One of my assistant principals is the pastor of a church in Montgomery, and he had previously invited me to visit his church. When the assignment was made, I immediately thought of him and his church. I asked him about it in passing, and his face lit up. He seemed as excited about the possibility of my visiting as I was.

So, this morning, I taught my class at my church, and then I jumped in the van and drove down to Montgomery to visit my coworker’s church. I will end up writing up the experience for the class, and when I do, I will focus on the experience as a whole. Tonight, I am focusing on one particular aspect - the fact that I was blessed with the opportunity to see a coworker, a man that I have known for the past year, in a whole new light. There are several images that I will never forget.

Anderson smiling as he visited with his church members before the service. At school, he has to wear his assistant principal hat. Whether he is dealing with students or with faculty members, he must constantly wear the hat of an administrator. The role of pastor is quite different, and I am glad I got to see him as he reached out to those he shepherds.

Anderson speaking with the children about light and darkness. Since several of the kids either lost power or had it blink off and on during the storms last night, the time was perfect to talk about living a forgiven life as walking in the light versus walking in darkness. My favorite part of this scene was watching Anderson as he hugged each of the children, smiling and laughing the entire time.

Anderson as he preached. Considering the communication skills I had already observed, I wasn’t surprised at all by his eloquence or passion. I was, however, blessed and challenged by it.

Anderson as he stood by a young man. There was a young man who responded to the invitation, coming forward and sitting in a chair as one of the elders of the church stood beside him. Anderson came around, knelt by the young man, and shared with him quietly. There is no way I can accurately describe the look on his face as he stood beside the young man with his arm around his shoulders and his head bowed, but I am glad I witnessed it.

Anderson as he stood with his arms outstretched, praying a benediction over the congregation. ‘Nuff said.

Prior to this morning, I knew that Anderson was a follower of Christ and a pastor, but that knowledge was theoretical. Today, I got to see it being fleshed out. Today, I was able to see a totally different side of a man whose office is just two doors down.

I was blessed by what I saw.

Dear Mr. Vernon,

We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong, but we think you’re crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us… In the simplest terms and the most convenient definitions. But what we found out is that each one of us is a brain… and a criminal… and a basket case… a princess… and an athlete. Does that answer your question?

Sincerely yours,

the Breakfast Club

This weekend, my bride and I decided to watch a couple of older movies. We started with an absolute classic -Breakfast Club. Sure, it might not rank up there with Ben Hur or Casblanca, but for any child of the eighties, this movie ranks right up there with Sixteen Candles or Ghostbusters.

As we watched it, I began to realize that there were some deep reasons why I truly love this movie.

This unlikely group experiences true community. Don’t get me wrong, they weren’t having Bible study over coffee at St. Arbuck’s or anything, but they still experienced deep community. They sat together and honestly shared their hurts, their fears, and their frustrations. They opened up to one another and ran the risk of being mocked, ridiculed, or rejected. But for that one Saturday morning, they took off their masks and got real with one another.

They said tough things to one another. On more than one occasion when one of the characters stepped out of line, one of the others would step up and speak truth. Sometimes the truth was spoken lovingly, other times it was spoken harshly, but sometimes the truth needs to be spoken boldly. This group didn’t sit around and blow sunshine up one another’s skirts - they challenged each other.

They saw the potential in one another. One of my favorite scenes is toward the end of the movie. Claire (the preppy little princess) sees the potential for beauty in Allison (the basket case). She takes her aside, brushes her hair out of her face, helps her put on a little make-up… and voila, the beauty of Ally Sheedy is revealed.

Who would have thought that John Hughes film from 1985 would inspire me in such a manner? Who would have thought that it had the potential to remind me of what we have been created for?

See, I believe we have been created to live in community. We have been created to live life without the masks we so carefully construct instead of being being brutally transparent and open with one another. Sometimes that openness requires brutal honesty in return. We must be willing to call one another out on the lies that we sometimes choose to conveniently accept as truths. And we must be willing to look beyond the surface to see the potential in others and then do all that we can to bring that potential to the surface.

Who would have thought that John Hughes would remind me of the kingdom of God as it is supposed to be?

I have been challenged by this man and his words. The fact is, all of us will one day die… but some of us never truly begin to live. To quote Thoreau,

“…I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.”

Pausch had the privilege of knowing that the end was near. My father-in-law did as well. (He was diagnosed with cancer and lived eleven months before dying. He was only expected to make it for six.) Some of us will get a diagnosis, but for others, death will come quickly without warning and without asking for our permission.

Because of this, I encourage you… don’t leave anything unsaid. Don’t leave anything undone.

I would write more, but I am going to hug my kids.

P.S. - I have excerpts from the video over there to the right. Check it out if you haven’t already seen it.

My family had attended First Baptist Church of Enterprise ever since we had moved to town when I was in third grade. Dad had wanted us to visit other churches (mainly because I think he would have been happier at a smaller church), but we joined FBC without ever visiting another church.

