy Monday morning, you’ll find yourself standing homeless, in a pile of rubble, and you will realize how rich you are. These are good people, your friends. The kind of folks that will take your family in at a moment’s notice and never ask when you are going to move out. They’ll drive from places like Oklahoma City and Cincinnati and fly in from Los Angeles to help you scrub mud off of a semi-salvageable coffee table. They’ll mail you a Kindle when they hear your personal library was soaked and scattered across the neighborhood. Their grandparents’ friends, who live in Illinois or Indiana (you won’t remember) will send you money orders. They’ll make sure you have more diapers than you know what to do with. People will compliment you on your resilience and faith. Say thanks but don’t fool yourself. Your friends will be the real heroes. Make sure you let them know how much you love them. Tell them this often. And every time you go out for drinks, make sure you are buying.

Be good to your wife.

Okay, okay… you’ve known you married a good woman for a while now but be prepared to be blown away. (Excuse the bad pun, which will make sense later.) In January, she’ll run a 5k while 6-months pregnant. In April, the doctors will tell her that she should expect labor to last anywhere between 8-12 hours. She’ll have the baby out in four hours tops. One side note concerning the whole delivery thing… it’s crazy. Just keep spooning ice chips into her mouth and shut up. In May, she’ll make every right decision – instantly – and will save your four-week old baby from a tornado. All summer long, when you are too tired to get up in the middle of the night to tend to the life form you helped create, she will patiently rock a crying baby back to sleep. I tell you all of this now because she will spend the last month of her pregnancy wondering whether or not she is capable of being a good mom. You will often kiss her on the forehead, smile and say, “you’re going to be great.” Well-played, Husband of the Year! But you are full of crap. Because when you say this, you will be wrong. “Great” won’t even begin to cover it.

Make your daughter laugh.

Sometime around September, make sure you are spending a lot of time playing with your daughter. She will be four or five months old at this point. She won’t crawl or do too many useful things. Babies make terrible roommates. They don’t pick up after themselves and you have to wipe their butts. She will recognize you when you walk into a room and, surprisingly, that’s a big deal. Anyway, look her in the eyes and make a bunch of silly noises. Repeat this activity often. At some point, almost magically, she will giggle at you. Real, authentic, toothless-smile, laughter. I don’t care how many people you have made laugh before. When you make Alice laugh for the first time, you will have arrived.

Go to a ballgame with your old man.

On Saturday, October 23^rd, OU will lose to Texas Tech, thus snapping a 39-game home winning streak. Make sure you are at the game. Nothing about the evening will be all that fun. There will be a freak thunderstorm just before kickoff. The kind of Oklahoma storm that sends rain in sideways and turns old men into amateur meteorologists. This storm will cause a two-hour weather delay, which will force you to seek shelter under the stadium with 85,000 other rain poncho-wearing fans. These conditions mean that the game won’t even start until close to 9pm. It’ll get out of hand in the second quarter but you’re committed and will stick around until the very end. All that to say, it’ll be close to 3am by the time you get home. You will endure all this misery just to watch the undefeated Sooners lose to a four-touchdown underdog. But here’s the catch. You’ll get to spend an unforgettable evening with your dad. Trust me. Go to this game. The conversations – about things important and not so important – with a man you are slowly turning into will be worth enduring the bad storm and terrible loss.

Give up on punctuality.

You have a baby now. You won’t be on time anywhere. People will understand. Get used to it.

Don’t be afraid to get things wrong.

You aren’t perfect. It’s not the end of the world. You won’t always get everything right. Things won’t always work out like you thought they would. Or the way you sketched them out in some moleskine journal. You’ll learn that often your plans don’t measure up to what God has in store anyway. It’s for the best. And besides, if all else fails, you can always rewrite it.

The Devil's Thoughts on Tim Tebow

2011-12-12T00:25:00.011-06:00

Few players in all of professional sports are as polarizing as Tim Tebow. Fans love him. The media hates him. But what makes Tim Tebow mania so fascinating is that the strong feelings have just as much to do with his personal convictions as his performance on the field. A devout Christian, Tebow credits Jesus for the Broncos miraculous (pardon the pun) streak. With this in mind, I wanted to get to the bottom of the spiritual warfare on the gridiron and caught up with someone who could give some insight, The Devil. Being a busy time of the year, we met at the TGI Friday’s in the Tulsa International Airport before a recent flight.

The Devil: How’s it hanging? Potato skin?

Musing Carnival: No thanks. I just ate. Where are you headed?

D: Nowhere. I hate flying. I just come to the airport every so often and hang out by the TSA body scanners. [laughs] It is a riot!

MC: I see. So, you have a few minutes to talk?

D: For you? Of course. But not too long. I want to get down to baggage claim when the Delta flight gets in from Memphis. Something tells me a few bags are going to be misplaced.

MC: That’s fine. I’ll make it quick. I want to talk to you about Tim Tebow. See if you know why the media is giving him such a hard time.

D: You want to know if I am responsible?

MC: Maybe.

D: Let me put it this way. I’ve been following Tebow closely. But no, I don’t have anything to do with how the media treats him. Not yet anyway.

MC: Do you think the media is being unfair to him? Seems a little biased to me.

D: Of course. The media kills him week after week. And for what? All he does is win football games. But I can promise you one thing. As long as I have connections at FOX…

MC: Wait. You have connections at FOX?

D: [laughs] Do I have connections at FOX? You kidding me? I run that place.

MC: How deep are these connections?

D: Two words. Bo. Bice.

MC: That explains a lot actually. But what about Tim Tebow?

D: Long story short, I hope the media continues to bash him.

MC: So he’ll cave? Quit preaching?

D: Oh no, he won’t shut up. He’s too into the “Jesus thing” to shut up. He seems genuine. No, I hope the media stays after him so you Christians continue to turn him into a martyr.

MC: What do you mean?

D: What do I mean? You should hear Christians talk about how persecuted he is! It’s crazy. Don’t get me wrong, I think people are crazy for what they’ll endure for Jesus but Tim Tebow is not persecuted.

MC: Go on.

D: Don’t people around the world die for Jesus?

MC: Yes.

D: That’s persecution, right? You have real people who are actually dying for their faith. Those people are the real martyrs. I mean, what’s the worst that happens to Tim Tebow? He gets made fun of by Jake Plummer? Really?!? Jake Plummer sucks.

MC: Fair enough.

D: I’ll put it this way. You can’t be a martyr and still have the top selling jersey in the NFL.

MC: Makes sense to me.

D: Seriously, if you are going to hate Tim Tebow, you can’t hate him as a person. Hate him as a football player. Hate him because his third down conversion percentage is terrible. Or because his accuracy is embarrassing. But hating a guy who stands up for what he believes in. That’s low even for me. And I’m the freakin’ prince of darkness.

MC: So you aren’t worried about him preaching? He seems to use his platform to talk about Jesus a lot.

