I once went to a fight and a hockey game broke out.

I just don't get hockey.

I played a lot of street hockey as a kid, and probably would've done the whole pee wee thing if it weren't so expensive. Seriously...buying all that gear was harder than trying to collect all the state quarters.

But I look at hockey now and I see a facet of gameplay that is truly incredible: the fighting. I mean, you are allowed to pummel a guy on the other team. Split his nose open. Pop out some teeth. And more than just allowing it, it is somehow a part of strategy and team play!

In the last few years it seems like the violence in the NBA has escalated (though Dynasty fans would be quick to point out the brawls our beloved Celts took part in) - well, at least the violence against fans. But for NHL, that violence is and has been just a part of the game (not the "against fans" stuff, savvy?). And what's funny is I never really remember hearing anyone complain about it. You know...the whole "example to our youth" thing. It's just shrugged off as a part of the game. And what's ironic is that the Canadians, the stereotypical jolly northerns who don't lock their doors (if you believe Michael Moore) are amazing at hockey. And fighting, eh?

Here's the other thing: fighting is banned in all other levels of hockey (high school, college. etc). So what happens when Johnny graduates and gets calls up to the majors? He better start taking some boxing lessons (those Tai Chi classes at the Y every Monday night aren't gonna cut it).

Anyway, I won't bore you with a long tirade about the pervasiveness of violence in our country or our (nearly) complete lack of reaction to it. And you're right: it would be less interesting to watch two guys throw sticks and gloves down, circling each other only to..."hug it out".

I'm just saying I don't get the whole thing.

Oh, and you know what else I don't get about hockey? The hat trick thing. I actually love it: a guy scores 3 goals in a game and fans show their appreciation by tossing hats onto the ice. It does look really cool. But my question is: do people get their hats back? Cuz a New Era cap is like 25 bucks and as much as I love (insert unpronounceable french players' name here)...

Cmon.

It's my $25 hat, bro.

Target Aquired

I was in Target today, and not only was it crazy crowded, but it reminded me of something:

Next time you're going to target, make sure you wear a solid red shirt or sweater. Then, just wander the aisles, or better yet stand in one aisle and take a few items off of a shelf and look at them for a few minutes.

I can personally guarantee that some frazzled shopper will come up to you in a huff looking for humidifiers or Glade plug-ins or something. Then you get to politely inform them that you don't work there.

It's funny - I had this happen to me accidentally before. And not just at Target, actually (apparently I have the look of a "sales associate"). Most people act a little embarrassed, but some people actual seem annoyed that you don't work there.

Like it is your fault that you wore your red henley to Target.

Mawage Is What Bwings Us Together Today

Wow. It's been a REALLY long time since I've posted. So let's recap:

Summer. IHOP breakfasts. House Sitting. Scavenger hunt. Jamaica Mission Trip. VBS. Flew to KY for pre-wedding hang-outs with friends and family. Had a blast. Married my amazing, beautiful, hilarious gal pal. Honeymooned in Jamaica (yes, but clearly this trip was different than the first). Drove from KY to MA in 2 days. Moved into our first apartment. Put together (what felt like) hundreds of pieces of furniture, often putting parts on backwards initially. Started back up with all the awesome, cool youth at NPC.

And that pretty much brings us to the present. Ellie and I are seeminly nearing the end of the unpacking/settling process, which really has not been that bad. It's been fun setting up our home together.

It's kind of like those puzzles of someone's face or something, where the pieces are all rearranged. At first, it just looks like bluh and it hurts your eyes to look at it. But then, as you start putting some pieces together, your eyes began to translate what you're looking at and you see...a nose? An ear! Yes, we've got the entire left side of Benjamin Franklin's face put together.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.

So in conclusion, it was a good summer and a great September. God has been so good to us and blessed us with so much, both material things and wonderful people in our lives(who I guess some would argue are material as well?). All I have to say is Jehovah provides.

And He IS good.

Good like apple donuts. Better even, because He made them.

There you go - proof that God is good:

He made apple donuts.

Mmmmm....



(PS Married life is fantastic! I highly recommend it!)