I was faithful in my attendance on Sundays and Wednesdays for years. I had become a Christian before we moved to Enterprise, and FBC contributed to my spiritual formation. There were some great men and women who invested in me in those early years, and I am thankful for their doing so. Nevertheless, as high school drew near, I found myself longing for something more.

At the beginning of my sophomore year, I was invited to attend the youth group at First United Methodist Church. Today, student ministries have dynamic names like FireFall, DV8, and The Well… In 1986, First Methodist just called it “youth group.” That first night, I found a place of acceptance. I found encouragement. I was challenged to pursue Christ as never before. I had known Christ as my Savior for years by that time, but that first night, the youth minister spoke to us about seeking to surrender our lives to Christ completely, allowing Him to be Lord of our lives. That night was a turning point in my young life.

Over the next several years, I continued to be a part of that youth group. I was discipled by some Godly men, including that youth minister, Ralph Sigler. I saw the youth group grow from an average of 40 or so meeting every Sunday night to more than 100 teenagers. I participated in retreats, ski trips, dart gun wars, backwards hide and seek, and countless other fun activities. I also built relationships that will outlive this world.

This afternoon, I get to see some of those friends. A group of us are getting together this afternoon, and I will see some friends that I haven’t seen in years. We will talk, we will laugh, and we will just enjoy being with one another.

I can hardly wait.

I was handling this video just fine… until Piper took me somewhere I didn’t want to go. Then it got a bit too real for me. What do you think?

Leave Britney’s Sister Alone???

Maybe you’re among the nearly 14 million viewers who’ve seen Chris Crocker’s part satire, part fan obsessed plea on YouTube entitled “Leave Britney Alone.” The now famous rant was all the talk on the web a few months back. If you haven’t seen it, consider yourself blessed. Chris Crocker’s 15 minutes of fame was, thanks in part to the once girl-next-door-turned-pop star, Britney Spears. Now again, on the coattails of Britney’s fame comes another headline grabbing story.

So, where is the hope in the Spears family saga? Well, first of all it’s not over. God can use all of this to get the attention of the Spears. They are valuable to God and He is in no way done with them. Second, there’s Jamie Lynn’s decision to keep the baby and not have an abortion. I am thankful that Jamie Lynn, the father, and all involved can model the principle that two wrongs don’t make a right. Third, there is the “man in the mirror” moment for me as an individual. I’d be the first to confess that I certainly have more in common with the Spears family than the virgin Mary. OH THE GRACE that we all need in the midst of our shortcomings. As a much lesser known public figure, this can serve as a reminder of the importance of accountability and conviction in my own life. Fourth, but certainly not last, is the lesson to learn as a parent. Where in my child’s life am I being a stumbling block rather than a stepping stone? Am I ever trying to live out my dreams through my kids? Maybe it would have been best, if as a selfish and ambitious parent, Lynne Spears had been the first to leave Brittany and her sister alone.

My Jesus

Which Jesus do you follow?
Which Jesus do you serve?
If Ephesians says to imitate Christ
Then why do you look so much like the world?

‘Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the arrogant
So which one do you want to be?

Blessed are the poor in spirit
Or do we pray to be blessed with the wealth of this land?
Blessed are they that hunger and thirst for righteousness
Or do we ache for another taste of this world of shifting sand?

Cause my Jesus bled and died for my sins
He spent His time with thieves and sluts and liars
He loved the poor and accosted the rich
So which one do you want to be?

Who is this that you follow?
This picture of the American dream
If Jesus was here
Would you walk right by on the other side
Or fall down and worship at His holy feet?

Pretty blue eyes and curly brown hair and a clear complexion
Is how you see Him as He dies for Your sins
But the Word says He was battered and scarred
Or did you miss that part?
Sometimes I doubt we’d recognize Him

Cause my Jesus bled and died
He spent His time with thieves and the least of these
He loved the poor and accosted the comfortable
So which one do you want to be?

Cause my Jesus would never be accepted in my church
The blood and dirt on His feet would stain the carpet
But He reaches for the hurting and despised the proud
I think He’d prefer Beale St. to the stained glass crowd
And I know that He can hear me if I cry out loud

I want to be like my Jesus!
I want to be like my Jesus!

Not a posterchild for American prosperity, but like my Jesus
You see I’m tired of living for success and popularity
I want to be like my Jesus but I’m not sure what that means to be like You Jesus
Cause You said to live like You, love like You but then You died for me
Can I be like You Jesus?

I want to be like my Jesus

P.S. I want to believe that He would be accepted at my church.

Back in May, my bride and I took the girls to visit another church. Miranda actually posted that day, and her words pretty much summed up the experience.  Two weeks later, she really poured her heart out.

That first Sunday, the pastor spoke about bitterness in relationships. I realized something that morning, and I shared it with Miranda that afternoon. The fact is I am a forgiving person by my very nature. I am not bragging or anything - it is simply the way I am wired. Bragging about it would make as much sense as bragging about my having blue eyes… I never chose to be a forgiving person, God just made me that way. I am not one to harbor resentment toward a person. That Sunday, I realized that I had grown very bitter with the church as a whole. I had been repeatedly hurt by the church,and I was sick and tired of dealing with it. I have proven myself adept at forgiving people, but how the heck was I supposed to forgive the church as a whole?

