a search for the real

Sabbatum Sanctum

2010-04-03T20:43:00.000-07:00

It is Saturday night, Holy Saturday, and tomorrow is Easter. A few years ago, I was on staff with a church that had a Service of Darkness. It was a focus on the loss and sorrow the disciples, family, and followers must have felt when they laid Jesus in the tomb, unable to even prepare his body for a proper burial because of sabbath law. It was a very moving thing to be a part of.

Don Miller had a great blog entry this week, titled A Letter from the Apostle Peter on the Day of Christ's Death. You should really check it out.

Anyway, I sit here tonight, preparing for the celebration of tomorrow, but thinking about tonight. At least from the disciples perspective. They were in hiding and had to flee. The women must have had a real sense of duty to want to arrive at the tomb so early Sunday morning. What a surprise they are in for.

One of my friends, JD, teaches on stepping into the story, finding yourself in the present of what was happening then. Step in, walk around, what do you see, smell, or feel? I love to step into this story. The emotions are so raw, the shame is so real and sorrow saturates everything.

And yet hope remains, for we are Easter people, and tomorrow, we celebrate.

Jamie Oliver would be a great missionary…

2010-04-03T20:24:00.000-07:00

If you haven’t gotten on board with Jamie Oliver’s Food Revolution, you need to. If you don’t even have a clue about what I am talking about, all is not lost! Don’t worry. You can most likely TiVo this ABC show or watch on Hulu. This, my friends, is perhaps one of the most important shows on TV, and I will tell you why…

If you are not familiar with Jamie Oliver, he is part rock star, part chef. He has had several shows on the Food Network such as Oliver’s Twist, The Naked Chef, and my personal favorite, Jamie at Home. A couple of years ago, he used his celebrity status and passion for healthy eating to try an make a change in his home country with the way the UK handles it’s school lunch program.

He made a huge difference in the way that they look at food, preparation methods, and removing the processed junk from school lunches. Important stuff. So now, he has turned his sights on America and more specifically, Huntington, WV, who the CDC says is America’s unhealthiest cities due to obesity related illnesses. Essentially, we have a generation of young people that has a shorter life expectancy than their parents. This must be remedied.

He meets tons of opposition, people who want him to leave, people that are set in their ways and don’t see the need to change. But Jamie’s passion doesn’t allow him to stop. He makes some enemies, but he makes more friends that support him and the key in last nights episode was teenagers. He empowered young people. He brought some high school students from Huntington into a kitchen to prepare a meal for a fundraiser to support the Food Revolution. One of them has been in and out of juvenile detention centers, and he is Jamie’s most fierce supporters.

The food we serve our children should not be killing them, and Jamie Oliver, a parent and a chef is taking this on as his personal project. He has taken this message across the globe and he is converting the masses. There is something to be said about the way he empowers people to take control of their lives. We could use more people like him in the church. Seriously, his leadership skills are impressive.

Happy Advent

2009-12-08T12:52:00.000-08:00

The Tail has been Wagging the Dog.

I am officially the world's worst blogger. I hate that, because I really like to read them. I love checking in with friends through their blogs. I find some blogs to be very life giving and challenging, while others I like to read because they make me laugh. I do not set out with much purpose in this blog of mine, other than to perhaps try and process some things.

I was talking with an 83 year old Methodist preacher yesterday and he quoted John Wesley in saying, as an 83 year old, I am still working out my salvation." I think that is sort of my goal here.

So as I write this now, my office phone is ringing and will go to voicemail, I have unanswered emails in my inbox, and I have closed the door to my office to be here with you today to say to you: May this most holy season be a blessing to you, and may your lives be filled with the wonderous presence of Christ.

Donald Miller: Million Miles Tour

2009-08-31T14:07:00.001-07:00

Seeing

2009-08-03T06:42:00.000-07:00

Once a month, our church staff shares communion and has a time for a devotion in the Chapel on the first Tuesday of the month. Last week, Dr. Mike Marshall, our Executive pastor asked if I would lead the devotion and serve communion with him for the staff. He had opened the chapel early that morning, but when we arrived a couple of hours later, we all noticed that there were some additional items in the chapel that were a little out of place. They were simple, everyday items that normally, one would not notice or think odd, but the placement of these items is what struck us as odd.

There was a pair of glasses set next to the communion elements, a bottle of water placed on the left side of the alter, in the center of the alter, someone had placed some money in an offertory envelope and leaned it against the cross, and on the right side of the alter, was placed a wooden and brass crucifix and an Al Green’s Greatest Hits CD. At first, the reaction seemed to be, who was in here and were did they mess with anything, but we quickly realized that someone had left these items that had significance, and they began to take on symbolism in different ways for each of us. I for instance, was captivated by the glasses next to the Bread and Cup, almost as if God was saying to me, “See what it is I am doing in this sacrament, and what these elements mean.” Others were impressed by the money left, still others by the crucifix, water, and the Al Green CD (Who doesn’t love “the Reverend?”).

Two things really struck me that morning. The first is that I am embarrassed at our first reaction. I think we, for a brief moment, were thinking of the altar as our own. This is one of the problems we see with the Pharisees in Scripture, that they had an inside track to God, where Jesus comes and kicks the door wide open. I hope this person who left these items will come back, using this chapel for prayer and to commune with God.

The second thing that struck me is that God really wants to speak to us through everything that surrounds us. All of creation is His, and it is right for Him to use everyday things to tell us He loves us, to speak to us, and to reveal Himself to us.

I think of what Elijah must have experienced on the mountain side in I Kings 19, the windstorm ripped the trees the earthquake shook ground, the firestorm burned the earth, but the Lord was not in these things. Then, a gentle whisper was heard and Elijah stepped out of the cave to meet the Lord because the Lord was in this whisper, and not in the other. God reveals himself in unlikely forms and fashions. This message of the glasses near the bread and cup revealed to me, by my own admission, that my eyes were out of focus that morning, and that with the proper lenses, I could then see clearly what it was that the Resurrected Christ was doing for us through the sacrament that morning.

Throughout seminary, I heard the phrase, “we need the eyes to see and ears to hear, because God is doing things all around us.” If we aren’t careful, we might miss seeing God in action.

Storytelling and the Sermon

2009-06-13T11:14:00.000-07:00

I was talking to my buddy Josh the other day, and we were talking about this idea of telling good stories. He told someone recently that if they need to schedule a meeting with a large group of people and are trying to explain something new, to tell a story. I really liked this.

He and I began to talk about trying to tag-team this discussion on our blogs for the next few weeks, to try and bring out some thoughts on the concept of telling the Story of Jesus, and telling it well.

He is gone on vacation this week and I will be gone for a week, so stay tuned. When we are both back, I hope we can uncover some good stuff.

Storytelling Matters

2009-06-10T19:25:00.000-07:00

I have been taking a break from reading books from the shelves in the bookstores with placards sitting on top of them reading, "Christian Inspiration," or "Religious." I have been taking a break from these and instead, I have been reading stories. I must admit that I was a little concerned when I first realized my lack of interest in the more formational books that I often read. This week, I have been reading The Shack, and the jury is still out because I haven’t finished it, but I like what I have read so far. I read a Stephen King book a few weeks ago called Duma Key, and I read Cormac McCarthy's latest book, The Road a few months back. All of these stories draw the reader in, and this is key.

A few weeks back, I read Donald Miller's Searching for God Knows What. In this book, he talks about Jesus like a friend would talk about another friend that he really loves and admires. Sort of how the disciples might have talked about Jesus to their friends that hadn’t met him before. The reason I love this is because Miller discusses Jesus in ways that reveal he knows Jesus, and is known by Jesus. I found myself really believing him when he talked about Jesus as if he had met him for coffee that morning. Storytelling matters.

I wonder if when we talk about Jesus, or tell stories about Him, if we do a good enough job of telling the Story? One thing I learned in seminary is that there is an art to storytelling and that this is a dying art. This is why when we meet good storytellers, we remember this about them. We tell others things like, "you have to hear this person speak/preach/tell a story," and we love to hear them recall accounts of an adventure, a mishap, or a funny situation. We hang on their every word. I think this is a gift, but I also think it is an art, something we can work at improving.

Have you ever wondered why some people think church services are boring? Is it the message that is boring? Maybe, but probably not. I think it has more to do with the delivery and the way the Story is told. Rob Bell is going to be hosting a conference in Grand Rapids, Michigan in a few weeks called Poets Prophets Preachers: Reclaiming the Art of the Sermon. If you are a pastor and don’t get excited about this kind of thing, you should be slapped in the face, splashed with cold water, or something of the surprising nature should happen to you.

In his book, Leap Over a Wall, Eugene Peterson asserts that God primarily chooses to communicate with His people through the re-telling of His Stories. In the Old Testament, the word “Remember” is written over and over again. At Passover, the youngest child is encouraged to ask, “Why is this night different from all other nights?” Why, so the people will remember the Story by retelling it, but also believe it. Isn't this one of the primary reasons we preach, so that others, along with ourselves, will remember and believe?

Storytelling matters, and this is why we need to reclaim this art.