D: You’re telling me! He won’t shut up about it either. Look, I don’t even think Jesus watches football. But my-oh-my, he’s practically winning every game for Denver this year.

MC: You think Jesus is blessing Tebow? Does that explain it?

D: No. I think it has more to do with me being a Raiders fan. Tebow is caught in the middle of a cosmic struggle for AFC West supremacy. Nothing more.

MC: It’s just about football?

D: The Broncos have won six in a row. Meanwhile, still no cure for cancer! You tell me if it’s about more than just football.

MC: What about Tebow’s influence? He’s all over ESPN. He thanks Jesus all the time.

D: I know! It drives me crazy! Don't be stupid. Of course influence is important. Look, I’ve thought about this a lot. Believe me, if I could find a Muslim quarterback or a gay quarterback. Or better yet, a gay, Muslim quarterback! If I could make that happen… wow. I would have it made in the shade.

MC: There’s no such thing as a gay Muslim. You know that, right?

D: You’re probably right. But hey, can’t a guy dream?

MC: It’s highly offensive, but sure. I guess you can.

D: I'd even settle for a halfway decent atheist chicken restaurant so I can stop going to... [Bronco highlights come on the TV above the bar] Ugh. There he is again. Look at him. He’s pointing to the sky. Drives me insane. And Tebowing?!? Have you heard of that?

MC: Where you get down on one knee and pose like you’re praying? Yeah, I’ve seen it. And?

D: Oh nothing. I think it’s hilarious. Just the other day, Hitler was goofing around and…

MC: Please stop.

D: Oh, right. Let me tell you what the worst part of all this is. It’s not like Tebow even does the whole… what do you call it… health and wealth gospel stuff. You know, believe in Jesus and he’ll make you rich? [laughs] Man, that is the best lie I’ve come up with since that one apple thing.

MC: A lot of Christians believe that.

D: I know! And maybe that’s what I can get Tebow to start saying! “Believe in Jesus and you too can throw… err… run for touchdowns like me!” [he jots down a note on a napkin] I should send him some Joel Osteen books or something.

MC: You’re familiar with Joel Osteen?

D: You kidding me? Been around Joel for years. I’m telling you, if I could get Tebow to sound more like Joel, I wouldn’t have to spend half the year in Houston. Good Tex-Mex but man, it’s hot down there.

MC: Wait, aren’t you from…

D: Yeah, I know that sounds a little ironic, me complaining about the heat in Houston, being from hell and all. But hell has more of a dry heat.

MC: Like Arizona?

D: Exactly like Arizona. We’ve got the same gun laws and everything! No In-and-Out Burgers though. Just a Burger King on every freakin’ corner.

MC: So, for the record, you don’t hate Tim Tebow?

D: No, I’ve got nothing against Tebow personally. I think he’s probably the kind of guy we’d all want our daughters to marry. You know what I mean?

MC: You have a daughter?

D: Three actually. Lindsay Lohan, Lady Gaga and Nancy Reagan. Nancy was from a previous marriage.

MC: Nancy Reagan is your daughter? No. I’m not going to believe that. Sorry. Wasn’t she responsible for the “Just Say No” campaign?

D: Ridiculous! That whole thing was supposed to be sarcastic! Like, “Hey kids, who wants to have a good time and be really popular anyway? Being cool is for the birds! Just say no!” Ugh. People totally misinterpreted it.

MC: Okay. I think we’re done here. I have to catch my flight.

D: Wait. Are you on the 7:05 to Atlanta? [smiles] Wouldn’t get on that one if I were you.

MC: Do you mean…

D: [laughs] I’m just kidding! It’s perfectly safe. But I made sure you got a middle seat.

MC: I assumed.

A Sooner's Guide to Cheering for OSU

2011-12-03T23:45:00.012-06:00

I was sitting in my living room watching the final seconds of the OU-OSU game run off the clock when it happened. Orange-clad Oklahoma State students collectively hung with one leg over the wall, ready to storm the field. They knew what was about to happen. The first win against OU in the facebook age was in sight. First football conference championship in school history was moments away. And maybe, if tomorrow’s voting swings in their favor, OSU would get a chance to play for the national championship too.

This weird feeling came across my mind as I watched the orange mob spill onto the field. As ugly as the game was, and as disappointing as the entire season has been for the Sooners, there’s a part of me (a small part) that might have actually been happy for the Cowboy faithful. Naturally, I hate it for the OU players, who I know wanted so badly to do something special this season. But maybe, just maybe, I still think OSU deserves to be in the title game.

What? Pull for OSU? Seriously? Yeah. I think so.

Wait. Don’t turn on me yet. I’m not jumping permanently on the Cowboy bandwagon. My ties run too deep. I grew up in a family that was obsessed with OU football. Keep in mind that this was during the 90’s, a time when OU was at an all-time low. My grandmother was a donor and season ticket holder for almost 40 years. When Bud Wilkinson, yes that Bud Wilkinson, ran for local political office after he retired from coaching, my grandfather was his campaign manager. Throw a degree from OU into the mix, and clearly I’m not just the guy who bought a t-shirt at the Owasso Wal-Mart.

So why wouldn’t I hate OSU, especially on a night when they embarrassed the Sooners. Well, because I happen to like some of the folks who call OSU home.

One of my best friends married an OSU girl. She’s fantastic. Another great friend leads a campus ministry in Stillwater. He’s the real deal. My other grandfather went to school in Stillwater so long ago that he referred to it as Oklahoma A&M his entire life. My sister-in-law earned two degrees there and is slowly brainwashing my beautiful niece. There is a church in Stillwater that I have a strong affection for. And if OSU’s Spears School of Business turns out quality people like the alum that works in my office, then it can’t be that bad of a place.

Bonus points: I’m not much of a country music guy, but I think we can all agree that OSU alum Garth Brooks trumps OU’s Toby Keith any day.

Additionally, I’ve also been impressed by the people I don’t know. From an outsider’s perspective, there seems to be a spirit of long-suffering and endurance in Stillwater that goes beyond just supporting a historically bad football team. People at Oklahoma State remind me constantly that there is always more to life than football. Twice I have watched that community handle extremely tragic airplane accidents with grace and humility. There is unity amongst their alumni that is admirable. They act like family. They don’t lose their ability to think logically if their team loses a game, something that some people in Norman are unable to do. Biased OU fans can call them the “little brother” all they want, but the truth is, OSU fans set the example in a lot of areas.

I’d love for these people to have the joy of watching their Cowboys play in the national championship game.

Will they? I don’t know. It all depends on which school of thought you fall into. Hate the thought of a rematch? Or believe a resume should be based on quality wins? Want an entertaining game? OSU is in. Going with the one loss team that has the best loss? Logic suggests that Alabama would get the nod over Oklahoma State (so would Stanford). Cowboy fans would hate it, and rightfully so. But championship teams don’t lose to 6-6 Iowa State. It’s a cruel system. The BCS gives and the BCS takes away. But if OSU gets in, they will have my support.

