Pretty Sweet

This reminds me of some epic HORSE games back in the day with Brett and Wayne when TDS subs were on the line. We weren't as good as this guy, but I'm pretty sure we tried all these shots. In any event, this is a good way to kill three minutes.

Stan the Man

Last night, Stan Weller passed away after what had been a quick illness, and a long, productive, and fulfilling life.

When I was a young youth pastor (v1.0) at Shawnee in the early/mid nineties I was so dumb I didn't know what I didn't know. It seemed like every other week I said or did something that got me into some kind of trouble. Whether it was people offended by my calling my senior pastor "The Great Bald One" (fortunately, over time the congregation developed a greater sense of humor) or ticked off trustees angry because another table ended up broken at Youth Fellowship, it seemed like the opportunities for me to get beat with sticks were abundant here. I realize most of this I brought down on myself, but I was truly ignorant, and I can tell you it wasn't bliss.

I don't know what it was that convinced Stan to step in and help a clueless guy out. He had been a teacher, coach, and administrator, so maybe he thought he could mold me just like his other students or a young teachers. He liked taking on hopeless causes and arguing with others (he liked to say God put him on the earth to give other people a hard time), so maybe as a member of SPRC, the incessant complaining he heard mainly from older members about the youth pastor kinda got his dander up. Maybe he felt compelled to step in because the lack of a youth ministry at the church prior to my being hired made him sick to his stomach. I don't know.

I suspect that real reason Stan took to me was due to all the mission work the teens were doing in those days. Some of the work - like the annual mission trips to rural South Carolina (which started as Hurricane Hugo repair work but over time became an effort to not only alleviate poverty among mostly rural poor elderly South Carolingians but an effort to bridge racial and cultural barriers in a divided Williamsburg County, SC) was initiated by me.

Some work they were doing wasn't. Ellen Dukeman, a high school student, initiated with a couple of other teens from the church an after-school art program at the Bradfield Center in Lima, which evolved into a once-a-week tutoring program totally run and operated by teens. Stan, I think, saw teens working and giving of themselves, and felt it was too important for the church, and the Kingdom, to idly stand by as the youth pastor in charge repeatedly shot himself in the foot. That's probably when the first invitation to come eat chili at his house happened.

Soon, on about a monthly basis, I found myself at Stan's house where we'd sit, eat, talk, and mostly laugh. In time he started giving me a hard time each and every Sunday morning before and after the 8:30am service. Not long thereafter, he'd regularly stop in at the office, grab Helen Price from her desk, and she and he would come heckle me mercilessly about how I (dis)organized my desk.

I loved every minute of it.

He owned an old orange suburban in those days which he made available to the youth group whenever they needed it. Later, because we were using it more than he was, he asked me if I wanted to buy it. I didn't really have the money so he set it up so the payments could be made whenever I could afford to do so. It took two years to finally pay off the $1100 I owed him, but he didn't seem to care. He burned the ledger in the fire of the grill he used to make us the hamburgers we ate to celebrate the end of my debt.

You just don't forget stuff like that.

After about a year of those lunches at his house, he had asked me so many questions about our mission work in South Carolina that I guess his curiosity got the best of him. He asked whether or not that following summer if he could go with us. I told him that was fine by me. Personally, though, I was a little worried. Stan retired early (at 55, I think). By the time he went down with us he was I believe about 70 years old. I wondered how he would get along with the teens, and they him.

I got my answer as we made our way down the highway on the very first day. I was leading a caravan of four or five vehicles, when out of nowhere an orange suburban went flying past my van. In it was one 70 year old driver and five teens dancing to music coming out of the radio. The suburban was swerving all over the road because the driver, while dancing, wasn't keeping his hands on the wheel as the hunk of metal loaded with kids and gear hurled down the highway at 75mph.

From that day on, Stan was, by far, the most popular adult counselor we took on our mission trips.

I remember something else about Stan's first year with us in SC. We had this kid go with us who even at the age of 12 or 13 was a hellion. Everywhere I had taken the kid he would be a real pain in the everlovin'. He was always mouthing off, sneaking off to grab a quick smoke (which I'd have to quash whenever I could), and causing some sort of trouble. He would openly tell me each week at YF that only reason he was there was because his mother made him go. Repeatedly I gave him permission to stay home, but his mother never relented. I remember shivering when she gave me the sign up form and registration fee so that her son, Todd, could go on the mission trip.

Anyhow, the first day Stan worked in South Carolina, it was hot. Real hot. Like 112 degrees in the shade hot. I had put in charge of building a wheelchair ramp at a home where a mother taking care of an adult daughter with MS lived, and it was clear by lunch that Stan was not well. He wasn't afraid of work, but unaccustomed to the heat he had already over-exerted himself. Because it wasn't that big of a job (I think that year we were also renovating a couple of houses) and because he insisted as a retired principle he could handle them, I had assigned to Stan a crew of my young troublemakers, including Todd.