(Below is a picture of the Melanesian Brothers and Sisters telling the Story of the Prodigal Son)

This Life of Downward Mobility...

2009-03-05T14:50:00.000-08:00

This life of downward mobility is something that keeps coming up in conversations all over the place. I first remember thinking about this (I mean really thinking about it) a few years ago when walking through my seminary campus with my friend JD and he slowed a bit as we approached a small cemetery. He pointed and said "this is what seminary is all about." I had a lot of conversations when I was about to leave seminary about my relationships being closer with seminary friends because it is with these people that you learn to die. I said it a lot because I think it made me sound like I knew what I was talking about. It wasn't that I didn't believe it; it’s just that I am not sure I really understood it.

I think after seminary, I began to really see, from inside the church, what it meant to be in a state of selflessness and to live into a call to follow Jesus, and that this is a life not for the faint of heart.

So Thursday, I had lunch with Joe Nader and Dale Williams, both these guys live in other towns, so it was a real treat to just be with them. We laughed, talked about life, and God, and jobs and job interviews. The thing with Dale is that with him, you can cut the crap and get to the heart of the matter without all the details. No beating around the bush with this guy. The other thing I love about Dale is that when he prays, he says a lot of "mmm hmms" and "yeses." It’s as if someone is talking back to him but no one else can hear. I love to watch this and to pray with him. Oh, and Dale has an African soul. I will tell you about it sometime.

So today he prayed over Joe and me and there was something he said in one of his prayers that has remained with me. I chewed on it, told others about it and am now sharing it with you.

"Dare I pray that we might descend into holiness?...Yes, yes I do...But we will not go alone. No, you will go with us..."

I have always thought of holiness as something we work upward toward. Not downward. It seemed like something to attain, as we climb up toward God. But it is downward mobility that takes us to holiness. Humbleness and humility, and sometimes humiliation. This is the road to holiness. It is difficult, scary, and sacrificial. But we do not go alone. We cannot go alone. We need Jesus in us as we journey toward the cross. Dale recognized that to go into holiness is difficult and can be painful, like refining fire. Sometimes, what looks like death is really life giving. We see cemeteries and they don't draw up images of happiness and joy, but sorrow. It is when that decension is made and complete, when the "crucified with Christ" happens for us, that we will begin to make our upward climb. None of this, do we do alone.

In Life Together, Dietrich Bonhoeffer says that Jesus was all alone on the cross so that we don’t have to be. It is a giant we can face if we know we don’t have to do it alone.

Old Homes Smell Funny

2009-03-03T12:56:00.000-08:00

As some of you know, my wife, daughter and I moved back to Texas back in December. We still have a home on the market in Birmingham, so if you are looking to buy a house in Birmingham...

Anyway, we moved into this tiny little home right by the TCU campus that was built in 1929. It is in a perfect location for my morning commute to work, and for Alison, there is lots of great shopping nearby, and for Ava, lots of parks and fun kiddo stuff to do.

Our little tudor style cottage came complete with original window, those old heavy solid wood doors with the crystal door knobs, among many draft old house house sights, sounds, and smells. It smells like Granny's house. You know what I mean, right?

Along with fresh paint and new carpet in two rooms, there have been an assortment of smells wafting around our little old home. But one day a couple of weeks ago, Alison said, I think something may have died under the house. I thought, no, probably just a combination of paint, carpet and old drafty Granny's house smells that she must be catching a wiff of.

But finally, I opened my closet one day, opened an access panel to under the house and it hit me, the smell that can only be described as "DEATH." I called our fix-it guy and he came to have a look. I thought we had a mouse or a rabbit that may have gone under the house to die, but it was something else.

Yesterday, Alison called me and told me, you will never guess what it was that they pulled out from under the house. A cat. A great big swollen cat. The guy who pulled it out had a bad experience with it too. I won't tell you what happened, but it wasn't pretty. So things are pretty fun around our house, now that the cat is gone and we can get back to our life as normal in our little, old, drafty house.

A side note: On the way home from work yesterday, I saw a sign in our neighborhood with a white cat with orange spots with the word "MISSING" written across the top. I wonder...

Very Cool

2009-02-19T13:32:00.001-08:00

My friend Josh Agerton loves these little Vespa scooters. I don't think he was looking at this kind, but I think he was looking at buying a regular scooter pretty seriously last year. I loved this when I saw it on my friend Steve Beard's site called Thunderstruck.

No Man is an Island

2009-02-17T13:13:00.000-08:00

Over the last few weeks, my wife and I have been watching lots of movies that we have missed since our daughter was born nearly two years ago. We have free HBO for a couple of months and have all but neglected our Netflix account. If it weren’t for these sources, we would not see movies. My friend JD says that when you have kids, you go from the theater to Netflix. Out of all these movies we have watched, there have been two movies that have really remained with me over the last few weeks. Does that ever happen to you? Do you ever watch a movie that stays with you? It’s either the story, or a compelling character, or perhaps even something that shakes you to the core.

For me, it has been The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford, and There Will Be Blood. These are two of the most incredible movies I have seen in a very long time, and there is a vein of sadness that runs through both of these films. The main characters in both films are completely and utterly alone. They have family and friends, yes, but they do not really let these people in. After a time of this self inflicted isolation, these men begin lose trust in people. They develop a sense of paranoia and assume that all are out to get them. They push away those closest to them away, causing conflict that isn’t necessary. These were men with wealth, respect, and power. Other men wanted to be them, and in the end, they are alone. They have no one.

I think of how easy it is to fall into these kinds of patterns. We can easily become isolated individuals if we aren’t careful. We learn to work alone because we often don’t trust others to do what needs to be done. We don’t let people in because we don’t want to be found out. I think also, that we are afraid of being hurt, but in the process of protecting ourselves, we end up doing just that. I have learned that to embrace love is to embrace suffering. God takes risks by loving us. He lets us in even though we have a history of leaving. But to embrace love is to also embrace what makes life worth living. To be alone is to be in Hell, apart from all things that are beautiful. I’ll leave you with a quote that says this better than I can.

"To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will certainly be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one, not even to an animal. Wrap it up carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements; lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket - safe, dark, motionless, airless - it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable... The only place outside of Heaven where you can be perfectly safe from all the dangers of love, is hell."
- CS Lewis, The Four Loves

Coming around again...maybe

2009-01-15T20:11:00.000-08:00

Well, apparently, this is a struggle for me, to blog I mean. My wife has really been good about maintaining hers lately, but not me. I like to space mine out over five months. I blog just enough so that blogger doesn't delete my account. I don't really think they do that, because if they did, my blog would have been taken down a long time ago.

So lets have some updates, shall we?

Alison, Ava, and I moved to Fort Worth, Texas just before Christmas and we love it.

I started a new job at downtown church.

We moved from a brand new home in Birmingham to a home that was built in 1929 in Fort Worth. A little drafty.

Our cat officially hates us after the move and has tried to run away no less than five times in the last month.

Not all of our furniture made it through the move unscathed.

My commute to work is short. I haven't had to buy in over two weeks.

More to come. Hope to post again before May.

Listen

2008-09-16T10:01:00.000-07:00

Last week, I went to a conference and the unexpected happened. Most of the speakers were very predictable. If you have been to a ministry conference, you often know what to expect. Conference speakers have their own jargon, they have "sugar stick" moments in their talks, and they look and dress the part. This particular conference happened to be for student ministers, so the testosterone was heavy, the facial hair was manicured, and the hair cuts were spiky and hawked up. My friend Joe calls this "Sexy Church." It was.

But just when I thought all hope for something different was gone, the unlikely happened. The Word of God spoke and all that were there heard.

As the last session began, the speaker came out, and in a tone of humility began to talk of how the Word of God used to move people. Its words were read out and people fell on their faces and repented. No music, no candles, no mood setting. Just the word of God spoken over the people.

He then said, to understand Romans 9:1-5, you must understand Romans 1-8.

"I speak the truth in Christ—I am not lying, my conscience confirms it in the Holy Spirit— I have great sorrow and unceasing anguish in my heart. For I could wish that I myself were cursed and cut off from Christ for the sake of my brothers, those of my own race, the people of Israel. Theirs is the adoption as sons; theirs the divine glory, the covenants, the receiving of the law, the temple worship and the promises. Theirs are the patriarchs, and from them is traced the human ancestry of Christ, who is God over all, forever praised! Amen." -Romans 9:1-5

He spoke briefly about the urgency of the Gospel. He talked about being willing to throw yourself into Hell so that others may hear the Word. He then set his bible down on the pulpit, and began to speak...

"Paul, a servant of Jesus Christ, called to be an apostle and set apart for the Gospel of God..." and he proceeded to recite Romans chapters 1-8. Eight chapters of the Scriptures, memorized. Beautiful.

He did this with a posture of humility, and yet his words were passionate. It read like a sermon, and felt like the Spirit was washing over us. I followed in my bible for a few lines, but then sat back closed my eyes, and let the Holy Word of God wash over me like the tide. I not only heard, but I listened.