Only a Raspberry

Last night, Ellie and I were out to dinner in the North End. As we made our way back through the city, we walked through the Holocaust Monument in Faneuil Hall. We both silently looked at the towering, glass walls, covered with the i.d. numbers that the Nazis branded the Jews with. We also read the quotes on each wall, which painted horrific snapshots of almost unimaginable conditions and cruelty.

As I observed all this, I tried in my mind to imagine seeing these things - the unspeakable cruelty and total disregard for human life - and I could barely grasp the thought that these things were real and that they happened only 70 years ago or so. It feels like it could have been 100's of years ago, or maybe even on a different world.

But it wasn't. It happened here (well, in Europe) - less than a century ago. That just blows my mind.

There was one quote that especially stuck with me. A woman describes her friend, in the same concentration camp as her, finding a single raspberry. She hides it in her pocket all day long, then presents it on a leaf to her friend that night. The quote on the wall was:

"Imagine a world where your only possession is one slightly bruised raspberry, and you give it to your friend."

Wow...

The Amazing (G)Race

I'm reading this awesome book by Philip Yancey (who is fast becoming a favorite author of mine) called What's So Amazing About Grace? It's really caused me to think a lot about the grace I've experienced in my life, so I thought I'd slip a portion of the book in here. Again, these are not my thoughts, but the Yancinator (thus keeping I am safe from the Plagarism Police):

"We are accustomed to finding a catch in every promise, but
Jesus' stories of extravagant grace include no catch, no loophole disqualifying
us from God's love. Each has at its core an ending too good to be true -
or so good that it must be true...

"From nursery school onward we are taught how to succeed in the
world of ungrace. The early bird gets the worm. No pain, no
gain. There is no such thing as free lunch. Demand your
rights. Get what you pay for. I know these rules well because I live
by them. I work for what I earn; I like to win; I insist on my
rights. I want people to get what they deserve - nothing more, nothing
less.

"Yet if I care to listen, I hear a loud whisper from the gospel
that I did not get what I deserved. I deserved punishment and got
forgiveness. I deserved wrath and got love. I deserved debtor's
prison and got instead a clean credit history. I deserved stern
lectures and crawl-on-your-knees repentance; I got a banquet spread for
me."

A Wiseguy, Huh?

Fuggetaboutit.

Ok, I don't mean that kind of wise guy. I mean like "smarts". Knowing the right course of action in a given situation.

In this area, I am often lacking. When faced with a tough choice, my first instinct is usually "oh crikey! What do I DO?" (that's my inner monologue, by the way. I don't usually say that part out loud). Well, if any of you feel like I do (and that's 90% of the time for me), fear not. There's hope!

One of my favorite verses says this:
"Now if any of you lacks wisdom, he should ask God, who gives to all generously and without criticizing, and it will be given to him." -James 1:5

That's a promise, broseph. From God to you (and me). Signed, sealed and delivered. That means God is just waiting with a bucket full of wisdom to pour over us, all we need to do is ask.

So...totally confused about what decision to make next? Give a call out to the inventor of wisdom and prepare for a sprinkling of clarity.

Going to the chapel...

So much for faithfully blogging each month...

Maybe that can be a New Year's resolution.

Anyway, all I really want to say this time around is that you (the reader) should really check out my wedding web page for Ellie and I. It's pretty cool, and we're updating it regularly. So check it early and often. But here it is. Enjoi.

http://weddings.theknot.com/pwp/view/co_main.aspx?coupleid=3295502529324314&MsdVisit=1

Eeda choota, Solo?*

There. Now you know. I'm a Star Wars dork. I know dumb trivia, quote movie lines, and have even read MANY SW novels. Which is why yesterday was such an important day for me.

