At "Skyfall:" My Case For the Best Bond Film Ever Made

While I usually use my Blog for spiritual insight and analysis, I cannot escape the experience that I had this weekend seeing the 23rd James Bond film, “Skyfall.”  I had read a couple of sparkling reviews that did not give away any of the plot line details, so I went in relatively fresh.  While the reviews I read praised the film, I am a pretty harsh critic of Bond films, especially the anemic, “Quantum of Solace.”  I went to the theater expecting “Skyfall” to be better than “Quantum,” but I was not ready for what I saw on the screen.  The experience has stayed with me for two whole days now.

Almost universally, “Goldfinger” is considered by most to the best, although some would rank “From Russia With Love” higher.  In many ways, “Goldfinger” has it all and was the movie in which James Bond stopped being just a cult hero and became a super spy.  From the villain and his henchman, to the gadgets, to the suggestive names of the Bond girls, to the silly double entendre, “Goldfinger” set the standard by which all other Bond films would be judged.  Until now.

I would never dream of bashing any Bond film.  I even like the bad ones (“Moonraker,” anyone?), and I am spellbound anytime I see even a moment of them on TBS’ “All Bond, All Day” Marathons.  Yet there is something about this one that has grabbed me and will not let go.  So here I am to try and argue my case for why “Skyfall” should be the new benchmark in Bond films.  I HATE spoilers, so I will do my best to be vague for those who have not seen it yet.

First, consider the Bond.  In “Casino Royale” (2005), we were introduced to a raw, gritty, insolent, emotionally damaged Bond who gave his heart away to the first girl who stood up to him.  Did James Bond really tell a woman that he was in love with her in that movie?  She betrayed him, she died, and now his heart is as guarded as a Swiss bank account.  This is the Bond that we have in again “Skyfall” and not the Jason Bourne wannabe in “Quantum.”  Unlike other incarnations of Bond, such as Sean Connery, Daniel Craig is not the smoothest, debonair looking guy in the room.  He doesn’t float when he walks like some other Bonds have.  Instead, he walks with a little bit of a chip on his shoulder, like he has something to prove to himself and everyone else.  This is a flawed Bond, and one to whom we can relate because we are all flawed, too.  We see Sean Connery and think, “Wow, I could never pull off that suit, those lines, and get that girl.”  But this Bond is wounded and we know it.  We think, “If I had that car, that suit, and looked like that, I might be able to pull that off.”  Craig’s Bond is both complex and simple, a riddle and an answer, hidden and transparent.  Again, much like we all are.  He could be the villain in the next Bond movie as easily as he is the hero in this one. Ultimately, he has to face his past if he is to move on with his future.  Again, much like we all must do.  This Bond is accessible to us and we can relate to him on a deeper level beyond simple admiration.

Second, consider the simplicity of this movie.  Older Bond movies began to rely to heavily on gadgets and gizmos to get Bond out of a situation.  An invisible car?  James Bond surfing on a tsunami wave?  Come on.  In “Skyfall,” his only two devices are his gun and a radio transmitter.  The question the movie implicitly poses is, “Will this be enough?”  This James Bond has to actually think his way out of things.  Two scenes stand out to me in this regard.  One is at the beginning when he runs out of ammo for his gun and tosses it to the side in disgust.  What now?  He has to improvise.  The other is when he is challenged by Silva to a demented form of target practice.  He hesitates to play.  Is he scared?  Does he trust his ability?  Neither, as it happens.  He has done just the right thing at just the right time.  We are impressed not at the bizarre means of his escapes via a kooky wristwatch, but at the ingenuity he possesses.  Of course, we know that Bond will survive as long as there is another movie to be made.  We used to think, however, “Oh, he has an exploding key chain for this.”  Now we are held in suspense and wonder how in the world he thought of that.  Nowhere is this clearer than in the final fight scene of the movie.

Third, consider the villain.  My theory is that any movie involving a hero, be it a superhero movie or a movie like this one, is only ever as good as its villain is.  Why was “Silence of the Lambs” so memorable?  Or “The Dark Knight?”  Or “No Country for Old Men” (also starring Javier Bardem)?  Is it the hero that we remember?  Or is it the villain?  I think the reason for this is that we know deep down that the hero will be victorious, so there is no real surprise in his/her defeat.  What we want to be surprised by is the how dark the villain is and how deep that darkness goes.  (Secretly, if we were to share our secrets, in our own darkness, we sometimes root for the villain to pull the upset.)  Think of the memorable James Bond villains.  Who stands out to you?  Auric Goldfinger.  Blofeld.  Max Zorin.  How many more can you name past that?  What about the guy from “Quantum of Solace?”  How bland was he?  Now, in “Skyfall” we have Silva, who should surely go down in history as the best.  He is twisted, sexually ambiguous, silly, warped, disfigured, and a genius.  One of the things that I hate about watching the evening news is how horribly stupid most criminals are.  They fail to look at a job or escape from every angle and be ready for it.  You have to have a great plan that is as fluid as the situation is.  Silva takes a computer hacker, not the sexiest of criminals but the timeliest, and turns him into someone actually interesting.  I found myself in awe of Bardem’s subtle facial expressions and how much he was able to say without speaking a word.  He would rather die once he has achieved his goal than live to enjoy that fact that he has accomplished it.  This is some serious sickness.  Silva takes the Bond villain to a whole new level.