I have never been a part of anything like this before. You might think that this might be a boring thing to listen to, but to hear the passion in his voice, and to truly listen to the Word was incredible. A few months back, my friends Josh and JD and I were at the Abbey of Gethsemani and JD talked to us about the power of memorizing and reciting Scripture. To hear His Holy Word spoken by the mouths of His people must please our Father. Even more so to have it written on our hearts and for our lives to reflect it.

My friends and I are working to commit Matthew 5-7 to memory. This has been a difficult task, but my experience last week has given me a new strength, and I have seen the power of God's Word spoken through and to His people. I have begun to read it aloud, and I even have it on CD and listen to it in the car on the way to work. I am trying in every way to memorize the Sermon on the Mount, but more than that, I am trying to listen.

"Incline your ear and come to me. Listen, that you may live..." -Is. 55:3

Alison's Article

2008-09-15T13:31:00.000-07:00

Some of you may know that my wife, Alison, writes. She writes very well.

She has been writing for a webizine called UNGRIND for a couple of months now.

Check out her latest article here and check out her blog in my blog links.

Suffering and the Cross

2008-09-02T14:19:00.000-07:00

A couple of weeks ago, I read two books back to back: My Name is Asher Lev and The Gift of Asher Lev, both by Chaim Potok. Potok was a Jewish writer and literary genius who often wrote of the Jewish cloister life in New York City.

Asher Lev, the protagonist in the stories is a prodigy child artist that paints things that makes his Hassidic community quite uncomfortable. He draws pictures everywhere. On the walls, in the margins of the Torah, everywhere. He brings much grief and embarrassment to his family, and he is pressured to stop drawing and painting.

When he is about 18, Lev is painting artwork for his first show and attempting to depict suffering in a painting and cannot think of a Jewish depiction of suffering that is strong enough to communicate his pain, so he draws from Christian imagery; the Cross. Lev paints a crucifixion. He comes under such criticism that he is forced to leave his community, because good Jewish boys never paint, and if they do, they most certainly never dabble in the goyish art world.

This story, for me, reminded me of the cross and what it represents. We can commercialize the cross into wrought iron renditions and paint them and decorate them, adding gems and rhinestones to them. You know what I am talking about. You might even own one. I do. But the cross, in its pure form, embodies humility, suffering, and love.

For the Christian, to embrace Christ is to also embrace the cross. It is to be “crucified with Christ,” and it is meant to be the death of us. But it is also the source of our life. Asher Lev searches the art world to find suffering in artistic forms and eventually comes to recognize that the crucified Christ is the best representation of suffering. But he misses the “why” of the cross. It is God's love for His people that leads Christ on this path of suffering.

The second photo is White Crucifixion, by Marc Chagall, 1938. He was a Jewish artist who actually painted the Crucified Lord.

What do you call your grandparents?

2008-08-27T15:17:00.000-07:00

Click on the photo to read the license plate.

I grew up with some pretty simple names for my grandparents, how about you? I had a "Grandma" and "Grandpa," and I had a "Papa," and a "Nanny." Maybe those last ones are sort of funny sounding, but when you hear adults refer to a grandparent as "Mee-maw" or "Po-Po," this is comical to me. I'm sorry.

I took this pic with my phone yesterday because I have seen this woman around town a number of times. Oddly enough, I have never actually seen her with any children. But apparently her name is "Nana. Or "Bad Nana" to be precise.

My daughter has a "Nana," which is my wife's mother. Alison's dad wants to be "Grandfather," or "Grandpa" (quick with the -pa), but the way Ava says it, it comes out Gay-Gay. He is an English professor and wants his name to sound distinguished. My dad and step-mom are "Pops" and "Gi-Gi," and my mom and step-dad and "Grammy(maybe changing to Dixie)" and "Papa."

All this to say, I have a difficult time keeping up with all the names.

I had a friend in high school that called her grandmother "Bat."

My father-in-law has a colleague whose grandchildren call him "Bob." His name is really Andy.

I have an uncle whose grandchildren call him "Kahuna," as in the Big Kahuna.

My mom worked with a woman whose children had a "Skinny Granny" and a "Fat Granny." (I would love to see "Fat Granny" on a license plate.)

Is it a more endearing notion to have cutesy name for a grandparent?

Are You?

2008-08-21T07:45:00.000-07:00

"I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me." -Galatians 2:20

The verse and theme for our Beach Retreat trip this summer is printed here on this T-shirt. We spent three glorious days on a Florida beach last month, and we spent time going though this and asking the question, "Are you...?"

This verse has been with me for a few months now. A couple of friends and I spent a day at the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky back in May. This verse was spoken aloud several times that day, and I began to let it wash over me and it began to seep in. That afternoon, while observing the hours with the monks, the scripture reader read out this verse, the verse we had been marinating in all day. Isn't it amazing when the Father does things like this. I never seem to expect it, even though it happens this way all the time.

So, I have committed this verse to memory, saying it out and asking myself the question, "are you...crucified with Christ? Is is He who lives in you? Is the life you live in the body lived by faith in the Son. who loves you and gave himself for you?"

This concept of Christ in me is a difficult one. I have always approached life as Christ with me. But that day, riding in the car, my friend JD began to talk about how it changes everything to live with Christ inside you. So much more seems possible this way. It seems to strengthen a person from within.

So, Are You?

Oye Como Va

2008-05-06T08:32:00.000-07:00

Oye Como Va, or in its English translation, "Hear how it goes," my story that is. Or should I say Alison and Ava's story?

So last Friday, Alison and Ava opted to spend the morning at the mall while I stayed home to work on my sermon. As I was spending my rare quite moments studying and writing, Alison called me to tell me that she just saw someone that she thinks was Carlos Santana. WHAT?

She arrived at the mall before the shops open, but the main entrance is open for early morning walkers and such. So as my girls made their way around to the main entrance, they saw two men approaching them down some stairs. Ava was in her stroller and Alison noticed one of the men looking and smiling at Ava. She said hi to him and he responded by looking at Ava and saying, "Congratulations." I guess congrats is always in order when your kid is as good looking as ours, but a funny response, I think nonetheless. The other guy, Alison said, looked big like a football player. The Santana look-alike was wearing a black suit with a bright purple shirt, a hat and aviator shades. A little odd for 9:30 in the morning. So she calls me and says that she thinks it was Santana, but it could have been someone else, so I look up his tour schedule and he was playing here in Birmingham that night, probably staying at the Wynfrey Hotel at our Galleria. We assume the big guy was his bodyguard.

I began to wish I had not stayed home that morning, but I was so proud that my daughter's first celebrity encounter was a rock and roll legend like Carlos Santana. Very proud moment, and I wanted to share it.

It appears that my last several blogs have been music related. I may need to break the mold on the next one. We shall see.

A Proud Moment

2008-04-22T10:02:00.000-07:00

I called my wife as I began my commute home yesterday. She informed me that I would have been proud of my daughter for something she had done today. So here is what happened:

A few months ago, I was playing with Ava in her room, and we were listening to music. I had popped a Ben Harper CD into the pink floral patterned stereo in her room and we danced and played. There is one particular song that Ava and I sing together, or at least I like to think she sings along with me called Everything. Here are some of the lyrics:

Behind all of your tears
There's a smile
There's a smile
Behind all of the rain
There's a sunshine
For miles and miles

Oh- Everything
Everything
You mean everything
You mean everything
Everything to me
Everything to me

We sing this during bath time, to help her fall asleep, or just for fun. Well yesterday, Alison found the CD in the stereo and started to play it...and Ava danced. She loved it. Alison brought Ava back into the living room after a while and turned around and saw that Ava was headed back to her room. She had returned to listen to Mr. Harper's music and to dance for a while longer. I know there will be a day soon where the Wiggles and the Doodlebops descend upon our lives in full force, so this is my moment in the sun where I celebrate my daughter and I sharing the love for good music. I accept that there may come a day when we may not listen to the same music; That Willie Nelson, The Stones, Johnny Cash, and the wonderful Mr. Ben Harper may not be enjoyed by everyone in the house. But for a time, we are in agreement that Ben Harper makes you want to dance.

An Evening with the David Crowder Band*

2008-04-15T09:38:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday evening, I took a group from our church to see David Crowder in concert here in Birmingham. I can't remember the last time I saw them play live, but I think it was when I was still living in Waco. Seeing them play many times in college, attending UBC as a student at Baylor, listening to their music over the years, and getting to know some of the band members, it felt like going to see old friends in many ways. I think that some of my group felt the same way, even though this was their first time to even hear them.

If you look closely, you can see that David Crowder is hold a Guitar Hero guitar. His drummer converted it into a working instrument, and he played a song with it. All the junior high (along with all the 30 year old) "HEROs" went wild over this. It was one of those evenings that to call it a concert or to call it a worship gathering alone wouldn't quite capture what was happening. We had a lot of fun, and we sang out songs in praise for our Savior.

At one point in the concert, they sang the song Everything Glorious from the album Remedy. The lyrics have remained with me and I have been clinging to them the last few days. I have heard this song many times, but reading them, and singing them with people I knew and didn't know seemed to trace them into my heart. Here are a few lines from the song:

The day is brighter here with You
The night is lighter than its hue
Would lead me to believe
Which leads me to believe

(chorus)
You make everything glorious
You make everything glorious
You make everything glorious
And I am Yours
What does that make me?

