Leaving Today

It's Friday and I will be flying out to Tampa at 4 p.m. this afternoon. Estimated arrival time is 6 p.m. As I had said, the wonderful (wonderful, wonderful) people who made this happen will be hosting me along with five others on the plane as we head toward Super Bowl territory. For the sake of their privacy, I will not disclose their names until I get permission, and I will be asking for that this weekend. If they grant it, I will let you know.

I'm nervous. Nervous, can you believe it? I've been a mess since Wednesday, and the game isn't played until Sunday. Great for my stomach, let me tell you. We Steeler fans all get nervous before a game. It's like seeing your sons go onto the field. We're all family, and if you're a Pitt native you know what I'm talking about. It's a Burgh thing.

If you look at the picture of Raymond James Stadium here, I believe we will be sitting in the middle section just under that balcony. They're called Club Seats. If those indeed are the seats I have, as I checked ont eh Super Bowl ticket prices they start at $4500 apiece. Either we will be there or in some luxury boxes, and I can't even begin to tell you the price of those. I told them I don't care if I'm on the upper lip of the whole place. Just being there is going to be stunning.

I keep thinking about this roller coaster ride I've been taking in the past year. 2008 was a horrible year for me physically. In fact, it seems like it was a bad dream - a nightmare, in fact. My back felt like glass was embedded in it. Depression set in. I was fatigued most of the time to the point that even a phone call seemed like climbing a mountain. Hardly any of my spiritual mentors showed any concern at all, and I felt lost. And I thought, why are things so bad for me?

Yet here in 2009 I get a chance few other people in this world enjoy - I get to go to the Super bowl and watch my hometown team play. More that that, my boy Nicholas is getting married to a wonderful girl on May 9th. My wife Jill is enjoying better health and overcoming her fatigue week by week. Peter is growing in responsibility and has shown true grit through personal setbacks. Julianne, of course, is the light in the household. My back is almost healed and I can sit through a full church service. And I wonder, why have I got it so good?

I look at the Scripture (Mt. 5:45) and see that God brings in blessings to everyone and is impartial in his overall goodness, because He "causes his sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous."

He knows my future and He brings gentle testings for my strengthening, and things I cannot understand at the moment. Yet as I walk through those dark valleys I must admit that God has a purpose and His ways are far beyong man's intellect; indeed "Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, too lofty for me to attain." as it says in Psalm 139:6.

Highs and lows in life. God has His watchful eye over all of it, and I must say that I am far beyond dissecting it for cerebral discourse, but I'm also continually amazed at how it all comes together time and time again.

Super Bowl

I will finish my story later. I cannot believe I am writing this, but through the generosity of some very very very fine people, I will be going to the Super Bowl this Sunday. I will be flying out on Friday... wow, this has knocked me over. I will give details tomorrow and I will do my best to blog what has happened at the Super Bowl and the festivities on this site.

This is stunning. I'm going to see my Steelers play.

At the Super Bowl.

Superhero Convention

I am going to tell you the absolute truth.

Not that I've filled this blogs with lies, mind you, but this one is going to be hard for anyone to swallow, but I swear it is true, down to every detail.

I wanted to be a superhero. More than that. I actually tried to organize a superhero convention. I was in second grade at the time.

I better explain...

These were the dynamic TV years of the George Reeves Superman, Green Hornet, but especially the Mt. Everest of all crusaders: Batman.

Oh, how we loved Batman. Every kid in Dallastown Elementary loved Batman. And Robin, of course. The TV show was the talk of the school. Playground time was all Caped Crusader stuff.

Add to this the fact that my dad bought us kids two crates - crates, mind you - of comic books ranging from early Iron Man, Spiderman, Aqua Man (I didn't really like him), Silver Surfer, Hulk, and others, and you could see I was a mess.

I would sit and read the old DC and Marvel comics and just hope against hope that I could be a superhero. We would, of course, gather into neighborhood superhero groups of our own in the gravel lot near our home with our own custom-made names and powers: FleetFoot, Inferno, Ultra Boy, and even Glasses Man (I found an old pair of plastic lens-less glasses and figured they were good for laser beams. I was short on creativity that day, okay?) We had come upon a set of old capes from a defunct high school band and we were set. Every day - and I do mean every day - we were running the lawns of the little town, defying imaginary hoodlums who all wore pork-pie hats and masks. I never could figure out why they would stereotype themselves that way, but that was their business, not mine.

