As you might be aware, I’ve enjoyed cycling this past summer, and I’m stretching it into autumn. I’d really like to keep going another month, or maybe until it starts to snow, which might be February, if this winter is anything like last year’s. With the temperatures dropping for breathtaking autumn rides, I just bought…
I was at Chipotle recently, one of my favorite restaurants. I was going to say, one of my favorite Mexican restaurants, but I don't really consider it to be Mexican food. Probably because I usually get the "burrito bowl," since I don't like their tortillas.
I think in school I just liked the rules, the 2+2 always equals 4. My favorite subject, English, also contained rules: grammar rules. I don't remember all the names of the parts of speech, but I know how to use them and when I can break them. The same is true in music.
I didn't attend a Christian university or a Bible college. I don't have a Masters of Theology or any kind of seminary training. I don't even have a Bachelor's degree. I completed about sixty credit hours at the community college in my hometown, and those classes were nearly all music related. After two years of the first five of a Bachelor's of Music, Lindsay happened along, and I halted my studies to work full-time as a secretary, lead a worship ministry, and take gigs whenever I could.
I was standing in line at a grocery store recently and saw a magazine teaser on a usually pretty safe periodical. This on the cover of Prevention magazine: Sexier Sex - When and How You Want It.
Recently when I was reading Matthew Paul Turner’s Churched (I wrote a review about it here), I recalled something from childhood that illustrates well my rejection of correction. Turner described an incident at his private church school that paralleled mine. I’ve written a little about my church school experience, how we students were cordoned off from one another in case we might somehow corrupt each other—I mean, so we could work without interruption on PACEs, which were on-our-own workbooks for each subject. Each workbook contained reading and assignments.
If later today on my commute to the office a car failed to yield—why am I blaming someone else? maybe I will have failed to yield—and my life was over in an instant, I’m certain I will be remembered in the way I don’t really want to be remembered. ... I guess what I’m driving at is that I could well be remembered for my accomplishments or my gifts, but how I really want to be remembered is the way I loved others. Which means I can’t die today. I’d better drive more carefully, since I need some time to revamp my image. I’ve backed the wrong horse, even if I’m slightly afraid of them.
... We assume either someone pulled the alarm as a prank or a technical glitch is responsible. Recently, some misguided (many of them are) Christian radio broadcaster pulled a sort of fire alarm, claiming Jesus would return this past Saturday. (I’m actually writing this early on May 21, so if he’s right, you’ll probably never see this.) We’ve heard these kind of claims so many times that we never believe them.
This was quite timely, considering I’ve been reading three books. The first is a controversial book by a Michigan pastor some claim to be a false prophet. The second is an intellectual treatise by a well-respected, modern theologian—a difficult read, to say the least, but I am exceedingly interested in the topic. And the third is a humorous memoir about a kid growing up as a fundamentalist Baptist. (I’ll have a review about that one, since I’m reading it for a publisher.) They’re all similar in some ways.
In seventh grade I had simultaneous crushes on two different Cindys. One was in history class and the other in English. I’m not sure why I’m remembering them. Except, I was thinking about how I wasn’t really in their social circle but if I had run into one of them in a store, out of the realm of her friends and school environment, then perhaps our relationship could have moved forward—if even slightly.