As I shared all of this with my bride, she listened patiently before responding. “You know, if God used Jack to show you all of this, maybe Jack is the one that you need to talk to about it. Why don’t you call him?” I agreed it was a good idea, but I wasn’t really gung-ho about it.

It turned out that I didn’t have to be. The next night, Jack called me. (I guess that is what I deserved for filling out a visitor’s card, huh?) We ended up getting together for breakfast, and he listened to me as I poured out my heart, my hurt, my frustrations. Rather than critically point out my obvious flaws and shortcomings, he just befriended me. That first breakfast, Jack told me, “You know what I think you need? I think you just need to go to a place where you can be loved… where you and your family can just have a positive experience in church for a change. I would love for our church to be that place, and maybe it can be. If it can’t be, maybe I can help you find it.”

That first breakfast lead to another, and each Sunday, my family kept going back to that church. It has turned into weekly thing now, and Monday mornings are one of my favorite times of the week because I get to have breakfast with my friend.

This past Sunday, we bit the bullet. Six months ago, I was almost ready to blow off the institutionalized American church for keeps. I had had enough, but Jack was right. We needed a place where we could have a positive experience, and we found it.

Thanks, Jack.

The birth experience was traumatic, and if my bride were willing, she could share it in schools as a means of preventing teenage pregnancy. But once the child was here… the adventure began.

I remember watching as they cleaned her up. It took a while, but she started to look less like a lizard and more like a baby. I remember counting fingers and toes and checking to make sure that everything was in the right place. I started at the top of her little cone-shaped head and worked my way down. When I reached her toes, I noticed that she had toes like mine.

All my life, the middle toe on my left foot has had a tendency to rest beneath the bigger toe right next to it. When I was little, my mother called it my bashful toe and told me that it was just a little shy. To be honest, I had not thought about that toe being bashful for years before that day five years ago.

As a I gazed at my perfect daughter, I noticed that the middle toe on her left foot was a little bit bashful… it was trying to hide beneath the bigger toe right next to it. Seeing it made me smile just little bigger.

We took that little girl to Birmingham this morning. She got to go to the Build a Bear Workshop where she made a pink poodle who is now wearing pink pajamas and sleeping in a pink bed. I am not sure where the past five years went, but I don’t have a baby anymore. I have a little girl…

… a little girl with a bashful toe on her left foot.

In high school, she dated a guy that I never got to know very well, but I always thought a lot of. Everyone seemed to like Chris, and I was no exception. He was always kind to me, and he always had a smile. He always seemed genuinely happy to see me… who doesn’t like being around those kind of people?

I last saw Chris several years ago when my wife and I attended a concert at a local church. He was playing drums that night, and I recognized him before the singer introduced her band. Afterwards, I walked up to him with Miranda, and his eyes lit up when he saw me. He recognized me before I said a word, and as I stuck out my hand to shake his, he took it, and then he put his arm around me to hug me. We talked briefly that night about the roads that the providential hand of God had led us down. We shook hands as said our goodbyes and wished one another well. Because of the nature of such encounters, we probably said something along the lines of how we would need to catch up again sometime.

We will… sometime.

Chris and his wife, another native of my hometown of Enterprise, Alabama, were on their way to church this past Friday evening. Their two children, two years apart like my own little girls, were sitting behind them in the minivan. They exited the freeway and came to a redlight. Patiently, they waited for the light to change so they could go on to church. As they sat at the redlight in their Mazda MPV, another vehicle exited the freeway and made its way down the ramp. Unfortunately, the driver didn’t see either the redlight or the minivan.

Due to the lack of skidmarks, police say he made no attempts to slow down and was probably doing between 60 and 70 miles per hour when he slammed into the Walls family van, knocking them through the major intersection and through a fence into a construction site.

I pray that the family was killed by the impact, because if they weren’t, officials say they would have been burnt alive. The gas tank exploded… and four lives were lost.

I know that Chris and his family have been worshipping in an incredible way this weekend, but many of us who knew them have been asking, “Why?”

I don’t know the answer to that question, but I do know several things.

They were on their way to church. You know, of all times to go… that seems like a good one. What an incredible reminder to those that you leave behind of what is truly important to you! They weren’t going to a friend’s house, they weren’t going to a club, they weren’t going shopping… they were going to church.

They are remembered well. Already, I have heard from folks in several states. I have read blogs written by those that knew them, and I have read interviews with others. I know that we are always reluctant to say negative things about the dead, but this is not just a sense of propriety. Chris and Leah had a positive impact on others.

They were together. In a world where so many marriages and families fall apart, this family lived… and died… together.

For the friends and families left behind, I pray for comfort and peace. For Chris, his bride, and his children, I pray a joyous homecoming.

And for myself, my bride, and my two little ones… I pray for protection… and for a sense of urgency that will allow us to live tomorrow in the fullest manner possible.