I’ll even go as far as to say that an OSU national championship would actually benefit OU. Strong rivals make teams better. Nebraska is gone. Texas, with TCU joining the Big 12 next year, is all of a sudden the third best team in Texas. Like Batman and the Joker, OU and OSU need each other. Look at LSU. They don’t win the SEC every year but the strong competition they face each week has the Tigers playing for their third BCS championship next month.

With that in mind, go Pokes!

For now.

Don't get carried away. I still won't wear orange. My allegiance won’t last for long. I still believe Pistol Pete is an ugly mascot. “Orange Power”, the OSU chant, feels more like a line from the Mighty Morphin’ Power Rangers than a phrase that should be yelled by 50,000 people. And truth be told, I hope OSU gets embarrassed in Norman next year like the Sooners did tonight. None of my feelings change long-term. But for a few hours in January, I’ll gladly root for OSU.

If you are an OU fan, you should join me.

Velcro Wallets and the Quest to Become a Man

2011-11-20T21:57:00.004-06:00

Last month, I officially became a man.

A bold statement, yes, but it really happened. In a Macy’s to be exact. No, sicko, it’s not what you think. Ugh, what’s wrong with you?!? May I remind you that I have a seven-month old child, one that looks just like me, which should be enough to prove that I have gone all the way at least once. No, I became a man in a much more visual sense.

After twelve years, I stopped carrying a Velcro wallet.

Why?

Maybe I came to see that a Velcro wallet looks ridiculous while wearing a tuxedo or that there isn’t a designated slot for a driver’s license. That’s because most people who carry Velcro wallets are 14. Velcro wallets are only designed to hold video store membership cards, “Buy 10 Tacos Get 1 Free” punch cards and the $20 bill your stepdad gives you every Friday after school. Or perhaps I finally caught on to how embarrassing it is to pull a Velcro wallet out when paying at a nice restaurant.

“Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes. My compliments to the chef. The caviar was divine.”

CHHHHIK-CHHHHIKEE…

I’m not sure why it took me so long to trade my canvas wallet in for a leather model. Perhaps it was fueled by my desire to hang on to a simpler time. That brief period when I could drive to Miami with friends knowing that we didn’t have to be back (or anywhere for that matter) until the semester started. But I like to think that I finally got a new wallet, an impulse buy in the aforementioned Macy’s, because I realized that I’m not the same person I was when I was 18.

Sure, being a grown up sucks sometimes but it beats the hell out of being a kid. And while it was fun spending every Friday night in the 90’s at my friend Drew’s house trying to find something to do in Muskogee, it is much better talking to Drew today about careers, marriage and kids. I don’t care what Taylor Swift says. I want to grow up. And I want a wallet that proves it.

This declaration was on my mind as I moved my contents from canvas to leather. Apparently, a good purging was long overdue. Thanks to Netflix, I really don’t have a need for my Blockbuster card anymore. An insurance card now fills its slot. This Fossil trifold is a nice reminder that, while I haven’t yet arrived, I am making progress.

Darwin was onto something. Evolution is a good thing. Sure, the good ol’ days are good ol’ days but who wants to live a stagnant life? Do you really want to be the person you are now when you are 40? 50? 60? Sometimes I feel like things are not progressing as fast as I’d like but I promise you this, I better know a little more, be a little wiser and tell better stories in ten years than I do now.

I have a feeling that you agree with me. How do I know? Because I’ve had a lot of conversations with people in their 20’s recently, smart people ready to trade in their proverbial Velcro wallets, and all they talk about is making the wrong decision. We 20-somethings are obsessed with making the wrong decision. But here’s the beauty of it all. These same people go on to prove that these very decisions propel us to becoming the people we want to be.

What’s the point?

I’ll take wisdom over youth any day.

Screw you, Ponce De Leon. I want a new quest. I’m ringing the bell on behalf of growing up. Let’s go earn the wrinkles and gray hair we’re destined to inherit. Let’s be men and women that are going somewhere. We are the ones that are saving for retirement and owning our mistakes and waking up before the sun does every once and awhile. Let’s promise each other to be different. Not solely for the sake of being different. Aiming to be different is for kids. We just want to be better.

A daunting task, I know. But if we start today, time is on our side. Where does the quest begin? I’m not sure. It’s not always clear. But I know this. The armada has reached the shore. It is time to take that first step. It is time to…

Learn a new word every day. Learn a new language. Learn to juggle.

Take the job. Take the GRE. Take guitar lessons.

Repaint the dining room. Reevaluate your faith. Redo your budget.

Stop smoking. Stop eating fried food. Stop swearing so much, dammit.

Ask her out. Ask her to marry you. Give her a baby, already.

Buy a house. Or an engagement ring. Or a road bike.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s time to buy a new wallet.

Spike in Unplanned Pregnancies Linked to Early Celebration of Christmas

2011-11-02T22:04:00.008-05:00

BOSTON – As the leaves change colors and the calendar rolls into November, many Americans will begin anticipating the approaching holiday season. For those looking forward to Thanksgiving weekend, this time of year is typically a merry one. However, a disturbing trend has recently surfaced among women that begin celebrating Christmas the first week of November. According to the Boston Association of Libido and Leisure Studies, or BALLS, tests suggest that communities that begin decorating for Christmas early have a higher percentage of unplanned pregnancies. “It’s odd,” says BALLS president Henry Potter, “but the numbers prove it. If you celebrate Christmas before Thanksgiving, there is a greater chance that you will get pregnant out of wedlock. [It’s] almost certain.” Researchers agree. “Fundamentally, it boils down to a lack of self-control” explained Dr. George Bailey, a licensed OB-GYN and part-time mall Santa. “People need to learn to keep their trees in their attics. Most believe that they can decorate in a safe manner, maybe it's an occasional cup of eggnog or perhaps the Manheim Steamroller CD finds its way into the car, but abstinence is the only way to be 100% safe.” Yet despite the risk of conceiving an unplanned child, these risky celebrators continue to break out the Christmas music as soon as they put away the Halloween candy. Mary Hatch claims that she has put up her tree on November 1^st her entire life. “Look, maybe my problem is that I love it too much, which is exactly why I can’t wait. Is that wrong?” Hatch closed her eyes as she continued, “It’s just such a special time. Your loved ones gathered ‘round. [You get] a warm feeling of contentment pulsing through your body. The smell of nutmeg permeates the… oh, wait… are you talking about Christmas? Never mind then.” According to the BALLS study, out of the 1,000 women polled who celebrate Christmas early, nearly 550 woke up sick on November 1st . Too much Halloween candy? Perhaps. Or maybe it's just a hormonal shift caused by a growing baby. To Potter, the connection is obvious. “Women need to realize that they aren’t just stringing up popcorn, they are playing with fire. I promise you, as soon as the tinsel comes out, a zygote begins growing in your uterus. It’s pure science.” Additionally, Dr. Bailey encourages women thinking about engaging in premature celebration to take early November into their own hands. “Some women tell themselves that it is the man’s responsibility to keep Christmas in December.” Bailey states, “But once the Yule log comes out, there’s no going back.” On a positive note, women who do conceive a child by making an Advent paper chain in November will no doubt see the benefit in using a similar craft project to count down the 40 weeks of their inevitable pregnancy.