But I wanted to take it step further. I knew the world had superheroes lurking around, waiting to get organized. They just needed a leader. And I, a knowledgeable second grader, would be the one to band them together...and the International Headquarters would be in Dallastown, Pennsylvania... and I was absolutely serious about all this...

Love to Write

My writing assignments have been picking up considerably, and as much in the secular world as in the Christian realm. It has been amazing.

Among the assignments in my docket:

- setting up the content for a web page and e-book for a West Coast online website corporation

- writing a fiction novel based on the life of a retired DEA agent

- editing an e-book on the tournament preparation for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu

- writing and editing a book for a Canadian e-company

- writing press releases and bios for the Ice Bears hockey team

- writing sports reports for the local pro basketball team

- getting back to my old radio days: writing copy and providing voice talent for a California website company

- writing articles and mini-bios for a new Christian e-magazine

- finishing up a proposal for a parents' book for Focus on the Family

The best way I can describe what is happening is the slow realization of Psalm 37:4 - "Delight yourself in the LORD; And He will give you the desires of your heart. "

Few things in life I love doing more than writing. To turn a phrase spoken by Eric Liddell in the movie Chariots of Fire, when I write I feel God's pleasure. I know this is what He has for me, and I cannot get enough of it. I feel His movement as I work, whether it's a devotional from the book of Isaiah or a press release for the hockey team. Wow, this is good stuff, and it's one of the ways I feel God pats me on the back.

Snow Day

There's a blanket of snow covering the ground here in east Tennessee, and in our subdivision a layer of ice has added a tricky dimension to the driving conditions. Tan Rara subdivision is on a series of hills, so I am stuck. I can't make it up the first hill, so I am writing this from home. Ah, but it's beautiful though. Our yards are gorgeous.


I'm looking at the first hill coming down to our neighborhood and the thought strikes me that this would be the ideal hill for sledding. I admit that the logistical problem in this is at the bottom of the sledding course is a 4,000 square foot house that would pancake the face of any participant, but let's not get picky, okay? The course is smooth and about 100 feet long. It reminds me of my elementary school days back in Dallastown PA.



Snow came plentiful in those days, and as a child I remember every winter we would have at least two or three snow days that would cancel out the misery of classroom work for an entire day, as close to euphoria as a kid can get. The large brick schoolhouse hadn't been upgraded since the war effort, and I can still recall the sloping wooden floors and huge blackboards with a tray full of chalkdust in every room. A day to get out of that environment? Yee hah.

Near the school there was a long, long gently sloping road that curves towards - well, I don't know where because I don't think any kid made it all the way down to the bottom alive. We were all bundled with scarves, ski caps, boots and thick corduroy-type coats, toting our wooden sleds with strong red or blue-colored runners. For some reason I recall that there were no girls around at all - this was an all-male event, so you will clearly understand that no boy wore mittens - gloves only. Showing up with mittens would have been fatal.

We'd hit that slope and shoot down that long slide to the cheers of other boys who were not encouraging our success, but actually rooting for a seriously good crash into someon'e's mailbox or curb. It happened. More than once I flipped the sled end over end and once hit a dry patch of road, which shot me free of the sled and cartwheeling down the road. The boys applauded with gloves. Thud thud thud.

I remember the sheer joy of the clean white snow and the quiet crunch underneath your galoshes or boots. The world seems quieter. Moms were home whipping up some hot chocolate, and dads coasted back from work with a smile on their face as we would all pretend we were in for a blizzard, so we'd better have a healthy fire and an extra dessert.

Wow, I loved everything about snow.

So when I came across Isaiah 1:18 om the Bible and saw that God promised the results of my trust in Him was to have a heart white as snow... man, He hit the soft spot of my soul.

I was in my teen years when I found this passage. I was a rotten kid. I had realized the messy life I was living and the chaotic plans I selfishly made were jumbled without reason. There was no rhythm or sense to my plans or my morality. That's why Isaiah's passage struck me, and at the age of seventeen, I made a serious decision about following Jesus. And here's the kicker: my life started opening up like snow days.

Spills, yes. But also joy. Real joy.