Finally, consider the mystery that this movie resolves.  My first thought when I heard the title, “Skyfall,” was, “What the heck is ‘Skyfall’?”  Is it the title of an operation, like “Desert Storm?”  Is it a reference to global disaster involving the sky falling?  When asked about it early in the movie, Bond surely doesn’t seem to like it much.  But what IS “Skyfall?!”  By the time you forget that you have been wondering what it is, you find out what it is.  There is an “a-ha” moment when you realize what it is and why Bond was so averse to talking about it.  We learn things about Bond that we have never known about him.  For Bond enthusiasts, this is a magnificent find.  Even for those who are not, it makes Bond seem more human and not the archangel of British Intelligence.  This movie answers questions that those of us who love James Bond have always wondered.  I had to go back and listen to the theme song again after seeing the movie.  It is like peeking at the candy map on the inside of a box of chocolates.  The chocolates were going to be good anyway, but now you know exactly what the taste is going to be.  At the end of the movie, when Bond reports for his next mission, it is a different Bond because of Skyfall.  He is the same, but he is different.

There will be those who will disagree with me.  Beauty and art have a definite subjectivity to them.  Yet I challenge you to ask yourself this question after seeing “Skyfall:” does it not affect you more than just another trip to the movies?  There is something haunting and lingering about it.  It has been a long, long time that a movie has affected like this one has, and that Adele song keeps echoing in my head.  “Let the Skyfall.”

For this reason, and those listed above, I will now think of James Bond #23 as James Bond #1.

"And here's to you, Mrs. Jesus Christ..."

"Jesus loves you more than you will know (whoa, whoa, whoa)"

Jesus was in the news again this week.  More specifically, Jesus' wife was in the news again this week.  At least the idea that Jesus had a wife was in the news again this week.

We haven't heard much of this talk since The DaVinci Code was published in 2003 and made into a movie in 2006.  The premise of the book, written by Dan Brown, is that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were husband and wife, had children, and that any one of us just might be their descendants and have the royal blood of the Christ in our veins.  But after hearing about the Gospel of Thomas and Gospel of Mary, both non-canonical works that appear to support the idea that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were more than just friends, here we are again:  reading, wondering, and discussing the notion that Jesus the Christ was married.

Earlier this week, Dr. Karen L. King, the Hollis Chair of Divinity and Professor of Ecclesiastical History at Harvard (yes, that "Harvard"), published a paper that will be featured in an upcoming issue of the Harvard Theological Review (January, 2013).  The topic of the paper, even the very name of it, has sent shock waves across the field of Biblical Studies.  It is entitled, "Jesus said to them, 'My wife...'": A New Coptic Gospel Papyrus."  

(I would encourage you to read the read the entire article at http://hvrd.me/Tb2Hy8.  I did and found it extremely fascinating.  Since I am not fluent in Coptic--who is?!--it was tough to follow in places, but I got the overall tone of the article.)

As pictured in the photo above, the article details the text of a 4th century AD fragment of papyrus that is about 1-1/2" x 3" and written in ancient Coptic, a language that is mixture of Egyptian and Greek script that appeared in Egypt in the 2nd century AD and was used until the 17th century AD.  It is only a fragment of a larger piece of papyrus, but the fragment is torn and/or worn away on all four sides.  It only has portions of 7 lines, and even these lines are incomplete.  Most of the attention has been focused on the fourth line, which translated into English reads, "...Jesus said to them 'My wife...'"  The key phrase are the two Coptic words tahximay mai, or "my wife."  

There it is.  Finally.  Written proof that Jesus had a wife.

A few thoughts about this new treatment of an old idea...