At first, Stan worked while the kids stood around looking for trouble, but as he tired, he began assigning jobs and showing kids how to do things. By the time I arrived later that morning the kids were digging post holes, mixing concrete, cutting wood, and nailing nails while Stan sat under a shade tree drinking lemonade.

That night at devotions youth and adults were (in jest) giving Stan a hard time about sitting around all day. The ribbing was only growing and getting more pointed, when out of nowhere, Todd stood up, and began passionately defending Stan. Stan, he told us, was only doing what he was supposed to be doing... showing the teens who had signed up to work how to do the work. He went on to tell us to leave Stan alone because he was older and we needed to treat him with more respect. He concluded his speech by letting all know that Stan's crew, under his leadership, would outwork any other crew there that week and the rest of us could just kiss their ass.

Might be the only time I was ever proud of a kid for using blue language at devotions.

It was not only a turning point for Todd. The kid who hated coming to church and YF ended practically living there whenever he had the chance. But is was also a turning point for me, and all the adults and kids involved in the SC mission. From that day on adults made greater efforts to show the kids how to get things done and do the work, and kids expected to work hard. To this day, I don't think any youth pastor expected more work out of a group of teens than I did on those mission trips. One year, for example, in one week those kids built a house from the pad up, renovated another one (down the floor joyces and studs), renovated a church, and did a host of side projects. I think back now and wonder what I was thinking. I worked them so hard under that hot sun you'd have thought they were being punished, but every year their numbers grew.

By 1997 a group of almost 100 people, more than 80 of them teens, traveled to South Carolina to build and repair houses. It was Stan, out of personal necessity, who really taught us how to train and trust teens with actual work.

In any event, Stan became a perennial participant in our South Carolina mission . He was, by far, the most beloved volunteer I ever took anywhere in 20 years of ministry. He received the ultimate honor when one year during devotions the kids decided he was too cool to be an adult, and they made him a lifetime member of the youth ministry. Stan beamed from ear to ear.

I don't know when it happened, but sometime during my first six years at SUMC our relationship, which had started more as a mentoring thing, became a true friendship. I'd tell him about stuff at work or home and he'd talk about his own family. Out of that conversation, I ended up meeting his son, Mark.

Mark had since long quit going to church, which I have to say bothered Stan. Mark, after I'm sure hearing Stan talk about SC incessantly, liked what he heard about the mission work we were doing, and one summer asked if he could come with us. I remember all week he kept telling us we were doing everything wrong (the nut doesn't fall far from the tree). By the time the day came for us go home, he was hooked. Not only did Mark go with us every year until I left in 1997, but he also started playing b-ball with a bunch of us over-the-hill guys from the church at the local armory. He'd even show up occasionally and sit with his folks in the 8:30am service, which delighted his Dad to no end. I loved having him become part of the congregation, and he too became a good friend.

Those were very good days.

After we moved, Stan never failed to keep in touch. He was one of the most loyal friends I've ever had. When we lived in Toledo, he'd drive up occasionally and take us out to lunch. When we moved to Bloomington, Illinois, he and Betty planned a trip that included stopping off so they could meet our newborn son. When we lived in Goshen, they'd stop over a couple of times a year to see us to see how the kids were doing. In turn, whenever I was back in Lima visiting my folks, I usually found myself at least one afternoon or evening visiting with Stan and Betty at their home, checking out whatever car or camper he had just bought at the auction in Fort Wayne (he owned a gazillion cars in his lifetime... my hero) and getting caught up on what his family was doing.

After we moved back in 2004, the dementia that Betty had started to experience very slowly in the late 90's had totally eroded her memory. Stan was taking care of her round the clock and it was wearing him down. He was losing weight at an alarming pace, and I noticed that his own memory was starting to fade. We still had a bowl of chili occasionally and my two oldest sons and I went with him a few times to fish, but after he made the hard choice to put Betty in the nursing home (the day he did so it was the only time, I think, I saw him break down) I saw him less and less. He spent most every hour of each day by her side.

By the time she died this past winter, Stan was in pretty bad shape. Fortunately his sons, and the rest of his family, were there for him. It couldn't have been easy for them to ease him out of driving and eventually out of the home he had built, but they didn't have much choice. He was fading quickly.

We had no idea here at the church over the last month how rapidly Stan was deteriorating. He apparently was in the hospital for three weeks in late May/early June, but despite our calling that hospital every day to ask if they had admitted any of our parishioners, they failed to notify us that he was in their care (which still makes me very upset). That's why I was so shocked when Mark showed up at church Sunday to tell me that Stan was dying.

I just didn't know.