Enkrates in action

The post-flu exhaustion had hit our family and we're holed up in the house this morning, unable to go to church because of the lingering effects of the many sicknesses we've picked up. It's good to say that the flu itself is not raging in us, but the final strains of the weeks-long ailment are trying to hang on: headaches, fatigue, sore throats, and watery eyes.

Wow, new weeks and months coming and it's time to prepare for them, now that our strength is retuning. Nicholas and Alexis will be married on May 9th here in Knoxville, and Jill and I are doing our homework on the rehearsal dinner and stuff. My writing assignments have ben coming in from all over the country, from a web corporation in California to a Toronto electronic firm to - believe it or not - a martial arts publication firm in North Carolina. Plus, I have signed on in writing articles for a new webzine out of the Midwest and am waiting back to hear from a book publisher and a television company needing content writers.

So much more to tell you, and here's the balance I must strike ...the need to be a responsible go-getter and bring in the necessary income to take care of the bills, along with the reliance on God to help us see Him work. Faith and works go hand in hand in real life... this is not a course in semantics. I trust in God and yet I don't sit back and expect Him to bring Publishers' Clearinghouse to my doorstep.

One answer I get is from the book of Galatians in the fifth chapter... "the fruit of the Spirit is self-control..." The other fruits I can understand: kindness, goodness, peace... I can understand how I'm supposed to act, and not smash someone in the mouth for taking my parking spot or threatening my kids. Okay, I see those. But self-control goes much deeper, especially in the context of my life right now. In the Greek it is the word enkrates and it comes into play very clearly here. The word literally means to have dominion over oneself, or "to hold oneself in." (I kind of picture someone who holds his breath.)

As I take steps to see the Lord's working in this coming year - and it seems very clearly that He is moving in ways I can see - that I "hold myself in" and take care to get a deep breath and step back whenever I want to run ahead and do things my way. I want to tithe on every assignment payment that comes in. I will reject any job offer that would compromise my testimony for Jesus Christ. I want to be fair and not overcharge and yet be realistic and not undercharge, either.. hey, we've got bills to pay. You see the balance that the Christian needs?

Jesus has been kindly leading us, and man, does that take so much stress off of me. I want to be sensible and remain open to His authority as he takes us down a new and exciting career path.

On the Court

I think one of the last things I would have ever predicted as part of my career would be that of a sports columnist. But here I am, now writing for my second professional sports team. The American Basketball Association has placed a franchise here in Knoxville and the Glisson family, owners of the Thunderbolts, have taken me into the fold as a writer for the fledgling team. I am still a freelance writer, but this is part of my work.

Man, is this ever enjoyable. I get to run across town - often with my family in tow - and watch basketball and ice hockey (my other reporting assignment with the Ice Bears), reporting on whatever scenario I want to highlight.

The ABA has a freshness about it that I like. Everybody is friendly, and you can't help but get caught up in the "let's do it" attitude. They're small and they know it; the humility is a nice change from the major leagues. The Glissons have a perpetual optimistic approach to the future, and I am deeply impressed that this Christian family has sunk tons of money into mission work across the world.

What a new avenue for me. What fun.

Spelling Bee

When I was in the sixth grade at Hershey Middle School, I was the typical geeky kid with a big head, goofy teeth and a subpar athletic ability.

Well, come to think of it, maybe I wasn't typical. I don't remember many kids with heads as large as mine. To this day I still can't wear a decent hat without my wife shaking her head in mock sadness.

But I digress.

I was a doofus of a kid, making it by in classes and being ignored mostly by the Inner Sanctum of cool kids. Especially the girls.

That is, until I won the school spelling bee.

Yeah, baby.

That was grand. The school held the whole event in a community center theater (Could anything be more cool? Could anything be more intimidating?) and lined us kids up in rows at the front of the auditorium. One by one we went through the agonizing process of taking on words that suddenly became enemies. We had to take them on in the public field of battle.

And, for once, I won.

I can remember my last word for the win: "commercial."

Oooooooh, man. What a feeling. I finally won something.

I remember standing next to the second place winner, whose name I only remember as "Dave", alongside the principal of the school, a kindly bald man who always wore bow-ties (He wore a red and green polka-dotted one for Christmas, which gave us schoolkids no end of delight) . I won a Roget's Thesaurus, which took me about five years to understand what it was to be used for. Never mind that, though. I won.

I entered into the realms of celebrity-hood. Kids waved to me in the hall. Teachers patted me on the back and smiled. Even the lunch lady congratulated me and called me by name.