First, as several scholars have already done, I would caution Dr. King on her methodology.  Early in the paper, in describing the origin of the fragment, she admits that "nothing is known about the circumstances of its discovery" (p. 2).  She also writes that the owner of the papyrus wishes to remain anonymous (footnote 3).  The paper further admits that Dr. King is "neither a papyrologist nor a Coptic linguist," and "sought expert advice regarding the authenticity and date of the fragment" (p. 3).  The paper gives a word of appreciation to three of these experts, "Roger Bagnall, Ariel Shisha-Halevy, and the third reviewer whose identity remains unknown to us" (p. 5).  This nameless, third reviewer was contacted by Ariel Shisha-Halevy, Professor of Linguistics at Hebrew University in Jerusalem, is referred to as an expert in Coptic linguistics, and is quoted in an email as concluding, "I believe—on the basis of language and grammar—the text is authentic" (p. 4).  

Okay.  Reality check.  We do not know how, where, when, or by whom this document was found.  We are not told who presently owns it or how he/she came to possess it.  We are told this (or not told this) by someone who, on her own, cannot date the papyrus or even read what is on it, and we are only given the names of two of the three experts that were contacted.  Why are we not given the name of this mysterious Coptic linguist who guarantees its authenticity?  How are scholars to question the  authenticity of this fragment if we are not provided many of the most important details about it?  Harvard University does not have to consult with me before it publishes its journal, but in my opinion, there are a few holes in the research that need to be filled in first.

On the other hand, I applaud Dr. King for her conclusions.  These, unfortunately, are going to be lost among the blah-blah-blahing about Jesus having a wife.  This is NOT what the media and Internet are going to focus upon, although they should.  It might get a slight mention, but it deserves more than that.  Near the end of the paper, she writes:

    "In our opinion, the late date of the Coptic papyrus (c. fourth century), and even of the possible date of composition in the second half of the second century, argues against its value as evidence for the life of the historical Jesus. The earliest and most historically reliable Christian literature is utterly silent on the issue, making the question impossible to answer one way or the other." (p. 47)

 

 She wrote that the 4th century AD date of the papyrus argues "against its value as evidence for the life of the historical Jesus" (emphasis mine).  Against its value.  Yes, that is, against its value.  Even she realizes that this does NOT "prove" that Jesus was married, only that someone writing at least 150 years after Jesus' death considered him to be.  She concludes that the fragment says more about attitudes toward sex and marriage in the 2nd-4th century AD than it does Jesus being married.

And what if Jesus HAD been married?  What is the big deal?  How would being married have diminished his divine nature?  Is marriage sinful?  Is sexual activity within marriage sinful?  If anything, Scripture defends the sanctity of marriage and the beauty of the sexual union within its confines.  Granted, if Jesus had been married, he might have been tempted into sinful behavior even more than he was (things like petty arguments with the Mrs., the implementation of the "silent treatment," slothful refusal of the "honey-do" list, and a hundred other possibilities).  Yet Hebrews 4:15 reminds us that he was tempted in all ways as we are, yet was without sin.  Marriage does not equal sinfulness.

Dr. King is also right when she concludes, "Although the earliest witnesses are silent about whether Jesus married or not, that silence has proven pregnant with possibility for other voices to enter in and fill up its empty void with imagination—and controversy" (p. 51).  In other words, in those places where the Bible is silent or vague, there is never a shortage of theories to fill in the gaps.  This is abundantly clear in the discussion whether or not Jesus was married.

One more thing:  those "earliest witnesses" to which Dr. King refers?  Those would be the canonical Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John.  They were written at least 100-200 years before this little scrap of papyrus, and they do not say a word about Jesus being married.  Until there is a document that is discovered that is comparable to their length, clarity, and antiquity, I am going to continue to believe that Jesus was, indeed, not married.  As of yet, there is no viable proof to convince me otherwise. 

  

  

Twitter, Huey Lewis, and the Lord

Confession:  I have become a Twitter-holic.

I think I like it more than I ever liked Facebook.  Maybe it appeals to my short attention span (give it to me in 140 characters or don't give it to me).  Maybe it is because it is faster and easier to post.  Who knows.  But I absolutely love it.

I know that there are those who think that Twitter is responsible for the sad, slow decline in our society, but didn't those same people say the same thing about Facebook?  About texting?  About the Internet?  About singing choruses in worship?  About personal computers?  About the microwave?  About television?  About cars?  About (fill in the blank)?  I am a "glass-half-full" kind of guy, and I will always do my best to see the best that something (someone?) can bring to the table instead of the worst.  Hence, my love for Twitter.  Short, pithy, sometimes funny, oftentimes informative statements.

AND, I love it for what happened to me last week.

