I may seem like nothing but an already crotchety almost-thirty-something who has resigned himself to the “armchair analysis” stage of athletic participation. And while that holds more than a modicum of truth (a ruptured ACL and chronic back issues will do that), I also contend that the advent of the fitness culture is, indeed, a religious movement, and is, therefore, worthy of theological assessment.
I, too, am in conflict with the future dad I am (often) failing to become. Coping with the idea that I will never be the “super-dad” who is able to keep work and play and wife and kids and everything else in perfect equilibrium is something with which I constantly struggle. There are moments when I feel less than helpless and more than pathetic as a parent. And I absolutely cannot stand those moments.
Well, we made it to Pennsylvania. Natalie and I completed the final leg of the journey northward last weekend after spending some time with my parents in South Carolina. We drove through the night on Friday and arrived in Pennsylvania last Saturday morning, spending the bulk of Saturday resting and recouping. We were blessed, however, by several visitors who have already made us feel at home.
Around the age of nineteen, Jonathan Edwards, perhaps the greatest American theologian who has ever lived began recording what would eventually amount to seventy resolutions that would go on to define the rest of his ministerial career. Though I will never equate the theological prowess or eloquence Edwards displays throughout his evangelistic life, I am, nonetheless, determined to resolve myself to the Lord’s Spirit and grace for the duration of my ministry.
I am a mere month away from entering my first post as a senior pastor. Last week, that reality felt months and months away. Now, it feels more imminent than ever. For a while now, my wife and I have tried to make sense of our feelings as we entertain this significant season of transition in our lives, explaining our emotions as some strange amalgamation of nervous excitement.
For the last several years, the persistent call on my life has been to spend and be spent for Christ. I have rarely done this vocationally, only volitionally and voluntarily, as the gospel has become increasingly precious to me. This has also taken a number of varying forms throughout the years, with mostly me divvying up my time.
We recently took a trip to Boston, Massachusetts to see the Boston Celtics face off against the Golden State Warriors in the TD Garden in the heart of downtown Boston. This was easily one of my favorite experiences. As an ardent NBA fan, and Golden State hater, it was a joy to join the virulent Celtic-fanbase in throwing jeers at the visiting Warriors players.
Comedy is, perhaps, the most subjective of the arts. Humorous entertainment strikes some in the funny bone and whizzes over the heads of others, leaving a large no-man’s-land where factions manifest as devotees to some comedic form or another champion the cause of their realm of humor as being the purest or most “hashtag lit.”