The Meaning of Ugly Running

2011-10-13T10:41:00.009-05:00

Remember in high school English class when your teacher would ask you weird questions like, “What is Golding implying the conch represents in modern society?” For some people, these types of questions are pointless. “Implying? It’s just a story about some British kids that get stranded on an island. A conch is a conch.”

Be warned, I’m not like those people. A conch is never just a conch, in story or in life. I love metaphors, symbolism and other small things that represent the big picture. I believe there is always a deeper message beneath the surface and am more than willing to dig for it.

That’s one of the reasons I love running. In my mind, there’s more going on than just waking up at 5am and running 12 miles before work. If I can endure that and discipline myself enough, how can that carry over into real life? What can this hobby represent? School? Marriage? Parenting? The list goes on and on. Every time I lace up my size 14’s, the illustration begs me to wonder, “What race am I running in real life?”

Sure, sometimes this causes me to read into things a little too much. But metaphor took center stage last Sunday morning during the Chicago Marathon. I wasn’t expecting a lesson in endurance. I didn’t think I needed one. Crawling to the finish is for first-timers. This was my third marathon. I knew I was going to finish. I had trained well and even felt like I had a shot at a personal record.

The problem is, unexpected issues never have good timing. I was 17 miles in, right on target for my goal time, when my calves started cramping up. There are several factors that could have caused this. It was hot and the clear skies were pushing the temperature just over 80 degrees (40’s is considered perfect marathon weather). The course was crowded which forced an awkward stride. Whatever the case, my muscles started to lock up on me.

It was bad.

Experienced runners will tell you that the mental fatigue is just as excruciating as the physical pain during a marathon. Unless you are trying to win it – or have run 50 of them – part of the challenge of a marathon is always breaking through the wall. Somewhere in the 26.2 mile stretch, there comes a point when your mind tells you that you can’t take another step. The goal is to make your legs do things your mind is telling them they can’t do. But that’s easier said than done.

Naturally, if you start wishing the race was over at mile 17, and this wish invades every wrinkle of your mind, it will end up being the only damn thing you can think about for the rest of the way. This is where I was Sunday morning. With each stride my calves cramped more and more. The cramping crawled up to my hamstrings. I eventually had to get to the side of the road and ice down the backs of my legs and pry my muscle-locked foot back into a movable position. This happened every mile for the next 90 minutes.

Yes Rob Bell, there is a hell.

So what does the conch represent in modern society? About mile 20, I began to think about the past few months in my life. Why? For one, you have to do something to take your mind off of the pain. And, as I mentioned earlier, I over-analyze things. We’ve all got issues. As mile 20 turned into mile 21, my ugly run Sunday morning really began to mirror life lately.

I don’t try to play the “tornado card” very much but a lot changed when that storm hit Joplin last May, taking my house and neighborhood with it. I’ll be honest when I say the last four months have been some of the most emotionally draining of my life. Sure, my wife and daughter survived, for that I am thankful beyond words. But I’d be lying if I didn’t wonder why my family walked out okay and the family down the street did not. And yes, stuff can be replaced but I liked my stuff. Replaceable or not, replacing it sucks.

Don’t reach for your checkbook. That’s not what this is about. Our insurance company has taken of us. The church, both locally and globally, has been a constant source of support. My friends are the best in the world. The girls that live in my house love me a lot. So no, this isn’t a passive attempt to get you to send money. I don’t need it. This blog is my method of sorting through the mental and emotional fallout I’ve experienced since May.

Fast forward to after the marathon on Sunday. As I hobbled onto the EL train, finisher’s medal still hanging around my neck, strangers congratulated me on a good race. “But it wasn’t a good race,” I wanted to say. “It was terrible. I just limped along.” In the same way, people have come up to me and expressed how much they have admired the way we’ve handled life since the tornado. I’ve been told that my faith is admirable. One guy told me that I made it look like losing my house, “wasn’t that big of a deal.” I love the encouragement more than you know but I have to confess that most days, I just limped along.

See what I mean?!? The conch is always more than a conch! I was reminded Sunday that no matter how prepared I thought I was, marathons are still about endurance. I may have not come anywhere close to my goal time but, in looking back on it, I’m more proud of what I did in the midst of running terribly. I tested myself in a way that I wasn’t expecting. And I had what it took to finish. This summer has been a similar test, one that was obviously not expected. So I guess my point is that even in real life, running terribly is still running.

Quitting isn’t an option. I knew it Sunday morning and the metaphor carries over to real life. Yes, there have been mornings since May 22^nd that I've wanted to stay in bed. Just like in running, those are the moments I have to tell my feet to do things my mind doesn’t want them to do. The covers get thrown back and one at a time, my feet hit the floor.

It might be ugly some days, but it’s still running. And if I can make one more connection between the marathon and life, Sunday reminded me of the power of encouragement. Somewhere between mile 22 and 24, in Chinatown I think, I saw a woman holding a sign in the crowd gathered on the side of the street. Handwritten on a piece of white poster board, were three little words that became my mantra for the rest of the race and perhaps beyond…

JUST KEEP RUNNING.

I still am.

A letter to my friend Chad about Two and a Half Men

2011-09-15T15:07:00.006-05:00

Chad –

Brominator! Hey, are you excited about the new season of Two and a Half Men? It starts in just a few days!!!!! Time to rearrange my Monday nights again!!! LOL! Nine seasons and it is still going strong! I bet shows like Arrested Development and that one Arron Sorkin show about a show (real original) wish they could have been half the show Two and a Half Men is. They just didn’t have what it takes. They just couldn’t handle the truth. Ha! That’s funny because Aaron Sorkin wrote A Few Good Men… which is crap. Who wants a few good men when you can have two and a half great men? Answer? Not me.

Alright Bro Diddley, shoot straight with me. What do you think about Ashton Kutcher stepping in? Answer? It’ll be totally amazing. I hear they are going to do some hilarious crap with his character. And why wouldn’t they?!? It’s got to be such a blessing for the writers to have a trained thespian with the range that AK has. I mean, like five years ago, he made trucker hats popular! Talk about ironic. Young, white, urban males wearing hats typically reserved for rural truck drivers. Ha! If he can do that, stepping into a well-oiled machine like Two and a Half Men is like Leonardo Da Vinci playing on the 1996 Chicago Bulls. It would just make a great thing greater! Wait. Back to my metaphor. You might be wondering how a dead artist could really help the greatest team in NBA history? Answer? Because Bill Wennington sucked.

