Many people know that I loathe the New England Patriots. I have said as much as they have humiliated the Indianapolis Colts on several occasions in recent years. Anything that destroys hopes is vile. So you might very well imagine who I am rooting for this upcoming weekend in the Super Bowl: yes, the Giants. I hope that they shatter the last eight months of perfection with one evening of humiliation. At least that is what I tell people.
The truth is that my attitude towards New England is more like fear and a quiet sense of awe. The few games I have seen them play this season have made me realize that this is probably the greatest football team of all time. And, as a football fan, I have to appreciate that ... even if it their greatness comes at the expense of my hometown team.
I have also seen enough Patriots games in the Belicheck era to know that they have an aura of mystique about them: the improbable win against St. Louis to win the first Super Bowl, the way they play with New England ice coursing their veins, the unnatural way Tom Brady can kill you over and over again when it counts, the Cro-magnon fleet of linebackers who defy the laws of natural aging in arriving in the "a" gap on the goaline to crush your hopes of scoring a touchdown. They seem not capable of losing, which is why the last two years are such aberrations. Who knew Brady could throw an interception to end a season ... twice! Achilles does have a heel.
But not this year, and - for that matter - not 90% of the time. And, today, I discovered the secret to the Patriots' strength. Read this article; then you will know too. This is the sort of story that seems almost too incredible to be true. And, my favorite part: Ernie Adams' top five books of all time - including Robert K. Massie's Nicolas and Alexandra.
Somebody kidnap this guy before Sunday. That would be the greatest sports conspiracy of all time!
Wes
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
48 Questions
The following are 48 questions that are yet to be answered on "Lost". These questions came from an LA Times article published today:
48. Will the WGA strike permanently disrupt the original plan to end the series with three seasons of 16 episodes apiece?
