Prayer

Whenever I lead worship, it helps me forget myself and my performance and truly sing in praise (which is the first job of a worship leader) when I see someone close their eyes, lift up their hands and remember they are in the presence of a powerful God, a loving Father. There's a little girl in our church, not yet three years old, who dances with delight to the music. She reminds me why I'm up there. Now, she is gravely ill and immobilized.

If you are the praying type, please pray for Aubrey and her family. And if you're not the praying type, now's a good time to become just that. You're welcome to join us.

My Oktoberfest Memory

200 hundred years ago, Crown Prince Ludwig I and Therese of Sax-Hildburghausen organized a horse race in Munich, Germany to publicly celebrate their marriage. Somehow, this translated into filling liter-sized mugs with lager, and squeezing enough bodies and picnic tables into circus tents to give any fire marshall a heart attack. Combine with oompa music, stinky un-washable lederhosen and a carnival to make any mid-western mayor envious, and you've got Oktoberfest.

Yes, it usually starts in September (though the original did indeed start in October). And yes, thousands of sweat bodies in a near-suffocating tent dancing on picnic tables with bier-steins in each may not be your idea of a good time, but there's something about it that draws you in, splashes your teeth with beer and makes you dance with total strangers.

Actually, the one time I was in Oktoberfest, I wasn't even able to get into the tents. The lines were too long for the evening. I wasn't even planning to go. I ended up at the Oktoberfest celebration only after a botched attempted to take the LSAT. (don't laugh)

Let me explain. It was the fall of 2004, and I wasn't sure what I would do with myself after my second year in Germany. (Anyone out there sure of what to do with yourself? Please explain to me what that is like. Feel free to use the comment section.) Law school seemed as good an option of any. I crashed near Munich's university with a contact given to me through my organization the night before, ate the cheesy noodles he gave me, and got up early to clear my head. When I arrived to the test location, I found about thirty livid American 20-somethings standing before a door alternating between the two most celebrated curse words. With no prior announcement, the test had been postponed two days. I didn't have the cash to change my train ticket, so I viewed that as God telling me law school wasn't my best option. What to do with a free evening in Munich in late September?

I arrived at Oktoberfest intending to drink an enormous consolation beer. As I implied above, it is not just one tent or beer hall, but rather an enormous carnival with several beer tents sponsored by Munich's beloved beer establishments. And all of them were full, and the countless people in line looked like they had been waiting there since Ludwig's horse race.

But the Bavarians would not allow that to prevent a beer-sale to a tourist. There were plenty of outsider benches, the NIT of picnic tables, the merry planks for those of us who have not been consuming beer and weisswurst since breakfast. That's when I discovered how few Germans are actually at Oktoberfest (or at least they knew to show up early and get their lederhosen-covered bottoms in the circus tents). I set at a table with some very friendly Italian men, where we shared jokes and travel stories while clinking the enormous beer steins.

Sudden, from our left came an angry shout. A short, red-faced Australian man wanted to fight my new Italian friends. He accused them of stealing his hat. The Italians threw their hands up (just like their soccer players) and pleaded their innocence (just like their soccer players). I decided not to take sides (and made sure my wallet was safely in my front pocket). The Australian's voice grew louder, even as his voice grew hoarser. I noted that one of those liter-sized steins would make an effective weapon (or shield, for my purposes). The alpha-Italian, his beautiful brown eyes flashing at the Australian's purple face, insisted we were all friends here and we should enjoy our drinks.

Thankfully, and anticlimactically, the Australian staggered away, his grumbling unprintable (mainly because I couldn't actually hear what he said), and I wondered how many empty beer steins he had left behind him. He did look at me and said not to trust "these guys" (the Italians), because they were "thieves."

From inside the nearest tent, pop music, rock standards and traditional German folks songs played intermittently. I walked away, ignoring the smell of puke by focusing on the pleasant aftertaste that only a Bavarian lager could bring, happy to cross another cultural experience off of my list. Somewhere, Ludwig must have been smiling, however ironically.

The Big Three Ohhhhhh

My birthday is easy to remember. Before 2001, it was the same number used in America to dial for an emergency. It still is, but the significance drastically shifted. On my 21st birthday, around the same time my mother was calling to tell me how happy she is that I am around, terrorists snuffed out thousands of lives, changing the world and canceling my jazz club cocktail plans. I watched CNN and prayed instead. I still get funny looks when they check my ID.

