11% Day

It has been said that we humans are using less than 10% of our brains. I was never much of a science-person so I have no idea how such a figure is even quantified… whatever.

Stay with me…

When I have a day off, I like to spend the morning by myself; I make a pot of coffee (yes, a whole pot), listen to some odd ball music, and read. Sometimes its the bible, other times it’s something that just stretches my thinking… it’s my version of ‘sabbath‘.

What I realized recently is on that days like this, I find new levels of clarity… new levels of creativity… it’s like I blew right past the 10% mark and am actually using upwards of 11% of my brain and it FEELS AMAZING!

Why is that?

It’s as if we can get so bogged down in all of the routines, the rigamarole, the requests, the highs and the lows of any given day –> week –> month, that our brains just become numb to anything outside of what directly in front of us.

I’m not okay with this.

We have to be able to hit the pause button. I’m convinced that prolonged exposure to the race that is our lives can be paralyzing.

Do you feel stuck? Like you haven’t had on original thought in months? When was the last time that you had a few hours to just relax? A day when you didn’t have people taxing every waking moment? Some time to just connect with God without a list of tasks involved?

I’m no prophet, but I can tell you that without a good rest every now and then, you will burn out… or spin out of control. Your effectiveness to “do ministry” will come to an end… and sadly, you’ll act like you never saw it coming.

We need boundaries. You have to be able to unapologetically guard some time to re-charge. Having a sabbath made the top ten in God’s rules… just sayin’.

- Sent from my brain on an 11% day.

Fuel

I drive a 2000 Ford Explorer with mileage north of 140,000… to say that this is the point in ownership where the parts start to go south would be a bit of an understatement; less than a month ago, I had to forfeit nearly the equivalent of a mortgage payment to replace the radiator and associated pump, hoses, and gaskets. Yesterday, as I hopped in for a short trip, I found myself listening to the never-fun sound of an engine that, try as it might, had no chance of turning over. Once again, I was stuck… going nowhere.

I’m blessed to have a AAA membership, so I called for a tow truck. When asked about the problem with my vehicle, I told the operator that it simply wouldn’t start; I was nearly offended by the next question:

Does the vehicle have fuel, sir?

Are you kidding me? I’ve been driving since 1982! I know what I’m doing! I’ve had some mishaps along the way, but I can say without a shadow of a doubt that I have never run out of gas… not even close!

While my driving sense was mildly insulted, I answered that I had just filled it up the day before and we proceeded to make the arrangements for the towing and visit to the repair shop.

If I’m writing about this, there must be a teachable moment in here somewhere, right?

I think that those of us who work in and around churches can make the dangerous assumption that we are properly fueled, if only by osmosis. We get to hear the sermon multiple times on any given weekend, even to the point that if the pastor were to fall suddenly ill, we could probably grab his notes and preach it ourselves! We might pray with our teams just before the service… We can tap our feet and maybe even sing along with some of the worship while still doing our appointed jobs; we are masters of multi-tasking, but

…are you out of fuel?

or more importantly, are you offended that I’m asking?

Are you doing and doing, keeping the creative and technical aspects of your church life going, but not having any time where you can unplug and read God’s word for yourself?

Do you have a sabbath? …a day when you aren’t doing church? …a day when you can find some quiet, some rest, a true re-fueling?

I’ve seen some of the smartest, most talented, and best intentioned people crash and burn because they filled every possible moment with their tasks, but left no margin to seek God on their own. I’ve come to believe that we can be crushed under the weight of all we have to do if we don’t have proper time to seek the One we claim to do these things for.

First and foremost, God wants my heart. Not my art, not my technical know-how… he simply wants me, and I need to make time for that.

What are you doing, intentionally, to re-fuel?

He still redeems

This is what the Lord says—your Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel: “I am the Lord your God, who teaches you what is good for you and leads you along the paths you should follow. Isaiah 48:17

I missed a lot of time with my wife and daughters while I worked in sports television, but none more concentrated as when I was gone for the better part of a month doing the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens, Greece. Opportunities like that were amazing, but I knew that I could never get back the time that I missed with my kids.

And yet, I experienced the redemption of time today.

My oldest daughter is now a 3rd grade teacher in Arkansas. She called me last week to tell me that her class was studying the history and culture of Greece and wanted to know if I could send her some pictures from my trip. Somewhere in the conversation, we got the idea that we should try a Skype call in her classroom so that her students could ask me questions about my experiences. We set the date for today.