I am preaching in a few weeks on Confirmation Sunday. I think that this will be my message:

He makes everything glorious; Well, what does that make us.

Beautiful

2008-04-08T08:06:00.000-07:00

So this billboard is directly across the street from our church. I took this from the front lawn. I don't know if there are words that can capture the beauty of this, so I will say nothing. I have questions, but no answers.

First Year

2008-03-17T13:51:00.001-07:00

We made it! Ava celebrated her 1st birthday last week with our friends and family in Texas. It was like most first birthdays: way too many gifts, a few tears from the birthday girl, and Ava's first encounter with that much sugar at once.

Before the birthday festivities began, Alison and I took the opportunity with friends and family present, to have a time of dedicating Ava to the Lord. We felt it would be a timely way of doing things, considering that many were meeting Ava for the first time. We were celebrating her first year in this world, as well as committing to bring her up in a fashion that says this world cannot tell you who you are, only Jesus.

Thanks for checking back in. Maybe I will post again before the end of the year.

An Evening with Ben Harper

2007-10-30T07:55:00.000-07:00

On Sunday evening, a friend and I spent the evening at the Alabama Theater in Birmingham listening to Ben Harper and the Innocent Criminals with an audience that was as diversified as the artist, Mr. Harper, himself. If you haven't heard of Ben Harper, you might have heard him in some of his joint projects and weren’t aware. He has been associated with the likes of Willie Nelson, Pearl Jam, John Mayer, Jack Johnson, and The Blind Boys of Alabama. My first introduction to Ben Harper was in 2001 when a friend of mine was married and he and his new bride danced to a song that I cannot remember the name of, but was filled with soul.

The previous issue of Relevant Magazine (Sept.-Oct. 2007) features Ben Harper as their cover story. The writer of this article states something about Ben that I also experienced at the show here in Birmingham, in that it "...feels unique, special, like Harper is pulling off a once-in-a-career act." One of the things my friend and I noticed is that Harper makes a very real attempt to connect with his audience. He goes out of his way to make it feel more than just a good show. He constantly thanks the crowd for their applause, but in a very sincere way, not out of obligation. At one point, he quieted the crowd, and his band played softly. He came to the edge of the stage, leaving his mic behind, and sang without it. All this took place in a beautiful theater with outstanding acoustics, and the result was a very appreciative audience.

I have discussed this with a couple of my friends that are pastors and ministers. It can be very challenging at times to "reach your audience." Sometimes, we can get caught up in our delivery, or in the academic side of a message, and in the process, we lose our audience. I am not comparing pastors to showmen, but I think we do have an obligation to connect with those we are teaching, and to tell the Story well. So what do you think?

Needless to say, if you like good music and Ben Harper is playing in a city near you, the show is well worth the ticket price.

Prayer for Friends

2007-10-08T12:09:00.000-07:00

To any who read my blog on a regular basis, I would like to draw your attention to another blog.

http://www.lizapollok.blogspot.com/

Alison and I have been friends for a long time with the most beautiful family you will ever meet, the Polloks. Scot and Liza were mentors to us, were a part of our wedding, and have ministered to us in ways they will never know. They have two beautiful children and make outstanding parents.

This blog is dedicated to Liza and her journey toward brain surgery. If you have a chance to go to the site, I encourage you to start from the beginning, with posts beginning in September. This will help you to get the full picture of their story and will help you to know how to pray for them.

Liza will have surgery on Wednesday, so please pray for her as the day approaches. If you take the time, you will be blessed as you read this blog. Their trust in God is so sweet and fragrant, and their understanding of His goodness in all of this will take your breath away.

If you feel like it, leave a comment and let them know you are praying for them. They will appreciate your prayers. They have listed some specific requests on this blog.

Talladega Days

2007-10-05T06:51:00.000-07:00

Okay, let me preface this blog by saying I am from Texas. We love things big in Texas, and we are not too proud to tell you we think our state is better than yours. In fact, it is agreed upon at birth, and stamped on your birth certificate, as a good will ambassador for the state that you are to spread the news that Texas was its own country once and we didn't need the U.S, they needed us, and our capital building in Austin is taller than the U.S. capital builiding, and we are allowed to fly the state flag higher than...you get the idea.

So in Texas, there is a love for the sport known as NASCAR. I even have an uncle whose name is Dale(I am serious) who Alison and I call Uncle NASCAR because of his love of the sport. I grew up watching the races on Sundays and kept up somewhat with the sport a little, but mostly because the men in my family watched the races and shouted quotes from Days of Thunder at the TV like, "Rubbin's racin'!"

It wasn't until we moved to Alabama that I truly understood the affection people have for this sport. Living in Birmingham, we are relatively close to Talladega Superspeedway, the premire venue for the greatness that is NASCAR. One of the students in my ministry actually had the option to skip school today because of the UAW-Ford 500 that will be held in Talladega this weekend. That race isn't until Sunday! Out of school! Now that is called dedication to the sport when the schools in Talladega County let kids out for the race weekend.

We have been surprised at the number of people that we know who are unlikely NASCAR fans that will rush home, or skip out on a social gathering to watch this sport that they will simply call, with great mystique, and a little misty eyed, "The Race."

So this native Texan has learned that when in Rome, act like the Romans, and so I send out to all of you a blessing and greeting from Alabama, in the words of Ricky Bobby, "Shake and Bake." Shake and bake people...shake and bake.

Ava and Me

2007-09-17T10:08:00.000-07:00

Here is a recent photo of Ava and me. This is the look she has on her face most of the time. She studies Alison and myself with observant eyes, seeming to drink in all that surrounds her. Sometimes, she appears to be an old soul, and seems to understand more than should be possible for a person who has only been here for 6 months.

She can also get pretty wild too. I think it might be jekell-and-hyde syndrome. Ah, the joys of parenting.

Bilbo and the Sabbath

2007-08-28T06:41:00.000-07:00

Have you ever felt like you have lived a lifetime in just a matter of a few weeks. In an email to a friend the other day, I told him that like Bilbo Baggins, I was "feeling thin, like butter scraped over too much bread." He said he also has been feeling this same way lately as well. As I talk to my wife and my friend it seems like we are all feeling like Bilbo, and that we could use a vacation, and like Bilbo, we would like nothing more than to never return from this holiday that we so much desire.

For me personally, I am thinking my weariness stems from the lack of a true Sabbath. I think that with the way our society is structured today, that rest is not easily found by most. How about this statement: "I can rest when I'm dead." Have you ever said this or had someone say it to you. And yet the Scriptures tell us that rest is intimately connected to LIFE. Rest prolongs life, it improves the quality of life, it is like air, and water, and food; we need this rest, this sabbath.

So if rest is so important, than why have we all but erased it from our lives? What is it that keeps us from our sabbath? Is it our schedules, our lifestyle, or our own fear of what might happen if we sit still for more than five minutes?

I don't know about you, but I could use a vacation.

A onsie made for Ava

2007-07-06T12:32:00.000-07:00

On my wife's blog, she posted a photo of a onsie. (See "Alison's Blog" in my links)

Well, here is a onsie I think Ava should be proud to wear.

Where have the days gone?

2007-07-06T11:29:00.000-07:00

Can you believe that it is July 6th already? Today, which incidentally is also my dad's birthday, I came into the office, looked at the calendar, and could not believe that we are already this far into the summer. And because school begins so much earlier than it did when I was a kid, (I think some start at the ungodly early date of something like August 8th) July means that summer is almost over.

I can remember being young and the days seemed like lifetimes. Not in a bad way, but in such a way that everything was slower moving. Slower passing were the hours of my youth, and I think I wish to have those days back. I don't know why this has grasped me so. I think a few things are contributing, like my daughter will be 4 months old in a few days, and we are coming up on our year anniversary start date at Mountain Chapel. I think I am very aware of how quickly life can pass you by if you aren't intentional about slowing down.

For some reason, when we lived and worked in Wilmore, life didn't seem so fast moving. People weren't in such a rush. We weren't in such a rush. But we didn't have a child then, and that makes a big difference. I sometimes think back over the last few months, and life is like a blur.

Have any of you experienced this phenomenon of lost time that I have?

Give me that Online Religion

2007-05-31T11:37:00.000-07:00

OK, how many ways can we be connected to our friends. We have cell phones, IM, texting, not to mention email, myspace, facebook, and all the other sources like these. How does one keep up? Last month's issue of Fast Company, a great magazine that Alison turned me onto featured an article on the creator of Facebook. This Ivy League college dropout has changed the way we communicate. Most of the students in my student ministry are on Facebook, so with the prompting of Alison, I became a facebooker.

What has happened you might be wondering? Well, I will tell you. I have connected with people I haven't seen in years, spoken to close friends I have lost contact with, talked to people I graduated from high school, college, and seminary with, and connected more with some of my current friends because of it.

But I am also spending more time on here talking to people than on the phone or even face to face? So have we become a generation of people that prefer our computers and technology to communiate with others rather than a personal conversation?