Annnnd… the KutchMan knows sitcoms like the back of his neck. Do you remember That 70’s Show? You do? Well, do you remember the short-lived That 80’s Show? It ran like, 13 episodes in 2002. The people at FOX thought it would be a sure hit since people really liked That 70’s Show. But guess what? People didn’t like it at all. Most of them claimed, “You just can’t change one number in the title and expect us to watch it… blah, blah, blah.” But I bet you the creators of That 70’s Show were all like, “we can’t hear you because we’re too busy making television gold.” (Haters gonna hate)

But seriously, those people need to pull their head out of the ground. Do you know why That 80’s Show was an absolute disaster but That 70’s Show became the most important program of our generation? Look no further than the guy who gave us Punk’d and Dude, Where’s My Car? and A Lot Like Love. Ashton Kutcher was the reason! Take that to the bank. He was also in Butterfly Effect but I think I must have missed something because I have no idea what-the-balls that movie was about. Not one single butterfly in the whole movie. Just that big guy from My Name is Earl. Depressing.

Yeah Bro-ceratops, I can’t wait to see what AK will do on Monday night. I bet he’s going to say some real snarky stuff! Ashton will probably be cutting jokes like he cuts up Demi Moore’s food. That’s funny because she is old and probably has dentures! Gum disease! Ha! Okay… enough fooling around. Ashton Kutcher is the secret sauce that will keep this show tasting great. And once you get a taste of Two and a Half Men on your tongue, you’ll never want bland television again. There’s going to be all sorts of new material! I'll bet you $5 that AK will really put Alan in some new situations when he moves into Charlie’s place! Should be a riot!

It's been such a wild ride watching the show evolve over the years... and the changes have just begun! Buckle up, huh? I mean, when the show started, Jake really was just half a man, but now he's practically a full-grown man. I bet co-creator/executive producer Chuck Lorre never thought about that! But hey, what a good problem to have! Unlike SARS, which is an example of a bad problem to have.

So yeah, the timing just seems right, with AK and all. It was time for Charlie’s character to go anyway. It is probably better for all of us that he went crazy when he did. Good for everyone except those two models he lives with. It’s pretty much all bad news for those girls.

I know you always say that it’ll never be better than season 2-4 and you may be right. Remember the episode when the guys went to Evelyn’s ex-husband’s funeral? Season 2, episode 21… I think. Man, that was pure gold. Pure. Gold. Oh, and the season 3 premiere, “Weekend in Bangkok with Two Olympic Gymnasts” should have earned them the Emmy right then and there! Gosh, I wish it could be 2005 again!

You know who else wishes it was still 2005? Howie Day. Whatever happened to that guy? Seriously, “Collide” is a great song. But I bet even his mom asks sometimes, “Who sang that one collide song? Was that Gavin DeGraw?” And then Howie is like, “That was me, Mom.” Also, remember that band, Bowling for Soup? Who would have thought they would be a one hit wonder?

In conclusion Bro Montana, I’m hopeful for the future of Two and a Half Men. They haven’t let us down yet, that’s for dang-sure. You don’t get to be the most watched comedy on television by mistake. Are you taking notes 30 Rock? And if loving shows about sex-crazed hedonists and kids who say witty things that kids would never say in real life is wrong, then I am all kinds of wrong.

N-E-Hoo, I’ll call you right before the show starts on September 19^th. That way, we can watch the show together. Like old times. But you have to talk. I’m not just going to call and listen to heavy breathing for 30 minutes. I haven’t done that since I was in the Navy.

Your friend,

Eric

Facebook in the Classroom

2011-08-16T21:20:00.011-05:00

Student/teacher boundaries used to be easy to spot. Students showed up to school each day to find a building full of adults prepared to teach algebra and history. Teachers were personable, even likable, but it’s not like they were real people. They were teachers. Enigmas. No first names required. On rare occasions, I remember seeing a teacher at the mall or grocery store. It didn’t get any weirder than that.

Then came Facebook.

Social networking has reduced the gap between the professional and private worlds. We all know too much information about the intimate lives of friends and authority figures that once fought hard to keep their social life and career separate. It’s no longer weird for students to see teachers outside of the classroom because they see their teachers’ entire lives played out online.

Thanks to the internet, you can now see proof that Ms. McPherson did in fact do body shots at TGI Friday’s in celebration of her 50^th birthday. I'm not sure how she got up on the bar with her bad hip. I'm just impressed she didn't spill a drop on her autumn-themed sweater vest.

In light of this revealing shift, last month, Missouri legislators passed a bill that forbids teachers from reaching out to students on social media sites. The law leaves a lot up to interpretation but prevents teachers from having “exclusive access” to students. Any existing online connections must be deleted by the time the semester begins. Meaning, teachers and students can’t accept each other’s friend requests, exchange messages or play Farmville. Whatever the h-bomb that is.

Yes, teacher/student interaction is a slippery slope. A study conducted by the Associated Press revealed that nearly 100 teachers in Missouri lost their licenses between 2001 and 2005 in light of sexual misconduct. Some of these incidents involved private online messages to students.

The problem is that this is another example of a group being punished for the conduct of a few. Like the buffalo were in the 1800’s. Sure, settlers nearly wiped them out. A lot of innocent buffalo died during the westward expansion. But the truth is, some buffalo were huge a-holes. Real jerks. And they got what was coming. The rest were just collateral damage.

But teachers aren't buffaloes. And while some educators have abused Facebook, most utilize it for good. Many teachers in Joplin, the city I live in, credit Facebook as the way they located students after the May 22^nd tornado. And, perhaps more importantly, since social media is not going away, avoidance isn’t the solution. Accountability is.

Instead of pulling the plug, administrators should encourage teachers to set up “professional accounts” that are separate from their private lives. Make this mandatory. Don’t run from it. Instead, teachers should be given resources to turn Facebook into a tool and equipped to be able to spot the signs of abuse. With a little effort, we can keep students safe and make sure seeing a teacher in public stays weird.

But we all know why Ms. McPherson always smells like cough syrup.

TOMS Announces New "One Shoe = One Flesh" Initiative

2011-08-12T17:17:00.006-05:00

This post is a parody. So, don’t get too worked up. However, the inspiration for this fake news story is rooted in a very interesting event. You should start here. Then, read on.

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COLORADO SPRINGS – Five minutes on a typical college campus will tell you that the only thing culturally sensitive college students like more than fair trade coffee are TOMS shoes. These simple, canvas slippers have exploded onto the fashion scene over the past several years, primarily under a marketing strategy cleverly disguised as charity. The premise is simple, consumers buy one pair of TOMS shoes and the company gives a pair to a child in an underdeveloped part of the world. White people in the United States fit into the hipster scene. Black kids in Africa don’t get fungal infections. This is what experts call a “win/win.”