Skyping with a great bunch of 3rd graders

The kids had thought out a handful of questions to ask… they wanted to know about the buildings, the Greek language, and were absolutely amazed that anyone could be in an airplane for so many hours. We talked about the food, the landscape and maybe the most important thing, I taught them how to say ‘thank you’ in Greek…. it was wonderful.

In about 35 minutes, God had managed to take what was a loss of time together 7 years ago and turn it into something that my daughter and I will always remember; the day her dad got to be a guest speaker in her classroom, from 1200 miles away.

Σας ευχαριστώ, ο Θεός, ο λυτρωτής μου (Thank you, God, my redeemer)

Guest Post – The Four Year Mark

While I realize that this blog has evolved into a church media spot, today I will go a bit more personal. You see, today marks 4 years since my mother passed away after a brutal fight with lung cancer. Most days, I feel like I’ve gotten passed most of the sadness, but then April 26th. rolls around and it all comes running back.

My oldest daughter called me a couple of weeks ago and asked if I had a moment for her to read something for me. After hearing it, I asked her if I could honor her grandmother by posting here today (thank you, Larissa):

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Grandma’s Vice

I got the call on Thursday, April 26, 2007.  I’d been anticipating it for weeks – months really.  I was on edge any time my phone rang.  I knew it was coming, but even as my dad’s number flashed on my phone I wasn’t prepared for his words, “Grandma’s gone.”  At 19 years old, I had yet to deal with death personally.  I had never known such sorrow in my life before that April morning, and have yet to know it since.

I think I knew from an early age that they would kill her – the cigarettes.  She certainly knew how to kill a pack and at her peak she killed 3 a day.  Her life was ruled by her next cigarette break.  Everything that came from her house reeked of cigarette smoke – clothes, gifts, and sometimes even baked goodies.  I hated that smell.  And at the end of her life, I think I hated that she slowly killed herself day by day ignoring the stench that I loathed.

After a night of crying, a test, and a two-hour trip to the airport, I was back in Phoenix for Grandma’s funeral, trying my best to balance grieving and studying for the final exams that awaited my return to school.  Coming to terms with a new reality was a very long process that had only just begun.

One moment in my grieving that I will never forget was having the privilege to deliver the scripture reading at her funeral.  It was a passage from the Book of Wisdom, an inclusion of the Catholic Bible, that I was not familiar with but knew, being the scripture of my Grandma’s life, would have been written on her heart. Maybe that’s why it took such a hold of me.  It wasn’t some cliché passage I had heard repetitively in church so I could truly take in the words and the ideas behind them.

But the souls of the just are in the hand of God, and no torment shall touch them. They seemed, in the view of the foolish, to be dead; and their passing away was thought an affliction and their going forth from us, utter destruction. But they are in peace. For if before men, indeed, they be punished, yet is their hope full of immortality; Chastised a little, they shall be greatly blessed, because God tried them and found them worthy of himself. As gold in the furnace, he proved them, and as sacrificial offerings he took them to himself. Those who trust in him shall understand truth, and the faithful shall abide with him in love: Because grace and mercy are with his holy ones, and his care is with the elect.

As I stood on the stage of my grandparents’ church, I could hardly read these touching words through my tears.  My tears were full of sadness and anger at the same time.  My heart was breaking with the realization that she was truly gone, but I was angry that she could have prevented her death.

There are days when I miss her so much it hurts, like my wedding day when she wasn’t there to see her pearls as my “something old.”  Other days it’s simple things like birdseed and honeysuckle that remind me of her.  I know part of her will always be with me.  I just wish she had fought her vice.

-Larissa Webber

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My plea to smokers: Some one loves you dearly… perhaps many do. Don’t cut your time with them any shorter than it has to be. I know that quitting smoking is one of the toughest things you can go through, but it’s so worth it.

Thanks.

Confessions of a Church Video Director: Run Over

This post will start with a visual aid, a moment from my career as a TV camera operator back in 2003 when I was covering an NBA game in Phoenix, AZ.

(Embedded video HERE)

That was my job. Right on the court, just inches from large athletes moving at top speed.

This clip shows just one of the many times that I got run over while on the job.

My hat and glasses went flying. I rolled backwards like a turtle. But the show must go on… so I dusted myself off and got back to work. Just another night at the arena.

Here is where I spin that story into a blog post:

3 years ago, I was working at a church that had hired me to “take them to the next level“. Early on everything was fine; the next level often means changes and the folks there seemed to embrace the changes I was making; sometimes reluctantly, others with a little more vigor.

Taking the job was not easy for my family as it meant moving about 2,200 miles… Moving my wife away from her mother, sister and friends… Moving my daughter away during her junior year of high school.

