One of the largest affronts on our relationships, families, and happiness is "keeping up with the Joneses". It invokes pride and vanity, and it is subtle. I say this knowing full well that I am the worst of all.

More on that in a second.

After arriving in Hilton Head last weekend a high school friend who married a baseball player commented on my Facebook saying:

Honestly, I used to think there couldn't be anyone who travels more than athletes and sports wives...but I think the amount of traveling you do is pretty comparable to mine.

I certainly have been living up to my New Years Resolution that's for sure.

• February: Denver Ski Trip
• March: Hilton Head
• March: San Diego Visiting Sarah & Adam
• April: Orlando Visiting the Letters To God Movie Set
• April: Miami Visiting Erika & Patrick
• May: Key West w/CJ & Andrea
• June: Nashville Visiting Pat
• June/July: Indiana
• July: Hilton Head

On top of that, August is going to be Weekenders gone wild because soon I'll be working 6-days a week. The remaining travel is:

• Aug 6-8: Hilton Head
• Aug 13-15: Louisville Visiting Ashley
• Aug 20-23: Oregon for Lissa's Wedding
• Aug 27-29: Kentucky Lake Visiting Angela
• Sep 26-28: Chicago Watching Mike's Play
• Oct: Maybe DC Visiting Nathan
• Nov: Maybe Denver Visiting Mom & Cassie
• Dec: Maybe Indiana for Christmas

Or in interactive map form:

View a larger map

But what does this have to do with keeping up with the Joneses and Facebook? Simple: 170.

211 is the number of days from January 1st to today. Of those 211 days, I have "been on the road" 41 of them. Leaving 170 days that are just like everyone else's days.

Wake up. Shower. Go to work. Eat Lunch. Work Again. Come home. Eat Dinner. Watch TV. Sleep.

80% of my days are "boring" normal days.

But no matter how much I travel, I am still just as envious the friend backpacking through Europe, or spending the day at the lake. And I know about all of this becuase of Facebook.

I do know most people don't care about traveling like I do. But you could replace traveling with anything, and Facebook provides a 24/7 comparison of lives.

But wasn't that what class reunions were for?

Once every 10 years, you had one night where you were bombarded with the question: "how do I compare?" It was vain. It was stupid. But nevertheless it happened 3 times in life - and that was if you went.

But with Facebook, I am lucky if I go 3 hours with out seeing what everyone, and I mean everyone, is up to. Constantly comparing what they are doing to what I am doing (or buying, or living in, or driving, or marrying, or kids are doing, etc...etc...).

And even though most likely 80% of their days are "boring" just like mine, I still find myself comparing against the entire culmination of everyone's days.

This is not healthy. Constantly being bombarded in this fashion forces one to constantly pursue the next high: albeit trip, purchase, or (fill in the blank). This constant pursuit just took keeping up with the Joneses and gave it a steroid injection right in the quad.

Last year I blogged just after my 26th birthday how I had 14 years left due to my <sarcasm>completely rational thought</sarcasm> that I will die by 40.

It is now a year later. I am a year older. And with 13 years left, I came across a fascinating article the other day which states that according to a University of Minnesota study, more than 1 in 8 teenagers do not believe they will live to be 35. And while statistically speaking, 96% of us live to be 35, at least I now know I am not alone.

But that in and of itself wasn't the fascinating part. I have been thinking a lot recently about what motivates my decisions.

Take for example biking. I have been biking a lot. Try to do about 20 miles a day. It's been great for my stress level. And I generally feel a lot better. But I don't wear a helmet when I ride.

The other day one of my friends was harping on me about how stupid that is, especially in light of biking on the road (which I do), and getting close to 40 MPH at times (which I do).

But I don't feel like I actively make a decision to do the wrong thing. Same thing with not wearing a seat belt. I usually don't think, "hey, I don't want to wear a seat belt."

Or do I.

This scene from Scrubs has been replaying over and over in my mind a lot recently and I think it might relate to the UofM study.


But what does this have to do with the UofM study? The study goes on to say that most people who think they are going to die by 35 have a negative outlook on life, therefore they make riskier decisions based on their feeling of hopelessness.

But just as I had to call out Rob Bell on his book Sex God for missing the obvious, I am calling out UofM as well.

People who think they are going to die young don't make decisions based on hopelessness. People who think they are going to die young make decisions based on the fact that time is short and they are trying to jam as much as possible into what little is left.

Do I think this is particularly healthy? No. Do I think it is particularly unhealthy? No. Whether I live 10 more minutes, to 35, or all the way to 90: time is short.

This doesn't excuse unnecessary risky behavior like not wearing a helmet or a seat belt. It does explain however why some of us make seemingly riskier decisions than others: time is of the essence and death is inevitable anyway.

Now. Where is my bike? The sun is getting low and I need to go ride.

Much like my post on the Virginia Tech Shooting two years ago, the Iran conflict was too raw and emotional to say what needed to be said until now.

Now that things have subsided a bit, I feel more comfortable saying what I have thought all along: Barack Obama handled the Iran Election Conflict amazingly well. Historians will look back at that and say one of the most genius things America ever did in handling Iran was to not do a single thing during the election conflict.