I am a huge fan of twins, comedians and sportscasters Jason and Randy Sklar.  I was first introduced to them as they filled in for Jim Rome (@jimrome) on his sports talk radio show.  I was transfixed by the way they played off of each other and their endless 80s references.  (They are only 3 years younger than me, so we grew up in the same era.)  Then I found them on ESPN Classic and watched every episode of their show, "Cheap Seats."  It has a "Mystery Science Theater 3000" feel to it, except the Sklars brought their unique brand of humor to old, off-beat sports clips.  Thus, I was elated to find out that the History Channel (@HistoryChannel) was premiering a new show starring the Sklar Brothers called, "The United Stats of America" (#unitedstats).  In case you are interested, it is on Tuesday nights at 9 p.m. (Central).  Lots of numbers and stats (which I love) and lots of Sklar humor (which I also love). 

Last week, the "United Stats" episode was about why Americans are the average height and weight that we are.  One of the reasons they discussed was our national shift from working on the farm to working in an office.  They analyzed the number of calories burned by someone working for a day on a dairy farm (Jason got to do that) and someone working in an office all day (Randy).  At the end of the day, Jason said, "Hey, I've been working for the weekend.  I've been taking what their giving 'cause I'm working for a living."  Randy made sure that Jason knew that he was blending two different 1980s songs.  Randy clarified, "'Working for the Weekend' was sung by Loverboy and 'Workin' for a Livin'' was sung by Huey Lewis and the News."  Fantastic.

Those who knew me in the 80s know how much I love Huey Lewis and the News.  To date, I have seen them perform live 6 times.  I have met Huey Lewis and got his autograph twice.  I won a contest that was sponsored by a radio station in Dallas and got to go into the studio with the band and seen them perform live.  I know every word to every song and cannot wait until I get to see them again (they'll be in Houston again on July 21!).  So as you might have guessed, I follow them on Twitter (@Huey_Lewis_News).

After hearing the Sklars' reference to them and their song, I thought, "What the heck.  I'll send them a 'tweet'."  This is what I tweeted to the Huey Lewis and the News Twitter account:  "Nice 'Workin' for a Livin'' reference & shout out on History Channel's 'United Stats of America' tonight."  Tweeted that, went to bed, and forgot about it.

When I got up the next morning and checked my Twitter feed (as I do every morning these days), I almost had a litter of kittens.  Not only had Huey Lewis re-tweeted my tweet to him, he wrote me back and said, "Cool. Thanks for letting us know."  Huey Lewis, my favorite recording artist of all time.  The artist that I would go see no matter how much the tickets cost.  And he tweeted me back personally.  Tweeted.  Me.  Back.  Personally.

I have had my share of "brushes with greatness" as David Letterman calls them.  Bill Cosby in 1985.  Troy Aikman in 1994.  Tony Dorsett in 2003.  But there was something different about this one.  I felt like I had actually added something to Huey Lewis' life instead of taking something from him.  I walked away from the experience thinking, "This is why I love Twitter."  (By the way, let's follow each other!  Hit me up @drbwd)

But I have had a couple of other thoughts since then...

I was so excited by my Huey Lewis re-tweet that I have told everyone that I know about it (and now you know, too).  How cool is it that modern technology has given all of us the ability to connect with people that we love and admire?  And it is so easy!

Yet as a believer in Christ, I have access to the greatest Personality of all time (no, not Muhammad Ali).  When Christ died on the cross, "the veil of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom" (Mark 15:38).  Now, along with every other believer in Jesus Christ, I can "draw near with confidence to the throne of grace" and receive something much greater than a re-tweet:  "mercy...and grace to help in time of need" (Hebrews 4:16).  And I don't even need WI-Fi or 3G to connect to Him.

I will continue to retell my story of being personally tweeted by the great Huey Lewis, but allow me to tell you another great story.  Just a few minutes ago, I spoke with the Creator of the Universe.  I personally know the Savior of all humanity.  I have access to His divine guidance every second, of every minute, of every hour, of every day, of every month, of every year.  AND when this life is over, I will be with Him for eternity.  This fills me with much more joy than getting a shout back from Huey Lewis.

As we continue to break new ground in the areas of communication and connection, may we never forget that because of Jesus Christ, we have an open feed to the great I AM.

(The Holy Bible) minus (Jesus) does not equal (The Voice)

Seven years ago, long before Cee-Lo and Christina Aguilera sat in big, red chairs in front of big, red buzzers, one of my friends and colleagues, Dr. David Capes, asked me if I would be interested in being on a board of biblical scholars working on a new translation of the Bible called, The Voice.  He explained to me that the rationale behind The Voice was to combat the rising tide of biblical illiteracy among the present and future generations.  As one who has been called by God, gone to seminary for a decade, and dedicated my entire life to doing this very thing, why would I ever say "No" to such an invitation?

