Thoughts and Musings on Faith, Music, Family, Life

We walk because they walk!

Steve Lindsley — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 11:03:00 -0800

It was a cold, soggy, raw kind of day that greeted the third annual CROP Hunger Walk of Mount Airy yesterday. Not the kind of weather we were hoping for, but you take what you get, right? If anything it made the CROP motto (also this blog's title) all the more meaningful. Every day millions of people around the world - in our little community, in this country and in places far away - have to walk miles just to get a little food or some clean drinking water. And they do this no matter what the elements are. So surely we could suck it up for a hour or so.

We had our first walk back in the spring of 2007, along with the help of two other fellow clergy, Roger Gilbert of First Baptist and Wayne Hager of Calvary Baptist. In so doing we joined thousands of communities across the country who host these annual events. Just in case you don't know, CROP Hunger Walks are joint ventures between local communities and an organization called Church World Service. The noble and attainable goal of these walks is to eliminate extreme hunger and poverty in the world. And, as has been noted before on this blog, we now have the technology and the resources to actually do it.

In a CROP Hunger Walk (which, incidentally, stands for "Communities Responding to Overcome Poverty), a portion of the money stays local, going to whatever agency the local planning team designates; while the rest goes to national and international relief agencies. This is one of the reasons I'm so fond of these walks - they address the problem with a "both-and" approach, the only real way to achieve meaningful results. This is sometimes hard for people to understand, but it's true. It does no good if we keep all of our money locally, as there are innumerable communities all around the world who have no means to host their own walks and support themselves. Likewise, if we direct 100% of our efforts overseas, we are turning a blind eye to the needs right in front of us. CROP Hunger Walks are a very practical way of doing both.

Folks started gathering at Veteran's Park around 2pm Sunday afternoon, trying to keep warm while listening to the sounds of the Youth Moravian Church Praise Band. At around 3:30, emcee Kelly Epperson of WPAQ radio sent us on our way! The 3.2 mile walk took us down the Emily Taylor Greenway and then back through town to finish at the park. Most folks finished the walk in just over an hour, unless your name was "Lindsley," in which case you were bringing up the rear. Here are some pics for you:

In previous years we had CROP Hunger Walk t-shirts for everyone, paid for by local business sponsors. With the economy being the way it is we decided to go without the fancy t-shirts and instead got the kids to make their own walk shirts with plain white tees and fabric markers. It was such a hit that I imagine we'll do it again in future years, even if we bring the traditional walk shirt back.

One of the things we've tried to do with this walk is make it not just a fundraising experience, but an educational one. So along the walk we posted signs that had some pretty sobering statistics about hunger and poverty in our world. Here's a smattering of 'em:

This one gets me every time. The sign reads, "A child dies of hunger-related causes every six seconds." The man standing beside it is holding a bell that he chimes - you guessed it - every six seconds. So you're walking along and you hear this ringing and you're wondering what it is. Then you see this sign, and you know. And as you walk up the hill and hang a left on Pine St. you still hear it ringing, and you remember long after the ringing stops.

Our walker numbers and dollar totals were down from previous years, but we're figuring the weather had something to do with that. Any way you cut it, though, less people will go hungry because of our efforts.

I wish I were more regularly cognizant of the hungry in our world. I just scarfed down a delicious lunch at 308 Bistro as I was typing this and hardly paid attention as the food made its way from the plate to my stomach. Often on those nights our family sits down for a meal together, the obligatory family blessing is treated more like an obstacle to be hurried through quickly rather than a true pause of reflection and thanks. For me hunger is nothing more than that nagging feeling I get in the middle of the afternoon at work when lunch is just a few hours in the past - and even then, all I have to do is reach in the drawer desk to grab a handful of almonds. Like many people I've done a pretty good job of hiding in my ignorance and shielding myself from what's really there.

That's why these walks are a good way of reminding me of two things: one, that I need to be a whole lot more grateful for the food on my plate every day; and two, that I need to do a much better job of seeing that people all around the world get more on theirs.

In case you missed the show....

Steve Lindsley — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 18:44:24 -0700

8:30pm this past Sunday night. I logged on to my laptop in anticipation of U2's YouTube-streamed concert, live from the Rose Bowl. All the publicity had drilled in my head 8:30, 8:30, but instead of hearing the crowd roar at the opening number I was subjected to the background music of a rolling prelim. And it was then I realized: 8:30pm. Pacific Time. Oops.

Three hours later, there I was, tucked in bed for the night with laptop on my chest. I watched it until 1am, although I confess to dozing off from time to time. Hey, I'm only human. How pleased I was when the entire concert was back on YouTube the next day, and presumably for many days in the future. Now I get to watch it in a full state of consciousness.

So here's my take on the whole "U2 360" circular stage and the "Claw" or "Spaceship" or whatever you want to call it: I'm not the greatest fan of the approach. It smacks of excess that runs the risk of becoming the show itself, rather than the music. Honestly, it reminds me in many ways of the PopMart Tour a decade ago that contributed in large part to the band's perceived demise, before All That You Can't Leave Behind rescued them. It's just hard for an audience to connect to four small guys on a huge stage, no matter how big the video screens are. I much prefer the Elevation or Vertigo tours which took place in smaller arenas rather than football stadiums, void of the over-reaching flash and glitz this tour has. A much more intimate feel, relatively-speaking.