The Beautiful Kids asked me into their group.

But after a flighty day of head-rushing excitement, I soon came to the realization. I was not as smart as I was made to look. I couldn't even fool myself. I hit a good run of words that were within my capabilities, and I didn't freeze on stage. That was it. A week later in the State Spelling Bee first round, I realized how stupid I really was.

I came to discover - as we all do sometime in our lives, many times more than once - that I was not the invulnerable, independent superior being I'd like to think I was. I just received a big batch of grace. I realized that it was not my prowess, but by the grace of God I won. There were numerous kids smarter than me. And I realized something else, as the flock of cooler kids came by to absorb me into their Winner's Circle.

I didn't want to be with them.

I found out that God drops occasions of grace into our laps to encourage and sustain us, and to brighten our walk once in awhile.

What I won was not by my superhuman merit. It was by effort, yes, but also - I believe truly - a time for God to give me a nice gift I hadn't expected.

It was a small lesson, but a worthwhile one. And a nice diversion from Grammar, which I hated.

This goodness from God was one of the small directional signals that led me to see how He really was, and that path eventually led me to salvation.



Gen. 49:25 - "From the God of your father who helps you, And by the Almighty who blesses you {With} blessings of heaven above..."

Baritone Thoughts

When I entered the second grade, my dad encouraged us all to find an instrument to play. After all, since he was the local high school band director, it would seem right for his up-and-coming charges to have some experience in the aesthetic tools of the trade, right?

Gwen chose a glochenspeil ( some people call them the "bells" - sort of like a portable xylophone), and Brent went for the French horn.

For some reason I cannot fathom - it may be because it was the only other instrument sitting around the house - I chose the baritone. The baritone. That piece of metal was bigger than me.

I immediately hated it.

I could get the notes down fairly well, but I couldn't keep up with the pressure of staying in tempo with others (probably a foreshadowing of my ill-spent youth) when we played in band. I got bored of daily practice. The thing gunked up too much. But worse, the baritone is the school bus rider's nightmare. Shoving and pulling that thing onto the bus was an embarrassing and frustrating tribulation. I detested taking that thing to school. Why couldn't I have chosen a trumpet? Or a harmonica? A kazoo? I'm amazed I didn't need professional counseling.

Well, I hung on with that thing through the fourth grade, sliding into fourth chair (out of four) and not caring that I was probably shaming my dad into exile.

But here's the weirdest thing: when our teacher asked for talent entries for our classroom Christmas party, I volunteered. Again, my actions were inexplicable.

I couldn't even read music, let alone get a good note out. Nevertheless, I thought I could wing a rendition of Silent Night - by pure talent alone. I am not making this up. I had the answer: I would pray.

I thought God would give me the talent. That's the truth. I practiced not a lick, but the night before the party, I forced Brent to pray with me that God would give me the ability to pull off a stunning performance and be proclaimed God's virtuoso at Dallastown Elementary School.

Well, it didn;'t happen. Silent Night takes like, how long, two minutes to play? ... if you know what you are doing. It took me longer than ten. Don't get me wrong - the class loved it. Wouldn't you, a low-self-esteem-suffering kid with huge ears and clod feet love to see one of your classmates go down in flames? I was a hero and a goat at the same time.

Prayer became more clear to me after that. I learned - and this is the truth - that God is not the end product of a magician's trick. He's not to be pulled out of a hat for self-fulfillment. He wants to talk with us, not be yelled at or commanded about. Yet some people still feel like I did in that baritone recital - God is a switch to be turned on and off.

Yet there is so much to prayer, and God does invite us...

Jeremiah 29:12 - "Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. "

We'll talk more about praying to God in the next couple of weeks.

Forgiveness

I don't want to give anybody the impression that I was a sweet angelic kid who was an undeserving victim of daily trials, that my childhood was filled with abusive attacks around every corner, or that I was some Oliver Twist with an unknowing and innocent life of smiles and tears as I suffered each step of the way.

I was bad at times. Really, I was downright rotten. In fact, I can now relate this story since it's been so many years:

When I was a second-grade student at the Dallastown PA elementary school, I had actually conned kids into thinking that we were creating a basement railroad city in our little home. I had just come back from a summer family retreat to see Roadside America, a huge model railroad city of tiny trains and miniature houses. I was enthralled by the scenery, and I carried the whole vision back to Dallastown, and openly lied to the little schoolyard gang that my dad and I were laying out the mountains, streets and tunnels in preparation for a whole line of railroad trains.