A few years ago, I read a book called Give Me that Online Religion by Brenda E. Brasher. She discusses the need for religious leaders to be connected online. She wrote this book 2001 and isn't completely up to date on technology, but that isn't what the book is about. It gives sort of a pros and cons list of the online communities.

So my question is this: Can we have community, true ekklesia/church, with our online interaction with others?

A new blog I am reading

2007-05-23T14:52:00.000-07:00

I have linked new blog in my Links section. It is the one called Rob's Blog. Check it out.

Rob and I attended seminary together. He is hands down one of the funniest people I have ever met. I have never had so much fun translating Hebrew as I had with Rob. There are books of the Bible and Italian pastry's that I will never view the same way again after spending time with Rob. I wish I could explain more, but there are church people that read this blog, so I will leave it at that.

Rob is a pastor in Cape Girardeau, Missouri. He also loves poetry, art, interpretive dance, and show tunes. Read his blog, you'll be glad you did. Very insightful stuff to be found there.

Ava

2007-04-26T10:49:00.000-07:00

Alright, so here she is looking cuter than ever. Ava has entered our lives and we are changed people for it. She came and joined us about 7 weeks ago. Sometimes though, it feels like she has always been here. There are unspeakable joys that come with parenting, along with fears that will keep you up in the night.

She captured our hearts the moment she arrived. Like her dad, Ava doesn't sleep very much at night. I've told friends, you almost don't mind being woken up in the night ...almost. Alison is a great mom and impresses me every day with how much she is able to get done with a baby to care for as well.

The world has changed for the Frenzels. Stay tuned for more updates that are sure to come.

Just Breathe

2007-04-19T12:41:00.000-07:00

These last few days, prayer has been on the forefront of my mind. As the nation mourns along with those at Virginia Tech, I too am grieved to think of how terrible this must be for the friends and families of the victims. A few years ago, a similar incident took place in Killeen, Texas at a Luby’s cafeteria, in which there were two of my family members gunned down in similar fashion. Incidents such as these bring us to our knees, sometimes in prayer, and sometimes with no words at all to speak.

Something that has struck a chord with me as I have watched the news coverage of this tragic event has been the convergence of students and faculty to prayer vigils. There are photos and footage of the campus coming together, not expressing outrage, but instead coming together in solidarity, with tears, holding hands, and praying together.

I am reminded of when I was in college living in College Station, Texas and the Bonfire collapsed killing Texas A&M students. The campus came together and prayed and found comfort in this.

I also think of an article on Jessica Simpson my wife told me about recently. While in New York, Jessica stepped into famous cathedral to escape the paparazzi and to pray. When asked about her time in the church, she talked about how she went it, lit candles, and just breathed prayer. Breathing prayer. I like this, even if it comes from an unlikely source.

There are times when there are no words. Romans 8:26 tells us that the Spirit intercedes for us when we do not know how to pray or what to pray. But praying is something that I think is directly connected to being alive. Even people who claim to not believe in God find themselves praying at times. Its as if praying is encoded in our DNA. It is deeply connected with life. God hears us, by way of prayer. He is listening to us, even when we can’t find the words to say.

So when the campus of Virginia Tech gathers at these prayer vigils, when the woes of living in this world seem too much to handle, we need not struggle to find the proper words to say. Just breathe and let God hear you.

Pimp My Soul

2007-02-12T09:18:00.000-08:00

Last weekend, we had some of the young adults from the church over to the house for a visioning and planning session. One of the points on the agenda was to think of a name for our gathering time and a name for our group. There are many in the church that find the title "young adults" confusing and most in our group find it bland and non-descriptive. We tossed around ideas for a while when one of my closest friends in the group said, "wait a minute, Brandon, I've got it...we can call it Pimp My Soul."

There were obvious outbursts at the absurdity of having a church service called "Pimp My Soul." No one would ever sign off on this of course. We all had a good laugh at this and more ideas were thrown out that only encouraged us to keep moving in this direction. But when I began to think about a specific show on MTV, I began to like this idea even more.

Think about the show Pimp My Ride with me for a moment: They show a person with a beat up and run down car trying to drive it around town. Xzibit shows up on their doorstep with the good news that MTV has decided to restore the car. Xzibit drives off in the car and the next scene has the car limping into West Coast Customs and the work crew reluctantly taking on the job.

They show the skilled artists, after planning and executing a complete restoration (and making major improvements), returning the car to its owner.

I know that this may break down under theological scrutiny, but I thought about how "Pimp My Soul" could work (let me have my fun). It is a place where broken down souls come and have a complete restoration done. After the proper "pimping out," the soul is made new.

So let me know what you think about a new ministry I might start up called "Pimp My Soul."

A Vow of Silence

2006-12-15T09:01:00.000-08:00

I fully recognize that it has been a while since I last posted, nearly two months in fact. I have also noticed the lack of blogging to be a trend among some of my friends and fellow bloggers as well. But I don't think it is a failure to be introspective, or because there is a lack of reflection in our lives. I think that some of us have learned to be silent. There are times in our lives that we encounter crisis or difficult situations and we can respond in a number of ways. Some of us want to talk openly about the problem, voicing our grievances and letting others know how we have been wronged. Others like to report the information they know, perhaps because it makes them feel important, needed, or close to something. Maybe they find purpose in this. In my humble opinion, these people often do more harm than good. They might seem removed from the situation, and are simply reporting their findings, but they are a clanging symbol.

Then there are those that are silent. They say nothing, attracting attention from no one, remaining quiet. But just because they do not speak on the subject matter does not mean that they are doing nothing. Because they are not engaged in a war of words does not mean that they have removed themselves from the situation. Perhaps they are the ones doing the most. Some may read this post and will not understand what I am speaking of. Others will identify heavily and will find themselves in the heat of a battle.

This leads me to think of my brothers at the Abbey of Gethsemani. The monks at Gethsemani are silent more often than they speak. They spend most of their day in prayer. If you ever have a chance to go to the Abbey in Trappist, Kentucky, you will see that they truly are engaged with God. They pray for their cloister, they pray for the Church, and they pray for the world. Their silence allows them to often see the world differently than if they had been distracted with noise of mindless chatter. I think that some of my brothers and sisters in the Church and in the Academy could learn a lot from the monks in Kentucky.

Sometimes, I think, we speak before our thoughts are fully formed. Speech and words are a gift from God. We can communicate so much love and beauty through words, but we can also commit great crimes against humanity, the church, and God with these words as well. As a minister, people feel the need to let me know how well I am doing my job. One person's hurtful words can cancel out ten people's encouragements. The hurtful words stick, while the positive is forced out of the peripheral.

There are times when we must speak up for those that cannot defend themselves. There are times to shout from the rooftops that there is an injustice being done. But, there are also times to be silent. There are moments that it is more helpful to the kingdom and to our community for us to not speak on the matter at hand. It is then that we should put down our weapons and seek the face of the Lord.

Thomas Merton says this:
"How tragic it is that they who have nothing to express are continually expressing themselves, like nervous gunners, firing burst after burst of ammunition into the dark, where there is no enemy. The reason for their talk is: death. Death is the enemy who seems to confront them at every moment in the deep darkness and silence of their own being. So they keep shouting at death. They confound their lives with noise. They stun their own ears with meaningless words, never discovering that their hearts are rooted in silence that is not death but life. They chatter themselves to death, fearing life as it were death." (262, No Man is an Island)

These are times that I longingly desire to spend the day with my brothers at Gethsemani.

No snacks allowed!

2006-10-22T00:26:00.000-07:00

Tonight, a large group from our church tailgated before going into a local college football game. Alison, being five months pregnant, packs snacks along with her all the time now. She is never sure when she will get hungry, but is sure that it will happen. She was all set for the game tonight, and had a pretty good stash of granola bars, fruit chews, snackwell cookies, amongst other items that were to be consumed at her evening snack times.

Her plans were foiled as we were entering the game, however, by a young woman checking bags and purses. This young woman acted as if she had hit the jackpot at a Vegas slot machine when she reached inside Alison's purse. She greedily confiscated the items in their entirity as she ecstatically stated, "Wow, you have a lot of goodies in here. You can't take any of this in." She snatched up the goods without even offering us the opportunity to return those items to the car. It is safe to say that this woman and her friends probably poured over their pirates booty tonight like a well costumed child on Halloween. We entered the ballgame only to see that there was only one concession stand open in the entire venue, and like at most sporting events, the prices deterred us from a purchase.

I don't know why, but we felt like there was a great injustice done to us. We could have turned around and returned these items to our car, but the snacks were taken and we felt scolded as there were people lined up behind us waiting to get into the game. I sit here writing this now and think of the social injustices that the impovershed face. Those that do not have access to medical treatment because of the place they were born. I think of those that have been stripped of everything by their own government, and when foreign aid arrives, the goods never reach those it was intended to help.

Lord I pray that you will redeem your creation. I ask you to pour out hope for a better day to the war ravaged areas of this world. Send your Spirit to your people and strengthen us for the work you have called us to do. Let us offer our hands in helping to make this world a better place; let our path be the way of the cross.