I consider myself a Star Wars purist - a dying breed in a generation weaned on a Star Wars that means Jar Jar Binks and Droidikas. A Star Wars with so much CGI, calling it "special effects" is a misnomer, since EVERY shot is computer generated. And the acting. Ugh. Don't get me started...
But back to yesterday. Yesterday marked the release to DVD of Episodes 4-6 as God intended: sans Special Edition touch-ups and extra scenes. Nope, this is the Star Wars I grew up on: pure and unadulterated. I don't need an extra couple cloud cars zooming by Cloud City. I don't need a few more weird creatures on Tatooine. And I ESPECIALLY don't need an extended song/dance sequence in Jabba's palace. Seriously...What the heck is that??

But most importantly, this rectifies George Lucas' (and probably all of mankind's) worst blunder: Greedo shooting first. Here's the scene: a shady looking Han Solo is about to leave an even shadier looking alien Cantina when he's stopped by Greedo. Turns out this bounty hunter has decided to bring Solo in to Jabba for the reward. They take a seat (inexplicably). Han tries to smooth talk his way out of this, but Greedo is persistent. So Han casually eases his blaster from his holster (which is concealed by the table) and blasts the unsuspecting (and apparent amateur) Greedo. Then comes the money line: as Han's walking out, he tosses the bartender a coin and says,"sorry about the mess".

Awesome. Coolest part of the whole stinkin' movie. I'm eight years old at my kitchen table with a blaster made out of Legos, trying to smooth talk a teddy bear into giving me more time to get the money to Jabba. Han Solo was a bad dude! We just met him (at this point in the movie) and already we see he's a guy who'll play by his own rules. He's the MAN (and one of the reasons that Epsiodes 1-3 suffer is due to a lack of a great character like him. But that's another blog...).

In 1998 Lucas decided to "re-release" his classic movies, with some "effects touch-ups". Sounds ok, right? Technology has come a long way since '77. But he wouldn't stop there. Oh no. He had to go tinkering.

The end result of that scene I just described had Greedo shoot first AND MISS. He's five feet away from Han, blaster aiming at center mass and he misses? Isn't shooting like, part of his job description? Maybe he should have left "deadly accurate at close range" off of his resume...

What makes matters worse is that the scene appears to be edited in a way that makes it look like Han dodged the blast slightly. Sigh... I'm not even going to touch that one. Let's move on. A rumor I heard was that Lucas altered the scene to show that Han wasn't a "cold-blooded murderer". True or not, I don't know. But come on! You took an incredibly awesome scene and sucked the "cool" out of it so that it just looked lame and completely unbelievable.

Well, thankfully I don't have to watch that horrible re-edit of one of my favorite classic cinematic moments of all time ever, EVER again. And just as soon as I can scrape up $20 bucks to buy the DVD at Target, my agitated soul can finally be at rest after 8 long years. Just like Yoda, Ben, and Anakin when they show up to nod approvingly at Luke at the Ewok party.

Yub yub, my little furry friends. Yub yub.


(*Rodian to Basic translation: "Going somewhere, Solo?" Major dork points if you knew that.)

Maintain Radio Silence

That's apparently what I've been doing on this blog. Shame, shame. Summer was supposed to be when I would have all the free time to put into silly things like this. But summer came and went in a flash and behold! Fall is at hand.

But the REAL subject of today's entry has to do with: things that are cool. I watched about 7 minutes of MTV's VMA's and then got super bored and watched something else. From what I hear, the show was pretty lame and uneventful (which is what my finely tuned instincts told me in those 7 minutes), even though I'm a Jack Black fan. However, I did hear that the true highlight of the show was something so fantastically brilliant, it would almost make watching the whole show worth it (wellll...ok, not the WHOLE show)! So without further ado, click this link to watch this homemade music video by Ok Go. I was astounded. You should be too.
Seriously though...it's cool:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pv5zWaTEVkI

Twentysomething

"Sorry, but 23 is just a weird age."

So I signed up with this institute that does focus groups. They pay you $75 to sit around a table and talk about certain products for and hour or two - a pretty sweet gig. I signed up a week or so ago and they've sent me a few emails. Finally, I called today, hoping to sign up for a focus group for men 19-60 with health insurance. They ask you a few questions to see if you "qualify" for the target group they want to poll/market.

Unfortunately, I didn't qualify. But Brian (the guy on the phone) was super nice (at one point, he cracked a joke that I didn't really laugh at). He looked through what other groups they had available and asked me a few more "qualifying questions".