What followed in the months and years to come was one of the most rewarding experiences of my life.  I found myself wading through pages and pages of text editing many of the most familiar and best-loved passages of the Old Testament.  The Psalms.  Ezekiel.  Jeremiah.  Genesis.  Our mandated task as biblical scholars was to be certain that the submitted translations were not too far from the original text.  In two rigorous levels of original language review (only two of over a dozen levels of editing, by the way), we used all of our skills in Ancient Hebrew and New Testament Greek to make sure that the translation was new and fresh, but not unfaithful to the most ancient texts held sacred by followers of the Lord.

The Voice has been in the news recently, but not in celebration of the release of the finished, combined Old and New Testaments.  Not celebration, but condemnation.

An editor for the "Religion" section of USA Today ran a story about The Voice on April 15 which incorrectly gave the impression that "the name Jesus Christ doesn't appear in The Voice."  (Here is a link to the article:  http://www.usatoday.com/news/religion/story/2012-04-15/the-voice-bible-translation/54301502/1)  The story got picked up by CNN, which aired an interview with Dr. Capes the next day (http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/bestoftv/2012/04/17/sot-nr-the-voice-bible.cnn).  The treatment by CNN was even worse, as evidenced in the title of the segment, "Christ missing from new Bible," and from the anchor, Carol Costello's, repeated references to the "removal of Christ from the Bible."  The Internet immediately blew up with angry, well-meaning (but misinformed) Christians berating The Voice and lauding the King James Version.  Others were not so kind, accusing David Capes, Thomas Nelson Publishers, and the rest of us who worked on the project of "only being out to make more money" off of the sales of a new translation.  "Just more evidence of the scam that is Christianity" they wrote.

Before I submit a brief, scholarly defense of The Voice, I want to make two things as clear as I possibly can.  First, any money that I made from the many hours that I worked on The Voice, which was only a few hundred bucks, has already come and gone.  David told me on the first day that he asked me to work on the project that this would be "a labor of love."  Anyone who is in the trenches of ministry and/or theological education can tell you that we ain't in it for the money.  (Can I get a hearty "Amen" from my fellow members of the clergy?!)  Since the New Testament is not my specialty field and Greek is not my main language of study, I didn't even work on the New Testament section, which is the section under attack.  I am not defending The Voice because I am being paid to do so or I am taking it personally.

Second, I made a decision a long time ago not to be drawn into any ill-tempered conversations with ax-grinding non-believers.  The Bible does not need me to defend it, and God, who inspired righteous human beings in the original composition of the biblical texts, will be just fine without me attempting to "prove" His existence to someone who has already made up his/her mind that He does not.  I don't have the time or the energy anyway.  In other words, I am not defending The Voice because I am trying to start a fight with anyone.

Having said this, I would ask those who would automatically dismiss the idea that "newer translations are easier to read and more accurate" to consider three truths.

The first point is the most important.  Put it on a billboard.  Write it in the clouds.  Shout it from the highest mountaintop.  Broadcast it.  Tweet it.  Post it.  In every language and in every country.  THE WORD "CHRIST" IS NOT A NAME, BUT A TITLE.  Now "Jesus?"  That's a name.  But Jesus' last name was not "Christ."  Though it is admittedly a somewhat simplistic explanation, in 382 AD, Jerome was commissioned by Pope Damascus I to finish a Latin translation of the Old and New Testaments.  The result is what we call the Latin Vulgate.  It is the translation upon which the authorized Catholic Latin Bible, the Nova Vulgata, is based.  Jerome, rightly or wrongly, opted NOT to translate the Hebrew word for "anointed one" or "messiah," mashiach, and the Greek word for "anointed one" or "messiah," christos.  He chose to transliterate them.  This means that he approximated an English word based on these foreign words.  (It would be like me writing, "The Hebrew word for 'heart' is 'lev.'"  I could write it in Hebrew, but unless you know Hebrew, you wouldn't be able to read it.)  Most English translations have followed Jerome's lead.  Thus, IESOU CHRISTOU was rendered "Jesus Christ" instead of "Jesus the Anointed One" or "Jesus the Messiah."  The translators of The Voice made a conscious decision not to transliterate any Hebrew or Greek words except proper names.  Since "Christ" is not a proper name, they didn't transliterate it.  Instead, they did what you are supposed to do in a translation:  translate.  They did not "take the name 'Christ' out of the Bible" because there is no "name 'Christ'" IN the Bible.  If anything, this rendering is closer to the original intention of the text, not further away from it.  To say that the translators of The Voice "removed the name of Christ from the Bible" is completely, totally, patently, 100% false.