By the time I visited him Sunday afternoon he was unconscious, heavy morphine masking the pain which comes from a failing liver. I wish I could have told him how much he meant to me and how his support and friendship had shaped my life. I wish I had the chance to groan and laugh at one of his terrible jokes, and tell the same tired stories about the South Carolina mission trips. I wish I knew whether or not when I read to him the 121 Psalm and told him I loved him that he heard me. I wish I knew that when I kissed him goodbye on his forehead he knew it was me. I hope as around his bed I told his sons that there was no way I could take a dime to do his funeral, he heard Mark crack back, "Well that makes it easier cause we weren't gonna pay you anyway." I hope on the inside it made him laugh.

But I won't fret too much about those things. He'd just scowl if he heard me saying this stuff, and tell me to worry about something important. That's just the way he was, and maybe it's the thing about him I'll miss the most. I'll just take comfort in knowing that now he is safely with his Savior, embracing again his lovely wife, and telling all kinds of fish stories with buddies long since past.

Rest in peace, old friend. I look forward to seeing you again someday, laughing as we once did, over lunch in the kitchen of our Father's house. Just keep a pot of chili on the stove, and an empty bowl on the table.

What Makes A Leader Great?

Great article this morning on Kobe Bryant by The Sports Guy, Bill Simmons. Simmons, a lifelong Celtics fan, has a hate-love (cause it's mostly hate) for any or all Lakers, and Bryant seems to be at the top of that list. I think he does a great job of dissecting the player-as-teammate versus the player-as-performer (if that makes sense). Simmons decides that Kobe is a great individual performer - maybe as good as any other we'll ever see in the NBA - but way, way down on the list of great teammates. The upshot, though, is that in order to make the leap into the pantheon of the greatest whoever played, Simmons conjectures that Bryant must becoming both a great performer and teammate.

Is he right? Who knows. If the Lakers repeat, or win multiple championships with a nucleus of Bryant, Gasol, Odum, and Ariza it would be hard to deny Kobe his rightful place in NBA history. He'll need to perform at a high level to make this a possibility, but he'll have to modify his behavior if he wants these guys to stick around. How the rest of his teammates continue to respond to him, and he them, that will define whether or not Kobe is a great basketball player or the greatest.

That's what possessed me to take this work break (no writing today... got church stuff to get done). Simmons' article led me to ask the question, "What makes a leader great?".

The answer: talent, drive and trust.

We just returned late last week from conference where we spent a lot of time listening to Mike Slaughter and his associate pastor, Sue Nilson Kibbey, who are at the forefront of Ginghamsburg (we keep the "United Methodist" part in 6-point font at the bottom of the sign) Church.

When Mike arrived at what was GUMC, it was a typical tiny burg kind of church. Old building. 50-80 people. Hidden location. Biggest thing that happened each year was an annual chicken noodle dinner. Without Mike's arrival, the future of the church is probably like so many other UMC's across our conference, which is to say eventual closure.

Mike, though, didn't do this alone. While he's a dynamic preacher, and a leader without fear, he knew needed other people to make the enterprise go. Tom Tumblin was imported to give the staff shape and the church the structure necessary as the first Executive Pastor. Mike Nygren, a shop teacher/volunteer youth director, took the youth ministry to new heights on the premise that kids would rather make a difference than be entertained. Mike's wife, Carolyn, helped give the adult discipleship department shape and form. Mike, very early, jettisoned the hymnal, and while other UMC pastors were railing against contemporary worship, Mike embraced it, hiring guitarists and drummers instead of an organist.

It was the team Mike assembled around him coupled with his talent and drive that really helped propel 90 person GUMC to 1200 person GUMC.

But the tales that one heard about working at GUMC in those days were legendary. The average tenure for an employee was rumored to be 18 months. It was a pressure cooker.

The turning point, as I understand it, when Ginghamsburg went from hitting the ceiling at about 1000 to really taking off happened about 16-17 years into Slaughter's tenure. Tumblin left, replaced with somebody who ended up not being quite so able to keep things functioning under the remarkable pressure. Nygren left, throwing the youth ministry into chaos. Another leader who had been hired at some point mutinied against Slaughter's leadership, and left taking hundreds of people with him. The whole endeavor, if not in trouble, was at a crossroads. It was in crisis.

Enter Sue Kibbey.

I have strange perspective of GUMC. I actually interviewed there in 2003 for a Young Adult ministry position. This was after spending most of a week with Slaughter as a part of a thing they used to do where pastors paid an insane amount of money to just follow Mike around to see how he did things (my boss at the time opted to this, and somehow I ended up getting dragged along after immediately coming home from 10 days in Haiti). Coming off that experience it was my impression that Kibbey made, and makes, the place go. She oversees all the stuff Slaughter can't, and is focused on what she believes is going to make the place work.

I guess it goes without saying that I didn't fit into that vision. Probably about the tenth time Kibbey made it point to say that they weren't really looking for an ordained minister for that particular position I should have realized what was up. I would have reported to her, and she knew what she wanted. She's disciplined and smart enough to know that if the person doesn't fit into that vision, keep looking. Call it the blessing of a prayer request being answered with a "no". If we had ended up at Ginghamsburg in 2003, no way Joseph would have talked to me about coming to Shawnee in 2004.