But first a Scrubs episode to highlight why:


I am going to be obnoxious and pull the "I've been the Middle East card, and I am guessing none of the rest of you have" to say that what most Americans fail to understand about our "presence" in the Middle East is how those who we are "fighting against" wield our disdain for them against us.

Like Scrubs - it doesn't matter what we say, it gets turned around and presented as propaganda against our case. This isn't just true in Iran and Scrubs episodes but in my own life as well.

At my previous job I had two older gentlemen who, well, let's just say didn't appreciate anything I had to say or thought. They made life incredibly difficult for me. But what was worse was that they made progress for the church impossible.

What I learned - but unfortunately didn't practice as well as Obama - is that even if I had the greatest idea, even if I was right, the best thing I could do was not get involved. Would I encourage other more "neutral" parties to discuss and attempt to influence these two gentleman's perspective: absolutely. Should I have actively continued to jump into a fight I knew I couldn't win and ultimately made things worse: no way.

Most of our problems in the Middle East are in large part due to our involvement in things we feel obliged to jump into, when in fact it only makes the situation worse. Then when we actually have an opportunity to do something good about it, we back out. Thus leaving the average Middle Easterner frustrated and angry with us.

The movie Charlie Wilson's War (although about Afghanistan and not Iran) is a phenomenal example of this.

As usual, I was extremely proud of Senator Richard Lugar. It is because of his bi-partisianship, non-grand standing, non-crowd pleasing, straightforward and educated approach to politics is the reason he is the only member of Congress that shouldn't be voted out.

Unlike everyone else - especially Republicans - clamoring at Obama's perceived weakness regarding Iran, Lugar came out and said what needed to be said: America needed to stay the hell out of the Iranian conflict.


Iran and the Middle East is about a generation away from true reform. I have seen it with my own eyes. And the last thing America needs to do is intervene and jack that up. Patience is a virtue, and American needs to practice it.

If you follow my Twitter / Facebook status, you know that I have been biking a lot recently. Been trying to do at least 20-miles a day for the past month. So when I came to Indiana for a week, I brought the bike with me.

When I was in Middle School I ran cross country and would often run "the block" - Aboite Center Rd. to West Hamilton Rd. to Liberty Mills Rd. to Homestead Rd. It was four miles long and hilly. So since I needed a place to bike, and the Chattahoochee River was 650 miles away, I decided to expand "the block" into the 15 mile "super block."


The hills and wind have been a bit of a killer compared to the flatness and stillness of where I ride in Georgia, but it has been been a good ride.

But one thing I wasn't really expecting was the "trip down memory lane." While peddling for an hour or so up and down the hills of Aboite township, I pass my old high school and friends houses. Places I ran in cross country and ex-girlfriends neighborhoods. Places where I was pulled over for the first times and the church where I first found out about that Jesus guy.

And amidst the Gatorade drinking, hard breathing, car dodging, and legs pumping, I find my thoughts drifting to what I miss in life. What made and makes life great.

The past couple of days when I have turned off of West Hamilton Rd onto US-24, Jason Michael Carrol's Where I Am From comes on the iPod.

I love that song.

Despite what my LA friends assume, everyone in Indiana is not a farmer, and I did not grow up on a farm. I grew up the son of an attorney. I grew up in suburbia. I grew up going to country club dinners and vacationing to the beach for 6-weeks at a time. But I did spend a lot of time in my high school years hanging out in Huntington, IN - which is quite country.

Maybe that is where I got my love of country music. I don't know. But I think country music lyrics are usually pretty true to life and Where I Am From is no different.

I said I'm from the front pew of a wooden white church
The courthouse clock it still don't work
Where a man's word means everything
Where moms and dads were high school flings
Gave their children grandmothers maiden name
Yes it may not sound like much
But its where I'm from

...

Where the quarterback dates the homecoming queen
The truck's a ford and the tractor's green
And Amazing Grace is what we sing
Well there's a county fair every fall
And your friends are there no matter when you call
Yeah It may not sound like much but it's
Where I'm from

All that to say, biking the "super block", and hanging with CJ and Andrea, and seeing Dad and Lisa definitely make me miss where I am from.

There are two things I like in politicians: brutal honesty and class. There are two things I seem to never find in politicians: brutal honesty and class.

Karen Handel is the Secretary of State of Georgia, but (hopefully) will be our next Governor. Up until this week, I knew Karen to have a reputation of brutal honesty that is quite rare with politicians. There isn't that "politician / used car salesman" sheen that accompanies most of the politicians I have known and worked with through the years.

However it wasn't until this week that I realized not only is she refreshingly honest, but she is a real class act.

Karen came to the Wayne 60 event that we put on to celebrate Wayne Farr's 60th birthday and to raise money for the children at Murphy-Harpst children's home.

At the event we talked about Dan and Marilyn Quayle - I being from Indiana and can't spell and as Karen being Mrs. Quayle's Deputy Chief of Staff (which I didn't know). She was quick to defend the old boy and told me a little back story to the whole potato fiasco I had never heard.