47. What is Charles Widmore's association with the Dharma Initiative?
46. Who were those guys in the icebound monitoring station at the end of Season 2?
45. What is the significance of Claire's baby?
44. Will Rose's cancer return?
43. Will Sun survive her pregnancy?
42. What's the meaning behind that crazy mural painted inside the Swan Station?
41. Where exactly is the island located?
40. What gets worshipped at the temple Ben mentions near the end of the third season?
39. Who are the people on the rescue ship?
38. If Penny Widmore didn't send the ship, then where is her rescue crew?
37. Can Juliet really be trusted?
36. How did the Black Rock get on the island?
35. How many more Dharma stations are left to be found?
34. Will we learn more about Libby's connection to Hurley?
33. Are Nikki and Paulo gone for good?
32. What did Jack mean in the flash-forward when he made a reference to his supposedly dead father being upstairs?
31. Will the rest of the survivors learn about Hurley's fortune?
30. Will Jin learn about Sun's affair?
29. How did Locke's father get on the island?
28. Why do all pregnancies result in death on the island?
27. Is Alvar Hanso still involved with the island?
26. What is the sickness Rousseau talked about her crew getting in the first season?
25. How was Walt able to appear to Locke and Shannon?
24. What do the numbers -- 4 8 15 16 23 42 -- mean?
23. Why does the doctor in the Dharma Initiative-orientation films have different names in different films?
22. Who are the bodies dubbed Adam and Eve that were found in the caves?
21. What do the hieroglyphics on the machine inside Swan Station mean?
20. How did the Others get all the names of the survivors?
19. What are the whispers people hear in the jungle?
18. Will we see more of the Other known as Isabel (Diana Scarwid)?
17. Where have the children that the Others took been hiding?
16. Why do so many episodes start with the close-up of an eye?
15. Were the Others really having Sawyer and Kate help to build a runway?
14. What did the psychic that read Claire's future see?
13. Did Jack's dad really come back to life or is that an illusion?
12. Will Desmond retain his ability to see the future?
11. Who besides Kate and Jack got off the island?
10. Who is Kate's unseen mate in the post-island flash-forward?
9. What's the deal with that four-toed statue from the Season 2 finale?
8. In Jack's post-island flash-forward, who was in the coffin?
7. What happened to Michael and Walt after they left the island?
6. What is Walt's power?
5. How did Mikhail (the eye-patch guy) appear to come back from the dead?
4. Why doesn't Richard Alpert age?
3. What is Jacob?
2. What is the smoke monster?
1. What is that island?
Monday, January 28, 2008
I'm Sorry About the Misinformation
I am sorry for lying to you. I understand now that it hurt you. I didn't mean to you, you know. I wanted to protect you, to make you feel welcomed and okay. I just didn't know that kindness could be such a killer.
The truth is I am not sure I wanted you to hear the truth because most days I don't really want to hear it myself. But, in any case, here it is: you're gonna die. You have to, actually. It is the only way. I'd like to sugar coat that, make it seem like a pill you can swallow with a glass of water and sleep through the night unaware of its drastic effects on your body. But I can't. I'll leave that for the pharmaceutical companies who know better than I to make a disease seem like a headache and their medicine a happy dream. Not that I didn't try.
I told you all about our "New Members Class," hoping you could stomach that verbage. That seemed nice, right, as if there were some perks for your sacrifice? I was embarrassed to suggest you'd need to go through something like this in order to become a part of our church. I didn't want to seem so demanding. Gosh, you've got so much on your plate already. I'd hate to demand anything more from you.
I even considered toning down the religiosity of it all. Insted of calling it a "New Members Class," I thought about calling it "Inquirers," or "Seekers," something suggesting possibility, completely ambiguous, that way you wouldn't have to venture much, and neither would I. That way we could just meet every so often, share a meal once or twice. Then, maybe, I'd offer you an invitation in a hurried moment of uncertainty, a proposition that immediately makes me feel guilty and you fearful. Hopefully, you'd say yes. Why not. It won't take long. And, I would promise that we'll love you forever. So will God. You will know community then. It will be great. Won't it?
No, it wouldn't be. Because I cheated you, and that bothers me. What I really want to offer you is a conversion, a transformation. But, I know I can't offer that to you. Who can? That's why I come back to what is so important for me to say: you're gonna die. You have to. But, will you let yourself die?
I've got this pool, see. It's in my backyard, and most of the year we just let it lie there as a huge sunken grave, the concrete seemingly colder than steel. The only thing the pool receives from September to March is the fallen remnants of foliage and the cold of both earth and sky. In the spring, I'm going to fill it up again with water, an oval of creation's turbulent sea. And, if you want, you can come over sometime. It will be there for you. If you like, you can walk into it, let your body slip into its brutal frigidness. You'll learn then. You'll see. God wants to wash you clean. Your life can be made new. And you're not going to realize it walking into some church on a Sunday morning with your best face on into some parlour that houses social niceties and the memories of people who served their community well.
So, anyhow, here's a key to my backyard pool. When you're ready, come on over. We'll talk more then. When you're ready to die, I'll tell you about life.
The truth is I am not sure I wanted you to hear the truth because most days I don't really want to hear it myself. But, in any case, here it is: you're gonna die. You have to, actually. It is the only way. I'd like to sugar coat that, make it seem like a pill you can swallow with a glass of water and sleep through the night unaware of its drastic effects on your body. But I can't. I'll leave that for the pharmaceutical companies who know better than I to make a disease seem like a headache and their medicine a happy dream. Not that I didn't try.
I told you all about our "New Members Class," hoping you could stomach that verbage. That seemed nice, right, as if there were some perks for your sacrifice? I was embarrassed to suggest you'd need to go through something like this in order to become a part of our church. I didn't want to seem so demanding. Gosh, you've got so much on your plate already. I'd hate to demand anything more from you.