And that's when he told me: "Sorry, but 23 is just a weird age."

Apparently, in their studies 25 is the cutoff age for some though they can go as low as 18. You also can't rent a car until you turn 25. It's the last "forbidden fruit" I can't pick, and since driving, drinking (not at the same time), smoking, R-rated movies, and buying scratch tickets are so old news, I'm jonesing for the next roped-off age eschelon. But I guess that's not really the issue...

The thing is, 23 is a weird age. I've been out of college 2 years now, independently experiencing this "real world" everyone was talking about (not to be confused with the show where "8 strangers live in a house and blah, blah, blah"). I'm not a college student, yet I don't really feel like an "adult" all the time either. I'm not married, not established in my career, don't have kids or a house or any of those other things that seem to be awarded to you when you turn 25 (or 30. They weren't clear on that). So what I am?

Caught in the middle. Straddling the line. The term "twentysomething" is so ironically appropriate a description; it is so ambiguous, so undefined. The twentysomething recipe calls for: a day job, a pinch more sleep at night (but be sure to kiss those afternoon naps goodbye), a full sized refridgerator, and a generous amount of bills. Mix in vigorously with increased responsibility and a wardrobe that includes things other than t-shirts and jeans, simmer for 5-7 years.

But it's a transition period, I suppose; a dry-run of adulthood. Without a family or a mortgage, there's still some slack to make a few (or a lot) of mistakes. It's like hopping in the shallow end of the pool and wading out to the deep end - you're in the pool and swimming, but you've still got your big toe touching the bottom.

It's growing up. It's not eating fastfood at 2am. It's not writing papers. It's not eating fastfood at 2am instead of writing papers. And it's nice to live in an apartment instead of dorm room, though sometimes there's still Wendy's wrappers lying around.

And you know what? I'm ok with that.

Tragedy and Joy

http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20060605/ap_on_re_us/mixed_up_victims

This story was so hard to read... One family rejoices in having their daughter "resurrected" and returned to them, while one family grieves the loss of a daughter thought to be alive and recovering.

Romans 12:15
“Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”

We rejoice with the Cerak family as they are reunited with Whitney, who they believed died over a month ago. What indescribable joy! I can't even imagine what that must be like.

We mourn with the VanRyn family as they deal with the sudden loss of Laura. I also can't imagine what dealing with that grief must be like. But we can take comfort in knowing that Laura has gone home to be with her Savior. Please, if you're reading this, take a moment to pray for the VanRyn family as they deal with their loss.

This blog is an update on Whitney as she recovers, as well as a memorial to Laura.

http://lauravanryn.blogspot.com/

24 reasons why i heart 24

There's a 24 sized hole in my life right now. With last Monday marking the season finale of Day 5, yesterday night seemed...well, empty. All this year, Monday nights have meant that 24 (my anti-drug) is before me and entertainment/shock/anxiety/joy is given to me in a healthy, 1 hour dose. But now it looks like I've got to ween myself off of this dependent (at least until I can get Season 3 through blockbuster online).

So for now, here's 24 reasons why ALL seasons of 24 are awesome:

