Andy Borgmann's Blog

Last night, I received a text at about 11:32 pm from my friend Erin who is an Anaheim Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim Angels Strike Force Girl. The text was informing me of the important news that they recently got to sing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" at the most recent Angels game and it was on YouTube. For those who care, here is the video, she is the one second from the left.

Now, when I think of Erin I think of one thing: Christmas (and the time she shot somebody in the face with the t-shirt gun at the ballpark, but mainly Christmas). Why do you ask? Because she is the only person I know who has a countdown to Christmas and starts singing Christmas songs in August.

I moved on and decided to unpause my Comcast DVR to watch The Colbert Report and what do I see.....Stephen Colbert in a Christmas hat. I know, weird. I thought it was a rerun. But alas, it wasn't. His point: the day before was June 25th, or halfway to Christmas.

Between Erin & Stephen it got me thinking about Christmas. It actually got me thinking about two things about Christmas: 1.) how much I hate the Christmas season, and 2.) how Jesus was actually probably born in June or July (due to the fact shepherds were out in the field which would fit more in the summer months not winter).

Andy, aren't you a Christian, how can you say you don't like Christmas? I have many reasons really. I think about the materialism associated with Christmas, and Jesus' anti-materialism message, and have to chuckle, if not cry a bit, thinking about the irony.

I also think about how what a facade Christmas has become. Think about it, people who never attend church, who don't really align themselves with Christian beliefs, always seem to "have" to make it to Church on Christmas? And as ministers, we cater to the seemingly American-ingrained nostalgia associated with Christmas and we wouldn't dream of not signing carolls, putting up trees and lights, etc... I always wondered why churches didn't approach Christmas like they do, well, June. Why doesn't Christmas look like this past Sunday?

My mother became a Christian my senior year of high school. I remember having a conversation with her later on that year and she was telling me one of the things she never realized is that Church wasn't like Christmas every Sunday (and that all the Bible wasn't just like Psalms). This had a profound impact on me as I started to wonder how many people think all there is to Christianity is signing Christmas Carols, worshiping a baby, and something about myrrh (what the heck is that anyways).

True Christianity doesn't get displayed at Christmas time. True Christianity is what happens in October, March, and yes, even June.

Well I know somewhere in the O.C., Erin is appalled at me. But at least in about a month it will be Christmas season for her. Which now that I think about it, she spends 5 months of her spiritual journey focusing on Christmas, so I don't really have a problem with her - its all the rest of us

P.S. They sing "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" wrong. It is "root, root, root for the Cubbies." The only way to sing that song.

Today I landed at Los Angeles International Airport at 11:03 am. But unlike a year ago on my way to Sydney, this time I would be staying for more than a couple of hours. I quickly hoped off the plane, rented my car, declined the free map, and went straight to APU.

It's a little weird being back to tell you the truth, but I am not sure why? I instantly hooked back up with friends that I hadn't seen in a while, and all was good. We caught up. Talked about life. Talked about upcoming weddings. Talked about all sorts of stuff.

But I had an hour or so free in-between things so I drove over the Cinnabon store just off campus and it was here where I got that first, sort of, weird feeling. It was a feeling like I was at this "new" place, not a place I lived at for four years. With the exception of Fort Wayne, IN - I lived in Azusa longer than anywhere else. Yet it was different. It was foreign. It wasn't the least bit nostolgic and I can't figure out why.

When I moved out to APU from Indiana (August 31, 2001), I returned the weekend after Sept 11, 2001 to surprise my girlfriend as I had a hunch she would win Homecoming Queen (which she did). I returned again in November to surprise her at her play she was in. And I returned for the third time in December for Christmas break (by then we broke up). But none of these trips ever felt like returning to a place I had never been. But today did. So maybe the reason it feels foreign is because it took me 25 months to return.

I guess that is why college is never ultimately "home" (even though I lived here pretty much year round). It's a stage of life that will never be forgotten, with friends that you'll never leave, but the location will move on with out you. It will always welcome you back, but it will never be the same.

This past weekend I went and saw the movie Knocked Up. I love the term knocked up. Ask CJ & Andrea, or my friends Abbey & Jon from college. When they were pregnant with their first child, I would always refer to them as being knocked up (they were married, don't worry) and it was hilarious. But this movie, and my stage in life, have got me thinking about abortion.

Now before I proceed, I should say that I think abortion is wrong in pretty much all cases. If it were just a personal choice issue, I would be totally for it - as I do think a woman has the right to do what she will with her body. However, it isn't just a personal choice in my mind, it is a life. There is a great scene in the movie where the "Knocked Up One" is talking to her mom and her mom is telling her to just "take care of the situation," and we all know what that means. But she decides what is inside her isn't a situation, it is a life. And at the end of the movie there is a great shot during the credits where the mom is holding the result of that "situation" (aka the baby). And ultimately, for that reason only, I support pro-life laws.

But this post isn't really about that. This post is a little more sympathetic than that. I have been thinking a lot about what I would do if I knocked someone up "accidentally." How would I react? And for the first time ever, I think a male might possibly be the closest to understanding the fear of pregnancy like a woman does. Why? Because I am a minister; now hold on.

If I got someone pregnant, it wouldn't just be a "social faux paux," but it would mean I would most likely lose my job. It means that I would have a seriously hard time finding a new job in my field, and most likely have to completely redefine who I am. Not only that, but the ministry that I work with would have a tarnished image (maybe even significantly public since we are apart of the "media" now), and there would be significant disappointment from all areas of my life. All my "great" plans I have for myself would pretty much instantly go out the window. No book deals. No career in politics. No developing a nationally syndicated talk radio show. Even if I did the "right thing" in the situation, there would be some serious consequences.

