Rock Climbing Manana Dude!

"Step off dude!"

Manana I'll be loading up the gear, piling into a van along with 60 spectacular junior high dudes and their dads, and making the jolly trek up to Mineral Wells,TX for some rock climbing, rapelling, and no doubt some garden variety adolescent hijinx. Lets hope I return on Sunday in a little better condition than cool-guy Tony did. Not to worry--I'm bringing sandwiches.

All early indications point to this retreat being nothing less than a life-changing event. After all, the whole thing is being masterminded by guy so cool he makes pretty-boy Tony look like Clay Aiken. Of course I'm speaking of HFBC's very own Jeremy Camp...err..Nick Shock (yeah, like we all believe that's his real name).

Seriously, I'm looking forward to God doing some great things in all of our hearts this weekend. I'll be back on Monday with a full post mortem...err...recap. Must be getting close to the end of the week.

They Know Not What They Do

Kanye, if you had the slightest understanding of the depth of suffering that the crown of thorns represents, you would have run so far away from that photo shoot that we would have to call you Kanye East. If you could only feel the weight of humiliation and separation that those fake scars represent, you would have not only passed on the idea, but refused the cover all together. Would you pose as Martin Luther King with a gunshot wound to his head? Would Rolling Stone even suggest it? Of course not.

Jan Wenner, I pray for your soul, that God has not hardened your heart. Your magazine stopped being relevant a long time ago.

I found myself filled with righteous anger upon discovering this cover. Not anger at Kanye or Jan, but the powers and principalites that rule this earth. Let's pray for God to reveal himself to all who were involved with this mockery of the true Lord and Savior.

And please don't buy Rolling Stone.

Kick save, and a beauty!

Last week I was lucky enough to witness one of the greatest moments in human history. As I was shuffling zombie-like onto the parking garage elevator that takes me down to beautiful 1300 Post Oak each wonderful work day, a couple of other stagglers followed suit, shortly behind. I found myself in a rather routine situation--elevator of 4 people, no one talking or saying so much as hi. As we waited for the door to close, a woman could be seen making her way toward the elevator. Though far enough away that she didn't really deserve an elevator hold, it was a close call. Being the good Christian, I looked down as not to make eye contact (once you make eye contact, you are morally obligated to hold the elevator and if you don't, it could be bad news later on down the karma highway) and no one else in the elevator appeared to be stepping up--not the well dressed business woman, not the portly security guard with too much perfume, and certainly not the burly maintenance guy.

The doors were almost closed as the woman came within feet of the elevator with a face that pleaded solemnly for mercy. Too late, I thought. You'll have to catch the next one down.

And then, as if summoning Pele' or Lou Groza, from the back of the elevator came the swiftest, most spectacular one legged high kick from a squatty, gray-haired maintenance guy the world has ever seen. His foot wedged right in between the two doors! It was just in time--like Indiana Jones. Suddenly the doors were opening and the delighted woman was on board. The squatty maintenance hero was shrugging it off as if it was nothing. I couldn't restrain myself. I looked into his eyes as if I were face to face with Kirk Gibson after the Eckersly homerun and blurted out this beauty: "THAT WAS AWESOME".

Squatty hero just giggled some unintelligable noises. A few seconds went by and then the others in the elevator started laughing--more out of amazement than anything. I wanted to see an instant replay.

As we filed off the elevator I heard the hero mention to his young and burly counterpart, "well, at least some people are actually smiling today".

He is a maintenance guy working in a building full of "business" men and women. The smiles are probably rare to come his way.

I looked down so I didn't have to feel guilty about not holding the elevator for one more person. He gladly jumped in to help someone who probably would not have done the same for him.

The moral of the story: You can learn great biblical truths from squatty old maintenance men.