(Strange how things work out. I can live with having never worked at GUMC. I would be sick if the chance to come back to Shawnee, and in effect, home to Lima would have been missed. I truly love serving this church.)

Mike's trust of Sue Kibbey, and in effect her way of conducting business, is part of the reason why GUMC keeps growing. The other part is Mike himself. He's a charasmatic communicator with a bulldog personality. Mike has vision for what he wants to create (a progressive evangelical church), has the talent to make it happen, and won't let the vision go. Kibbey is able to stack the blocks just right to make it happen.

Greatness comes only from talent, drive and trust.

Jordan ain't Jordan without , Jerry Krause, Phil Jackson and Scottie Pippen. Krause drafted and signed players that would compliment Jordan's skills. Jackson coaxed the hyper-selfish Jordan into becoming a teammate and trusting them in the "triangle" offense. Jackson too, dealt with other egos like Horace Grant and Dennis Rodman, doing just enough to harness their talent while allowing them to be themselves. Pippen did all the things Jordan needed him to do, setting an example for the rest of the team, and creating matchup nightmares for other coaches.

Without Jordan, there are no six championships in Chicago, but if Jordan doesn't trust everyone else his career is more like Allen Iverson's or Adrian Dantley's - lots of points scored but at the expense of the rest of the team. Maybe there's a championship or two, but given how good some of those Portland, Pheonix, and Jazz teams were in those days, it's not likely.

Will Bryant's teammates put up with his selfishness another year now that they have rings on their own fingers? If Bryant wants two or three championships, sans Shaq, he'll have to hope so... or start doing even more trusting than he does now.

Talent, drive and trust. That's what will separate the good from the great.

(A Rare) Ten Things I Think I Think

1) Progress on the book continues, slowly but slowly. I've got about half the writing done, but am struggling with keeping focused. It's summer. It's sunny. The kids want to play and go swimming. Not to mention I'm trying to work through three or four major projects here at church (good stuff.... but time consuming). Would have made more progress last night, but a group in using the SRC pulled a fire alarm (or I should say a two-year old with the group) and the alarm system kept doing screwy things all afternoon and into the evening. That meant every 30 minutes the alarm company called to let me know that there was a fire at the church when there were no fires. Good gravy... the building is made mainly out of non-burnable substances. In any event, we'll just need to keep the old nose to the grindstone and gut this book out.

2) Part of the problem of book writing is that I'm not much of a writer. In high school, college, and seminary I wrote solely to provide ordered, maximum information. That's what essay writing for exams require. You'd think my writing would improve after years of doing sermons, but I haven't really written a sermon (outside of the six I had to do for our Beeson preaching classes) in over a decade. I found that when I wrote out sermons that I tended to look down a lot, which created issues as far as making contacts with the congregation. Going with a loose outline enables me to stay engaged with the people listening while at the same time forcing me to really learn the scriptural exegesis (fancy word for "in depth study").

Long story short - I don't write much.

To go from not writing much to writing a book is like jumping in the deep end of the pool in full motorcycle regalia - leathers, boots, and the works - and trying to swim. It's not easy. Nothing good is.... but to call what I'm writing "good" might be a tad over hyped. I think the research is pretty decent, but the package the research is in ain't Moby Dick. I'm glad we have a good editor.

3) Bad news for my Alma Mater, Lima Senior High School. The athletic conference they were in collapsed as members joined conferences closer to their home. Now, LSH, facing being an independent (which is a scheduling nightmare) has applied to become part of the Western Buckeye League, a local athletic conference it was once a member of before the school grew so large that it sought greener pastures (namely the Greater Miami Conference, which was made up mainly of Cincinnati area schools). The WBL denied the petition, leaving LSH in a lurch.

Personally I think the WBL has made a huge mistake. Quite frankly they would be a lot better off jettisoning a smaller school (WBL schools can be as small as Div III) or a school further away (like Van Wert or Kenton which are both hour long drives and hence more expensive to maintain as members). Even though LSH is the biggest school in the area, the only sport the rest of the league would have to worry about the Spartans dominating is basketball. The football program fell into shambles a decade ago. The school isn't much more than "competitive" (as opposed to "dominant") in any other sport.

And LSH is kind of our area's Oakland Raiders. It's the team the area schools love to hate. Every time they play a WBL school in the revenue generating sports (b-ball and football) they sell out because the WBL fans show up droves to see if they can beat the "inner-city school". Inclusion of LSH into the WBL makes sense. They should revisit this, pronto.

5) Great article in the USA Today on how a person's view of God shapes their neuro-pathways, and in effect how they view others. The gist of the article is that if you view God as loving and forgiving, you tend to be better adjusted and healthier than if you view God as angry and vengeful. Can't say this is all that big a surprise, but it is interesting that this is becoming an area of study for researchers trying to connect religious belief with brain function. I'll be interested to see the work on this subject as time passes. Should be fascinating.