This type of hip-goodwill has made TOMS a hit with evangelicals. A partnership between TOMS and Focus on the Family, the unofficial leader of the rightwing Christian movement, was rumored to be in the works. However, after a recent speaking engagement at the Focus on the Family headquarters by TOMS founder Blake Mycoskie, the shoe company seems to be trying to distance itself from the Colorado Springs based organization.

In a recent statement, the TOMS founder stated, “I honestly had no idea that a conservative organization that has publically backed Republican candidates for years, one with the word ‘family’ in the title, would oppose homosexual marriage. Had I known that Focus on the Family put so much focus on the family, I would have never accepted that speaking engagement.” Mycoskie continued, “I am deeply saddened that I even walked into that dirty, hateful building and instead of encouraging thoughtful dialog between two parties that disagree over an important issue, I will instead just paint ‘James Dobson sucks’ on a water tower. That, of course, is what grownups do.”

Mycoskie later revealed that steps are in place to further distance TOMS from Focus on the Family with the brand new “One Shoe = One Flesh” initiative. “[We] have nearly reached our goal of flooding every fragile market in the world with TOMS shoes and once every last native shoe salesman in Ghana has been put out of business,” Mycoskie shouted from atop a water tower outside of Colorado Springs, “it will be time for the next chapter in TOMS Shoes!”

Beginning in 2012, Mycoskie announced, TOMS Shoes will no longer provide shoes for the Third-World. Instead, every time someone buys a pair of TOMS shoes, a gay couple will automatically get married. “We’re happy to continue the TOMS tradition of giving through this new program,” Mycoskie confessed. “I think our customers will love knowing that just by buying a pair of shoes, they will be bringing two homosexuals together in holy matrimony. It’s really beautiful. And, really anti-Focus on the Family, which is the main point.”

The company, which is a for-profit charity, is still very hush-hush about the new initiative. However, Mycoskie did reveal the gist of the plan. “Basically, the moment a customer slips on a new pair of TOMS, a gay couple somewhere in the world will instantly be married. Full rights and benefits. Legally married. Boom! Just like that!” Mycoskie sat in a large wingback chair, gently stroking a cat that purred comfortably in his lap as he spoke, “We’re also trying to figure out a way to throw an adopted baby into the marriage, you know, just to piss Focus on the Family off even more. [There are] lots of possibilities, we’ll just have to wait and see.”

While the shoe company admits there are still some logistics to work out, specifically, whether or not it is possible that a shoe purchase could cause two straight dudes to get married by mistake, TOMS is excited about the future. “The sky’s the limit, really.” Mycoskie said while stabbing a doll that resembled James Dobson, “This will teach Focus on the Family not to trick trendsetting entrepreneurs.” At press time, Mycoskie was trying to determine whether or not Bert and Ernie, who are viewed by many as the unofficial TOMS spokespuppets, have feet.

Four Ways to Spend July 4th

2011-07-04T14:40:00.011-05:00

Happy birthday, America! From sea to shining sea today, millions of Americans will be celebrating our independence by grilling assorted meats, swimming and spending hundreds of dollars so that they can potentially light the neighbor’s house on fire with a rogue Roman Candle. It’s a great holiday and one that needs to be seized with great enthusiasm and joy.

But July 4^th comes only once a year so we all need to make it count! How you ask? Well, I give you four must-dos for your Fourth of July celebration. Warning: this list is not exhaustive, should not be lit indoors and should not be read less than 45 minutes after eating. You might get a cramp.

Thank a soldier. This seems like a good place to start, and I have already seen so many well-wishes on facebook today. I have a few soldiers in my family and have the opportunity to see their struggles on a regular basis. They move frequently, watch their kids grow up via skype and put their lives on the line daily for a cause they believe in. It’s an honorable way of life and whether you agree with every war we wage or not, you owe a lot to the men and women in uniform.

If you are traveling through an airport today and see a soldier in uniform, walk up and shake his hand. If your cousin is currently overseas, send a sincere facebook message, or better yet, a box of cookies. Make it personal. Make it authentic. I’ll probably never understand the sacrifice they endure. But that doesn’t mean I don’t understand how much it means to the rest of us.

Think globally. What? A little strange, I know. July 4^th is supposed to be about wearing American flag t-shirts and openly hating soccer! It’s the only day of the entire year we can freely say to the rest of the world, “USA! USA! USA!” and not feel bad about it! Right? Right? Well, maybe not.

You see, I can’t help but think of my American friends in Asia, some with young kids who have never stepped foot on American soil, who are living out an oddly-normal July 4^th today. The reason? They simply caught the vision that, while it is a nice place to live, America is not the center of the universe. Life actually goes on beyond the purple mountain majesties.

My point? Chill out on how we treat those who are figuring out a new life in this country. Your way of life is comfortable but that doesn’t make it imperative. Recognize the complexities of the world we live in and next time you interact with someone who is new to this country, someone who’s story is more tangled than you can imagine, don’t bitch about the fact that his English is poor. July 4^th celebrates the very thing he is working hard to achieve. Remember the poem written by Emma Lazarus? The one you learned in middle school civics class? It’s etched inside the Statue of Liberty and reminds us that America began as a country by offering freedom to the, “tired… poor… huddled masses yearning to breathe free.” I tend to believe all that stuff is still true about this country. The only difference between you and the guy you can't understand is that your ancestors did the hard work for you. So, no, he doesn’t have to learn English if he wants to live here. Get over it.

Do something Fourth of July-ish. I’m a sucker for traditions. July 4^th is more than a national holiday, it is the apex of everything summer. Dive head first into the celebration today. Fire up the grill. Spit watermelon seeds. Play lawn games. Go to a baseball game. Stay in the pool until your fingertips get wrinkly. Light an entire pack of Blackcats at once. Spell your name with a sparkler. Watch a Will Smith movie. Drink cheap, American-made light beer. And through all of these nostalgia-rich activities, give thanks that we live in a place that celebrates hotdog eating contests and democracy at the same time.

Lobby for freedom. Even as I celebrate the luxuries I’ve come to take for granted, I can’t help but be reminded of those around the world who will not be playing with smoke bombs today. They live in a harsh reality that is suffocated by actual bombs and the ever-present tension of war. The very principles that our country was founded upon are absent in their world.

This isn’t a ploy to make you feel bad about celebrating today. In fact, it is anything but a guilt trip. But you’re not off the hook completely. I ask that you take a moment today and be a voice for freedom around the world, specifically religious freedom. While we wave little American flags as Shriners drive by in little cars in little town parades across the country today, many Christians around the world will face severe persecution because of their beliefs. But you can help.