24-The mole in CTU. New season, new mole. Not too safe, for a government agency.
23-Tony's conspicuous Chicago Cubs mug.
22-The threat of nuclear attack.
21-Bill Buchanon. Pretty much the best CTU boss around.
20-Satelite phones, which strangley resemble Zach Morris' phone from Saved by the Bell
19-Explosions.
18-The fact that any time a prisoner/important person/Kim is being transported away from or back to CTU, they will most assuradly be ambushed and involved in a minor car crash.
17-Jack NEVER setting his phone on vibrate. What the heck?
16-David Palmer. He's a swell guy.
15-Speeding cars.
14-Gunfights.
13-Terrorists "getting theirs" in the end.
12-Knowing that a previously unfamiliar CTU agent suddenly showing up in an episode to cover Jack in a gunfight is DEFINITELY about to be shot and killed.
11-Jack's PDA. That junk is just cool.
10-Shootouts (not to be confused with "gunfights").
9-Silly love story moments between anyone on the show.
8-Jack's ability to only speak in whispers or shouts. Think about it.
7-The CTU boss or government agent who makes bad decision after bad decision, not because they are with the bad guys, but just because they are jerks.
6-The apparent lack of said bosses to READ JACK'S RESUME from time to time, thus giving them a reason to take Jack's word once in awhile.
5-Tony stinkin' Almeda. (in whisper voice)"Yeah, Jack, I got it".
4-The Season 2 phrase "I need a hacksaw".
3-Anytime Jack has to get information out of people (which sometimes, if not all the time results in their bodily harm).
2-Chloe O'brien. For her and her "perma-frown", impossible is nothing. She has mad computer hacking skills.
1-Jack Bauer. A.K.A. The Man (but not "the Man" when people say "the Man is keeping me down." The GOOD kind). He IS 24.

Bernie the Barracuda

So there I was, walking the streets of Boston with my guitar slung over my back, like some urban cowboy, complete with spurs and chaps (ok, well "sneakers and jeans", but close enough). It was a great sunny day, with a wind that made you keep that light jacket on, but still made it comfortable to be out and about. As I was walking down Comm. Ave. with my favorite person (let's call her "Ellie"), lost in conversation about something trivial yet wonderful, I heard someone call out.

Using my uncanny peripheral vision, I realized that the shout came from the homeless man about 15 feet to our right, resting in the shadow of one of the many beautiful stone buildings that dot Comm. Ave. Then I realized what he was yelling: he was asking me to play him a song.

This was awkward. This is the part where I'd smile uncomfortably, make some excuse about being late, or (most likely) just ignore him completely and keep walking. There'd be a slight lull in the conversation but we'd soon be on our way, comfortably forgetting that there's people out there that don't eat as much in a week as I do in a day. I mean who wants to have THAT thought weighing you down. Talk about buzzkill.

But for some reason (let's call him "the Holy Spirit") I stopped. I walked over to this guy and he asked me if I knew how to play "Barracuda". I didn't. He offered to teach me. I accepted.

So he slipped my guitar over his shoulder and slowly began to plunk out this vaguely familiar song (which I have to assume is "Barracuda"). After he was done, he handed the guitar back to me and I thanked him for the lesson. Then I told him my name was John and shook his hand. He said his name was Bernie.

So...I stopped and let a homeless guy play my guitar - big deal! Although, if you know me, I'm usually a little particular about who I let strum ol' Suzanne. Plus I have this thing about having clean hands, but I digress...The point is for once, I didn't just ignore this guy (like I normally would). And although we didn't spend hours talking, nor did I baptize him before I left, I hope that I was able to show him just a fraction of Jesus' love.

Jesus said "love one another as I have loved you"(John 15:12). And how did Jesus love? I think he made every person he talked to feel like they were the most important person in the room (or on the pasture, whatever). He made a point to talk to the social outcasts of the day - the beggers, the blind, the sick - and made them a focal point of his ministry. He didn't ignore them.

Ouch. That thought is awfully convicting. If Jesus is the model for my life, I'm pretty far off the mark in this category. It gets worse:

"If anyone has this world's goods and sees his brother in need but shuts off his compassion from him - how can God's love reside in him?" -1 John 3:17

John goes on to say that we "must not love in word or speech, but in deed and truth." That means action, people. People are going to see God's love in us when we show others love.

I hope that in that small gesture, Bernie the "Barracuda" could see even just a glimpse of Christ's love. Maybe next time I can offer to buy him a sandwich. But what about you?? Is there someone in your life that you refuse to show love to? If God loves everyone exactly the same, how can we play favorites? If so, you better check yo' self, cuz God be like "c'mon, man! That ain't what I be showin' ya! I keeps it real!"

Or something along those lines...

Willem Dafoe Eats Cottage Cheese

Or at least he buys it. Here's my only brush with stardom:

I was working at the grocery store for the summer, following my sophomore year of college. I liked it; I worked with some fun people and the store kept the AC pumping, so it was always nice and cool. Just how cool Shop 'n Save could be, well I had no idea...