6) As one of the last fourteen or fifteen NBA fans left in the country you might be wondering why I haven't yet written anything on the Laker's latest championship last night. The answer: still depressed at the collapse of the Cavs to the Magic. No way they should have lost that series. Who hits 48% from the three-point line for a series? Apparently a team that got hot and then promptly went cold in the Finals.

(sigh)

In any event, at least we got to see the Kobe and LeBron puppet commercials...






















Too bad puppet Kobe is way cooler and less creepy than real Kobe.

7) We went to Annual Conference last week. To be honest, not much happened. There was preaching, bickering, voting, praying, and lots of ice cream eating. Here are some of my most memorable moments, in no particular order...

- Sue Nilson Kibbey, Executive Pastor at Ginghamsburg, doing a sermon that was about 50% produced by the video production department at her mega-church. Gotta love somebody preaching a sermon encouraging people to think out of the box using technology nobody else in the conference can replicate. I will now light myself on fire.

- Me getting into it with a member of the Good News Movement (conservative wing of the UMC) during registration (that was a heck of a way to kick things off) because he made the outrageous claim that the liberal wing of the church would be able to speak freely while the conservative wing would be muffled by the powers that be. Twenty years I've been going to conference and I can safely say that this has never been a problem. Both sides seem to say their fair share, while those of us in the middle just sit and listen. He fired back that I had no idea what I was talking about, and I replied, "So's your old lady, sissy boy."

Ok, so I made that last one up, but I did tell em to relax. He just went away grumpily.

- Barry DeShetler, former senior pastor to yours truly and current senior pastor at Kettering Christ UMC telling the story of how, as a young Elder, at Annual Conference each year they would present a "conference cane" to the oldest living pastor, and how someday he wanted to get that cane and still be preaching. He plans on going strong into his 70's, and is convinced he could still preach and lead someone 20 years younger "under the table". I believe him.

- Over conversation Bill Lyle of Greenville Evangelical UMC letting it slip that they congregation will, as a service project, will be painting the football stadium at the local high school. Some guys get all the luck.

Church + Ohio + Football = The greatest community service project, ever. They have enlisted over 280 volunteers from the congregations.

- Sue Kibbey explaining why they call them "servants" and not "volunteers" at Ginghamsburg. I was convinced. We'll now be calling for "servants". Makes sense.

- Mike Slaughter (once again, from Ginghamsburg, only he's the Lead Pastor) telling us that in the last election more than 300 people left their church, and how this happens every election year because he won't equate "Republican" with "Christian" in rural NW Ohio. Gutsy.

- Me driving around in our house golf cart (came with the rental), telling anybody who asked where I got the cart that "walking is for suckers".

- Me driving the golf cart constantly getting flagged down by people who thought I was driving one of the free shuttles for AC, and then taking them wherever it was they wanted to go without telling them they were mistaken.

- Bishop Ough asking AC "Are We General Motors?" in his Episcopal Address (one of the most daring I've ever heard). As he related time and time again how we UMC's are too much like GM and what would need to happen to fix it, you could have heard a pin drop. Change is coming my friends. Change is coming.

- All the ice cream cones eaten with various friends and collegues. Gotta love ice cream, friends, and collegues.

8) The boys are swimming for Westside Swim and Raquet Club this summer. It's the first year a Bucher hasn't been a member at Sherwood CC since 1981. Aimee likes the place cause it has a playground and more people she knows. The boys initially resisted the change, but after realizing how many of their friends swim at Westside soon came around. I thought Sherwood was fine, but if my family is cool with it, then so am I. A pool is a pool. Gotta leave here in a few minutes cause we have to make the trek down to Kenton tonight for the meet. Next Monday we go to Van Wert and their indoor nautatorium that's about a million degrees. Whatever. I like to watch the boys swim.

9) Sad news out of Celina... a ,mother of two teenager died of an overdose after chewing on a fentanyl patch provided to her by her husband. Now he's in jail facing a myriad of charges, and the top things off, it was the two children who found their parents passed out in the family room. The family had no apparent history of drug abuse and had ever been in trouble with the law. The community is still in shock.

If you don't know what fentanyl is, it's a drug that's inserted in a patch that applied to chronically ill patients. The drug is absorbed through the skin and can dull pain for up to three days. Nobody really knows why in the world this couple decided doing fentanyl would be a good idea. Did they have a secret drug problem? Was it really a suicide attempt? Did they do it on a lark?

Who knows.

This much we can say, though, sin - and you can't really call illegally buying a fentanyl patch to use recreationally anything else - is a killer. You can shield it from the world, sometimes even for a lifetime but in the end it will destroy you inside out. Unfortunately sometimes when the bottom drops out it can have catastrophic consequences.

Can't think of too many things more catastrophic than a dead mother, an incarcerated father, two reeling teenagers now living with family, and a community groping for answers. Very, very sad. I'm sure every prayer, particularly for the kids, would be appreciated.