Tomorrow I reach the three decade milestone. The big 3-0. A nice round number that should probably be irrelevant but it really means a lot. We divide each other by decades, because it's a convenient category. I'll start thinking about how all those folks in their twenties look and act so young, kind of like how I see college students now. So, on one day, not only does a new page turn, but a new chapter begins. And frankly, I'm looking forward to it.

The 20s are tough. Not as tough as seventh grade, but close. During the 20s, we stop being full-time students and take responsibility for our lives, and it's a crash course of hard knocks. I learned how I was really wired, how I should have spent my schooling. Don't get me wrong, great things happened, and great friends, not to mention a great God, carried me through. I experienced culture, life, love, brokenness, healing and redemption, and every one at a cost, leaving part of the old man behind. But here's hoping the next decade will be less bruising.

Friends and colleagues have raved how great the 30s are. These are the times when we finally get to apply those hard-knock lessons, where we stop self-obsessing and live life with work, family and a clear sense of what's important.

So bring it, fourth decade. I've got some pretty daggum high expectations.

Garden State Re-Viewed

Yesterday, my wife borrowed Garden State from the library. I had seen Zach Braff's 2004 movie a few years ago, but she had not seen it yet. Aside from being a film we'll one day show our kids when they ask us about hip, turn-of-the-century music, there was a point in the story that struck me as worth keeping. (mind the spoiler) At the end, the main character, Largeman (played by Braff) after kicking the emotion-numbing medication that he used for a decade and a half, realizes that he needs to figure himself out now that he can feel. He had returned home to New Jersey from LA for his mother's funeral. Now, armed with this new self-realization he acquired over his four day return, he boards the plane back to California. His new, life-to-the-fullest girlfriend (my favorite Natalie Portman role) begs him to stay, so that they can make the journey together. Before takeoff, he leaves the airplane and returns to her so they can do just that.

It's a good reminder that most of us need help in our journeys of redemption, and unadulterated individualism rarely works for this sort of thing. As I continue to point out, I've needed help in my journey, and really, that's ok. The better films of this decade have made the same point, of course.

A suggestion beyond Garden State would be to invite God into your journey as well. Whether intended or not, God's absence is deeply and sadly felt in the film, as the characters use legal and illegal drugs, sex, relationships, money, experience - each numbing themselves in their own way. Natalie Portman's character mentions nonchalantly that she doesn't really believe in God. Largeman himself insists that he's not really (as in religiously) Jewish and only goes to Temple on Yom Kippur.

If you find yourself with a sort of familiar ache for a home that no longer exists, which is something the characters talk about in one of the more reflective moments, then consider getting to know Jesus. When I know him, my life is as beautiful or tragic or mundane as anyone else's, but it's filled with something more than can't be replicated. He offers life, and everything that comes with it, only more so.

Meanwhile, if you have not seen Garden State, or have not seen it in awhile, go to your local library and borrow it for the evening. Well worth it.

Best/Worst Case -- Florida State

The nation rejoices - college football is on the television, on the radio, and on the hats, polos and jerseys everywhere the eye can see! And, of course, it's all over this here Internet thing I get to write on.

So, in the spirit of ESPN and 24-hour sports coverage (and with apologies to my favorite sports blogger), I present to you the best case and worse case scenario for my alma mater's 2010 college football season.

BEST CASE

Florida State University roars out of the gates with an amazing upset of Oklahoma, and right on your humble blogger's birthday to boot! From there, the Noles demolish the ACC competition, humiliate the out of conferences foes and the in-state rivals (including a last second, upright-splitting field goal to send Miami packing) and whup up on my father's alma mater in the ACC championship. Christian Ponder, after claiming the Heisman Trophy, delivers a tearful acceptance speech so good that it resolves the Israel/Palestine conflict, and all nations, from rogue states to democracies, beat their nuclear weapons into plough shares (no accidents take place). After crushing a resurgent Notre Dame in the BCS championship, all of the nation's top recruits reject their previous commitments and clamor for Tallahassee, while the rest of the nation's elite programs can only watch, pray and fight over the remaining spoils.