But the music....well, that's a different story entirely. Thank God for the music. And yeah, I know, the album didn't sell all that well in the States (although I was quite fond of it). Nor was there a single that latched on to radio playlists for any decent length of time. But the reality is that U2, in my opinion, is beyond that. I just don't think they need a hit single that gets plays ad nauseam in order to stay relevant. That may sound kind of silly in a business that's all "what-have-you-done-for-me-lately," but I still believe it's true. Over the past three decades U2 has proven that they know how to make good music that speaks to the heart and soul. Even if it's performed on a ridiculously huge stage.

I missed them when they were in Raleigh a few weeks ago (good thing too, as apparently a significant number of fans missed the entire show due to traffic problems - I mean, how back would that suck??) They just announced more U.S. dates next summer. I hope to be at one of them.

In the meantime, take a couple of hours and enjoy the show. Some highlights: Magnificent, Mysterious Ways, I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For, Sunday Bloody Sunday, Unknown Caller, Where The Streets Have No Name. And how about The Unforgettable Fire and Ultraviolet (Light My Way) - when were the last time they played those live?? Watch it below or click here for a larger screen.

The Real "Glee"

Steve Lindsley — Fri, 23 Oct 2009 07:34:36 -0700

So I watched Glee for the first time the other night. Afterwards I was informed by people who'd know that it wasn't the best episode and probably not a good one to start with. I imagine they're right. But still - and with all apologies to my "Gleek" friends out there - I'm just not feeling it. That's okay, though, because you thought I was nuts for getting into Battlestar Galactica, didn't you? So we're even.

I imagine that a big part of my ambivalence has to do with the fact that I was actually in our school's Glee club. And in the same way that football players couldn't get into Friday Night Lights or I never found much reason to read the At Home in Mitford series (about a small-town pastor), it's hard to get excited about a fictional situation that bears a striking resemblance to your real life. You're already "living it," you see, so what's the point?

We actually called ours a "show choir," which I think sounds better than "glee club." Think of it as a solid choral ensemble meeting Dancing With The Stars. We worked equally hard to perfect our four-part vocal arrangements as we did the dancing/choreography. Trust me, it's a lot harder than it sounds. And it was a big deal in our school, with around 200 kids in three or four ensembles. "Carolina Spirit" was the top group and involved a significant time commitment. It was also a pretty well-traveled group. I'm not talking about the annual appearance at the local mall, either. Every year we participated in a regional event in Harrisonburg, VA. There was also a trip to Pasadena, CA my junior year (including a performance at Disneyland), and another one to Chicago my senior year - both national competitions, both in which we placed in the top three.

All of which looked nothing like what folks see Wednesday nights on Fox. There was weight training involved - important when the guys were lifting girls in the air and swinging them around (they tend to prefer that you not drop them). I already mentioned the hours and hours of rehearsals - not just with vocals but with choreography, down to standing in front of a huge mirror to make sure that thirty-some people have their movements perfectly synched. And unlike the current TV show (at least the little I've seen of it), there was actually harmony with the jocks, and we had some members of the gridiron in our fold. So there were no purple slushies.

Here, see for yourself - a video of Carolina Spirit doing their thing a few years after my time (okay, more than a few :)

(note: if you're subscribing to this blog via email the video may not show up - so check it out here).

I realize open talk about this sort of thing typically invites some level of ridicule, especially toward the guys. Go ahead if you must - it's nothing I haven't heard before. Chuckle at the sequins and stage makeup, at the dancing and the white shoes. To which I say a heartfelt, "Whatever." The fact is that I wouldn't trade this time in my life for anything. I made some of the best friends in my life, many of whom I keep in touch with to this day. Thanks to this experience the stage is a second home to me rather than a source of anxiety - something that comes in handy doing the music thing these days. I'm quite at ease in front of groups, which means I'm pretty comfortable behind the pulpit on Sunday mornings (but sorry FPCMA folks - no jazz hands). And the vocal techniques I acquired in all those years of training have proved invaluable in keeping my singing voice going strong.

So watch "Glee" if that's your thing - I may tune in from time to time. But forgive me if I don't jump on the bandwagon. The real thing is a whole lot better.

PS - I know there are a lot of show choir folks out there, including some "Carolina Spirit alum," and I'd love for you to share your stories in the blog comments below. What are some of your memories? How has your show choir experience translated to things you do in your adult life? Let's hear 'em!

Heene-inspired: my pitch for a Reality TV show

Steve Lindsley — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 18:59:33 -0700

If you greeted the news this past week that Richard Heene's contraption held a six-year old in it, which the cable networks covered non-stop for hours, which was later found to not be true when Falcon was discovered hiding in the family attic, which later turned out to be even more untrue when it was determined that the whole thing was a hoax to garner attention for a supposed reality TV show pitch - if you greeted all of this with either disdain or indifference, then let me say to you:

You're totally missing the point.