An Evening with Donald Miller

2006-10-18T11:01:00.000-07:00

Last night, a group from our church went to see Derek Webb and Don Miller in a concert/talk session/discussion thing. In many ways throughout the evening, I was blessed by what I heard and saw from the stage. I also ran into a friend from seminary which was a blessing and a surprise. Julie is serving at the Wesley Foundation at Auburn U. She was my small group orientation leader when I first began seminary, and helped us to transition well when we moved to Kentucky. It was good to see an old friend last night, as she was bring a group to the concert as well.

Derek Webb was an outstanding showman, armed with a twelve-string guitar, he escorted us into the battle zone of social justice, poverty, the war/peace debates, and to the foot of the cross. Judging from the cheers, his most popular songs are still the ones about the cross and the Christ. He is saying things other Christian artists are not, for fear of not selling records. He is even giving his latest album away for free. Go to freederekwebb.com to get Mockingbird, his latest. It is always a treat to see an accoustic Derek Webb in concert.

It was a bit surreal to see Don Miller in person. He has been a cultural icon for twentysomethings for the last couple of years now and I wasn't sure what to expect. He was clean cut and had a short haircut and no soulpatch was to be seen. He wore khaki pants, slick shoes and a long sleeve button down with the sleeves rolled up. I half expected a black leather jacket and motorcycle boots. I am not sure why, but I was surprised to see a guy that looked like he was going to church. He has a voice that is as easy to listen to as his words on the pages of Blue Like Jazz are to read. In short, I like Don Miller a lot. He seems like a guy I would like to invite over for dinner or take home to Thanksgiving.

There were things he said though, that didn't settle well with our group. It wasn't outright disagreement, but it was more along the lines of, "how does he come to that conclusion," or "how does he back that claim up with the Scriptures?" The thing I would say about Don Miller is that he is a student of the culture. He is not a trained theologian, nor a trained sociologist, and he is not a pastor. He is simply a Christian trying to make sense of this mess of a world we find ourselves in, and he interprets these things in light of his experiences and writes books about them. Why is it that people can get so angry when people like Miller and Webb say things that they don't agree with? I wish we as the Church could interact with others better. Why don't we play nice with others? Leaving the show last night, I found myself disagreeing with some fundamental issues (not fundamentalist issues), but for maybe the first time, I did not feel threatened. I looked at what these two men are doing and saying, and I looked across thee audience of most twentysomethings and was thankful that social justice, peace, and truth were being pursued in response to the cross with this generation. I found myself laying down a sword and not wanting to fight. Perhaps it is the way these men approach their issues, or perhaps a change has been made in me.

Either way, I felt blessed and encouraged after my Evening with Don Miller and Derek Webb. If you have a chance to see either of these two in person, I think you will not be disappointed.

Keeping Watch is for the Birds

2006-09-13T10:01:00.000-07:00

A couple of posts back, I talked about the disciples and their falling asleep when Jesus asked them to keep watch with him. In that same spirit, let me share with you something that I experienced yesterday.

Upon returning to the church after lunch, it had started to rain again. It had been raining off and on all day. Each day, before entering the church through the side door, I look to the right at a large cross afixed to the roof of the sanctuary building, and before walking into "work," I reflect on the cross, just for a moment. Yesterday though, I saw a huge hawk perched on top of the cross, and I stopped and observed him for a few minutes. He stood there on the cross, scanning the horizon for what seemed like miles and miles. Rain was coming down on him, but he stayed there, watching and listening. At one point, I whistled to try to get him to look in my direction. He didn't. after three or four attempts, he finally turned, giving me what I wanted, but looking annoyed with me. I was interrupting him from his watch.

I have always been impressed with hawks. Growing up in Texas, I used to see them perched on telephone lines and fence posts as we drove though the harsh landscape. They always seemed so still, so powerful, so controled. But what I was most impressed with was their patience to sit, wait, and watch. I was a jittery kid that couldn't sit still, and I still can't sit for too long without becoming fidgitty.

So yesterday, upon seeing this bird sitting on my "reflecting cross," I took this as a sign. I am just now again becoming a person that sees signs. I feel that as I child, I had the eyes to see these kinds of things, and the imagination to decipher what they could possibly mean. But as I grew into adulthood, I feel like that part of me went away; it died a little bit. In the last two years though, that area of my life has become re-awakened, and new life has been breathed into it.

So, I ask all three of my readers, do you see signs, or just coincidences? Do you see Red Moons in Kentucky skies and try to explain what is going on with solar and lunar positioning? Do you see hawks perched on crosses as merely a bird looking for lunch? Or do you see God communicating, ever so gently with his children?

I, myself, am reminded to keep watch.

(The photo is of the chuch and my "reflecting cross." I couldn't get a photo of the hawk, but will try when he returns.)

We made it

2006-08-26T23:12:00.000-07:00

I appreciate the patience and the gentle prodding ( thanks JD) from those who have let me know that they actually read my blog. It has taken some time to get settled, but the Fabulous Frenzels are back baby!

We have moved to Birmingham, Alabama and I began working a couple of weeks ago at a church here. We moved here on a Friday afternoon and officially reported for work the following Monday, although we came to church with no official duties that Sunday. The bishop was preaching that Sunday morning and I joked with Alison that he must have heard we were coming and that it would be my first day and he wanted to extend a personal welcome. In reality, he did more than that. He personally charged me with the responsibility to be a leader for young adults in the conference from the pulpit in his sermon! Nice. No pressure there.

There are so many things that have changed for us. We have moved to a new town with a new job, a new community, a new apartment, and I got a new computer. It is the new iMac and I am operating on a pretty big learning curve here. Like learning how to operate this new computer, I am still learning how it feels to live, work, and serve in this new place. We have been outserved and welcomed beyond our imagination. We truly love it here, and yet we are torn, because a piece of us remains in Kentucky.

I miss my home state, Texas, but Wilmore is a special place. It is a place where I learned to die and along with my close friends, we were baptised there. Not physically, but spiritually. I remember being told often in seminary, "remember your baptism." For me, my baptism in the waters that flow through the halls, classrooms, and chapels at Asbury seminary will forever be remembered. It was a place I learned to truly live, to love honestly, and to die well. For those of you that experienced this with me, I am glad we were able to do this together.

2006-07-30T00:17:00.000-07:00

These are photos of interest for my previous post. Enjoy and feel free to comment.

Stay here and keep watch with me

2006-07-27T23:15:00.000-07:00

Then he said to them,"My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death. Stay here and keep watch with me." Matthew 26:38

I am preparing to leave Kentucky, the Asbury Seminary community, and some of the closest friends I have ever known. I rejoice in this time of entering the ministry and exiting seminary, but there is still much to process. My friend Josh suggested that we spend a day in retreat, so that we as friends could process through this time of transition in prayer, conversation and hanging out with monks.

"Monks?" you say. Yes, Monks. We spent a Monday at the Abbey of Gethsemani, a trappist monastary about an hour from Lexington. It is fully working farm and monastary and you can visit their website here. They sell cheese, fruitcakes, fudge, and other items in a gift shop. They also have about 3000 acres of farm and woods open for exploring.

Josh and I set out to find some statues that our friend at FARMstrong told us about. These statues are of the sleeping disciples and a praying Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. When we arrived at the statues, we had been hiking for almost a mile. We were told to be prepared to be moved, but our experiences we amplified by other unforseen events.

At the bottom of a hill, there lies a statues of three slumbering disciples. They are a little larger than life scale, and at the top of the hill, there is a statue of Jesus, on his knees, praying, and in agony. It is very moving and my words of description cannot do it justice.

As I stood next to these slumbering disciples, Josh asked me in a slightly alarmed tone, "Brandon, is that a snake by your foot?" Because of the seriousness of his tone and the reverence of the situation, I knew he was not joking, so I jumped away, and turning back, I saw the thick black snake Josh spoke of. This snake apparently lives under the statue and came up to sun on the warm statue. "How ironic," I thought, after my heart beat slowed to a normal rate, that it was with the sleeping disciples that the snake would dwell.

Josh and I began to discuss the spiritual implications of the symbolism of the Biblical serpent and what this means for the sleeping Chrisitan. Our true goal was to get to the bottom of what it means to be a disciple that stays AWAKE, rather than the sleepers. Jesus asked his disciples to wait on him. But what does it look like to wait for Jesus? What does it look like to be a disciple who remains awake? The conclusion can never be reached if we find ourselves nodding off when we are asked to remain at watch. The serpent will not creep in with those who are alert.

More on this later.

Read more about our time at the Abbey of Gethsemani on Josh's blog here.

Willie Nelson, Church Father?

2006-07-07T11:29:00.000-07:00

For those of you who know me well, that I am blogging about Willie Nelson should be no surprise. You might even be thinking, "Brandon, your obsession with this living legend warrants such a post." Perhaps not, but to this day, my favorite concert experience is still seeing Willie Nelson play a small honky-tonk venue in Bryan, TX. He is a true showman in every sense of the word.