A new bill (HR 1856) has been recently introduced in Congress that will go a long way in ensuring that governments that oppose religious freedom will be held accountable. Essentially, this bill will reauthorize the US Commission on International Religious Freedom, which monitors religious freedom issues around the world. The bill was originally passed over ten years ago and reshaped the way American foreign policy dealt with religious freedom issues. It is imperative that it is renewed before it expires this fall.

Please take a minute today and send your representative a message and encourage him/her to support HR 1856 when it comes to vote. This is your duty as an American. There is no better way to celebrate freedom today than helping spread freedom to places where hope runs dry.

That should be more than enough to get you started today. July 4^th is a big holiday. Make it count. Celebrate freedom by doing something bigger. I can’t think of anything our founding fathers would have wanted more.

Other than a cure for syphilis, of course.

City Stunned by Basketball Coincidence

2011-06-13T22:01:00.001-05:00

DALLAS - Even though the NBA Finals ended Sunday evening, mathematicians are still trying to explain an incident experts are calling, "the most perplexing coincidence since evolution". On June 9th, nearly 19,000 Dallas Mavericks fans showed up to game 5 of the NBA Finals wearing identical blue Mavericks t-shirts. "Most television viewers probably assumed this was a promotional stunt or t-shirt giveaway, which is common around the [NBA] during the playoffs" said Mavericks marketing director Murray Davidson. "But this was not planned at all. We don't know how this happened." LeRoy Gravelston, PhD, a mathematics professor at Cal Tech, put the incident in perspective, "Just the numbers alone are staggering but when you consider the sheer number of people who attended that game last week, all coming from different walks of life and backgrounds, who all happened to put on the exact same shirt, that puts the odds of an event like this happening somewhere around 1 in 934,532,263,174,108,001. You don't have to be a mathematically genius like myself to know that those are slim odds." The phenomenon had repercussions on the court as well. "It was really hard focusing," said a teary-eyed Dirk Nowitzki after the win, "with all the [Heat players] saying things like 'didn't get the memo about it being blue shirt day' and all." Lost without a rational explanation, Nowitzki sought for answers within his Germanic heritage. "I don't know what we would have done to the great god Baldr for something like this to happen." Others were inconsolable as a horror-stricken Jason Kidd added, "What does this mean?" before crawling back under a folding table in the Dallas locker room. Experts agree that the city of Dallas is no stranger to freak circumstances. In a press conference over the weekened, mathematicians unveiled a plan to stay in the metro area through December in hopes of discovering how it is possible that, despite a large payroll, the Dallas Cowboys are so terrible year after year.

What I Gained from Losing (almost) Everything

2011-05-31T22:45:00.009-05:00

In three minutes, I lost everything. Almost everything, anyway.

On May 22^nd, I raced home to find my home destroyed in the wake of an EF5 tornado. Debris forced me to park two blocks away. I ran up what was left of the sidewalk, jumping over limbs and fallen power lines to find my wife holding my five week old daughter in the middle of the street, raining soaking both of them. People frantically ran by us, looking like extras running from an alien attack in a summer blockbuster movie. Our house was nearly gone. What was left of the brick bungalow was barely recognizable. What started out as a fairly typical Sunday, evolved into one of the longest weeks of my life.

Long but also good. We have been overwhelmed by the support, both emotionally and financially, that has come from across the country. Friends from high school sent baby necessities. Friends’ aunts and uncles, people from Illinois whom I've never met, have mailed checks. We are surrounded by amazing, amazing people. You hate for a tragedy to be the catalyst but it’s humbling to be reminded of how good you have it.

How good we have it is exactly what this blog is about. Honestly, I’m ready to move on. I'm ready to embrace the “new normal”, as we’re calling it. But I know that before I do, a proper look back on what took place, and the things we learned along the way, is imperative. A friend encouraged me to make sure I journaled often last week, as proof that hardship makes you better. If that’s true, the following is what I gained from losing everything.

Clichés are true. Whenever someone found out that my wife and daughter were home alone during the storm, they would say things like “well, at least everyone is okay” and “you can always buy new stuff”. The response was the same as many times as I told the story. Oddly enough, they were always right. Additionally, the old saying, “they don’t make them like they used to” is also true. Even though our house was 70 years old and creaked every time someone walked through the dining room, the brick walls held up against 200 mph winds. I’ve always had a love/hate relationship with that old house – the normal frustrations that come with an abode with character. That being said, I loved that house last week.

Little things make a big difference. I always thought it was weird to watch people on the news who had survived a natural disaster. There they would be, in the B roll footage, picking through what was left of their house, looking for picture frames and toasters like buried treasure. Common sense tells you to let the little things go. The house is gone. It’s all rubble now. On this side of the street, I can tell you that it’s different when your history, your story, is the rubble. It means a lot when you are able to find your wedding ring in what used to be your bathroom or a box of old photos in the basement. In a small way, it represents hope. If you can find a necklace in a pile of brick and wood, perhaps you can rebuild the life that appears to be lost.

The Nissan Altima is the most durable car ever made. In 1995, the Nissan corporation made the perfect automobile when the first 1996 Altima rolled off the assembly line. It’s not that it was the fastest or flashiest car ever made. No, the Altima doesn’t care much for flash. The Altima values loyalty over beauty. For over ten years, I had the honor of driving my Altima and I'll admit, I spent most of that time hating it. But looking back, it was the perfect car. Sure the cruise control stopped working when it crossed the 200,000 mile mark. Sure the AC smelled funny. Sure the hubcaps fell off in 2001 but you won’t find a woman or friend or dog more loyal than an Altima. She started every morning without fail. She carried me to Colorado in 2003 and Miami in 2001 and to college and back for four years. I took and took and took from her and she was happy just to give. Remember the children's book The Giving Tree? That car was my Giving Tree. I always planned on driving the Altima until she died. I just didn’t think a collapsed garage would be what finally killed her. RIP Altima (pouring out a 40).

Stuff is replaceable. You’ll throw away everything you own at some point. If you don’t, your kids will after you die. "Why did mom still have this macrame owl?" they'll ask in disgust, hours after your funeral. Throwing everything away at once taught me that we don't need as much as we have. Start small. If you haven’t worn an article of clothing in 12 months, it’s time to donate it. Why do you still own a pair of overalls anyway?

Christians aren’t bigots after all. The truth is this, people who bash Christians don’t know Christians. Sure we have our faults and we don’t always put our best foot forward. But honestly, and not just because I have a vested interest, the churches here in Joplin are the ones leading the renovation. They are the reason the city is overflowing with bottled water and other supplies. Church groups from all over the country have swarmed Joplin over the past few days, looking to clear debris and cut down trees. Churches are working hand in hand with government organizations and rebuilding the city from the ground up. It's amazing and I'm honored to have a front row seat.