Sure, it was despicable what that guy put his family through, especially Falcon, who threw up the following morning during interviews on at least two morning TV shows. Sure, the guy has a history of all flash and no substance (take a peek at his appearance on Wife Swap to witness his willingness to stoop to any level for shock value). Sure, the cable networks fell hook, line and sinker for it, demonstrating once again that "news" is fast becoming a relative term.

But think about it: before this happened, no one knew who the guy was. Before this, none of us had a clue how to pronounce his last name. And now he's the subject of every news network, thousands of blogs, one of the most popular hashtags on Twitter. There's a method to the madness, folks. Which is why I've decided to follow suit and make my own sales pitch for a reality TV show. Of course, I share this in confidence, as the element of surprise is crucial. So just keep this to yourself, okay? Thanks.

See, I'm thinking it's time to capitalize on perhaps the most untapped segment in the reality TV show market: ministers. Think about it. Oh, there's been a clergy or two on Survivor or Big Brother. Maybe even a preacher's kid on MTV's Real World (they're usually the worst of the lot). But the untapped potential for a group of men (and women) of the cloth is limitless. Catholic priests, Baptist and Presbyterians, Methodists, Quakers, Primitive Baptists and Episcopalians, Evangelicals and Mennonite and Church of God. Just imagine the dynamics that would ensue, long before they took off in the spaceship balloon.

You know, the spaceship balloon. Not an original idea of course (but then, what in the reality TV show world is?) We'd make it look all accidental, of course, like they were just taking a tour of it. They'd fire it up, just to show it off a bit, except doggone it, they'd forget to tether the bloomin' thing down. And before you could say "Call the local TV station before 911," that balloon would whisk those ministers up in the air, all the way to the remote island.

You know, the remote island. No 21st-century creature comforts here; no technology or electricity or plumbing....well, except for the dozens of camera crew, publicity managers, PR folks and attorneys that were there to film the show, of course. They'd be divided into two teams with cool Biblical names like "The Jacobs" and "The Esaus." They'd have challenges to do, like who can prepare communion the fastest. All of this would lead to what they'd call "The Inquisition," where everyone would gather around torchlight and suspenseful music would play as they voted each other off the island, one by one, all the way back to the mainland to live in the recently refurbished, over-sized mansion.

You know, the mansion. The one the TV producers bought and fixed up for them to live in, set in some city like New York or L.A where all the action is. They'd share every waking and non-waking moment together. Natural tensions would break out: the Calvinists would get into it with the Arminiasts, the Baptists would poo-poo the sprinkling Methodists. And there would be cameras in every room of the house to catch every second of it all. There'd even be a smaller sound-proof room where they'd go to vent frustrations about other clergy - called, of course, the "Confession Booth." All on camera, of course. And when they weren't arguing theology or debating doctrine or wondering who swiped their KJV, they'd be preparing for the big race.

You know, the big race. There'd be teams and they would traverse the country for a few weeks, doing all kinds of stuff. Conducting a Sunday service on Myrtle Beach during a thunderstorm, cleaning the windows of the Crystal Cathedral in California, attending the Bible burning in North Carolina, paying a visit to the Creation Museum. And the first team to complete all their tasks would get first dibs in the singing competition.

Except there wouldn't be singing - it'd be preaching, of course. They'd stand on stage with microphone in hand (no notes) as a slick-looking host would tell them they're on. Afterwards, as the numbers to call or text to vote scrolled at the bottom of the screen, the panel of judges would spare no punches in their review, telling them it was too long or didn't make sense or the pews were uncomfortable. Except for one judge who never wanted to offend, so they'd always just say that the sermon was "interesting." The audience would vote one off the show each week, until the final performance when the last two would go at it head-to-head, the winner of which would be the first to go on the date.

Well, it wouldn't really be a "date." It's a prospective member, you see. Two clergy vying for one person's membership. They'd take them out for lunch, get to know them a little. The stakes would get higher with each episode - maybe their mother would come by for a visit; maybe something embarrassing would rise to the surface. In the end the person would agonize on camera about who they would choose; and in a special ceremony would present the winning minister with a rose. Or maybe a Time & Talent sheet.

And after all of this, after the dust had settled and the cameras stopped rolling, each of those ministers would return home to their respective churches and continue with their pastoral duties. And maybe one or two would get a bit part in some movie; maybe some would provide silly commentary on the sideline at the Super Bowl. Maybe some of those ministers would get asked to host one of the 986 reality TV shows that have existed or are currently on air.

Sounds like a great plan, doesn't it? Because what the world really needs these days is manufactured reality as opposed to the real reality we live in; manufactured problems and drama instead of facing up to the real problems we could be dealing with. Because life by itself is just not interesting enough without faking to send your kid up hundreds of feet in the air in a homemade balloon in order to get your own fifteen minutes of fame. Because it's our God-given, American right to get our moment in the spotlight, even if we drag those close to us down with us in the process.

Besides, pitching your own reality TV show is a great reason to commission your own theme song for the show. Just ask Heene.