I even considered toning down the religiosity of it all. Insted of calling it a "New Members Class," I thought about calling it "Inquirers," or "Seekers," something suggesting possibility, completely ambiguous, that way you wouldn't have to venture much, and neither would I. That way we could just meet every so often, share a meal once or twice. Then, maybe, I'd offer you an invitation in a hurried moment of uncertainty, a proposition that immediately makes me feel guilty and you fearful. Hopefully, you'd say yes. Why not. It won't take long. And, I would promise that we'll love you forever. So will God. You will know community then. It will be great. Won't it?
No, it wouldn't be. Because I cheated you, and that bothers me. What I really want to offer you is a conversion, a transformation. But, I know I can't offer that to you. Who can? That's why I come back to what is so important for me to say: you're gonna die. You have to. But, will you let yourself die?
I've got this pool, see. It's in my backyard, and most of the year we just let it lie there as a huge sunken grave, the concrete seemingly colder than steel. The only thing the pool receives from September to March is the fallen remnants of foliage and the cold of both earth and sky. In the spring, I'm going to fill it up again with water, an oval of creation's turbulent sea. And, if you want, you can come over sometime. It will be there for you. If you like, you can walk into it, let your body slip into its brutal frigidness. You'll learn then. You'll see. God wants to wash you clean. Your life can be made new. And you're not going to realize it walking into some church on a Sunday morning with your best face on into some parlour that houses social niceties and the memories of people who served their community well.
So, anyhow, here's a key to my backyard pool. When you're ready, come on over. We'll talk more then. When you're ready to die, I'll tell you about life.
Nature and Grace
"Without God we cannot,
Without us, he will not."
Without us, he will not."
"On the one side of this path is the abyss of quietism and antinomianism - the conviction that we can do nothing at all and that we accept the process of redemption in complete passivity. On the other side is the abyss of Pelagianism and moralism - the contention that everything depends upon us and that human growth in virtue comes in our own strength. Between those abysses is the path of disciplined grace: the initiative and work come entirely from God, and we act in response to an in cooperation with God. Once, when preaching on grace, Augustine declared, "He who created you without your help, will not save you without your cooperation." - From Richard J. Foster's Streams of Living Water.
Saturday, January 26, 2008
Emotions
Anna told me today that the hormones are in over-drive these days as "Little Two" is in the works. She mentioned this while we watched the Kentucky Wesleyan boys basketball team play. The starting line-up music practically brought tears to her eyes, and the pep band was just unfair - like putting a toy before a toddler and telling him not to play with it.
I thought about how much emotions overwhelm her during pregnancy, and - though she might hate me for saying it - I love it. There is such a raw beauty and humanity in all of it.
Just recently, I listened to some music that moved me. I was emotionally impacted.
All this made me realize how unique our generation is compared to - say - my grandparents. Their's was an age of productivity, where the quality of your life was dependent upon the effect of your efforts. For my generation, it seems that the quality of our life is to be found in how our efforts affect our emotions. Does our life feel right? Do we truly enjoy our work? Does the movie move me to a point of new humanity and self-awareness.
There was a time when the greatest form of worship was to join a chorus of voices to produce a loud assembly of praise. Now: the greatest sign of worship is a movement not of the masses, but into the sacred, emotive realms of the heart, whereby God is moving and we are moved. Maybe we are pregnant with some form of hope.
Wes
I thought about how much emotions overwhelm her during pregnancy, and - though she might hate me for saying it - I love it. There is such a raw beauty and humanity in all of it.
Just recently, I listened to some music that moved me. I was emotionally impacted.
All this made me realize how unique our generation is compared to - say - my grandparents. Their's was an age of productivity, where the quality of your life was dependent upon the effect of your efforts. For my generation, it seems that the quality of our life is to be found in how our efforts affect our emotions. Does our life feel right? Do we truly enjoy our work? Does the movie move me to a point of new humanity and self-awareness.
There was a time when the greatest form of worship was to join a chorus of voices to produce a loud assembly of praise. Now: the greatest sign of worship is a movement not of the masses, but into the sacred, emotive realms of the heart, whereby God is moving and we are moved. Maybe we are pregnant with some form of hope.
Wes
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