Well Willie has even surprised me this time. Growing up just a few miles down the road from Willie's ranch and home, I take extra interest in his latest venture. Mr. Nelson grew up in a Methodist Church in Abbott, TX, about an hour south of Dallas. Last year, he and his sister recorded an album composed entirely of the hymns he grew up singing in church. The proceeds of this project were donated to the United Methodist Church.

But this is not what I am posting about. It appears that the Abbott Methodist Church closed its doors last May for what was thought to be the final time, after many years of a shrinking congregation. Mr. Nelson couldn't seem to bear it, so he purchased the church and re-opened its doors to the public. See the article in the Houston Chronicle here.

I am impressed with his committment to keep this a community church and not a concert hall. My thoughts flood immediately to the question of his intentions. Is he doing this to preserve a bit of his childhood and history, or does he have a genuine sense of duty to use his wealth to do real Kingdom Work? Perhaps we should not question his motives, but instead, respect the work that has been done and pray that authentic worship and fellowship that is pleasing to God will happen in this historic United Methodist Church Chapel.

Alarmed

2006-06-12T13:44:00.000-07:00

This weekend, while staying in an out of town hotel, Alison and I were awakened by the hotel fire alarm going off. It was about 3:30 a.m. and we both had a big day ahead of us, including about 7 hours of driving. I cannot stress to you how loud this alarm was. I swear there was buzzing and beepeing. I have heard alarms before that buzzed and I have heard alarms that beeped, but this was doing both.

After about ten minutes of waiting for the alarm to go off, it finally dawned on us that we might need to go and see if there might actually be a fire, hence the fire alarm. We made our way to the lobby and saw a large gathering of groggy, bed-headed people standing outside the hotel's glass doors. We made our way outside, and the fire alarm was quieted somewhat between two walls of glass. The fire department were there and I am never unimpressed when I see a firefighter in full gear. I suppose that is the little boy in me that still wants to grow up to be a hero.

After a few minutes of standing outside, the buzzing/beeping was hushed and we were allowed to go back to our rooms. But the next morning, I began to wonder why it is that we always assume that it is a false alarm. Perhaps because of the sheer frequency of these we experienced in elementary school. Well at 3:30 Sunday morning, I didn't think that my life might be in danger, I thought of how inconvenient it was to be awoken by such an annoying buzz/beep. I am assuming that I have been socialized to think that I am safe in my bed at night and that the fire alarm does not pertain to me, surely it was meant for others.

As we made our way back to our room when the alarm was turned off, a few people stuck their heads out their doors to see what was going on. One man asked what happened. I told him I didn't know, but they told us we could go back to our rooms. He laughed, said it was probably a prankster that pulled the alarm. As he said this, a little girl, about 3 or 4 years old stepped from behind the door. I was surprised and a bit taken aback that her father had not taken her outside with the rest of us bleary eyed. I don't know, this might be a rant, but I think if I had a daughter, I might not have taken my chances that this was a false alarm, but maybe I would have. Who knows?

For any who read my blog, what do you think this says about our culture?

What is your theological worldview?

2006-06-02T13:25:00.000-07:00

I took a quiz provided by Quiz Farm.

here is the link http://quizfarm.com/test.php?q_id=43870

I took this que from my wife's blog (http://www.alisonfrenzel.blogspot.com/) and saw her post on this same subject. I was curious as to how I might test on this quiz, being a recent seminary graduate. Alas, it appears that I am completely unoriginal and have been vastly "indoctrinated" by my time in the Asbury community.

Here is how I tested:

You scored as Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan.

You are an evangelical in the Wesleyan tradition. You believe that God's grace enables you to choose to believe in him, even though you yourself are totally depraved. The gift of the Holy Spirit gives you assurance of your salvation, and he also enables you to live the life of obedience to which God has called us. You are influenced heavily by John Wesley and the Methodists.

Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan-93%
Emergent/Postmodern-82%
Roman Catholic-68%
Neo orthodox-68%
Classical Liberal-43%
Modern Liberal-43%
Charismatic/Pentecostal-43%
Reformed Evangelical-36%
Fundamentalist-14%

I assumed I would test high in the Emergent/Postmodern though, but was taken by surprise by my Evangelical/Wesleyan thought. 93%! My new found appreciation for liturgy and my family roots with the German Catholic community boosted me on the Roman Catholic section. I thought of leaving off the last on the list, but I though that would be unethical. It is my blog though, so I can do what I want. I think the 14 percenter comes from my rich heritage of growing up in small Baptist churches in Texas. You can take the boy out of the Baptists, but you can't...oh nevermind. In all seriousness, I am baffled by the results.

I think I took this quiz a few months ago and scored highest as a Quaker, so I wouldn't place too much value on this quiz. A lot of it is based on how well you understand the question. If you take it, you'll see what I mean.

For all three of my readers out there, how did you do?

Inclusio

2006-05-10T07:59:00.000-07:00

Last week, before telling our story in chapel, Alison and I were sitting in “Little Estes,” a small prayer chapel that is an off-shoot to Estes Chapel at Asbury Seminary. Little Estes is used for many kinds of meetings on campus. The chapel team will meet in here for prayer and discussion, while others call “sanctuary” from the rigors of life, looking for a quiet place to reflect, think, pray, seek solitude, and commune with God. This semester, in a group project, we filmed in Little Estes, a scene that takes place in heaven. It worked perfectly with her white washed walls. Others meet here for a prayer and healing ministry, and while there is a chapel service in progress, there is always a team of people that pray in this chapel while a worship service is taking place.
But for many, like Alison and myself, Little Estes acts as an inclusio, or bookends on our time in seminary. When we arrived on campus for a visit in November of 2001, we went on a campus tour. The tour ended when we along with the other campus visitors were taken down a quiet hallway into a small room with pews. We were met by our good friend JD, the Dean of Chapel. He came in, prayed over us, and welcomed us to campus. It was in this small prayer chapel that Alison and I would eventually call Asbury Seminary our home.
Last Tuesday, we found ourselves, once again in Little Estes’ half-pews, meeting with the other participants of that day’s chapel service, going over the schedule of events, just 15 minutes before we would tell our story to a chapel full of fellow students, co-workers, professors, friends, and the Board of Trustees that were meeting on campus that week. In walked JD, who welcomed us and told us,
“this week, the last services of the semester, telling your stories, this is what we have been working toward all year.”
He prayed for us, and then worship service began, we shared our story, and we are now preparing for our departure.
Our story at Asbury begins and ends in this small, modest prayer chapel, affectionately called “Little Estes,” by the community here. I have made numerous visits back here during my time as a student, as a prayer team member, as a film maker, as a person seeking sanctuary from the outside world, and as a child of God seeking to hear from my Father. Little Estes is like a port; it is where our ship came in and where it leaves from. This is a loading dock, a gathering place, a phone booth that connects directly to heaven, and for a brief moment in film making history, it was heaven.
Many people say that the “Big Estes” is the heart of campus, but I am beginning to think that it is Little Estes is overlooked in her role on campus. Perhaps this is place where the Spirit originates from on this campus. It was here that my heart was won over to come to seminary, and it was from here that God launches us into our call to service His kingdom. We have come full circle in our time here, and Little Estes is our reference point. We will set up stones of remembrance in Little Estes chapel.

Staying the Course

2006-05-01T18:20:00.000-07:00

I have been a bad blogger, I admit this. It is not because my wife and my friends have been hounding me. At an outing with friends on Saturday, they all but berated me about it. Some accused me of going out of my way to not blog. I suppose that does sound like something I would do.

But alas, it is not something I have done on purpose, but instead, it has been my schedule that dictates lack of writing here among other things. You see, I am on a crash course to graduate from seminary in a few weeks, and this is why you haven't heard from me in six months. But in this time much has happened. Alison and I flew out to Kansas City in February for an interview. Since that time, I have talked to no less than a dozen other churches in search for a ministry position and there is nothing to really show for all the effort.

For a while, I began to think I might be going about things all wrong, and I began questioning a lot of things(this can be dangerous if you are not careful), until last week. A saint of a man and a magnificent professor of mine told me this, "Brandon, you need to stay the course and stick to your vision. This vision is yours and it has been entrusted to you by the Father."

On his album Clear to Venus, Andrew Peterson sums up how I have felt after this word I received.

The ocean is rolling and these waters are rough;
With the storm clouds brewing in the sky above,
Let my vessel be sturdy let my anchor be tough.
Cause the the clouds are known to gather,
And the wind is prone to blow,
I'll keep her steady as a river,
When the wild wind comes to blow;
I've already been delivered,
So I'll keep her steady as she goes.

Remembering that I have been delivered from sin, the world, and myself is difficult at times. But it is in remembering what our Father has done that gives strength to the weary, and hope to the desperate. The message of "stay the course," this was a word of encouragement that was much needed.

Surface diving with Jesus

2005-10-28T12:39:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking quite a bit lately about who it is that Christ calls us to be. I think we often fall into the trap of thinking that if we are following Christ, our lives will begin to appear a certain way to others. If we experince success in following Christ, perhaps we are correct in our assumptions that certain areas begin to improve; perhaps church attendance, longer prayer times, social service projects etc. But what if we begin to fail? What then? Do we continue to live in a way that we, on the inside, know is really faking it? Do we become posers so that we don't let the ball drop for others, all the while, spreading ourselves thin running marathons while we are secretly dying of thirst?