So the show is still a work in progress, of course. But keep it on the down-low, okay? Don't want the cable networks to get whiff of it too soon.

How the Wild Things Were

Steve Lindsley — Fri, 16 Oct 2009 19:46:51 -0700

So this morning after getting the kids off to school, I asked the wife if she wanted to catch the 11am showing of the new movie Where The Wild Things Are. She scrunched up her face a bit and made some comment about how the kids would be majorly bummed if they missed out. Oh, yeah..... Turns out the wife got called to sub anyway.

Later that afternoon, the four of us made our way to the local cinema for a matinee showing. The boys were excited - and to be honest, so was Dad. Like them I associate this book with a large part of my childhood. The storyline never quite made sense, at least in a logical, linear, adult-kind of way. But the creatures looked great and the wild rumpus seemed like a lot of fun. And in the end, as we all know, his supper was still hot. All's well that ends well.

But like many people I was skeptical. Ten sentences - that's all that makes up this children's classic. How, pray tell, can anyone hope to fashion a major motion picture around this that a) refrains from taking ridiculous liberties that don't fit or b) sticks too strictly to the book and bores you to tears? Enter director Spike Jonze, who brought his quirky visual sense to the table and forewarned in at least one interview that this would be different: “I didn’t set out to make a children’s film – I set out to make a film about childhood.”

Score.

I thought the movie was great. I was pleased with how it expanded the story without changing the underlying theme of the book. Without giving too much away, the movie hits hard on relationships in turmoil - both in the real world and extending into the "wild world." Some might charge the movie with overreaching, but I'd disagree. Remember, there was a reason Max was sent to his room without any supper, just as there was a reason that his room began transforming into a forest (which they didn't try to duplicate on the silver screen, one of my very few gripes with the movie). Sendak never explained it, but it's classic escapism: of getting away from something and then coming to find, in the end, that the journey was fun while it lasted but it's time to go home.

The movie did an outstanding job of using the wild world as a showcase for Max's internal struggle, the primary subtext in the book (and part of the brilliance of Sendak's writing - again, ten sentences!) The main tool Jonze used to accomplish this was the movie's excellent dialogue, especially between Max and the wild things. It didn't always flow in logical fashion and make total sense, leaving you to sometimes feel as if you missed out on the front end of a conversation. But that's the whole point: this fantasy land is Max's psyche working out the angst and unease raging inside a twelve-year old boy. There isn't always going to be a "logical flow." Throughout the movie there's this constant tug-of-war between the natural repulsion that exists in human relationships and our strong innate desire to just be with one another. It happens in Max's relationships with the wild things, between the wild things themselves - and again, all of this sets the stage for Max's final trip back home through the turbulent oceans.

The kid who plays Max, ironically named Max himself (Max Records), nails the character dead-on. You feel his struggle and sense his big heart at the same time. The wonders of modern movie-making lend to some very believable wild things, seamlessly blending six-foot muppet-like costumes with CGI computer animation that bring their faces and facial expression to life. Not bad voiceovers either (James Gandolfini of The Sopranos, Paul Dano, Forest Whitaker, among others). Soundtrack-wise, Karen-O of Yeah Yeah Yeahs fame assembles a wonderfully-eclectic assortment of indie tunes that captures Max's emotional spectrum - and in the process has become one of the very few movie soundtracks I've ever bothered to purchase.

As we sat in the movie theater I was concerned that most of this was going over my boys' heads; too deep for them to comprehend, lying outside their emotional spectrum. But I was pleasantly surprised when they sat through most of the movie in rapt attention, moreso than a lot of standard kid flicks. They may not have grasped the specifics of Max's problems at home, but they understood that even people who love each other have hard times and can work to make amends. Near the end, when Max says his emotional goodbye to the wild things as he boards his boat, I looked over and saw my eldest wiping tears from his face. Umm, yeah, I think they got it. More and more I'm learning that kids are much more perceptive than we give them credit for.

In short I think Spike Jonze, like my two boys, "got it." He was able to retell the famous tale using a story line that certainly embellished the original but didn't feel forced or "over the top." In fact, I imagine it fleshed out some of what was originally going through Sendak's mind when he put paper to pen nearly 50 years ago. You and your family should check it out, too. "Bambi" this is not, but its beauty is found in its depth. Definitely a movie experience worth your hard-earned cash.

When tragedy strikes close to home

Steve Lindsley — Sat, 10 Oct 2009 07:14:47 -0700

(picture taken from http://www.wxii.com)

Churches are often viewed as sanctuaries in the truest sense of the word; a place where one can momentarily leave behind the world's problems. Sometimes this is true, but other times we come face-to-face with the realization that our houses of worship, like our very lives, can never be totally distanced from tragedy.

A sad thing happened just down the block from our church this past week. Tuesday afternoon around 4pm, a middle-school aged girl was accidentally shot by another family member. The shooting took place five houses down the street from our church. In the picture above you can see the road blocked off with yellow police tape and an officer in black. Our church is the granite building in the foreground on the right. To my knowledge the girl is still in the hospital in critical condition. The alleged shooter was taken into custody. Our prayers are with both of them.