And then I got run over.

I didn’t realize that I was being run over until about 8 months into the assignment. My character began to be  questioned, my work was minimized, and all of my next level thinking was rebuffed. It was much different than being plowed by a point guard… Rather than being struck, I found my self stuck.

Stuck in a job that was giving me ulcers.

Stuck in a job that was making me seriously question my faith. My calling. My ability to lead my family.

I was completely run over.

One big problem here: This wasn’t the sidelines of a major sporting event, this was a church. A place where people are supposed to be gracious, kind, and supportive. Perhaps I will go into more of the details of all that happened there another time, just understand that by the time that I knew I had to leave, I was near ready to call it quits with church-work and do something else. Fortunately, I found a new job with an amazing church that I love to this day.

My confession: While I love God’s Church with all that I am, some of the wounds that I incurred in my previous position still sting a bit. Much the way an old injury will leave you with a scar or a slight limp, I wonder if I will ever be able to shake all of what happened to me. I want to be all that God wants me to be and I don’t want my past to define my future. People let me down, God didn’t… I can’t ever lose sight of that.

Rather than this muse being just another indictment on the inner-workings of the Church, I’d rather have it be a step in the direction of healing and forgiveness. Maybe you have been hurt by a church’s leadership… maybe you’ve questioned God’s calling…

Maybe you’ve been run over too.

Be encouraged; You will heal. You may lose your hat and your glasses, but you can dust off and go back to work.

For God’s gifts and his call can never be withdrawn. Romans 11:29

Behind the Tech; Confessions of a Church Video Director

I’ve been thinking about some things lately… things regarding the many aspects of working in media and in ministry. We, the techies… the artists… the producers… can get so wrapped up in what we do and how we do it that we can completely miss the God who we claim to work for. This may end up being a series of posts; I welcome your feedback.

Confession #1: The Throw-Away Weekend

If you’ve worked in or around churches for any time, you know that the calendar year passes with several different sermon series. 3-4 times per year, the series take a break and give way to what we call a stand-alone weekend. This is usually a time where we have a guest speaker because one or more of our teaching team happen to be out of town or committed to be elsewhere. These guest speakers typically come in completely prepared with a message and rarely need much from us beyond a microphone and instructions on when to go on stage.

I confess that I have, at times, referred to these weekends as “throw aways”; especially when they fall on a holiday weekend when attendance can be predictably down and we, the crew, can merely be going through the motions.

This just happened: We were slated to have a guest speaker on the weekend following Thanksgiving. I was not excited about ‘doing church’ after a couple of days of gorging myself and spending time with my family, but I dragged myself in to direct. I wasn’t expecting much.

Wait, you weren’t expecting much?

Can you guess that this is the part where God messed up my little pity-party?

The message was wonderful… and I felt privileged to hear it four times! The worship was awesome… and people responded to God.

I am a dolt.

I honestly felt ashamed.

Who am I to think that just because we weren’t doing our normal routine of things that God couldn’t have His way in the services? I minimized God… as if this wasn’t all about Him. I was quick to worry about how things were going to go for me and not about how God would move among those who did show up.

Lord, forgive me for the times when I phone it in. Help my unbelief.

Does every story end with “happily ever after”?

I have been working in and around church and ministry for more than half of my life, and I think that I was influenced early on to believe that every great testimony had to end with everything that was once bad now turned around and great… Yay, God!

Now, I don’t ever want to be perceived as the seen-it-all, bitter believer; I’m not ever going to speak ill of some one who has seen God work miraculously in their life.  God is a redeemer and a restorer, and I praise him for that! I’ve just come to a place in my own faith where I’m aware that every story doesn’t end happily ever after… and that it’s OK.

I sat in on a break-out session at the Echo Conference this year by Blaine Hogan from Willow Creek Church. Blaine is a great presenter and an incredible artist in the (C)hurch. He gave me so much to think about that day, but the stuff that rocked my head heart the most was:

Most Christian art feels more like propaganda than truth.

Why is this?

Why is it that so much of the art I make/we make feels this way?

Boom. That’s me.

As a Christian videographer and editor, I’ve been conditioned to only tell stories that end with the hero winning, the damsel rescued and the sinner saved. Does that mean that the stories of doubt and struggle are meaningless? I don’t think so. In truth, I know that there is nothing wrong with the happy-ending stories, but if I look at my own life and faith, I have countless chapters that are still incomplete, still in process, still very messy.

