Author: jason

My Son Is Now My Brother

My Son Is Now My Brother

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Last Sunday, my wife and I received an answer to many years of prayer as we were given the opportunity to help our oldest son, Andrew, to faith in the Lord. As a Christian parent, I can’t imagine there’s anything more satisfying than seeing your child come to Faith, and that we were able to help him make that all-important prayer brings joy beyond description.

We have been talking to Andrew about the Lord since before he could read. We would read the Bible to him, teach him the truths of God’s Word, explain to him that God loves him, etc. We were careful, though, not to push too hard or try to convince him of his need; that’s the Spirit’s job. We have, though, done our best to be faithful to teach him as he grows, trusting that the Lord would grow the seed He planted through us. That Sunday morning at church, then, our pastor was continuing his walk through the book of Mark (you can listen to the whole sermon, which was great, here, or see below). At the end of the sermon, Andrew tapped Angela on the shoulder and told her, “I think Jesus wants me to ask Him into my heart,” adding “My heart is beating really, really fast.” 🙂 She was excited, of course, but she told him that we’d talk once we got home.

Once we got home and finally had the chance to talk to Andrew without distractions, we asked him about what he told Angela. For a while, we gently probed, not wanting to “trick” him into a decision he might not be ready for. Those that know me well know that I went forward at a church service once, thinking that I was making a true profession of faith, only to realize years later that what I had done wasn’t authentic. Perhaps I’ll write that up in another post, but it should go without saying that we wanted to make sure Andrew made this decision for himself, and that it be authentic and truly efficacious, so we were very careful.

After some discussion, Andrew told us again that he was ready. He had told us this before, several weeks ago, but he seemed to be fully aware this time of what he was saying. We bowed our heads, then, and helped him walk through that simple prayer. After the prayer, we hugged on Andrew, and reiterated to him how much we loved him and how proud of him we were. What a precious time that was. 🙂

No one can truly know, of course, the heart of another with certainty, but I’m convinced the Andrew had finally come to the point where he knew what he needed to do, and I’m so proud and pleased that I can now call him my Brother.

A Goldberg File Sample

A Goldberg File Sample

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As I noted on Twitter, it seems that Jonah Goldberg stopped publicly archiving his weekly “Goldberg File” at about the same time he quit letting pictures of himself be taken. That being so, if you want to read this (mostly) weekly , hilarious commentary on… well who can really say, you have to subscribe. However, this description of his most recent trip to the theater (the pedestrian Main Street kind, not the swanky/snobby uptown kind. Not that that there’s anything wrong with that) is a great example of what to expect from it, and is too funny not to share. Without giving away the punchline, having been burned before, I understand his trepidation:

Dear Reader (and those readers who are not dear and those who are dear but who do not read),

The last time I went to the movies to see an adult film . . . er, I should say the last time I was in the theater to see a film for adults. As far as I can tell, they haven’t had adult theaters since On Golden Blonde was on the big screen.

Anyway, the last time I saw a non-animated movie in the theater, I saw True Grit. The Fair Jessica and I had a matinee movie date.

Before the movie started, there was a preview for a movie coming out later this year. At first it seemed to be like a big-budget film on the Moon Landing (I am choosing to capitalize that, like it or not), mixing archival footage with new stuff. The words “Our Nation’s Proudest Moment” flash on the screen. So far so good. Then, when Neil Armstrong lands on the moon, a new phrase appears: “A Secret Hidden for Forty Years.”

Uh-oh. What’s this? I thought. Intriguing. Exciting. Maybe someone in Hollywood has read one of my weekly letters and is finally making the movie “The Trial of Capricorn One,” an awesome sequel to the forgotten O. J. Simpson classic.

Then, we see real footage of Walter Cronkite telling viewers that the crew is on the “far side of the moon” and thus out of radio contact. Then the boss at Mission Control (more questionable capitalization!) tells Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin that “the mission is a go.” They have 21 minutes to check out something cool.

Oh, man, this looks great.

Suspense builds like a Sim City metropolis called “Suspense” created by an introverted South Korean kid with asthma, a broken leg, and rich parents. The astronauts moon-trot over a lunar ridge to find the massive wreck of a spaceship. Coolness! They start exploring it. More drama! Excitement!

Self, this is a movie I’m going to see, I said to myself.

My wife looks over to see me nodding as if a waiter just asked me if I like cold beer and ribs.

Then: Four of the most disheartening words in all of cinema appeared on the screen. You know of what I speak.

“From Director Michael Bay.”

Suddenly, the bowels stew like a forgotten fondue pot left too long over a lit can of Sterno.

Oh dear Lord, I know where this is going, I say as I look for the eject button on the arm rest.

Too late.

It’s a preview for Transformers III.

Trying to make some sense of Dad’s death

Trying to make some sense of Dad’s death

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One year ago today, my Dad died. In July of 2009, he was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. Five months later, he was gone. Like countless others who have lost loved ones, I’ve struggled with the question of “why.” And like those countless others, I really don’t have an answer.