I was not at the church when it happened but got a text about it from our secretary. When I got back about 15 minutes later I found the scene relatively calm with a lot of stunned onlookers. Many of them I know personally. Our church organist lives in a house two down the road on the right. He was in the middle of a voice lesson with another church member when the alleged shooter banged on his door, screaming for help. Two houses further down, almost directly across the street from where it happened, our local Young Life leader and his 8-month pregnant wife were also greeted by bangs on the door and cries for help.

Our town is a small one, barely 10,000 people. We have one middle school and one high school. So even those who don't know the girl personally (like myself) certainly know someone who does. There are a few youth in our church who know her, although they don't necessarily "hang out" with her. Still, they are understandably in shock. It's quite a jolt to the system when one day you see her sitting a few seats in front of you on the bus, and the next day you don't, and you know why.

Sadly, things like this are a part of life. Violence, poverty, injustices exist. It's just that for many of us we are somewhat removed from them; separated by proximity or economic strata. We see it on the news, read about it in the papers. Our ministers preach about it from the pulpits and our politicians discuss it in their agendas. But there is always a "distance" implied; a sense of separation between where we are and where "it" is. For the most part we are removed from it and hardly give it a second thought. And then it happens just a few houses down the street from us, and we can't let it go. It stays with us.

This tragedy down the street from the church has left me thinking about many things. It's reminded me that the church is not a place to escape from the world's troubles, but a place to engage them and enter into them; into the transforming presence of God that can bring about true healing and wholeness in a broken world. We in the church tend to forget the practical implication of that message and focus more on the "upkeep of the institution." We too easily forget that Jesus himself didn't stay holed up in a fancy building somewhere. He went out in the world and confronted life's tragedies head-on. We should do the same; and our church is currently talking with some people to try and find out what, if anything, we can do for this family.

It has also reminded me that we shouldn't need something like this to happen in order to mourn, to feel, to become sad or angry or hope for something better. We fall into this trap all too often, living our lives apart from the lives of others. It's so easy when we sit down at our kitchen tables for a meal, with a full spread in front of us, to forget that there are hundreds of thousands who won't have anything to eat for days; and that every six seconds in this world a child dies of hunger-related causes. Closer to home it's easy to forget that, just playing the odds out, at least one of the kids sitting next to my son in his first-grade class - and probably both - start every day off on an empty stomach; the last decent meal being the school free lunch they had the day before.

It's so easy when I face that instant decision - throw the plastic bottle I have in my hand in the trash can in front of me or keep it with me to put in the recycling bin at work or at home - to forget that at that very moment there is a trash pile floating somewhere in the Pacific Ocean that is twice the size of Texas (the state, not the restaurant chain). It's true - read about it here and here. We don't realize it's there because it's not right down the street from us. It's somewhere that is not "here" - so it is out of our sight and out of mind. Even the term it's been unofficially christened with - the "Great Pacific Garbage Patch" - seems to minimize its size and impact. A "patch??" Perhaps the word "continent" would be more suitable.

The internet, of course, has been a godsend in helping make our big world a little smaller and changing the extent to which we understand who our neighbor is. Of course, our neighbor can still be the old-fashioned variety, such as the people down the street from the church who I never knew about until this past week. Even then, though, it's easy to forget that close to 1000 people in our country annually suffer the same fate as that 12-year old girl (and that number is more than likely a lot higher)

That is, until it happens a hundred yards from the front door of the church where you worship, work and serve every day. And then it's not so easy to forget. And you know what? That's probably a good thing.

A very full "day of rest"

Steve Lindsley — Mon, 05 Oct 2009 10:05:55 -0700

This is the day that the Lord has made;
Let us rejoice and be glad in it!
Psalm 118:24

It's not like we need a special reason to rejoice on Sundays - every Sabbath is special in its own right. But yesterday had to set some kind of record at our church for "Most-stuff-crammed-into-one-Sunday." It was hectic, it was wild, but it was certainly all good. Here's a list of the all the special things that took place at First Presbyterian Church on Sunday, October 4:

Worldwide Communion Sunday - celebrating the Lord's Supper with Christians all around the world;
Hunger & Hope offering - our Cents-a-Bility and food bank offerings that takes place on the first Sunday of the month;
Fall Discipleship Dedication Sunday - the concluding Sunday of our church's Stewardship ministry and our 15+ Plan;
Faith In Action Sunday - something we started a few years ago to recognize and thank those local and international agencies and missions that our church supports with our benevolence funds.
Special Music - our wonderful chancel choir was accompanied by a lovely brass quintet;
Youth Mission Trip Lunch - where our church gathers for fellowship around the table and the youth group gets to share some of the stories and pictures of their past summer mission trip.

See what I mean??

And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the visit of a certain Vice-Moderator of the Presbyterian Church (USA) as well. I've already blogged about Byron Wade, who was a guest blogger here back in the summer (if you missed it you can find our back story here and his blog post here). So I'll spare you all the details. Suffice to say this was not only a wonderful experience for the church, but a personal joy for me too.