The great FSU dynasty ensues, taking home championship after championship. Their success makes them so beloved, that they leave the Atlantic Coast Conference and sign an exclusive television contract with NBC (which decides not to renew its contract with the ailing Fighting Irish). Not to be outdone, ESPN pays Florida State University hundreds of millions of dollars for "College Game Day" to be broadcast live from Doak Campbell Stadium every week (they change their theme song to "We're Coming To Your City - if you live in Tallahassee").

Meanwhile, all the extra sports revenue swells the endowment, attracting the best faculty and students for every conceivable field. Academic excellence increases exponentially and within five years (and five BCS championships), Florida State is considered the Harvard of the south. After five more years of success (and five more championships), Harvard is the consensus Florida State of the north. Academic flourishing trickles into every aspect of life, and along with sport and learning, art, business and authentic Christian spirituality thrive, from Tallahassee, to Florida, to the United States and to the world.

WORST CASE

Florida State is humiliated on opening day (tomorrow) with a last-second, loss to Samford, thanks to a missed field goal in the closing seconds that sails wide right. From there, the rest of the season goes down the toilet, with each loss more humiliating. All of FSU's top recruits end up in the hospital or in jail, and the remaining players desperately try to transfer to Florida International University. Coach Jimbo Fisher is fired in shame and takes a job cleaning Renegade's stables.

Bowl-less, winless and shamed, Florida State is kicked out of the Atlantic Coast Conference and demoted through the ranks of college football, where, after five years and five goose-egg season, the Noles find passing success at club flag football level. Desperate Florida State athletic officials waste all sorts of money trying to secure coaches and television contracts, but to no avail, and other university sports suffer. The athletic demise starts a rot which infects the school academically, as department after department lose faculty and quality students. This phenomenon prompts U.S. News and World Report to create a "Just Say No" list of national universities, with FSU ranked at the top every year.

Meanwhile, the combined forces of industry, government and Mordor turn a now impoversihed Tallahassee into a dark, post-apocalyptic city, which pollutes the Gulf of Mexico more than any BP oil spill ever could. The resulting filth hastens the effects of Global Warming. The Polar Ice Caps melt, and the state of Florida sinks into the sea, prompting residents to flee to Kentucky. The environmental and humanitarian calamity causes all countries to go to war with one another over scarce resources, starting when Finland invades Sweden. In the process, all forms of art, culture and beauty vanish and are forgotten, and once again, every human being has only one goal: survival.

PREDICTION:

Somewhere in between. Happy football watching, everybody!

Anniversary

But of a somewhat different kind.

Three years ago today, clueless, plan-less, ring-less and scared... well you know, I brought the woman who would become my wife to the National Arboretum and asked her to be my bride. It was not one of those well-planned superhero engagement stories involving trips to the Statue of Liberty or rooms filled with flower pedals and candles. It was the Sunday of Labor Day weekend, and the excursion was spontaneous and made us late for church. We did bring fizzy water, cheese and crackers.

In many ways, this was more significant than our wedding almost seven months later. This is not to downplay our wedding of course. At our wedding, we publicly promised God that we would love, honor and cherish one another, until death do we part. Then God bound us together, and we became one; let no man tear us asunder. But our engagement represented a step out of myself, and into a life giving love that I had no evidence I was capable of giving our receiving. I would have to trust God. Let me testify: in three years, he has come through.

God did not leave me to make this step alone. There were many who loved me, prayed for me and helped me in word and deed. My parents, of course. My team in Freiburg that second year: Sarah, Joshua, Andrea, Tristan, Emoe, Teeniebopper and Matt. In Orlando, there was a church, and co-workers, especially my boss Rick. Moving to DC, God led me to an oasis of friends and cojourners. Ben, Justin, Paul, Miriam, Jeff, Carolyn, Betsy, Marcus & Fiona, Livingston, George & Jeanette, Becca, Laura and too many more to name. Forgive me if I forgot you. Especially, of course, my pastor Dan and his wife Elise. Dan has put many stray men back on the right path at these critical times, and I am no exception.

Today I looked at my absolutely enthralling daughter and realized, without this moment, this God intervention, this inciting incident, this redemptive plan, she would not even exist. Above and beyond that, I am married to a wonderful woman who sees past the flaws, the sin, the insecurities and the unfinished personality, and she truly loves me. And, indeed, she is lovely.

Ich liebe Dich, Schaetzle...