Here's the kicker: anyone who wanted to come and be an engineer in our soon-to-be railroad city could earn a pass by helping us pay for the completion of the village.

That's right - I was a con man in the second grade. I had kids handing me nickels and dimes and even an occasional quarter in the hopes that they might sit alongside me and direct a Sante Fe freight line around the countryside.

Man, Ponzi schemes had nothing on me.

I cannot believe I did this. I am still ashamed of what I did.

Even worse, I was a pretty fair shoplifter, and I can now count on my hands the things that I pilfered from stores or other places as I went through childhood. I don't need to line-item them; what good would that do?

I do remember, however, going into a local supermarket and scouting out the Brach's candy display - you remember the one that had an "honor system" bucket, where you threw a nickel in and took a piece to taste for yourself right there? Well, not only did I grab a bag and start loading pieces of candy as if I were taking samples ( I might steal two pounds or more) but I also would steal the money out of the Honor Bucket.

And that was just my childhood. How could God find any good in a wretched kid like myself?

As a teen I had heard a clear message about salvation but I had serious reservations about whether God could forgive a person like me. There were, of course, even worse things. Could this Jesus forgive the things I had done?

Yet there it was, again and again in the Bible: Jesus took seriously the people who seriously sought Him and followed Him...

"...to open their eyes and turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, so that they may receive forgiveness of sins and a place among those who are sanctified by faith in me.’" Acts 26:18

Getting to Know Great People

I've always made it a habit to find a great person and try to get to converse with them and listen as long as possible. It's been a lifelong habit of mine. Note, please, that I didn't say a celebrity or the most vocal or even necessarily the leader of the room.

No, it's finding someone who has a character, talent, or history that would be important (or fascinating) to learn. Doing this has led me to sit at the table with a Congressional Medal of Honor winner, a man who was buried alive, parents whose life and love was in the loving adoption of international babies, a personal bodyguard to the great General MacArthur, the pastor of a miniscule South Dakota church who adored his people... the list goes on.

I just like to get to know these people.

This take me back to my Boy Scout days. My brothers Bruce and Brent were Scouts in leadership in good ol' Troop 65 of Hershey PA, one of the great troops in BSA history. There are so many stories I could share of hiking through the Appalachians, camping in subzero weather, getting caught in a downpour in Gettysburg... but I want you to know why I loved the troop so much. Why all of us - boys and parents - loved the troop so much.

It was the Scoutmaster, Don Stevens.

The man was a father figure and yet a willing fall guy for a prank. He would discipline fairly and yet he would encourage guys like nobody else I'd seen. After my dad left our family, I saw Mr. Stevens as a caring and fair leader who kept us post-divorce boys in good spirits and in hard training.

Once, in a misunderstanding, he shouted at me in front of the entire troop, chastising me for something of which I was completely innocent. As a new Scout and a green Tenderfoot, i went back to my tent and sobbed in solitude. Within minutes, as soon as he had been told the truth, Mr. Stevens came in and sincerely apologized. "Boy, did I mess this up," he said. "Would you forgiveme, brad?" I was stunned. A man of his stature, asking me for forgiveness? I wasn't even 12 years old! I, of course, accepted the apology, and then he did something I will always remember: he took me in front of the troop and reasoning that "since he made the shouting public, he'd make the apology public," He addressed all the boys.

I don't know if Mr. Stevens is alive today. I hav searched and cannot locate him in pennsylvania. What I do know is that this Christian man did more than talk the way of Christ - he showed it in fair and caring leadership.

I wanted to get to know this fine man at each and every campout or Scout meeting.

In Phillippians 3:10 I see the same desire by Paul:

That I may know him, and the power of his resurrection, and the fellowship of his sufferings, being made conformable unto his death;

Just as much as I loved the troop and the camping, firebuilding and merit badge-earning, my biggest kick was in getting to be under the tutelage and care of a great man. I learned principles in leadership that I still use as a teacher today. Paul is in the same mindset. He loves the people of the church and the organization of the ecclesia, but the whole foundation is to know Jesus. That's Paul's obsession. And int eh Chrsitian walk, it's mine as well.