We maxed out Byron's time with us. We had a crowd of about 60 youth and adults gather in the church's Fellowship Hall for the Sunday school hour to hear Byron tell us about his first year as vice-moderator. One of the neat things about this time was to hear all the stories of other churches, other Presbyterians that Byron has met criss-crossing the country, and realize that our little church on the corner of Church and Main Streets is not a solo affair. We are, thankfully, part of something much bigger than ourselves. Byron allowed time for folks to ask questions - and boy, did he get them, from same-sex marriage to how our denomination is using social media (Facebook, Twitter, blogs) to keep the church informed. Like a seasoned pro, Byron addressed every one of them with a level of sincerity and compassion - and, most of all, a love for the church. As we wrapped up this time together we were pleased to present Byron with a few tokens of our appreciation (for two of them, see the picture at the end of the blog).

Byron and I led worship together later that morning. Byron preached an an amazing sermon titled What Is Your Choice? (which you can listen to, along with the rest of the service, here). It's been a number of years since I've heard Byron preach but I quickly remembered how eloquent, forceful and passionate he can be when he steps behind the pulpit. Fantastic message for all to hear! It was also a treat to celebrate the Sacrament of Communion together - using liturgy that Byron himself had written for our denomination's Peacemaking Program.

The conclusion of worship led us down to the Fellowship Hall and all the fixings of a baked potato bar and homemade desserts. The place was packed as we enjoyed a meal together and heard about the youth summer mission trip. Throughout it all, Byron was incredibly gracious with his time, shaking hands and engaging folks in conversation as if he'd known them for years. I don't know exactly when Byron hit the road south to return home to Raleigh, but I know it was long after everyone else had "left the building." Without question, Byron is a fantastic ambassador for our denomination. Of course, I'm slightly biased ;-)

It took us 151 years to get a moderator or vice moderator (sitting or past) to come to our church, and I sure hope it won't take another 151 for it to happen again. Byron's visit was the highlight of a very busy and very wonderful Sunday in the life of our church - and for that we give thanks! We appreciate Byron making the visit to Mayberry as he continues "nipping it in the bud" for the Presbyterian church!

(note: you can't see it, but it's a "Mayberry" hat he's wearing. We weren't going to send him home empty-handed!)

BYRON LINKS FOR YOU: Byron's Blog Byron on Twitter

The Presbyterian Mod Squad (Mod & Vice Mod Facebook Group)

The Other Side of One

Steve Lindsley — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 11:35:55 -0700

Ten years ago - October 2, 1999 - it was a gorgeous autumn Saturday. People were mowing their lawns, watching college football games. I was donning a tux and sharing some pretty important vows with a special young lady. Ten years ago we had very little idea of all that would lie ahead of us - two awesome boys, a move up Highway 52 to Mayberry, and all the joys and struggles that come with the territory. But we made a promise to go it together, and that we have done.

Fast forward to now. It was 6am this morning when the phone rang. I answered it - as suspected, it was the elementary school, calling to see if my wife of ten years would substitute teach for the day. Of course she would, she told them. We had planned a lunch at our favorite Thai restaurant in town, but that could wait - I realize, once again, how much my wife enjoys teaching and hopes to begin her degree in the fall. She's doing what she loves, which makes her happy, which makes me happy.

We quickly exchanged gifts as we got ready for the day, and we had a good laugh when we realized we had given each other the exact same anniversary card. Great minds (and hearts) think alike. It was a hurried celebration of our milestone, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

For a guy who prides himself on being able to find the right words for most occasions - be it a sermon or a class lecture or (we hope) a blog post - I've never been able to adequately express the depth of this relationship. Except one time, right before we were married, when I put pen to paper and somehow managed to dig down deep to come up with lyrics for a song. It's called The Other Side of One because, prior to getting married, I had lived the bachelor life for a good ten years. And while I still hold strong and fast to the individuality that exists within any married couple, there is a "oneness" there that is mystifying and baffling, sometimes frustrating and even moreso joyful. The song is my best attempt at trying to capture that:

*********************

THE OTHER SIDE OF ONE

I'm sitting here at this canvas, and it rests at the edge of my soul
I'm inspired to create it and summon the spirit of old
But the rhymes outweigh the reasons when the lines of battle are drawn
And the image that forms is nothing that I've ever known
So help me learn to express what's inside
And keep me from running away to hide

They say beauty is in the beholder - what is held there I'm not so sure
They say life's for the taking, but no one can give anymore
In this place I have painted my feelings and still nothing has ever come forth
Cause you search for your answers and find that the questions are more
Won't you teach me the ways I can love myself
So I'll know how to love someone else

And if you read my mind I'll sing to you, If you love me, I'll be strong
If you hold me close when the picture's all said and done
I will blossom here in your glory, I will breathe life all day long
I will walk with you down the road I once walked alone to the other side of one

I have lived here awhile on my island where the loneliness fills up my soul
I'm resigned to believe that I'm stranded here until I grow old
But there's a ship sailing o'er the horizon, unexpectedly in through the night
Could it be my salvation depends on the way I shine my light
You know you told me that love would arrive someday
And I want to believe that it's here to stay

And if you read my mind I'll sing to you, If you love me, I'll be strong
If you hold me close when the picture's all said and done
I will blossom here in your glory, I will breathe life all day long
I will walk with you down the road I once walked alone to the other side of one

Hover mouse & click "play" to hear song

*********************

So - on this tenth anniversary of ours as life comes screaming at us with errands, swim lessons, meals to fix, jobs, houses to clean, lawns to mow, school progress reports, and even a 6am phone call, I'm reminded that the celebration of it all takes place in the midst of the rush. That's the beauty of the past ten years, with hopefully many more hectic, beautiful moments to come. I'll soak up every one of 'em.