There is a vast difference between the Christian your parents want you to be and the Christian Jesus Christ calls us to be. While your parents might require good grades, clean language, Sunday School attendance, and mowing the neighbor's yard, these are all good things that may be great strides in a persons walk with Christ. These, however, are marks of being a good citizen, not the person Christ calls us to be. So I guess my question is, what does it look like to truly be a follower of Christ?

In Matthew chapter 5, Jesus takes the "good citizenship rules" of the day, and puts a new spin on them. "You have heard it said of old do not kill people, or you will be judged, but I say to you, if you are even angry with a person, you will be judged." "Why do you bring offerings to the alter when you have a relationship that needs mending back at home with your own brother?"(paraphrased)

Jesus takes a simple principle that everyone of the day knew was wrong, murder. It is obvious what the law says about murder, but Jesus wants to focus on the condition of the heart, so he turns the law on its ear, and challenges the listerners to think. They are on the surface; he wants them(us) to go below the surface. It is a differnt world underwater, they say.

Shall we go diving?

Change is good

2005-08-19T17:41:00.000-07:00

My wife said she was tired of coming to my blog site and seeing the "Homeboy" blog. For all three of my readers out there, I have been taking intensive Hebrew this summer, thus, the posts have stopped all together.

My goal is to finish this summer session and begin blogging on a regular basis. I think it is good for me to reflect, forming ideas, organinzing them, and putting them in a format that others can see, comment on, and dialogue with me concerning these thoughts. I guess that is what a blog is for. See my blog links for some other cool blogs that belong to my buddies. If you measured a man's wealth by the quality of his friends, I would be the richest man in town, just like George Bailey in Its a Wonderful Life.

I promise to post more soon, so keep checking back in.

Jesus is my homeboy

2005-06-29T12:05:00.000-07:00

I spent last night talking with my friend Josh about the need we all have to feel like we are doing something of value. Whether it be work for the kingdom, work in a career setting, or odd jobs around the house. There is this overwhelming feeling that we must always be productive. But month I have had off from school has taught me much about rest, a true sabbath. For the last few months, I have been changed by my reading of John 15. This is the "vine and branches" chapter in which Jesus talks to his disciples about abiding in him. The verse that has remained and resonated with me is this,

"I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I call you friends, for everything I have learned from the Father, I have made known to you." John 15:15

The understanding of the magnitude of this verse brings together the entire Gospel for me. This is what grace looks like. Befriending the undesireable. Jesus desires a friendship with us so deep that where he begins and we end is a seemless connection. It isn't a "Jesus is my boyfriend" or "I take Jesus to the mall with me" or like the irreverant but popular t-shirt "Jesus is my homeboy" relationship. It is abiding and remaining in him; experiencing true atonement. This is what the relentless grace of the friedship of Christ is, that we could be considered more than simply servants of the king, but his friends and heirs to the kingdom.

All this pursuit of "doing" seems frivolous in light of this reality.

A Thought Continued...

2005-06-27T11:42:00.000-07:00

I posted previously about "learning to think" but a fellow blogger suggested that I also look at it from the point of view of "learning to see." This reminded me of a poignent scene from one of my favorite movies, The Matrix.

From The Matrix:

Neo: Why do my eyes hurt?

Morpeus: Because you have never used them before.

This conversation occurs with Neo, lying on his back on a recovery table with Morpheus and Dozer observing his vital signs and nursing him to full health. Neo has just been released from the growing fields where humans are harvested for their energy.

For those that aren't into the sci-fi movie genre, Neo has been given freedom in life through learning the truth about reality. It is the truth he was after that compelled him to take the red pill, and follow Morpheus down the rabbit hole.

Neo's eyes hurt because he was really seeing for the first time in his life. This is what I was getting at in my previous post about having our senses shocked. Maybe it is simpler than that; Maybe, just maybe, we need to open our eyes. Is the church living a life with her eyes closed, or does she see? When we behold Christ, what is it that we see?

Learning to think

2005-06-08T07:33:00.000-07:00

I have have made the observation that since beginning seminary about a year and a half ago, the way I think has been transformed. My mind doesn't necessarily work better, faster, or more intuitively. No, its just different. It is as if I have learned all over again how to think. It is the way in which I process information, as if filters that were once in place before have now been removed. Again, I don't feel any smarter, in fact I feel quite the opposite at times. Perhaps simply stated, I feel more atuned to my surroundings. All this got me thinking about the church and how she interacts with the enviornment that surrounds her, that she is living in the midst of. (see my links www.farmstrong.blogspot.com and see post titled StarWars or StarPeace?)

In a book I recently recently read by Richard Bauckham, Bauckham discusses the author of the book of Revelation and his intent to use imagery in such a way as to teach the seven churches to learn to think again. John uses certain imagery to shock the senses of the churches, bringing them into a fantastical world of multiple headed creatures, beasts, and harlots, weaving an apocalyptic and prophetic book into a form that would bring these people into an understanding of the great evil that was all around them. They had been so de-sensitized by their oppression and began to assimilate so deeply into Roman culture, they had begun to forget who they were, the church. They needed to be taught to think again. They needed the blinders they were wearing to be removed.

This is also what Christ was doing when he taught in parables and with the Beatitudes. "You have heard it said of old...but I say to you..." He turned tradition and modern values upside down. Perhaps, in our culture, we too have been de-sensitized. Like the seven churches addressed by John, do we too need to re-learn how to think? Have we forgotten our story? Are we truly atuned to our enviornment, or are there things happening (good and bad) around us that we aren't even aware of?

Not your garden variety movie

2005-04-09T15:31:00.000-07:00

Last night, my wife and I watched Garden State. For anyone that has not seen this movie, it is truly a beautiful cinema experience. It draws on so many emotions; fear, rejection, anger, joy, confusion, reconciliation, and love. Garden State is one of the best things I have seen in a while, and I am thankful Zach Braff made it.

There was a scene in this film that made me laugh harder than I have in a long time. The main character and the girl he fancies are at his friends house in the back yard. His friend has a bow and arrow. His friend shoots the arrow, which by the way has a flaming tip, straight up in the air, and the aerial view shows the three of them scrambling around in the yard, trying to avoid being hit by the sailing flamed weapon. I laughed so hard and Alison, couldn't figure out why I couldn't stop. At a slow point in the movie, I told her a story from my high school days.

When I was in high school, a friend of mine were in his backyard and his dad and his drinking buddies were standing around looking at one of the guys' new Bear compound bow. They had been drinking and one of the guys decided to do the same brilliant thing the character in the movie does, shoot an arrow straight up in the air. The problem was, there were about ten of us and we were all in a significantly smaller backyard. Luckily, no one was hurt, but the hilarity of the memory remains, eight grown men and two teenagers scrambling for cover because some middle aged guy with too much Michelobe decided to show off his new toy.

Needless to say, this movie brought back many memories from high school, of going home and catching up with old friends. I am sure I will have more to say about this movie later.

A Hungry Church

2005-04-02T13:13:00.000-08:00

I began seminary a little over a year ago and at times of great frustration and weariness, it never fails that I am somehow brought back to the land of the living by a moment of encouragement, a word, an idea. Affirmation as to why I am here save the day once again. Friday in class, one of my favorite professors said something quite remarkable. She said this:

"The church is starving to death with a storage room full of food."

I thought of how if you were to ask the church herself about how she feels about this statement, she would deny and wouldn't even understand how someone could think this.

I believe that the American church is starving and doesn't even know it. The church, in her present state may look healthy and full of life, yet underneath the exterior of great buildings and landscaping, she is emaciated, gaunt and dying. She has seemed to stray far from what Christ has intended her to be. Self help sermons and programs are all that people are receiving from the pulpits. The Word of God, the message of Christ, and the story of how He has redeemed His people are now absent and virtually non-existent.

My professor went on to say that the leaders of the church are the only ones with the key to the storage rooms full of food. The burden of feeding this starving people falls on the shoulders of us seminarians, missionaries, leaders, poets and wordsmiths, artists, laymen and laywomen.

Let's call a church gathering and meet at the storage room and unlock the door.

Here we go

2005-04-01T17:58:00.000-08:00

Funny, I set this blog up in January and am just now sitting down to write. One friend who visited called it a "non-blog" or "un-blog," something like that. I have been putting it off for a number of reasons. Another friend finally told me I needed to get something up, a quote, an intro, something. Here we are.

As a seminary student, many of my thoughts are analyzed and critiqued. I suppose this is why I have been hesitant to begin. But I consider myself a sojourner, one that is on a journey, striving toward something, other than graduation. These things I am moving toward are not always clear, but there is something compelling about the journey itself. I think of Frodo and the Ring, and how he knew he had a journey before him, yet he had no idea what he would encounter. This is not an attempt to let others read my thoughts that I think they would find interesting. It is an attempt, however, to be a part of this journey I have embarked upon.

here we go...