The excellent Bible resource of Jamieson, Fausset and Brown says "To know HIM is more than merely to know a doctrine about Him." In other words, it is Jesus we want to know, not the trappings of the church. My goal is to read the Bible through by Easter break. In it, I want to see Jesus from the first words of the Scripture all the way through to the Apocalypse. That's my goal.

Open Arms

Think back to the decade of the 60s. Divorce was still a pretty dirty word ... even if it referred to the spouse who had been hurt.
"Well, she must have done something to make him leave."
"Those kids of hers - they probably caused it."
"You know what she is? She's a divorcee."


I was in elementary school at the time, but I heard it clearly enough. We weren't invited into many Hershey social circles. We were looked upon with pity by some, with disdain by others. Even as a child, I never felt that we were able to measure up. Most people simply gawked at the sight of my mom tugging along six little ones through the supermarket, library or Scout meetings.

And then there were the churches. Wow, how many did we attend?

Empty, empty. We could feel a distinct lack of counseling help for my mom. People would give her a sad grin, but nobody reached out to help. From one assembly to another we trod, wearing our second-hand clothes and puttering down the road in our VW bus. I distinctly remember that we felt uncomfortable in churches. People talked at us, not to us.

Then we attended the little church in Sand Beach, right outside of Hummelstown PA. Independent Bible Church of Sand Beach. So help me, I never did fidn the sand beach. But it didn't matter. We found some good folk. Real good folk.

From the first day, we were welcomed with open arms. Pastor Barry McClure and his family joined with the congregation to reach out to my mom's needs and see to the care of us little 'uns. (Believe it or not, I wore a bow-tie to church. A bow-tie!)

My mom took no high airs about this. She accepted the open arms and bags of food. She directed us to the little classes where each teacher had a personal concern for our physical and spiritual well-being.

We little kids got involved in everything. I remember we even helped shovel and carry bricks for the new wing you see in the picture above. I guess it's not new anymore. Brent and I - I guess we were in 3rd and 4th grade respectively - joined the choir for a Christmas cantata. What a blast. Neither of us could sing. I had no idea what a note was, but I held the songbook better than any one of the Three Tenors, baby.

I distinctly remember an elderly man (must have been in his 90s) who would hand out little sticks of gum to all of us every Sunday.

The friendships, the pot-luck dinners, the parties in the church basement, the outdoor evening events... the kindly people were open armed, waiting for us to walk toward them. And we did. I started learning about the love of God.

God is a God of Invitation. Take a look at Isaiah 1:18. Take a look at Isaiah 55:1. Didn't Jesus say "Come unto Me and I will give you rest?" And I also see that God invited Noah into the ark, where He was. Isn't that a great picture of salvation?

Best of all, look at Revelation 22:17. You know the qualifications for coming to Him? You must be thirsty and you must be willing. That's it. The loving families at Independent Bible Church of Sand Beach began to teach me that.

2009 approach

This coming year my blog will take a different approach.


I'm gearing up to write this blog in a more personal style but one that brings the Scripture up to the table so we can sit and look at it without any confusing trappings.





I had a very strange and yet fascinating childhood, and I can say that the odd trek didn't stop whenever I left the homestead.





I want to talk to you about it, and how the Lord has worked in me, talked to me, and let me see Him in ways it's hard to explain unless I give you an anecdote or life story.





It's very important that I give you some real-to-life situations that actually happened in my life, so that you may call me into direct responsibility for what I tell you, rather than me making a vague reference to a long-ago individual. Sure, I'll quote and cite, but mostly I will dig back and tell you of the things I learned from my years. Believe me, it's not a bragging session; it's a way for me to communicate to you as best as I know how. So cut me a little slack as I get my words in order.


The picture is where it all started for me as I shuffled onto this mortal coil on May 29th, 1959. That's Allegheny General Hospital in Pittsburgh PA, and in the same year I was born, Ben Hur was being released as the top film of the year. Other newcomers who tried to steal my spotlight were some states named Alaska and Hawaii, who both joined the Union that year. The cost of a new house was about $12,000 but bear in mind that the average citizen was making about $5000 a year. Gas was 25 cents a gallon and you could get in a movie for a buck.


I was the fourth Zockoll. Before me were Bruce, Gwen and Brent.


And that's when the fun began.