The second point has to do with the character of those who have been the driving forces behind The Voice.  There were dozens of people, including myself, who worked on this project.  Some of them are friends and colleagues of mine, and others I have never even met.  When I think of this project, though, there are three names that come into my mind:  Chris Seay, David Capes, and Frank Crouch.  While I know all of them, I know David the best.  He is one who hired me to teach as an Adjunct Professor for the Department of Christianity (now the School of Theology) at Houston Baptist University in 2004, and, as I mentioned, the one who asked me to work on this project.  For anyone to claim that David Capes has a low view of Christ is sheer lunacy.  He is one of the kindest, most engaging, and most intelligent scholars that I know.  In an age when most followers of Christ are drawing lines of demarcation in the sand against those of other faiths, David has done more to foster the ongoing dialogue between Christians, Jews, and Muslims than just about anyone else in the City of Houston.  Now, he has become the one with the biggest target on his back.  It is just ridiculous.  I would encourage those ready to crucify David Capes upside down to pick up one of his books, read a few pages, then tell me if you think he doesn't believe that Jesus is the Christ.  Keep your head up, David.  If the world hates you, you know that has hated Him before it hated you.  (John 15:18)

Finally, and rather ironically, all of this brouhaha has only proven the case for The Voice.  The whole reason for the project is to clear up much of the misunderstanding about the Bible.  This has shown how many of these misconceptions there really are.  If you need further proof, watch Jeopardy!, see the blank stares, and listen to the crickets chirp when a "Bible" category appears.  Before you throw The Voice onto the trash heap, I would encourage you, just as the childlike voice that Augustine heard did, to Tolle, Lege, "Take, Read."  Lest you think that this is just another ploy to get you to buy it, if you don't want to buy one, just let me know.  I'll either give you one of mine or I'll buy one and give it to you.

I know that this has been long post, but I wanted to give a clear, detailed explanation of the heartfelt motivation behind the project and to clear up the blatant misrepresentation of this great work.  When it comes to The Voice as a viable Bible translation, if I had a big, red buzzer in front of me, I would pound it (just like on The Voice, not America's Got Talent).

The "Eighth Wonder of the World:" The Fourth Largest City's Biggest Embarrassment

Earlier this week, Houston city officials allowed a few select members of the local media into the decaying Astrodome for an all-access tour.  No area was off limits.  No part of it was quarantined.  What they found was, to say the least, quite disturbing.

The Astrodome.  The first domed stadium in the world.  The crown jewel of the city and the hub of all things sports in Houston from 1965-1995.  The place "AstroTurf" was invented (true story--ever wondered why it's called "AstroTurf"?).  The location of the "Game of the Century" between the U of H and UCLA basketball teams in 1968.  The place where my childhood hero, Evil Knievel, jumped over 13 cars in 1971.  Elvis performed there not once, but twice.  The site of the "Battle of Sexes" tennis match between Billie Jean King and Bobby Riggs in 1973. 

Now, it sits as a dilapidated dump and a symbol of everything that is wrong with politics in Houston.  (To see some sad pictures from the Houston Chronicle, visit http://blog.chron.com/ultimateastros/2012/04/04/touring-the-astrodome-a-depressing-afternoon/#4214-3)

Understand this:  I loved, loved, loved the Astrodome.  To make the two-hour drive from Orange to see an Astros game was the highlight of my year as a child.  I remember taking our family visiting from Nebraska to see the Eighth Wonder and watching Mark Lemongello pitch in 1977.  My high school (West Orange-Stark) played three playoff games in the Dome in 1986 and I was able to march in the band on the fabled AstroTurf.  The last time I was in the Dome was in 2003 one night after the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.  They had it open for Country and Western Dancing after the rodeo.  I didn't do any dancing, but I wanted an excuse to go back inside it, if even for one night.  No one is sadder to see what has happened to this once-great venue than I am.

I have heard all the options for the future of the Dome, from the logical (implode it and use it for parking or turn it into a movie sound stage), to the impractical (turn it into a hotel like the Gaylord Texan in Grapevine or build apartments/condos inside of it), to the absurd (build an indoor ski slope or wild game preserve inside).  The problem is that years of indecision and hesitation have made all of these practically impossible.  Yet another feasibility study is supposed to come out in a couple of weeks, but it will say what everyone already knows but is afraid to say out loud.  As much as I hate to say it out loud, I'm not afraid.  The Astrodome is finished.  Done.  If you can implode Yankee Stadium, the "House that Ruth Built," you can implode the Astrodome. 

But that's not all I have to say about it.

As a believer in Christ, I tend to see everything through the filter of my faith.  As I reflect on the past, present, and future of the Astrodome, one word comes to mind.  Neglect.

