First Sunday of Advent
The Collect.
Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal, through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, now and ever. Amen.
The Epistle. Romans xiii.8.
The Gospel. St Matthew xxi. 1.
Greed
As an employee of a retail company, it was inevitable that I would be working on Black Friday (known in some circles as Buy Nothing Day.) In the midst of countless laps from the floor to the warehouse retrieving size x or x.5 in a million shoes for various customers, I heard about the Walmart employee who was literally trampled to death earlier that very day by a mob of people looking to save some coin.
Upon returning home I looked up an article on the matter and was more disgusted (if it were possible) than before. I asked myself, “How the hell can a group of people be so impatient and self-absorbed as to knock a door off its hinges, trap the employee attempting to open it beneath the fallen door, and proceed to crush him to death?”
The answer I came up with was Greed.
We are a greedy, greedy people.
How telling of our culture is it for something like this to even be a possibility? For it to take “several minutes” to clear the sea of people from the area where the man had fallen? How much money were those deal-getters going to save that they thought stepping on another human was worth it? How satisfied are they going to feel when they watch their loved ones unwrap that “steal” on Christmas morning, knowing that the price paid for that toy/flat screen/gps/digital camera was the life of another human being?
Unbelievable.
Promptly after spending a while meditating on the Greed that literally fuels our nation, I was drawn to the reality that Jesus alone is the solution. We need Him. And not just like we need toilet paper when when there are only a few squares left. No. We need Him like we need air.
Oh that this Advent would be spent in deep reflection of the miracle that is the Coming of the Christ; not pursuing with wreckless abandon things that moth and rust will surely destroy.
things for which I’m thanksful
I have no problem taking some time to write an obligatory Thanksgiving post. While there are certainly instances in which I will do everything within my power to avoid conforming, this one I don’t mind. Perhaps it’s the countless references the Bible makes to giving thanks, or the fact that I’m so fond of listmaking. I’m bent to thinking it’s a healthy marriage of the two. At any rate, here’s the list for 2008:
- Grace
- Good music (specifically, Lydia’s Illuminate)
- Family that loves Jesus (and the lamest of jokes)
- A job that (currently) pays the bills while simultaneously being enjoyable
- Bros (you know who you are)
- Sisses (you know who you are… for the most part)
- Berry Berry
- People who come up to me at weddings and say, “When you walked up I thought I recognized you, and then I realized, oh that’s D.O., from the blog!”
- People who get to my blog by Googling, “so, why do guys not reply to facebook messages???“
- Free things
- Injinji’s
- My ability to walk
- 5 fully functional senses
- iPhones (which I don’t have but I fully believe the day will come… some day.)
- Adobe CS3 (yeah, I know, CS4 is out and all, but I don’t have it. Chill)
- $2.50 gallons of milk at Walmart
- You (probably)
- Skylar
- I’m Texan
- Fall/Winter/Spring
- The Group (with whom I spend most of my free time in Dallas)
- Sunsets
- Mountains
- Arrested Development, LOST, and ABC’s picking up Scrubs for a final(?) season
- Prodeals
- Colossians 1
- My camera
- Unread emails (You know, “Inbox (1)”… or (3) or (10)… whatever)
- Comments on my Photostream
- When I fly and Twan buys (always at Bueno)
- Faithful odfm readers who comment with great consistency, be it on here or the next time I see them in person (seriously)
- Weddings that reunite me with sweet, sweet friends
- Matt Mosier’s painting skills on his wife’s stomach canvas (pictured above)
That’ll do for now. It’s a bit difficult to make an exhaustive list amidst Friends watching with the aforementioned family. I take comfort in knowing the list could never be exhaustive though, as I’ve got far too much for which to be thankful than any list could adequately address… and I’m thankful for that.
an upcoming book review
I’m currently in the early stages of a book that I can already tell I won’t be able to justly review. Not even close.
Christopher Moore’s, Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal is already the funniest book I’ve ever read, and I’m only 60-something pages in. I’ll share with you the excerpt that literally caused me to laugh uncontrollably the other night as I attempted to read myself to sleep:
And so it went. I’m not sure I took to playing the villains as easily as Joshua [Jesus] took to being the heroes. Sometimes we recruited our little brothers to play the more loathsome parts. Joshua’s little brothers Judah and James played whole populations, like the Sodomites outside of Lot’s door.
“Send out those two angels so that we can know them.”
“I won’t do that,” I said, playing Lot (a good guy only because Joshua wanted to play the angels), “but I have two daughters who don’t know anyone, you can meet them.”
“Okay,” said Judah.
I threw open the door and led my imaginary daughters outside so they could know the Sodomites…
“Pleased to meet you.”
“Charmed, I’m sure.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“THAT’S NOT HOW IT GOES!” Joshua shouted. “You’re supposed to try to break the door down, then I will smite you blind.”
“Then you destroy our city?” James said.
“Yes.”
“We’d rather meet Lot’s daughters.”