Our Christmas letter

What a year 2008 has been for the Zockoll family here in Knoxville TN. This must have been one of the most unpredictable years in my life - in fact, as I write this, I am battling the flu ( I am pretty sure I picked it up while writing a sports column at a basketball game on Sunday) and my eye is watering contantly as I type this. Well, let me sniff a little and give you a synopsis:

Julainne is now 4 years old "and I can whistle." Some of her favorites include Curious George cartoons, wearing a princess dress, and dancing with Daddy to the Symphony channel on Sirius radio. Julianne loves her Sunday School teacher Miss Tanya (who, years ago, was a teen in my youth group. "Miss" Tanya is married with a whole passel of kids.) She also has a small child's "kitchen" in our kitchen and cooks alongside Mommy during the day.

Nicholas is 20 years old and has arrived back from working at Camp Red Cloud in Lake City CO. He is engaged to Alexis and is considering seriously a step into a career in the military. He got the gang together at Thanksgiving and played the annual Turkey Day football game, and is the Keeper of the Flame in our downstairs fireplace. Nicholas is taking on more responsiblities - he is holding down two jobs - while making decisions on whether to attend UT or move into the military.

Peter is in his junior year at Berean and has a bedroom that is becoming a shrine for Steeler football. He is working at Chik Fil A and has been in a number of theatrical productions but looks toward playing football or rugby in the coming year. His fantasy football team is in the playoffs and he is an integral part of our Sunday Night College/HS Bible study when it comes to debating at the end of the study.

Jill has been wonderful, simply amazing in keeping our household running, especially through these financial strains that our family and, well, the whole nation is undergoing. She has been supportive of me and my writing endeavors and has been a spiritual pillar to us all. More than once when I endured my sickness this year she has been uncomplaining in taking care of the needs of the home. Her fibro myalgia won't go away, of course, but I think she has been able to take control. She has been reading numerous Joni Erikson books and recently completed the biography of Chuck Colson. She is a fantastic hostess whenever someone comes to the house for a visit or an overnight stay. When I struggled through the many trials of this past summer, she performed the greatest two things anyone could do for me: she listened and she prayed. Our family loves her, obviously, but the boys in the College group love her as well. She makes friends wherever she goes.

As for me, I am approaching 50 (next May) and reflect on how this year has given me new insight on so many things. Stress nearly ripped me apart this past summer. As for my back problems - I haven't endured that much physical extreme pain since I tore out my knee in college and had to use a cane to get around. My attempts at starting a city-wide College age ministry fell flat, and I suffered when close friends and spiritual mentors kept their distance. I felt as though God were somehow punishing me but now I can look back and see how He was getting my attention. Make no mistake - many of the problems are still with me, but they no longer dominate my body, soul and spirit as they did for six hellish months. God is good, and I can see Him that way in a new light, without the gloss of a full-time ministry or the pressure of a daily Bible presentation for others. Just jesus and me, and I am seeing thast this is great.

I am taking on more writing assignments weekly, and have been working freelance, writing for two pro sports teams as well as preparing a novel based on the true life of a retired DEA agent. I am hoping to latch on to an editing job with a new-found Christian webzine, and other writing opportunities are in the works. It's like with Eric Liddel as he discussed his running - I can feel God's pleasure when I write.

We are growing closer as a family and I cannot tell you how powerful that is. Jesus is becoming a stronger and stronger force within our home and as this year draws to a close I ask you to continue to pray for us as we all seek Christ's leading on doing His will day by day. Thank you for your friendship and have a Joyous Christmas.

O Holy Night

This was sent to me this morning by a good family friend, Diane Heeney, who sang at our wedding ceremony 23 years ago. Jill and Diane were actually fellow counselors at the camp where Jill and I met! Diane sent a great meditative Christmas thought:

Dear Family and Friends,

We invite you to take a closer look at the words to a familiar song this Christmas. Usually, you hear this as a solo; which means you may or may not pay close attention to the lyrics. It is sometimes done in "show-stopper" fashion, which distracts from the poignant meaning of the words. Read through it. Meditate upon its truths. We sang it as a congregation Sunday night, and some of the thoughts have stuck fast this year : "the soul felt its worth...born to be our Friend...to our weakness is no stranger...the slave is our brother...let all within us praise Him...!" Yes, come, let us adore Him together this Christmas season.

Rejoicing in God's Unspeakable Gift,

Patrick, Diane, Erin, Michael and Katie

O holy night, the stars are brightly shining;

It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!