And when I think about the faith of so many believers that I have known through the years, there is one word that comes to mind.  Neglect.  I am not throwing stones and I am not mentioning any names, but when I read the posts of some of my old friends on Facebook who used to be in love with Christ, I can't help but think of the Houston Astrodome.

The Dome is a cautionary tale to us all.  I don't think anyone set out to say, "You know what, I think we should slowly destroy the Astrodome," and I would hope that no one who has had a life-changing experience with Christ would intentionally say, "I'm going to let my faith in Christ decay."  It starts with small, baby steps of neglect, and before you know it, like Simon Peter, we are denying that we ever knew Him at all.

I don't have any control over what becomes of the Astrodome, but I do have more than a little control over what becomes of my relationship with Christ.  I pray that all of us what consider what has happened to the Dome and say, "May it never happen to us, O Lord."

Sailing on the Carnival Serendipity

ser·en·dip·i·ty \ ser-ən-ʹdi-pə-tē \  noun  :  the faculty or phenomenon of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for

My wife, Heather, and I were able to escape for a few days last week, drive to Galveston, and hop on a 4-night Carnival cruise to Cozumel, Mexico and back again.  If you haven't been on a cruise before, I highly recommend it.  It basically consists of days and nights of eating, lounging, eating, sight-seeing, eating, meeting new people, and eating.  We have been on so many of them in our 14 years of marriage that we have honestly lost count.

Something happened on this one, however, that I will never forget.  Even though we were sailing on the Carnival Triumph, the ship might as well have been called the Carnival Serendipity.

On our last full day at sea coming back to Galveston, Heather and I had gone to the grill at the back of the ship for a late-afternoon snack of french fries and chicken fingers (remember, we were on vacation).  I got up from the table to refill my drink and when I got back, Heather had a concerned look on her face.  She looked at me and said, "Those two ladies over there are crying hard."  I looked to my left and about 20 yards from me, I saw two ladies who looked to be in their 50s sobbing.  They were talking in hushed tones and after drying their tears, would begin to cry again.  It was an incongruous element on the back deck of a cruise ship filled with kids yelling as they jumped in the pool, sun worshippers slathered up and laying face up or face down on deck chairs, and a fat bass beat coming from the loud speakers.  To be honest, I probably would not have noticed them had it not been for Heather (thank you, Lord, for blessing me with a wife who is exponentially more sensitive to people in need than I am!).

We glanced at them every few minutes until they got up to leave the area.  I guess they had seen us looking their way and felt like they needed to explain because they walked right to our table and without any introduction, one of them began to tell her story.

Her father had a bad case of pnuemonia before she had left on the cruise, but was supposed to be just fine.  In the three days since she had left, however, there had been complications and her father's health had taken a bad turn.  So bad that her first words to us were, "I'm about to lose my father."  She had been contacted by the authorities on the ship and been told the awful news.  Since we were in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, there was no way for her to leave the ship.  They told her there would be a car waiting to take her to the airport first thing the next morning and that she would be flown back to her home so that she could spend a few last minutes with her father.

Heather and I watched as waves of pain, grief, and guilt washed over her face.  I had no idea what to do execpt to ask her name.  She replied, "Jana."  I said back to her, "Jana, I am the Pastor of a church back in Houston.  Would you mind if I said a word of prayer with you?"

I will always remember the look on Jana's face.  It was a mixture of shock and relief.  She immediately took my hand and said, "Oh, please, would you?"  She called her friend, and together, Jana, her friend, Heather, and I joined hands and prayed on the back deck of the Carnival Triumph over a half-eaten plate of chicken fingers and fries.  We prayed for a man that I had never met and will never meet, and for the comforting presence of Almighty God to be close to his grieving daughter.  We all hugged, and Jana and her friend went on their way.  We never saw them again.

I am thankful today for the serendipitous grace of God that throws people together who can find value in each other and can agree together.  There is a fellowship among believers in Christ that those who do not believe will never understand, but so desperately seek.  I hope that Jana made it back to wherever she is from before her father died.  I hope that she knows that during this week, which certainly must be a week filled with pain and loss, that she is being remembered in League City, Texas.

Most of all, I hope that you and I will keep our eyes and ears alert to the needs of others, even when (especially when?) we are on vacation, and will be ready to help them if we can.  Let me be clear:  this is not a story about how great I am because I prayed with a stranger on a cruise ship.  It is a story about how great God is because he serendipitously sent a stranger for me to pray with on a cruise ship.  And He does this all the time.