Should all of our stories merely give people a warm-fuzzy, or should they cause them to reflect on their own experiences and seek a deeper faith?

We all want to be inspired by the stories of good triumphing over evil… we love hearing about prodigals coming home… these stories have worth and always will, but I don’t want to miss an opportunity to tell a story that can motivate me and others even if it’s still in the matrix.

I still have a lot to process in this… I’d love to know your thoughts too.

Sharing Your Stage

A few years ago while I was still working in the freelance video world, I had an opportunity to work on a show with the amazing Gregory Hines. While I’d love to regale you with the part of this story where I got to hang out backstage and talk about life and fatherhood with him (coughNAMEDROPPERcough), there really is a point to this.

He was an incredible performer; one of the best I’ve ever seen. You see, most of the content of his stage show was a showcase of his amazing tap-dancing ability. (If you have no idea what I’m writing about, click HERE) About 2/3 of the way through his show, he made an announcement that anyone who brought their tap shoes should line up by the stage and wait their turn. I remember thinking, “Come on; who in their right mind would bring their tap shoes to a Gregory Hines show?” You might be as surprised as I was to find out that about 30 people had done just that. I learned that this was a common practice for Mr. Hines… nearly every time he did a live show, he would allow anyone with enough courage to try it an opportunity to share his stage.

One by one, he welcomed every person in line to center stage, stood to the side, and said the same thing:

“Show me what you got”

Easily adding another 30 minutes or more to his show, he gave each person their own moment. Some showed great skill, others stumbled through… Mr. Hines watched each one with the same level of interest, and when they finished he applauded their effort with great enthusiasm.

As I ponder that experience, I’m convicted about how often I tend to be critical rather than encouraging towards those who haven’t learned or experienced all that I have… times that I default to feeling threatened by some one who may show me up in my chosen field rather than being excited about the gifts and talent of a young person who is finding their passion… moments when I have shrugged my shoulders and walked away when I could should have offered an a vote of confidence.

I want to be better. I want to be a teacher… an encourager.

Just one of those moments when I realize again that He must increase, but I must decrease. (John 3:30 ESV)

Thanks for reading this.

What ever happened to music videos?

OK… I grew up in the 80s… which means that when your favorite band came out with a new “album” (literally on vinyl, or cassette tape), it wasn’t official until you saw the accompanying video for the title song. Any talk of music had to include the question, “Yeah, but did you see the video?”. Apparently that era has passed. Done. Old School. This makes me sad.

To me, a good music video can make a mediocre song tolerable, and a great song all the better. I stumbled across this recently and it lit me up like a Christmas tree! Forget what you might automatically think about Hanson, this is a great video:

(Go watch it in HD and blow it up to full screen; the casting of the extras was so good too… I love the energy in the big street dance portion!)

I love the premise; a hearkening back to a great scene from the original Blues Brothers. Great visuals, great editing, and it makes me want to listen to a song that I might have written off as something from an old band trying to get back in to the mainstream, but I love it!

Dang it… now I want to shoot a music video. =/

Salt and light and a prayer cross

Confession; I used to be one of those people who liked Christian book stores and the trinkets that lure well-meaning believers of the Way. I got giddy every time I saw a new t-shirt that depicted a well known product re-named as something in Christian-ese.

reebok = reborn

*sigh*

Thankfully, I got over all of that.

Now, the last thing I want is to be perceived as a bitter, cynical believer… that’s not who I am. I’ve just come to a point where I’m convinced that the cheesy t-shirts and bumper stickers do nothing more than isolate the bearers and turn away those who don’t share our beliefs. I might change my mind if I were ever to meet some one who claims to have come to faith because of something they read on a Christian hoodie, but to this day I haven’t. I’m not suggesting for a minute that any of these things are bad, but they do tend to speak a language that is often only understood by those on the inside thus alienating those who don’t understand.

You are the salt of the earth, but if salt has lost its taste, how shall its saltiness be restored? It is no longer good for anything except to be thrown out and trampled under people’s feet. Matthew 5:13 ESV

Salt is best used in small amounts, never over-powering… just a pinch, right?

I have a neighbor across the street who I haven’t officially met yet. We’ve gone from the awkward “don’t make eye contact” stage to a hearty wave when we pass on the street. Some day soon, I’ll initiate a hand shake and introduction, and when I do, I won’t be wearing a LORD’S GYM t-shirt that might automatically make him stand-offish about who I am. I want to get to know him and his family… get to know what they’re into, and ultimately what he struggles with.

I’m looking to make a friend, not a convert.

I’m looking to add value… and just a pinch of salt.