Long lay the world in sin and error pining,

Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope, the weary soul rejoices,

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.

Fall on your knees, O hear the angel voices!

O night divine, O night when Christ was born!

O night, O holy night, O night divine!

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,

With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.

So led by light of a star sweetly gleaming,

Here came the wise men from Orient land.

The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger,

In all our trials born to be our Friend!

He knows our need-to our weakness is no stranger.

Behold your King; before Him lowly bend!

Behold your King; before Him lowly bend!

Truly He taught us to love one another;

His law is love and His Gospel is peace.

Chains shall He break for the slave is our brother

And in His Name all oppression shall cease.

Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,

Let all within us praise His holy Name!

Christ is the Lord! O praise His name forever!

His pow'r and glory evermore proclaim!

His pow'r and glory evermore proclaim!

The Ascension

Care

"The Christian does not think God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because He loves us; just as the roof of a sunhouse does not attract the sun because it is bright, but becomes bright because the sun shines on it." - C.S.Lewis

"Christ has turned all our sunsets into dawns" - Clement of Alexandria (c.150-c.215)

Psalm 54:6

"Willingly I will sacrifice to You; I will give thanks to Your name, O LORD, for it is good."

"thanks" Hebrew word yadah Definition: to give thanks and praise, ALSO to confess the name of God

...for the Christian, it is not only to have a spirit of thankfulness but also a spirit of praise and to rightly confess that God is the Author of blessing - to publicly proclaim it.

So then, I want to publicly proclaim my thankfulness to God in a quick list here:

- I am thankful that my back injury pain is nearly overcome. I can sit and walk and lie down without the glass-sharp agony I had only months ago.

- I am thankful to God for giving me my wife Jill who has been a pillar of strength through all of this misery and trial.

- I am thankful that my mother-in-law Marlene is recovering from the blood clot ordeal. Thank you, Lord, for intervening!

- I am so very thankful for my children. Nicholas is full steam ahead in work and school studies. Peter is maturing every day. Julianne - now 4 years old - is the the entertainment value that every member of our family gets each evening. She's the Human Cartoon.

- I am thankful to God that He allows us to have the College Bible Study, and for me to travel and speak to various groups and conferences.

- Thank you, Lord, for the new writing assignments and book opportunities.

- Thank you, Lord God, for good friends like Doug Walker and Kerry McDuffie and the Mooreheads who showed genuine interest and gave serious prayer to our family during these trial periods.

- Thank you that I can say I have three jobs where I know that some people do not have one.

- Thank you for our home and that we can use it as a haven for Bibel studies and overnight stays for those needing one.

- Thank you for our dear British friends the Hydes, whose son Oscar is doing well at Princeton.

... among all other things, Lord, thank you that through this extremely brutal year You have been patient with me through my doubts, depression and crying. Thank you that You did not leave me nor forsake me. Thank you that You listened when I just could not pray but the Holy Spirit heard my groanings and utterings.

Thank you, Lord.

JESUS

Matt. 1:21 - "and you shall call His name Jesus, for He will save His people from their sins."

JESUS - The word Jesus is the Latin form of the Greek Iesous, which in turn is the transliteration of the Hebrew Jeshua, or Joshua, or again Jehoshua, meaning "Jehovah is salvation." 1

In Hebrew Yeshua means Salvation...Yeshua is the original Aramaic proper name for Jesus the Nazarene...In Hebrew Yeshua means both "Salvation," and the concatenated ("linked together") form of Yahoshua, is "Lord who is Salvation." 2



1. http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/08374x.htm
2. http://www.thenazareneway.com/yeshua_jesus_real_name.htm

Ice Bears

I am now happy to announce that I will be on the staff of the Knoxville Ice Bears! Well, let me explain. It's free lance work. I still have my regular jobs, but I am going to be a staff writer for the local Southern Professional Hockey League franchise here in East Tennessee. it will be part of my free lance writing efforts, but I am going to be supplying content for the team's web page, in areas like player biographies and latest news about recent games. I'm also going to be adding creativity to the Fan Zone and the other areas of interest. It may take a few weeks to get things up to speed, but I am already supplying content on a daily basis, filling in holes and helping to strengthen the page.

Here's a "pre-season" look at the site:

www.knoxvilleicebears.com