I don't know when I will get to cruise on the Carnival Triumph again, but may we remember that we all sail on the Carnival Serendipity every single day.

The First Long Thursday Post

So Thursdays have always been my favorite day of the week...

This is not some haphazard statement with no thought behind it.  Allow me to explain my reasoning for this and why I think, just by process of elimination, it is the best day. 

No one in their right mind would say that Monday is the greatest day.  (Unless, of course, he/she is a postal worker and it is a federal holiday, but how many of these are there--federal holidays, not postal workers--really?)  Tuesday or Wednesday?  Come on now.  You might be able to make a case for Wednesday because it is "hump day" and marks the mid-point of the week, but this will only work if you are a "glass-half-full" kind of person.  Granted, Friday is very strong candidate.  So strong that I will come back to it.  Saturday?  Who among us hasn't made it to the end of a Saturday and asked, "Where did THIS day go?"  I can tell you where it went:  soccer games, birthday parties, weddings, and yard work. 

For followers of Christ, Sunday is the day that defines our faith.  It is the day that Christ victoriously rose from the grave, and the day that we gather together with other believers to worship, strengthen ourselves through fellowship, celebrate our faith, and fill ourselves with truth from Scripture.  Yet for those of us who belong to the guild of vocational ministers, Sundays are anything but a day of rest.  Don't get me wrong.  I absolutely love Sundays, but a big part of me breathes a deep sigh of relief when they are over.  Hence, they get the Silver Medal behind Thursdays. 

That only leaves Fridays.  Here is the problem with Fridays:  too much pressure.  Most people look forward to Friday like it is the antidote for some terminal illness.  Have you ever heard anyone say "TGIW," or "Thank God it's Wednesday!"?  Not usually, unless you really, really like choir practice at church.  You are much more likely to hear, "Ugh, if I can just make it to Friday!"  But what if Friday can't deliver?  Rebecca Black didn't help things when she sang, "It's Friday, Friday, gotta get down on Friday" (italics added).  Do I really "gotta get down on Friday?"  There have been way too many times when I woke up on a Saturday morning and thought to myself, "Boy, last night sure was a bust."  Then it is time to get up and go to the soccer games, birthday parties, weddings, and do yard work.  Friday has the possibility of being great, but it also has the possibility of being a huge disappointment.

Not the case with Thursday.  It has all the possibility and none of the pressure.  You can easily tell yourself on Thursday, "Oh, man, I got this week!" and still really mean it.  You know that you are on the back side of the slope of the week and on Thursday, you start picking up speed.  You stay up too late on Thursday?  No problem!  The next day is Friday and it doesn't even really count.  Some of my friends even work a half day on Friday.  Who cares about a half day?! 

(Incidentally, comedy on television has always been better on Thursdays, too.  Would "Cheers," "The Cosby Show," "Family Ties," Friends," "Seinfeld," or "The Office" have been so successful if they had been on, say, Tuesday?  I think not.  Everyone seems to be in the mood to laugh on Thursday.)

Thursday has this cool, "Almost, but not quite" vibe to it.  I can see where I am headed, I am almost there, and I know I am going to make it.  All the potential, but none of the pressure.

And as a follower of Christ, this is where I find myself...on one Long Thursday.  I know that my Redeemer lives and has gone to prepare a place for me (John 14:3), and I know that He is coming back to get me.  But not quite yet.

Beyond this life lies unimaginable joy, security, peace, and comfort.  Past this, our loved ones and the cloud of faithful witnesses who have preceded us in death wait to welcome us into eternal fellowship with our Savior and endless praise of the One who made an eternity with our Creator possible.  But not quite yet.

So here we are on our Long Thursday, and we can live our lives knowing that we got this.  We can take risks, laugh hard, live strong, and love deeply knowing that our Long Thursday won't last forever.  Sure, this "Thursday" is long and we will experience pain, heartache, and even death.  But we know that Friday is coming, right?!  Coming, but not quite yet.

We can also invite others to join in the celebration of waiting with us.  The more the merrier!  We can show people that living on this Long Thursday isn't so tough if you know what comes on "Friday."  If we are going to have to wait anyway, why not "make the most" out of the time we have left on this, our Long Thursday (Ephesians 5:16)?

This is why Thursdays are my favorite days.  Every one of them reminds me of the promise of what comes next for those who follow Christ.  And every one challenges me to think about how I am living and serving others while I wait.

No matter what day of the week it is, those who follow Christ can live life to the fullest.  And why wouldn't we?  No matter how much longer our Long Thursday is, we know that it will eventually come to an end and this life will be nothing more than a faint, misty memory.  As Matt Redman wrote, "there will be an end to these troubles..." 

But not quite yet.