“Let my people go,” said Joshua, who was only four and often got his stories confused…
Seriously? The fact that someone can write something about 100 words long and cause me to react that way I did in just unbelievable. I seriously couldn’t stop laughing at the thought of Biff introducing his imaginary daughters to Jesus’ brothers. Brilliant.
So, be looking for the least worthy of all my book review in the weeks (or months) to come.
the things I hear
Having worked in retail for over two years (save the 8 month Station/Philly sabbatical), I have heard my fair share of things from both customers and fellow employees. Some of the things I’ve heard are hilarious; others are offensive; and some I just don’t know what to do with, though I’m usually able to muster something up. One such situation happened just this week.
I was holding down the footwear department fort like I so often do, and up walked an overly friendly guy not much older than myself. I’m usually very skeptical of folks like this: the kind who are way too happy, often too loud, and call me by the name they read off my name tag. However after a few moments with this guy I decided I liked him, despite his slightly over-the-top demeanor.
As I brought out his first pair of shoes he insightfully informed me, “You graduated from Texas A&M, Derrick.” — obviously having seen my gaudy Aggie ring.
“Yes sir,” I replied, feeling obligated to use such a title for the customer based on his conversation style.
“Zac Coventry” he said, extending his hand for what was sure to be a firmer-than-necessary handshake. “Class of ‘03.”
I realized at this point that the man trying on shoes was the Student Body President at A&M my freshman year. We shook hands and it wasn’t too hard at all. It was just right. From that point on Zac called me D.O.
I told him I thought I’d recognized him (which wasn’t entirely true so much as I’d recognized his disposition) and we went on talking about various A&M related things. I had to point out to him upon several of his inquiries that I wasn’t exactly that in to… well… anything he was asking me about as far as A&M went.
Then came the Customer Comment of the Week. And not from my former Student-Commander and Chief. Another shoe-tryer-onner had overheard our conversation and thought it necessary (or clever, or cute, or who knows what) to chime in with this gem:
“Wait. Let me get this straight. You graduated from Texas A&M and now you sell shoes??”
I didn’t immediately realize what an offensive question I’d just been asked. If I had might have replied, “Wait… you graduated from college and you actually just said that to me?”
(Un)Fortunately my wit was a little slow that afternoon, and I came back instead with, “Yeah. I opted to take a job that I enjoy over a job that pays a lot and is otherwise miserable.”
Then, like a true leader, Zac submitted some kind-hearted validation to my rebuttal. Exactly what he said I do not remember, but it was sufficient to keep The Clever Inquizator at bay.
Eventually both men left. Zac bought some Salomon XT Wings and I don’t remember what Rude Guy bought. I then went on a retreat to the break room where stories are often told of absurd things customers say and do.
That afternoon, my story won.
simple pleasure #88: skipping rocks
There are countless simple pleasures offered by this life that too often go forgotten when I compose lists of things I love. One of these beauties is the activity of skipping rocks. This past weekend found me and several close friends camping at a local lake, where hours were spent enjoying this simple pleasure. It was, in a word, wonderful. You can enlarge the series of photos above to view one of Scott’s successful skips by clicking the picture.
the unthinkable
What you see above is a screenshot of a recent email I received confirming my purchase of a pair of running shoes through the wonderful prodeal program at REI. Thanks to prodeals I’m able to order things that cost, oh say, $110, and pay $43.50 for them. It’s great.
And why did I need to buy running shoes?
Because the crackhead people in my life have convinced me to join them in running a marathon.
Yes, that’s right.
An entire marathon.
Not the halfsies.
As in 26.2 miles of running.
I told this to Mikey and he immediately started laughing. No doubt his thoughts went back to Dallas 1.0 when we lived in the Village and once took a light jog around the track frequented by local atheletic residents. That run couldn’t have been a yard longer than 2 miles, and I thought I was surely going to die. So his reaction is very much justified.
The race (which I really shouldn’t call it because, let’s face it, I won’t be competing so much as participating), is in Oklahoma City on the morning of April 26th, 2009. So for those of you who were planning on having breakfast with me that day, make sure to contact me so we can reschedule.
In making this announcement I’m putting myself under the accountability of the entire world. However I doubt seriously that odfm will suddenly turn into a how-I’m-training-for-my-first-marathon blog, so don’t worry about that.
And for those of you who, like Mikey, are laughing at the thought of me running a marathon, or 5 miles for that matter, feel free to leave any and all encouragement of that nature in the comments.
who knew? everyone but me.
Several months ago I was given the great and humbling opportunity of becoming one of the people who leads the music for the middle schoolers at my beloved church. I gladly took advantage of this chance to serve the body, especially in light of the fact that it was something I’d felt the Father nudging me towards.
This past weekend was mine to lead, and the first since I began at the Village in which I’d be accompanied by a band. I was excited about this tweak to the norm, if for no other reason than knowing the kids would more likely “get in to” or “engage in” the music, simply because of the increased volume.