10) Been listening to a lot of O.A.R. and Pink Floyd as I write my part of the book. Wonder what that means? I'm guessing it won't appeal to hippies or psychedelic drug users. Must mean the bands write music that's easy to ignore while a guy writes. That's how I wore out my "Genesis: Three Sides Live" cassette back in college. Apparently you can only write so many papers and study for x number of exams before the cassette says "no mas". MP3's have no "no mas" limit. So if you hear me quietly, mindlessly singing, "There's a road outside of Columbus, Ohio...." you'll know what's going on.

Ten Things I Think I Think

1) You will get a new post every time I don't want to write anything for this book. Today would be one of those times. Call it a mental block. Call it laziness. Call it anything you want, just don't call me late to dinner.

2) Resident Family Digital Genius, CJ, has dug up this gem of a commercial. Low budget at its best. These are the ideas I wish I had.




Pure genius on a $65 budget. I'll be singing that jingle all day.

3) Worshiped yesterday at Philippian Missionary Baptist where the Rev. Dr. B Lamont Montford was on fire yesterday. In all seriousness that might have been the most challenging, in-your-face, Mothers Day sermon I'll ever hear in my life. A powerful sermon from a guy whose own mother was a drug-addicted prostitute who was murdered at a young age. It was an honor to be there. A true honor.... although at a certain point in the service, I was sitting in the back of the sanctuary, and upon realizing I was there, Lamont invited me to come sit up on the platform with him. Unfortunately, it meant that another guy up on the platform lost his seat, which I still feel terrible about. Things work differently in predominantly black congregations.

4) Was told that yesterday's service here at Shawnee UMC was also very powerful. Testimony was given by a woman who is now a social worker who as a teenager gave a child up for adoption. Also heard from a teenager who lives here locally who realized a couple of years ago just how loved she is not only by her adopted mother, but by her biological mother who gave her up in the hope she would have a better future. Kind of a different take that Charlotte Hefner, our associate pastor, decided on for Mothers Day, but that's why we love her. Nobody's better at getting people to look at things from a different perspective. Here's the link for our podcasts. I'm sure at some point soon this week's service will be posted if there weren't recording issues (which we sometimes have). Just keep your eyes peeled.

5) I am having a hard time moving forward on this book regarding leadership transitions (obviously, cause I'm killing time here to avoid killing time there). Part of the issue is just feeling overwhelmed by the task at hand. In a lot of ways I just feel like I'm over my head. But the first and foremost issue is that there's a lot of information to sort through, and not a lot of time. I was up until 2am last night simply sorting out the various learnings I think have been uncovered by the research, and there are many.

One of the most important, for example, is that boards and bureaucracies have to show a lot of self-restraint in order to make a leadership transition work. Because these folks generally have a lot of power, the inclination, particularly as it relates to finding new leadership, is to use it. Once all involved agree on a transition process, this biggest challenge often faced is getting the board to keep their hands to themselves, and trust the process.

At one of the churches, for example, a board member who vehemently opposed doing a transition from a senior leader to one of the associate leaders, had to be asked by the rest of the board to resign when he simply wouldn't back down even after the decision had been made. The particular board member was convinced that the only way a church should receive a new senior leader was in the aftermath of doing the more traditional "national search" and "call" process where resumes were solicited, candidates interviewed, trial sermons given, and the congregation getting the final vote. So married was he to the idea of the traditional "call" process that the stink he began to create convinced the rest of the board that he really didn't support the direction of the church, period, so they let him go.

In many cases, particularly in church settings, the general rule of thumb is for boards to make stink makers happy. Whether or not a leadership board has the stomach to follow through with a non-traditional leadership transition is a big question that should be asked by themselves and the senior leader before they try to engage the process.

6) When do you know the economy is bad? When every quartet, band, actor, and choir is sending you countless emails asking to come play at your church. I can't remember a six month span where I've been solicited more by artists. It must really be lean out there. Southern Gospel quartets, guys who can recite the entire Gospel of John, a female singer who sings ACR music and gives her testimony about her life as a gypsy, numerous hard-core speed metal/punk/r&b/alternative Christian rock bands, a Christian motivational speaker who juggles, countless choirs from all over the world..... everybody just wants meals and a free will offering. Just another sign that the church is battening down the hatches in a difficult economy.

7) Cleaned Max's room with him Saturday (for Mothers Day), and realized that my son suffers from the same malady I do: Pack-Rat-Pile-Making-itus. What's more, its genetic. You ought to see my dad's office. Everytime I get depressed about mine, I just go see his and I feel much better about my organizational ability. Let's hope that there's steady improvement generationally as we continue to sit on Max to keep his things in order. There's still hope for him. For Dad and I, like Red from "Shawshank Redemption", we're institutionalized. We can't make it on the outside of pack rate pile making.