I’m a Christian, as was my Dad. It is within the framework of that Faith, then, that I’ve wrestled with the question. Of the various possibilities, the one I like to think is probably the right one, is that this was my Dad’s last act of faith and obedience. My family has gone to church as long as I can remember. Twenty to twenty-five years ago, though, as I remember things, we started getting more and more involved in our local church. Dad volunteered for one thing after another, taking his service to the local body very seriously. In fact, as he became sicker due to the scourge that eventually claimed his life, he lamented missing church, something he hadn’t done in a very long time. Though not formally a deacon (which, in Greek, means ‘servant’), he was a servant of the church nonetheless. He loved its people, and he loved its Lord.

Ultimately, though, the road each of us walks comes to an end. For some, it’s at a ripe old age, where time has taken its toll on our bodies, which eventually give out. For others, that end is much earlier. This was the case for my Dad. It’s quite possible, and, again, I think probable, that the Lord, for reasons we don’t understand, decided to let this awful thing we call cancer touch my Dad’s body as one final test, either of him or for us. As Christians, we contend that, once we accept the gift of salvation, the rest of our lives are spent trying to become more and more Christ-like. Life’s trials are often the tools the Lord uses to affect that change. It may be that this was one last stroke of the chisel, once last brush with the polishing cloth, that my Dad needed before he was ready.

It might be, also, that the Lord used my Dad’s disease and death, as an example of what Christian faith looks like. Perhaps it wasn’t a test, but Dad’s last mission, his last act of service in life; to demonstrate true faith and the peace and grace it brings as he passed on to his reward.

In truth, we’ll never really know. Not in this life. To be honest, I really wish it didn’t have to be this way. I miss him terribly, and probably always will. Despite that, though, I have never been angry with God for allowing this to happen. I don’t understand why it had to, but I trust The One who let it. And perhaps that was the point, at least in part: to test my faith. To inch me toward the perfection in Christ that will someday be mine. I’ll know for sure someday. My hope and prayer is that someday I’ll hear the Lord tell me, “Well done, good and faithful servant.” And as Jesus says those precious words to me, I can’t help but picture my Dad standing there amongst the throng of redeemed, whole and healthy and perfect, flashing that proud, happy smile of his I long to see again. I may understand it all then, but it won’t matter, I think. I’ll be with my Dad again. And like him, I’ll finally be Home.

No Christmas in DC This Year

No Christmas in DC This Year

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I was sent this news and thought I’d pass it along here:

There will be no Nativity Scene in Washington this year!

The Supreme Court has ruled that there cannot be a Nativity Scene in the United States’ Capital this Christmas season. This isn’t for any religious reason. They simply have not been able to find Three Wise Men in the Nation’s Capitol. A search for a Virgin continues. There was no problem, however, finding enough asses to fill the stable.

 
 
From Blueberry to Grape

From Blueberry to Grape

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I’m taking karate lessons. I have for years, but for one reason or another, I’ve never been able to make it to black. I’ve been "stuck", then, at blue (or blueberry, as my boys like to call it) for quite some time. In my current class, the instructors, while honoring my belt, wanted me to work back through the tests and instruction to make sure I understood this style correctly. I finally caught up to my current rank at my last test and, last night, tested for my first new belt, purple (or grape :), in years. With Angela and the boys on hand to watch, it was a great night.

The test started with katas. As a purple belt candidate, I had to do five katas: the three I had learned for earlier belts, plus two new ones. Overall, I think they went really well. I’m pretty sure I muffed a transition in the orange belt kata, but the two purple belt katas felt really good. Nice, low stances. No feet sticking to the floor, making me stumble. Most importantly, I didn’t forget where I was in the kata or which one I was doing, which is always nice.

Next came the usual testing on techniques: what are they, what are they called, let me see you do them. That left two major items: board breaks and sparring. To be honest, I was little nervous about the breaks, as there would be three power breaks, which were, I thought, several boards at once with spacers. It turns out that it WAS several boards at once, but with no spacers, which sounded much scarier and harder in my head. 🙂

I had to do three breaks, so I chose a hammer fist, a stomp and a side kick. I had no worries on the stomp, as that’s a powerful technique no matter what size you are. The hammer fist, though, involved smashing through the boards with the "meaty" part of my hand, which is a bit daunting. After a fewer practice swings to set myself, I wound up and hit the boards, which broke surprisingly easily. My hand hurt a bit, but not too bad. Awesome.