So the time came for us to get on stage and play the first song. I got the rhythm in my head and started strumming the tried and true G-C-D progression, and four bars later the band came in, full and strong.
At this point in the story, it is important to note one aspect of my view of a “worship leader’s” role. I think their job is far greater than simply playing songs loud enough that people will feel comfortable singing along. I feel strongly that they should, drawing as little attention to themselves as is humanly possible, lead the people they’re playing for in worship. That is to say, they (the leaders) need to be worshiping. Otherwise it is nothing more than a lame concert of (in my case) sub-par musicians playing musically weak songs.
That said, four bars after the band came in it was time for the lyrics to be sung. I peaked down at the mic to know where my mouth should go, closed my eyes, and began to sing to the One who gave me Voice.
“We stand and lift up our hands,
for the Joy of the Lord is our strength”
I went on to sing the rest of the first verse, the pre-chorus, and the chorus, proclaiming the Holiness of God with everything I had. As I strummed a few chords between finishing the chorus and restarting the verse, I glanced up at the crowd.
While I’d love to say that I saw a bunch of kids with their arms raised, singing their hearts out to their Maker, that’s not what I saw. It’s pretty dark in the house and as such it’s hard to see individual faces of kids. It was not, however, hard to see the tall human walking straight towards me, coming up on the stage.
By now, I’d already begun singing again. The tall human (who turned out to be one of the youth workers) had a mic in his hand and was attempting to grab mine out of the stand and replace it with the one in his hand.
At this point, I had put a pause on singing and I realized what was happening. Though I could hear myself clearly in the monitor, apparently my mic wasn’t coming through in the house. Not even a little bit. I’d effectively sung half of an entire song while everyone else in the room watched and wondered what in the world that red-bearded guy on stage was doing.
Great.
I gave a look to the band as if to say “let’s end this as soon as the next G chord comes around”. They got the look, and we ended the song. I looked out towards the kids, and they burst out in the loudest applause I’ve ever heard that group offer.
pictorial update: autumn
I was looking through the past two or three weeks worth of my photos in Bridge, and thought a pictorial update was in order. A brief description will follow each shot. Enjoy.
Scott and I were driving to Stephenville, TX a couple weeks ago, talking about things that we love: things that highten our senses and really make us feel. One of the first things out of his mouth was “rocking chairs.” Within 30 minutes we drove past this.
Several of my precious friends came over on Halloween for a relaxed, no costume required, chill-out hang time. I picked up a pumpkin and carved one of my favorite shapes in its side (without drawing it on first, mind you).
I spent a fall evening in Texas the way thousands do weekly: at a football game. This was special though, as it was Colby Neal Ivey’s final game of the season. A-team lost, B-team got slaughtered. See Colby?
A unexpected phone call from a sweet friend found me walking around my neighborhood where I found the only tree nearby that has caught on to the fact that it should be pretty this time of year.
In celebration of both my birth and the miracle that I have people around me who let me hang out with them, a cookie decorating contest was held. These are the entries that survived their decorators’ sweet teeth. The winner: Motown with the cookie pictured in the bottom right-hand corner. Her prize? The sentence you just read.
post-election day election day post
November 4th, 2008 was of little concern to me this year. Not long after both parties had chosen their representatives and the campaigning for the election began, I’d resolved that I could not, in good conscience, vote for either of the two major party candidates. I couldn’t not vote, though. That’d be irresponsible (or something). So…
Texas is excellent in nearly every way, and just one small example of how great she is lies in the fact that she allows her residents to vote early. I took full advantage of this luxury by going to the library/senior center/park down the street from my house to cast my ballot. I spent no more than three minutes in line talking with the jolly round volunteer man, and then I was off to the electronic voting booth.
It was there that I realized my great insufficiency. I’d done some research in the days leading up to Early Voting Day 2008. I knew that, if it were an option, I’d have voted for Ron Paul in a heartbeat. However, since it wasn’t, I figured I’d vote for the man he endorsed. In this case, that would mean I’d vote for Chuck Baldwin of the Constitution Party. Not surprisingly, Chuck was not an option on my e-ballot, so I was forced to write him in. Under the title “President” I pressed the fourth option, “other.”
I started typing “C-H-U-C-K-[Space]-B-A-L”… and then I started questioning myself.
“Surely,” I thought, “Baldwin isn’t his last name. It’s not Baldwin, it’s just something like Baldwin. Baldwin is Alec’s last name, not Chuck’s.”
So there I stood for several moments thinking diligently as to what Chuck’s actual last name was. After all my thoughts had come to agreement with each other, they told me that they just weren’t sure what his last name was. I failed.
Defeated, I clicked “Cancel” and went back to the main screen, which gave me not two but three options for President. Since, again, I’d resolved not to vote for either of the big-ticket fella’s, I voted for the only one who wasn’t: Bob Barr, Libertarian.
And that is how I botched up voting in 2008.
*This picture was taken moments after this small disaster occurred. The voting mishap obviously didn’t phase me too severely, judging by the quality of the nap I took on that bench.