Or maybe, then again, there might still be hope for us pile makers after all. In any event I'll do what I can to help my son.

8) My excitement over my own discovery of Ben Harper only grows. You will be... I will be... forgiven:



9) I'll tell you where amazing is gonna happen this year in the NBA playoffs. Wherever this guy is. He's on a mission.





10) Finally, to wrap this up, not only is there apparently a Red House commercial, but also a behind the scenes video of the making of the the Red House commercial. The internet at its finest.



I too enjoy extending credit to all people. On that note, I hope you have a nice day.

Ramblins And Such....

- The "Blessing of the Bikes" is over, and it was fantastic. Beautiful weather, 1300 people, 800 bikes, great tunes, and grace made it a morning to remember. Our service may not be the biggest Biker Blessing, but I am convinced it is the best. Look for it the first Sunday of next May. You won't want to miss it.

Here, by the way, are two the "mockumercials" we showed as a part of the service that day. For the unwashed, there is more than a little bit of rivalry between the owners of various makes of motorcycles. Let's just say that in these parts, Harleys and Hondas rule the roost. Us Kawasaki owners are the oppressed minority subject to much ridicule.



Joseph Bishman, our former senior pastor, was in the audience for this one. Fortunately, he has a pretty good sense of humor.



Special thanks to CJ Dugan, the family digital genius, for his editing work.

- I'm officially on the hook to write a book on my dissertation topic (speaking of which, I should be beating that buggar out right now... let's call this a creative genius break) with Bob Russell, whose web site is right here. More on this as things kind of come to fruition over the next three or four weeks (which is my deadline).

I can't say that I really wanted to get into something like this. On a number of occasions the past three years I've been told I should turn this research into a book, but 1) I've always kinda thought that sounded like more work than I wanted to do, 2) wouldn't be all that lucrative because (well let's face it) books by pastors leading midsize mainline congregations in small midwestern communities aren't exactly flying off the shelves, and 3) I had no idea where to begin. It wasn't until I was in Louisville to interview Bob Russell (among others) that someone who seemed somewhat serious about this project actually pursued me with the idea we do something together. This mysterious third party, the proprietor of "Ministers Label Publishing" is a young go-getter who has enough gumption and giddy-up for all three of us. He's the force behind the project, cracking the whip to keep me moving.

Well, cracking a whip and writing a check. That's pretty much what it takes.

- Gotta love the Cavs right now. They say the greatest story nobody has talked about in the NBA season is the relationship the teammates on the Cavaliers have with one another. In this day's NBA, where everyone has a posse (albeit the bigger the contract, the bigger the posse), its unusual for a team when its on the road to eat together, or catch a movie together. Normally they all go their separate ways, and see one another at the arena a few hours before game time. But the word on the street is the cheerleading you see LeBron doing on the bench is no act. Unlike Michael Jordan (champion basketball player... not-so-champion teammate who pretty much destroyed both Brad Seller's and Kwame Brown's confidence single-handedly) or Kobe Bryant (when Bryant goes to sit on the bench if you watch his teammates its almost like they're willing him to sit somewhere not next to them... I think he scares the crap out them) who begrudgingly worked with the rest of the team, LeBron is truly into the concept of "teamwork". I mean, this is a guy who has "loyalty" tattooed on one rib-cage and and "family" on the other. He still runs around with the same three guys who were his best friends in high school, the same high school he accepted his MVP award at earlier next week. The man likes having deep roots.

Which is to say, "Eat Your Heart Out NYC". No way LeBron leaves Cleveland. He'll be a global icon from the shores of Lake Erie.

- What's it say that right now I'm listening to a lot of Pink Floyd? Especially when for the longest time I haven't been able to stand Pink Floyd. We had a guy back at Stanton Hall, freshman year at Miami, who used to blast Pink Floyd out of his room at all hours day and night. A couple of us snuck in, took his "Dark Side of the Moon" CD and buried in the flowerbeds not far from our dining hall. After much cussing and threatening, he had a replacement copy by the end of the day. For all I know now there's a Pink Floyd Tree growing next Hughes Dining Hall. The music wasn't worth retrieving. Now, the Floyd rings out the speakers in office and I'm not even using drugs while marveling how amazing my hand is, which is always how I thought you had to be to stomach their so-called music. Now I'm singing along with Roger Waters... "tongue tied and twisted, just an earthbound misfit am I". Must have to be 40 to appreciate these guys. That's all I can figure.

- Got an email from an old friend, Steve, who was in Columbus last weekend to run a "half-marathon" with two of our mutual friends, John and Wayne. He wants me to run with them next year (given that he's seen me recently, "with them" meaning that while they run 13 miles I do the 5k fun run). Steve is one of my favorite people, and always had a unique way with words. Here's an excerpt of his invite for next year's festivities:

"Anyhow, you'll be done dinking around with your doctorate stuff before you know it and we want you to join us next yr but you can do the 5k fun run. You gotta get in shape or your gonna have a grabber before your 50. Instead of biking, get all those harley/honda boys to get in shape. Half the country is a lard ass and adding to our health care costs. I imagine in your part of the country its probably 2/3 are over weight and Obama aint gonna fix it for 'em. Gotta go, take care

Don't wanna have a "grabber" anytime soon, so I suppose back up on the treadmill I will drag my "lard ass". I surely would run next year if it meant I could see all those guys.