One particular afternoon, a friend of mine had come in to shop, and since things were pretty slow, I decided I'd walk around and chat with her, under the guise of doing some "returns". I was right in the middle of saying something extremely funny when she cried out "Oh look! It's THAT guy!" Thankfully, her exclamation was quiet enough and directed towards me so that it did not arouse suspicion from That Guy. I took a glance down the aisle and to my suprise I saw...

A slob. Some middle-aged, shaggy haired, scrawny white guy dressed in ratty shorts and a drab long-sleeved tshirt. I couldn't really get a good look at his face, however. "He's in movies," she elaborated quietly. "THAT guy? Yeah right" I said. I needed a closer look.

He was in the frozen food section at this point. We casually made our way down the aisle, trying (yet failing) desperately to look inconspicuous. His hair fell away from his face at just the right moment and with a slight gasp I realized who he was: Willem Dafoe! Now, frankly Willem Dafoe is not a huge celebrity. You probably don't recognize the name, but he's one of those guys that when you see his face, your reaction is (you guessed it) "oh, THAT guy."

I had to meet him! This was a once in a lifetime opportunity: to shake hands with a movie star (well, an "actor" anyway)! But I had a dilemma: I had recently seen him in "Spider-man" as the Green Goblin (which he was excellent as, btw). However, I wanted to appear to him that I knew of his long and glorious career in Hollywood by mentioning an older movie that he had been in and praising his work. Problem was, I couldn't think of any. My friend thought he might have been in "Platoon", but I wasn't sure and not that confident in her movie knowledge. I thought he might have been in "Navy Seals".

By this time, I had devised a plan and worked up my nerve. I was running out of time - he was in the dairy section! I came up behind him, in my neat little uniform and asked "can I help you find anything, sir?" He seemed a little startled as he turned, placing the cottage cheese in his cart. I then quietly asked him if he was in fact Willem Dafoe. He seemed pleased at this; he smiled and shook my hand. Then I went for it: "were you in 'Navy Seals'?" His mood shifted slightly, and it suddenly felt a little cooler by those dairy coolers. "Nope, I wasn't in that one," he replied, graciously masking a hint of annoyance. I then proceded to praise his excellent work in "Spider-man", then briefly wished him well and walked off.

That friend of mine won't let me forget that to this day. I've since seen almost 200 movies (well, at least 3) that Willem Dafoe was in where he performed brilliantly. But you know what? I shook his hand and she didn't. So there.

I had to admit I was pretty star-struck the rest of the afternoon. I bragged to my coworkers how I had walked right up to him and shook his hand (no one else had dared to). I probably omitted the part about "Navy Seals". But it was cool. I met Willem Dafoe.

And in my defense, that guy with Charlie Sheen in "Navy Seals" looks a lot like Willem Dafoe. Kind of...

Failure 101

Oops. Uh oh. My bad.

We goof up - it's a fact. I did this morning, in front of the whole congregation. It wasn't like my pants fell off or anything, but I just said the wrong thing at the wrong time. It made it worse that beforehand, I kept thinking "don't screw up!". Maybe I put more pressure on myself - who knows. But I'd like to give you my top 5 reasons why failure is GOOD:

1) It keeps us humble. Looking dumb in front of a crowd, a group of peers, or even a couple friends can really put that ego back in check.

2)It teaches us something. The best thing you can do when you fail is afterwards, ask "ok, why didn't that work?". Evaluation of the "misses" can help you grow a lot more than reveling in those "hits".

3)It can teach you to trust others. Sometimes failure occurs when we think we can do it all by ourselves. But instead of pulling an Atlas (you know, that Greek god with the world on his shoulders?), we would accomplish so much more if we asked someone for help. There's no "i" in "teamwork" (however, there is a "me", but that sort of works against my point - let's move on).

4)It should encourage us to keep going. There's a great Nike commercial that I love where Michael Jordan is talking and he says:

“I have missed more than 9000 shots in my career. I have lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that is why I succeed.”