Now I am not going to argue on whether or not all the above are fair - what I am going to say is that all the above isn't that far off from what all women have to deal with in an unwanted pregnancy. And it is that fear, and unequal serious consequences, that makes abortion a little more of a "gray" issue (not more "gray" in the sense of the morality, but "gray" in the reaction).

I would hope if I got someone pregnant, I would be man enough to do the right thing - whatever that meant. But I am not 100% sure I wouldn't at least think of suggesting the alternative. It doesn't make it right, in fact, it would be wrong. But I at least get it now. I get it a lot more than I got it when I was in college that's for sure.

Whether it is a porn producer in Atlanta that I have lunch with, or a gay friend, or some women I know that have had abortions, I always, always, always try to get across that they are loved and cherished not only by God, but by me as well. Just as God was still there for David when he knocked up Bathsheba, I would want someone to be there for me - and until that day comes (lets pray not), I want to be there for others. That's a Christ-like response to an unwanted pregnancy that we should all strive for.

We all I know I love to travel. What you might not know is that I recently moved into a a new apartment, got premium digital cable with a DVR, and have started watching the The Travel Channel religiously. To say I love it is an understatement. 1000 Places to See Before You Die, Samatha Brown's Passport to... series; I could go on and on. So what did I do? Of course, with remote in hand, I went to town on recording any and everything I thought looked interesting. And then I came to it: Florida's Top Ten Beaches.

Now I am not a big fan of Florida. Frankly, it is too blasé for my taste. There are so many better places to see in this world than the retirement state of America. But I saw that this show was coming up in the lineup and I just had to tape it. Why? Because I remember watching this a while back (on the Discovery Channel) and I could swear an old friend of mine was interviewed on it.

Sure enough, I woke up this morning, saw that it was recorded, fast-forwarded to the Siesta Key section (which was the official Homestead High Spring Break destination if there were such a thing), and bam! Megan. Megan and I weren't real tight in high school per se, but she went to my youth group and when I think of Megan, I think of Honduras. A trip were, amidst all odds: Ashely, Dave, Megan and myself seem to buddy up for 10 days, instead of the more probable Pat, Matt and Erika.

But this post really isn't about Megan. It is about how small the world is. The more I travel and the more I move, the more I realize how true this is. Whether it is spotting people you know on the Travel Channel, seeing a good friend play on SNL or TRL or Letterman or the AMAs, having my Uncle in Georgia send me a resume he received from someone who actually worked for me at APU but he didn't know that, being contacted by an author's publicist whose book change your perspective 10 years earlier, or going on a date with someone who goes to Samford University in Alabama whose roommate graduated with my brother at Homestead High School, it is weird to think how closely we are connected to people.

This closeness always makes me think of how interrelated the human population is, and how that interrelation comes from our common Creator. And it is this reason why I love traveling. It clearly shows how large this world is - both geographically and historically - and in comparison how small and insignificant we are. But at the same time it speaks to the Divine interconnectedness we all share in such a small world.

P.S. If anyone is reading this that went to Homestead High School, watch the clip and tell me if the person playing volleyball after the clockwipe is Kathryn Sullivan. She also looks like someone I know but I can't tell if that is her or not.

I was at Hand in Hand the other night (a bar in the Highlands) and amidst the conversation, Oasis's Wonderwall began to play and it took me back. Wonderwall always reminds me of one thing: doing pot.

See that's what songs do to me, they make me remember stuff.

Confessions of a Broken Heart will always remind me of driving on the Great Ocean Road from Melbourne, Australia. Runaway Train will always remind me of my paper route in 4th grade. The Difference will always remind me of traveling by bus through the French countryside with 40 8th graders. Comfortable will always remind me of Laura. I Believe by Blessed Union of Souls will always remind of of riding the bus through Inverness Lakes in middle school. Clumsy by Chris Rice will always remind me of Nate and I walking into Bob's apartment in the Willows. American Dream will always remind me of Jerusalem, Israel. Strawberry Wine will always remind me of sitting on the bus on the way to Mexico thinking of Emily. Gold Digger will always remind me of baby Jadyn. Jesus Take the Wheel will always remind me of Rachel and her hate for Carrie Underwood. Hanging by the Moment will always remind me of driving down I-75 with CJ on the way to Hilton Head. Come What May will always remind me of driving up to Big Bear with Cheria in Daren's suburban. Freshman will always remind me of driving down Aboite Rd. Emotionless will always remind me of my roommate Taylor and I talking about my relationship with my father. And that my friends, is just a quick cursory look at my Top Rated Songs in random order in iTunes.

Weirdly enough, Wonderwall was the "song of the Borgmann/Borne/Hoffman ski trip" in 8th grade where I first encountered pot, and to my credit I turned it down on my first offer. It wasn't until spring break later on that year that I did pot (which reminds me of You Oughta Know by Alanis Morissette). But You Oughta Know didn't come on this night at Hand in Hand. Wonderwall did. But thinking of my stint with pot at 14 years old got me to think about life change - as 8th grade was also the year I encountered God.

I think one of the most frustrating things about being a minister is that you are making your entire life about "life change" but you rarely get to see life change. I used to want to be a doctor, and I think to myself, that would have been easier to some degree. I would make my life about saving people's physical life, sometimes I would fail, but when I would succeed, I would know it. But in being a minister I rarely get to see what I succeed or fail with, and that is really discouraging - no matter how "successful" & "talented" people tell me I am.

So what do I do? I think about what I am grateful for. I am grateful for people like Nate Hasty, Bob Caley, and Pat Rowland. I want them to know that because of them, my life was changed. Because of them, I didn't follow the drug path in high school. Because of them, I turned from my selfish ways (well, I am trying to). Because of them, I made a purpose out of my life to follow God and hopefully instill life change in others. I just hope my life will be an oasis of life change like these great men and not a mirage.