For those of you who have not already heard, the pastor of University Baptist Church in Waco died this morning. Kyle Lake was preparing to administer baptism, when a microphone fell into the water, electrocuting him. Please pray for not only his family, but for this church, that it might survive such a tragedy. Pray for those that called him husband and father, as he leaves behind a wife and three children under the age of four.
Pray for those who called him their pastor, as the church is nearly all college students who are now in need of comfort and ears. The church community in Waco is a sprawling family, and the shockwaves of this are felt far beyond the reaches of any building.
Pray for those who call him friend, particularly Craig.
Pray for those who looked to his example, that in this deep time, the Spirit might breathe words of comfort and strength.
Pray for those of us who knew him through others, that we might know how to be in the coming days and months.
Thanks. Kiss the ones you love today.
There’s a new “meme” going around, which, as best as I can gather, is Internet jargon for “a big freaking waste of time when I should be writing this paper due Thursday at 2 p.m. on Eunomius and Gregory of Nazianzus.”
But, it’s Homecoming at Baylor, and the libraries are empty, and I’ll be cranking out the remainder of the 2nd of 4 papers for the semester. And I need a break. So, here’s how this works:
1) Go to www.google.com
2) Type in “your name needs”, and when I say, “your name”, type….well, your own name bestowed upon you by your parents. First name only.
3) Type out the results. Mine are as follows, and more true than I want to say:
a) Myles needs a little work on his technique.
b) Myles needs a bodyguard to protect us from rage-filled bellyachers!
c) Myles needs a blood transfusion.
d) Myles needs to work on his free throws.
e) Myles needs a Turkey to set a precedent.
f) Myles needs to meet more girls.
g) Myles needs to subtract 241 from 848.
h) Myles needs Sally, but Sally is dubious.
i) Myles needs the attention.
Upon moving to college, I decided that it was time to acquire my first real-time addiction. I’d been a swimmer in college, and still had a sense of physical fitness, so smoking was out. I’d never had a thing to drink at 18, and didn’t think it was ever appropriate to touch the fruits of the hop, so drinking was a no-go. However, coffee was both legal and, according to some studies, good for the liver, so coffee it was.
I began slowly, a cup in the morning, no cream. Upon meeting Kevin, that went quickly to a few cups a day, and most nights. A Wal-Mart mug designed for 40 oz. of juice became my new best friend, holding a pot at a time. Kevin and his roommate and myself would drain a full pot over the course of an evening. I could drink five cups and go straight to bed.
Once I left the mug in their room, only to find it a month later, the mug having grown a gelatinous substance which to this day, I have yet to identify. All I know is that it jumped out, stained the carpet, and never completely came out.
It’s amazing what you can accomplish when your tolerance is blazing hot, when you can drink black coffee until midnight and then get a full night’s sleep. Last night, I drank a pot of tea until 10 p.m., and conked out an hour later. It’s all a matter of resistance, I suppose, being able to handle more than your body is born to do. Very little do I carry forth from college, except the love of legal stimulants.
Kellen’s blog turns One this week, and so, I wrote this in celebration: Living In Between, and realizing that the choices aren’t as overwhelming as they seem.
This could be a big deal for a lot of people. Watch for certain denominational responses to this, as there will be many, I assure you. If indeed people still read, which is debatable.
This could be the backbreaker, the game that tears my heart out.
This is perhaps the saddest state in the country, for no other reason than a good friend may be moving there for good.
This man could be a genius. In fact, this most recent work proves it beyond a shadow of a poop.
But seriously: Anne Rice writing about Jesus? That’s wild stuff.
I’ll return to real posting later this week, but for now, content yourself with this: a treatise on what should be done concerning flag burning. A real gem.
One of my former roommates, Coleman Fannin, has started his PhD in Theology at the University of Dayton in Ohio. He also contributes to the site with me and a bunch of others, Generous Orthodoxy. Anyway, he writes a great essay here connecting the penal system to modern warfare, showing how the intent of one is an illustration of the dehumanizing effect of the other. Check it out here.
If I didn’t have enough reason to love Sean Miner, this post is just silly good and makes my stuff look like pocket lint.
His poetry is the reason I have to wear Depends some days. In other words, I laugh so hard, I wet myself.
Just a little.
Thanks for fielding a choker one more season. I really appreciated the sixth inning collapse. Could you hear the bonds on my heart straining and snapping? I’m sure that you’re a great city and all. That arch has a lot going on, and from what I can gather from my friends, your hockey team once had it together.
You picked a great state to be in. I mean, Gateway to the West? That’s pretty hot.
Tell your sister Kansas City hey for me, and save me an IPA.
Don’t take it so hard, St. Louis. You’ve still got some great universities, a pretty good little football history, and maybe you’ll get it together with baseball next year. But be a good sport and cheer for the NL. Just because the White Sox haven’t won since 1917 doesn’t mean that this is their year. Do your duty to the National League, St. Louis! Be not defeated by the spirits of doubt and despair! Gird your loins and applaud Houston!
In all sincerity, thanks for letting Reggie Sanders play (editorial change) left field on your ball club. I’ll remember that missed catch when Biggio scored until I’m 90. And kudos on surviving the loss of Scott Rolen. My fantasy team sucked dog without him, but you labored on in the meantime. Chin up, and enjoy the show.
Dear Brad Lidge,
Once upon a time, you backed Octavio Dotel, the closer for the Houston Astros. When the Astros got smart and shipped him out to Oakland, you came in and starting shutting the door on teams left and right. Everyone knew you could. Everyone knew you were the golden child, that as soon as you took the mound, the baseball would find no home except the catcher’s mitt.
And then last night, you blew a two run lead, with two outs, and two strikes, one strike away from delivering the Astros their first pennant in history. First, you let that squirmy David Eckstein squeeze out a single. Then you walked Larry Walker. And then, with a two-run lead and the state of Texas behind you, you let Albert Pujols hit the bejeezus out the ball, off the pplexiglass forty feet above the bleachers, and send the series back to St. Louis. Granted, the Astros are still up three games to two, but now, we’re back in Missouri, and who knows what mischief they will wreak upon Houston?
Brad, you’ve done great, but last night, you sucked my right elbow. Get it together, grouch. Octavio sends his best from the A’s, and says the weather’s fine. It’s a lonely offseason when you’re the moron that sends a whole city packing. Remember: fastball on the 1-2 is asking for trouble. Stay away from Albert, and do what you have to do.