Wow. If Michael Jordan, arguably the greatest basketball player of all time could, say miss a dunk on a break-away in an all-star game (go Wizards. Ouch), then I guess all of us are bound to make mistakes sometimes. But goofing up should encourage us to try even harder next time, not be discouraged. Read reason #2 again (seriously).

5)It *can get us closer to God. Note that little * by can; that's because it's our choice. But I tell ya, when you hit rock bottom, that's when it's easiest to cry out to God. When you feel completely demoralized and discouraged, what better time is there to ask God for some help? Sometimes falling flat on our face is the only way God can get our attention.

Why corndogs are awesome

"Mom, I'm hungry. What's for dinner?"

"Hot dogs, sweety."

"No, that's too plain...I need something...awesomer."

That's how I envision the invention of the corndog being inspired. I don't know how he (or her, but ladies, let's face it: a guy totally must have invented corndogs) came up with wrapping a slab of mystery meat in cornbread. I'm not sure how those two things even ended up on the same plate. But somehow, this beautiful hybrid of two delicious tastes was formed.

There's something else, too. When I make me a hotdog, I like to slap that thing in a bun and generously apply ketchup. Nothing else; no mustard, no relish, none of that. Me likes me the ketchup. But when I get my corndog on, I gotta have mustard. It's one of the many mysteries that makes me me, I suppose. *Sigh.

So raise those sticks of bread and meat and give a toast - to corndogs and that beautiful man who made them happen. Me, I'm going to go have a corndog right now...Oh yeah.

The Clown on Stilts

He was a clown. On stilts. Why, i'm not sure. I think it was to make him that much more entertaining. It didn't really work. But I'm getting ahead of myself...

I was friends with this girl named Ashley (or Ashlee, or Ashleigh - I don't remember). I was a young urban professional, getting in on the ground floor of a very promising business. They served great cheeseburgers there. I'd been there a few months and met Ashley. She was a really nice girl. Pretty, but unsure of herself (but who isn't at 16?). We forged a bond working the drive through together, and I think thinly veiled crushes began to form, beneath our mantle of friendship.

Turns out, Ashley lived right downt the street from my church (which was also my school), where I spent a lot of time after school waiting for my transport service (who doubled as my mom). She and I would swing on swings and awkwardly talk sometimes. Then her little brother would show up and say embarrasing things like "she's wants to kiss you! She told me!". She would turn bright, bright red, like a traffic light that desperately wanted someone to stop. She would yell at him to go home, while I mumbled something about having to double-check some math problems. Teenage romance at it's finest.

Well, it was fall and my youth group planned an all-nighter. So I invited Ashley, hoping she would become a Christian so I could marry her with a clean conscience (this must have been what I was thinking). So she went and we showed up at this really cool, jumbo indoor sports-plex. I think they even had raquetball courts.

Moments after we walked in, there he was. That horrible clown. On stilts. He ambled toward us, like some terrible, deformed spider-creature. He lumbered right up to Ashley, and made some loud wisecrack about her shirt being immodest. It probably was - I think it was one of those tank tops with the thin straps. But Ashley turned into a stop light again.

I don't really remember much else about that night. Ashley didn't become a Christian (that I know of). We stayed friends, and 6 months later she was dating The Biggest Loser in Town. I haven't talked to her, let alone even thought about her in years. So what's the point??

It's that clown, man. He had it all wrong. He was too focused on what Ashley looked like on the outside, not on what she was like as a person. Now is it this clown's fault that Ashley doesn't believe in Jesus? I doubt it. But when Jesus saw people, he didn't get caught up in how they looked. Jesus knew the outside would change, after the inside got a makeover.

In Luke 19:1-10, we read about Zacchaeus. Jesus saw this guy, this little thieving weasel, walked right up to him and said "I'm coming over for dinner tonight so I can get to know you better." Boom! All of a sudden this corrupt tax collector gets a change of heart and swears to pay back everyone he stole from. There came an outward change after the person inside was shown love. That's what Christ wants us to do. "This is my command: Love one another the way I loved you." - John 15:12