Sooner or later, your secrets come out. When twenty people came to my house first thing Monday morning and began going through drawers and closets, dumping everything that we own into trash bags, I was extremely thankful that I didn’t have a secret stash of Nazi propaganda, drug paraphernalia, or a giant watercolor of me riding a giraffe while wearing only a Viking helmet. All three would have been difficult to explain to my coworkers. That might be obvious, but I was thankful for it nevertheless.

Prepare for the unexpected. Get homeowners insurance. Get renters insurance. Put all of your important documents in a fireproof safe. Do this tomorrow. Seriously. We were not ready but we were prepared. I’m thankful for the foresight.

But not as much as I am thankful for you.

It's good to know we still have what really matters.

Joplin Tornado Update

2011-05-25T16:01:00.009-05:00

Friends,

As most of you are aware, on Sunday night our home was hit by a tornado. Growing up in Oklahoma, taking shelter from this kind of weather is somewhat of a springtime tradition. I mean, every kid growing up in Oklahoma wants to be a meteorologist at some point in his or her life. But as familiar as we thought we were with severe weather, we never could have prepared ourselves for what happened on Sunday evening.

Yes, our house was destroyed. Joplin has been all over national news. I woke up Monday morning to Al Roker reporting live three blocks from my house. It's been a wild week.

We have heard from so many of you over the past 48 hours. I hate that I haven’t been able to reply to each of you directly and as clearly as you deserve. I know you have a lot of questions. Many of you have offered to help. This is my response.

Is everyone okay? Yes. We are so thankful that everyone is safe. That’s not cliché, that’s the truth. Our neighborhood is no longer recognizable but Torrie and Alice climbed out of the basement without a single scratch.

What happened? Torrie and Alice were home alone when the storm hit. I was in north Joplin working near the CIY office. Though it was incredibly stormy there, it did not compare to what took place in the south part of town. Essentially, the F5 tornado ran for four miles and stretched from 20^th street to 26^th street. Our house was on 23^rd street. Though she was literally right in the middle of the storm, she did everything right. She made quick, clear-minded decisions and, as a result, saved herself and our five-week old girl. I’m telling the story because it’s my blog but she is the hero. I’m so proud of her.

What is the city like now? I’ve told people that the only way I recognized my house Sunday night was the green paint on the walls in Alice’s old room. The rest of the neighborhood looks completely different. Every example I can think of (war zone, bomb, ground zero) seems weird and out of place. I’ll put it this way, I’ve lived in that neighborhood for six years and I no longer recognize it. Very surreal.

What happens next? We’re not 100% sure. We trust that the rest of the details will slowly be sorted out. We have insurance. Things are replaceable. Needless to say, we have never made a move like this before. I have no idea what the process of rebuilding and finding a new home is like. We’re taking it a day at a time. That’s not cliché either. It’s also true. And I think today is Wednesday.

Where are you staying? Our dear friends Chase and Abbey took us in the night of the storm. They are the salt of the earth. I’ll never been able to repay them (or write eloquently enough about them) for their sacrifice. We’re at their place now. Additionally, we do have a semi-permanent place to land for the time being. Later this week, we’ll be moving into a house in Carthage, MO (10 miles outside of Joplin). We will be able to stay there for a few months until the next chapter begins.

How can I help? We have been overwhelmed by the love and support of the people surrounding us. Emails, text messages, phone calls, facebook posts… they all mean so much. We have the best friends and family in the world – too many to name and thank here. I’ll get to thanking each of you some day, I promise. Everything from diapers to clothes to baby furniture has been dropped off for us or put in the mail. We’re grateful for it all. At this point, I’m not sure what to tell people what we need when they ask. But know this, we will need a lot and honestly, at this point, don’t know exactly what. Here's the deal, I would never look to profit from this tragedy, but I’m going to ask that you simply help financially. We pulled a lot out of the house but I just don’t know what we’ll actually be able to use once we have time to go through all of the trash bags. Everything from laptops to a car will need to be replaced. At the moment, we’re living out of a suitcase and will need to simplify over the next few months. But soon we'll need to buy new dishes, towels, bedding, baby monitors, and the list goes on. We simply have no place to put these things in our temporary housing. Does this make sense? Hopefully this is a decent request. Gift cards for groceries would also be helpful. If you feel led to give, you can send it to: Eric Epperson 2201 N. Main St, Joplin, MO 64801.

What else can I do? Hopefully, you will feel compelled to help out the greater community as well. I know so many people hurt by this disaster. If you are looking for other ways to help, please get in touch with our church. They - and several other churches and groups here - are doing amazing things here. If you are looking for a more personal connection, I have friends who were also hurt by the storm. Some lost more than we did. I would love to put you in touch with them if you would like to help. Please email me at eric.d.epperson@gmail.com for more information.

How's your dog? Atticus is fine. He is staying with my mom in Tulsa where he is served table scraps and sleeps on the bed. This might be the best thing that has ever happened to him.

I’ll be posting additional updates on twitter throughout the week. Torrie and I are thankful for you. Seriously, for helping us pull furniture out of a crumbling house during a downpour, for praying, for calling, for loving us, I can’t say that enough. We love you.

Be good,

Eric Epperson

Oprah Talks God Into Postponing Rapture

2011-05-22T00:01:00.005-05:00

CHICAGO, IL – Despite plans for Judgment Day to take place on Saturday, May 21^st, Oprah Winfrey further cemented her status as the most powerful woman in the universe by convincing God to delay the End of Days by at least a week. According to Oprah, “I called in an old favor and asked God to push the rapture back until after my final show airs on Wednesday.” The talk show host added, “I know that the Almighty has been planning the return of Christ for thousands of years but I really think y’all are going to like [the show]. We have a lot of surprises planned!” Sources say that while rescheduling the rapture isn’t a simple task, heaven officials are optimistic that the new date will be easy to predict using secret codes hidden in the Bible. God could not be reached for comment, but did release a statement in which he said he was “extremely sorry for the trouble the change will cause Harold Camping” and regrets printing the 6 billion Got Rapture? May 21, 2011 t-shirts he had on hand to pass out to Judgment Day attendees. It takes a powerful woman to put the brakes on the End Times. However, heaven officials claim that Ms. Winfrey made an extremely compelling case. “Once we saw that Michael Jordan was booked for the final show,” the statement read, “and that she was planning on giving everyone in the audience an Ipad, a goodie bag of Andre Walker hair products and a 2012 Kia Sorento, we decided that it was in the best interest of mankind to push pause on the rapture until further notice.” According to a follow up comment posted on his facebook fan page late Saturday night, it seems God is content with the decision. “This would have been a completely different story if Donald Trump had decided to run for president. But now there’s no rush." God also added, "The sun won't burn out for another 1,000 years anyway.” While heaven officials are silent on when the rapture will eventually take place, sources claim they are strongly considering October 21, 2021, the day the Chicago Cubs are scheduled to finally win the World Series.