What $1 Billion can - and can't - buy you in the NFL

Steve Lindsley — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 20:02:57 -0700

It's Monday night in September and my wife is off with a friend of hers at the Rob Thomas concert. Which means I'm not at band practice - a standard Monday evening ritual - but at home with the boys, who are now (supposedly) asleep in bed. The TV is on and I'm watching my beloved Carolina Panthers taking on the Dallas Cowboys in that time-honored tradition known as Monday Night Football. The game has a lot of intrigue - the Panthers are 0-2 and have not done much to instill confidence in their fan base so far this season. The Cowboys seem slightly better but they, too, have an erratic quarterback and suspect defense. Suffice to say it should be an interesting matchup.

That being the case, what is almost just as intriguing as the game itself is the field the game is being played on - the field and the millions of tons of concrete and steel hanging over it. The New Dallas Cowboys Stadium is a sporting venue unlike any other - and that's not just a figure of speech. It's been getting so much attention that Matt Lauer and Al Roker broadcast part of The Today Show from it a few weeks ago (no doubt promoting NBC's Sunday Night football game a few days later).

(Sweet, the Panther's defense held on the Cowboy's first possession and they missed a field goal. My apologies for the occasional game interruption).

By now you've probably heard some of the facts and statistics surrounding this behemoth, which was introduced on opening night with a short video montage that showed the Parthenon, the Pyramids, the Taj Mahal, the Roman Coliseum....and finally the Cowboys Stadium. Nothing like setting the bar high! Anyway, here are just a few to chew on:

The interior of the stadium is 3 million square feet.
Seating capacity is well over 100,000, making opening night the largest crowd to ever see an NFL game in person.
The storied jumbo hi-def screen hanging over the field is 60 yards long, the largest of it's kind in the world. It also has been a source of frustration for some punters.
The interior of the stadium is so vast that the entire Ford Field, the indoor football stadium for the NFL Detroit Lions built just a few years ago, could actually fit inside it.
In addition to the jumbo screen, there are over 3000 other screens in the luxury suites, concourses and restaurants. Know that one concession stand at your local high school stadium? There are hundreds of them here, along with dozens of food courts.
The roof is retractable and can be opened and closed as the weather permits. In addition, each end of the stadium is a huge sliding door that can be opened to let in air flow. However, both doors must be opened at the same time or the air pressure could blow out the opposite door.
Leases for the luxury suites range between $100,000-500,000 - and that's only for Cowboy games, not third-party events. They've got ten home games this season, including preseason games. Do the math.
A 20-inch pepperoni pizza sells for $60 and parking goes for $75. I think I read somewhere that a beer was $9 (which, all things considered, is pretty reasonable).
Want to just go and hang out in the concourse areas with your friends without seeing any of the actual game? You can, for a mere $29. Seriously.

And that's just the tip of the iceberg. Every fact about this stadium is worth acknowledging.

(Hmm, first Panther possession was nothing to get excited about. Would've liked a little more "umph" out of the initial drive, guys.)

So time for full disclosure here: I do not like the Cowboys. I was raised by my Dad to follow the Washington Redskins, which meant I could only hold the supposed "America's Team" with disdain and scorn. I once met someone who swore they were both a Cowboys and Redskins fan. I told them they needed to have their head checked. I will admit to Troy Aikman being a class act and I thought it was cool when Emmitt Smith won the original "Dancing With The Stars." Other than that, though, there's not much I find more unappealing in the football world than that blue star on the silver helmet. Even so, I'd like to think my uncomfortableness with this stadium has nothing to do with the team that's playing in it.

(Dang, Jake's eleventh interception in four games, dating back to the debacle in last year's playoff game.)

I love me some football, I really do. I suffer mightily every February as the last few seconds of the Super Bowl wind down and our world enters the 4-5 month purgatory known as baseball season. I watch preseason games even though they don't mean a bloomin' thing (last year's winless Detroit Lions, as an example, went 4-0 in the preseason). I know these guys get paid way too much money and there's simply no way to justify a drafted rookie haggling over whether his signing bonus should be $10 million or $12 million. Still, I can't help myself. I eat it all up, much to the chagrin of my betrothed.

But really - a $1 billion stadium? Sure it's an architecture marvel and the huge TV screen is impressive. But is it necessary? Word is that it came with a price tag of well over $1 billion - that's with a "B" folks. And if you're in the greater Dallas area you going to feel about $325 million of that. That's not chump change. It doesn't help matters that the instigator behind this is a narcissistic owner who unceremoniously fired a class act of a coach upon his arrival (Tom Landry) and then years later ditched his most successful coach because he'd proven not to be a simple "yes man" (Jimmy Johnson). It's hard to root for a guy like that.