Maybe its just time passing (or the Facebook updates by Tyler Hoops, a young parishonier, about his Miami experience) but I look back on my collegiate experience with even more relish and nostalgia now more than ever. John plinking around on his guitar. Chuck chucking class to play Bards Tale (until they kicked him out of school). Countless hours playing basketball with Brett and Wayne (and I really, really miss playing ball with those guys). Steve regailing us with stories from his past life as a sportsware salesman/dump truck owner/man about town. Wheeler's own brand of unique humor as he re-lived that day's lecture by B.H. Smith. The cast of characters who seemed to constantly pass through Mike and I's dorm room: Paul, Star, Mel, The Pickerington Gang, Laura.... the list goes on and on. Late night at Saloon and a burger at Chuck's. My old radio show at WMSR. Even the rotten stuff like cramming for finals I can chuckle at now (although I wouldn't go through that again for all the tea in Greece).

All that and young love with my own beloved Aimee. Young love before kids and obligations and responsibilities and the constant fatigue you feel no matter how much rest you try to get. Great days. Great, great days.

Thus, if it's at all possible schedule-wise, you are on Steve Skeels. I'll be in Columbus to run that 5k as long as we can all go out afterword and beat the stories of the past into the ground. I'd like that a lot.

(By the way, nobody would be prouder that I'm shoving back the completion date for my doctorate so that I can make money writing a book than Steve. I may even get a free stock tip or a story about a guy who tried to outmanuver him in some business negotiation as a reward for my mercenary ways.)

- If you've got the time and ability, you gotta listen to new album "White Lies for Dark Times" by "Ben Harper and the Relentless 7". Great stuff. YouTube won't let you embed, but here's the video for "Shimmer and Shine"... and indeed it does take 100 miles of love to heal a mile of pain.

- Special thanks to Todd and Pam Stallkamp for hosting me whilst I finish up my doctoral dissertation research work in Tucson last week. The parents of Eric the Buckeye informed me that their son loved a particular snackfood so much that they ended up calling him "Mr. Ho Ho".

So, I wonder... is it "Mr. Ho Ho", or "Dr. Ho Ho" now?

In any event, thanks for a soft bed, witty conversation, great cups of coffee, a lovely meal at El Charro, and garage space for my rented Harley Electra Glide (under the auspice that they wanted to keep it protected from the elements.... I just think they didn't want to scare the neighbors into thinking Todd had joined the Hells Angels).

Also thanks to Pantano Christian Church for their cooperation so I could cram a bunch of interviews into too short a time period. Wish I had more time to hang out with that bunch. Undoubtly they were the happiest and most accomidating staff I met during my travels. Blessing to Glen Elliot and his staff as they attempt to reach their corner of the American Southwest.

- Here's the latest from Brother Esq. With his hard-earned attorney's fees he bought a smoker, and promptly bought 25 pounds of brisket to break it in. Also, Sammy, my nephew, had an earache this week, meaning Brother Esq. got to squeeze in 3 hours of sleep before appearing at an early-morning hearing (welcome to parenthood, Brother). He also informed me that if you win the lottery and are paid in the form of a long-term annuity, that before you can sell the annuity to one of those folks who advertise that they buy these things for pennies on the dollar in the wee hours of the morning (because lottery winner don't apparently need to sleep), you have to receive permission in a court of common pleas before you make the sale. Apparently JG Wentworth and the lot of those snake-oil salesmen were paying in some cases less than 50 cents on the dollar, and the complaints were so many that Ohio General Assembly passed a law that basically protects people from themselves.

The lesson, as always, the lottery is for suckers. Well, that and there seems to be no end to the ways attorneys can make money.

- Pray for SUMC pillar, Buzz Alder. He's having hip replacement surgery today.

Be good. See you again in another month.

My New Screenplay

Well, here it is. The beginnings of what I hope to be a great adventure. It all started with a phone call from a friend in the entertainment industry who reads the blog, and liked one particular post I wrote a couple of years ago. He forwarded it to a friend who is a producer, and now they want me to expand it to a full screenplay! Unbelievable! I'm so excited I'm using all exclamation points!!!

So what's it about? Well, here it goes....

A 40-ish pastor and father wakes up one day to realize that it's April Fools Day and decides to make up something ridiculous like writing a screenplay for a movie in Hollywood to fool all his Facebook friends and now is laughing hysterically as the number of visits to his blog increase dramatically today.

You people are too easy.

Have a nice April Fools Day.