The last break was the side kick, about which I was also nervous. They assured me that I’d have no problem, that my kicks were strong enough, so I lined up to give it a go. With any kicking break, you typically have two guys holding the board(s), one on each side, with possibly others pushing on the holders to provide a little more solid target. My holders were Mr. Harp and and Mr. Sexton (two of the brown belt instructors) with the third being Mr. Lowery, one of the two black belts. Per protocol, I said, "Brace!" and threw my kick. That’s when time slowed down. I saw my foot hit the board, I heard a crack, then saw the boards explode. Just like in a movie, I saw chunks of wood and splinters go flying. I saw Mr. Lowery’s head snap back out of the way. I watched the wood fall slowly to the ground, then everything went back to normal speed. I looked around and saw that Mr. Harp had a nice cut on his forehead from the wooden shrapnel, and Mr. Lowery had a bloody lip. We all laughed and joked about it, but they reminded me that I still had to spar. 🙂

I actually find myself really enjoying sparring. Teddy Roosevelt said a century ago that football "breeds toughness and courage" and I think the same can be said of karate and sparring. Ultimately, you’re training to defend yourself and someone around you, so you have to be able to fight. Sparring offers a chance to learn that in a controlled environment, allowing you test yourself and your skills, finding what needs work, etc. And it’s a lot fun. 🙂 At my level, I had to do 4 1-on-1 fights, and then 2-on-1, 3-on-1, and 4-on-1 fights, which are as crazy as they sound. Of the the three "plural fights", I think I scored a total of 2, maybe 3 points (out of 5 per match). Luckily, the test isn’t about points, but to see how the candidate does, overall. 😛  Rare is the time where the single guy wins a match. 🙂

When the night was finally over, I was awarded my first new belt in years. As Mr. Gold, the other of the two black belts, handed it to me, he told me I wouldn’t have to wake up in the morning wondering if I had earned that belt, and every muscle in my body will attest to that. 🙂

Overall, it was a hard night, pushing my body further than it wanted to go at times, but I loved every minute of it. While I can’t directly compare, the camaraderie that has developed with the other students in the class, as well as the instructors, seems very much like what you see in, say, a football or basketball team. Being able to put ourselves through that together, then talk and laugh about it afterwards is a big part of the joy of studying. I’m very lucky to have a class like I do.

Now, staring in January, onward and upward to brown, with my oldest son starting on his yellow belt. It’s going to be a blast. 🙂

My votes this Tuesday

My votes this Tuesday

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This Tuesday, Oklahoma, along with much of the rest of the nation, will head to the polls to select governors, congressmen, senators, and a smattering of state officials ranging from the obscure to the seemingly trivial. In Oklahoma, in addition to the slate of elected officials, we have 11 state questions on which to cast our vote. I know most of you are asking yourselves, "How is Jason voting?" My response is, "That’s an impolite thing to ask!" But I’ll answer anyway. 🙂 In no particular order, here’s how I’m voting, and possibly why. …

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National Coffee Day

National Coffee Day

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It’s National Coffee Day, so I thought I’d (re)share the Beantat Creed:

It is by coffee alone I set my mind in motion.
It is by the beans of java that thoughts acquire speed,
the hands acquire trembling,
the trembling becomes a warning.
It is by coffee alone I set my mind in motion

“Shame”

“Shame”

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Another old favorite of mine, “Shame” by Crystavox, came up in my play list today. It’s a great song about the divide we make in our lives. On one side, we have our daily life, and on the other, we have our faith. At any rate, the chorus says this,

So many times we’ve crucified the gift God gave us all
So many times we magnify the things that make us fall
Over and over, we’ve pulled away in shame
Our work leaves out Jesus and He receives the blame
And I think He’s crying

The bridge tells us

It’s impossible to travel when we’ve thrown away the keys
We can not feed the forest until we fight our own disease

It’s a great reminder that we need to be serious about our faith, actively pursuing it every day, and to be on our guard against a careless, hypocritical lifestyle.

“I So Hate Consequences”

“I So Hate Consequences”

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One of my favorite Relient K songs is “I So Hate Consequences,” and my favorite part of that song has to be the outro:

When I got tired of running from you
I stopped right there to catch my breath
There your words they caught my ears
You said, “I miss you son, come home”

And my sins, they watched me leave
And in my heart I so believed
The love you felt for me was mine
The love I’d wished for all this time

And when the doors were closed
I heard no I told so’s
I said the words I knew you knew
Oh God, oh God I needed you
God all this time I needed you, I needed you.

Amen.

Mark Steyn and the New Spectator Sport: Taxes

Mark Steyn and the New Spectator Sport: Taxes

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Here’s a great quote from Mark Steyn on how many Americans pay no taxes at all:

And yet for an increasing number of Americans, tax season is like baseball season: It’s a spectator sport. According to the Tax Policy Center, for the year 2009, 47 percent of U.S. households will pay no federal income tax. Obviously, many of them pay other kinds of taxes — state tax, property tax, cigarette tax. But at a time of massive increases in federal spending, half the country is effectively making no contribution to it, whether it’s national defense or vital stimulus funding to pump monkeys in North Carolina full of cocaine (true, seriously, but don’t ask me why). Half a decade back, it was just under 40 percent who paid no federal income tax; now it’s just under 50 percent. By 2012, America could be holding the first federal election in which a majority of the population will be able to vote themselves more government lollipops paid for by the ever shrinking minority of the population still dumb enough to be net contributors to the federal treasury. In less than a quarter-millennium, the American Revolution will have evolved from ‘No taxation without representation’ to representation without taxation. We have bigger government, bigger bureaucracy, bigger spending, bigger deficits, and bigger debt, and yet an ever smaller proportion of citizens paying for it.