But most importantly - does a stadium like this really enhance the overall experience? When you get right down to it, everything boils down to one common denominator: the game on the field. And despite all the bells and whistles surrounding it, the only thing that really matters is the two teams suiting up in helmets and pads, blocking, running, passing, tackling, trying with all their might to get a foot-long leather orb into the gridiron Holy Land known as the end zone. That's why this game is a work of art whether you're watching it in a fancy NFL stadium or freezing on those horrid aluminum bleachers on a Friday night cheering for your local high school team.

(YEAH! Touchdown, Rosario! Nice snag! Panthers up 7-0!)

All I can say is that I'd hate to be Tony Romo or Wade Phillips. You don't build the Roman Coliseum of the 21st century to house a .500 football team. Talk about pressure.

Glad it's them and not me. I'll go back to watching the game on my old tube TV from the comforts of my 13-year old recliner while munching on my $2 bag of pretzels. It's good enough for me.

*********************

POSTSCRIPT: Panthers lose 21-7, Delhomme throws another interception and a fumble. An ugly finish in any stadium.....

Not about meeting OUR needs....

Steve Lindsley — Fri, 18 Sep 2009 08:19:55 -0700

It is, for me, like long sharp nails running down a brand new chalkboard. Or the car in front of me on the interstate cruising along at 70 mph with their turn signal on.

It's the expression most commonly used to describe someone who is searching for a spiritual home; a place of worship to call their own:

Church-shopping.

Ugh. I'm telling you, it makes my stomach churn. I was reminded of my disdain for this phrase when I read this blog from Relevant Magazine. The ironic thing is that I actually agree with the article's general premise, which highlights the kinds of things that draw people to the church and what keeps them there - a need for community, a desire to experience the presence of the divine, a longing to be involved in something meaningful and impactful. I'm right there with ya. I just could've done without the title.

Shopping is, of course, a simple fact of life in our consumer-based Western world. It drives our economy, it keeps people employed. When it comes to making a specific purchase, the smart ones among us take time to "check around" for the best deal. So we look up prices on the internet. We stop by Target, Wal-Mart or local dealer. We weigh the pros and cons. We ask questions like, "What does this product have to offer me?" We expect salespeople to do their job and convince us that what they have to offer is what we should go with. And only after we've fully done our homework do we discern the best option and make the needed purchase.

All of which is fine and dandy when you're talking about a TV set, a new car or a pair of slacks. But this can't be the way we approach looking for a new church. When we reduce the church to nothing more than a "commodity" to be acquired or an investment to be made, we lose a sense of all the wonderful things that article pointed out - the need for community and the transforming presence of God in our midst. We view the various activities of the church as "programs" (part of the reason why I've tried to replace that word in our church lingo with the more appropriate "ministries"). Worse of all, we come to understand the sole purpose of the church as offering us something; an institution designed specifically to meet our needs.

That's part of the reason why I love the story told by Lutheran pastor and author Rick Barger about his church's new member classes, held once a quarter. The eager inquirers (dare I say, "church-shoppers??") gather in the church's parlor along with the two elders conducting the class. The minister convenes the group, welcomes them to the church, tells them how happy he is to have them there. Then he says this: I think it's important for you all to know something up front, something very important as you contemplate church membership with us, something we hold near and dear as we understand what church is. See, we believe that the church is not here to meet your needs.

The minister pauses for a second and notes the surprised, almost shocked expressions on people's faces. Obviously this is not what they expected to hear; perhaps they're thinking to themselves: What does he mean, "The church is not here to meet our needs?" That's what the church is supposed to be about, right - meeting my needs?? And really, who can blame them for thinking this? After all, they'd been "church shopping!"

And that is when the pastor would preach perhaps the greatest sermon ever in eight short words: The church is here to meet God's needs.

In other words, no more were they going to learn about "programs" and what the church could do for them. Instead they were going to experience koinonia - the Greek word used in the early church for "fellowship." They were going to come face-to-face with the beauty of community in a family of faith, the transforming presence of Jesus in their midst. Most importantly, they were going to focus not on their own agendas but on God's; on not on having their needs met but on meeting the needs of the One that brought them there in the first place.

The great thing about this is not only that the mission of the church is realized, but in the process we actually find ourselves fulfilled; our needs met. It's just that they're different from the ones we had at the outset; needs we hadn't anticipated or expected. They are the need for community, for service and sacrificial giving, for holy fellowship and mission, for working together to bring about God's kingdom on earth. This kind of mentality can't help but force us to check at the door all egos, all personal agendas, all elements of the consumer society which would seek to reduce faith to nothing more than a marketplace enterprise.

So absolutely - seek out a church or faith community that speaks most to you, if you haven't found it already. Strive for a fellowship where you feel at home, where you can be part of something bigger than yourself, where you can serve rather than be served. Just don't call it church-shopping. Dare to make it something more meaningful.