But this past week I got a letter from her in the mail. Big deal. I know. I thought the same thing at first. Politicians send letters all the time. Or better put, politicians have their interns send letters all the time. But as I continued to read what I thought was a cursory letter penned by an intern and probably signed by one too, I got to the part where she mentioned the 30.59 miles I rode.

This wasn't announced at the event (I came in WAYYYYY behind everyone). This meant that she - or admittedly someone on her staff - read the blog I did on the event showing the picture of my speedometer and my comment about making it 30.59 miles.

So even if an intern did write said letter, I still will keep it along with the letter President Ford wrote to our family after my Grandfather died, as an example of true class from a politician.

As I think more and more seriously about entering politics everyday, I am grateful for someone like Karen showing how one can truly be brutally honest and class-filled and still thrive.

Thanks Karen!




For those curious, here is the letter Gerald Ford wrote my Grandmother when my Grandfather died. President Ford and my Grandfather were football buddies at the University of Michigan and would stay with my Grandfather when he'd come to Fort Wayne (before he was President).

I wasn't going to take a Weekender this month. Key West in May wore me out. But that didn't last long as I was itching to get out of Atlanta two weekends ago. So I called up my friend Pat who lives in Nashville on relatively short notice and went and stayed with him and his family.

It was a relaxing trip. Thursday was spent at home, smoking some cigars on his back patio and having great conversation. Friday was a day at the pool, followed by a party at the Nashville City Club.

Back in Indiana, and about 12 years prior, Pat was my youth pastor (as seen here being awesome when driving us on a ski trip to Michigan).

He is easily one of the top 3 mentors I have had in my life and with out a doubt I would not be the man I am today with out him.

As I went from the "heathen child I was" in Middle School when I first met Pat in 8th grade, to a probably overly zealous Christian in High School, to someone who went and got a Biblical Studies degree in college, to being the "moderately-liberal Christian" I am today producing a talk radio show, a lot has changed.

But through it all, Pat has always been a true inspiration and example of what a man of God looks like. I am not exaggerating in the least when I say I know no one who actively tries to improve themselves to be a better man more than Pat. He is one of the greatest husband, father, and friend that I know - yet he is always striving to be a better person.

It was something in an email he sent after my trip that made me appreciate just how deep the relationships God puts in our lives can become over time.

I’ve reflected a lot on our conversation on the patio. I’m thankful that God connected us so many years ago. I had no idea that when I met you as an 8th grader that we would share such a friendship. I have absolutely loved our conversations over the years and I’ve learned more from you then you realize.

Now what we discussed I am not going to elaborate on - after all, what happens in Nashvegas stays in Nashvegas - but the sentiment in his email to me is one of the most fulfilling things I have found in the deep relationships I have had with men and women all around the country that went from mentors to friends.

I still respect Pat more than just about anyone. And even though I have become a bit more "liberal" compared to him and my youth group days - I will always cherish his insight into life.

Thanks for a great weekend my friend.


Next weekender: probably DC the "weekend of July 17-19th." Cubs are in town so I might try to catch a game with some friends from the area. Then Oregon in August for Lissa's wedding.

Seven Major League Baseball games in seven days!!! I love baseball, but I found myself on Saturday (the 6th game) thinking, man I am a little tired of this.

But nevertheless the question of where have I been can be answered by: Turner Field watching the Braves take on the Cubs (1-game makeup), Yankees, and Red Sox.

Knowing that I was going to be going to 7 games in a week, I decided not to pay $113.70 in parking. So I figured I'd take MARTA. But being the clasterphobic type, I decided MARTA wasn't going to be a good option. So then I came up with the brilliant plan of parking my car at WSB and riding the 4.8 miles to the stadium on my bike!

It was a BLAST and probably will be the only way I go to the stadium from now on. Even in the 100° heat, and the hills of Peachtree Street it was still fun. Brought a change of shirt and some Gatorade and I was good to go.

Turner Field has a few bike racks which are right by the entrance (best parking space possible!) Plus I insist that getting to Turner Field takes no less time, and going home I only lost maybe 10-15 minutes.


Ride time was around 25 minutes, and at one point I could break the speed limit while biking - going 30.4 in a 25 ;)

Here's a map of our route. Pretty simple.




The other "adventurous" thing Justin and I tried with the Yankees/Red Sox series was to make some money. Back in February we bought about $3,000 worth of tickets all around the park in hopes to make a couple of thousand dollars.

Well after all was said and done - including StubHub's 15% commission - we made a grand total of $36.69 each. Ha! At least we didn't lose any money.

Lessons learned though: buy more tickets on the visitor side and anything beyond 1st or 3rd base is not worth it to resell with any sort of profit. Ohh, and don't do this during a recession :)

But it did mean that I got to sit in a different seat every single game - which was an awesome experience. I posted the photos at the bottom, so take a look at all my views.

Well that is it for now. I am heading up to Indiana for a week of vacation, but I will be blogging about my Nasvhille Weekender (2 weekends ago), Why Allen Is Wrong and Obama is Right on Iran, and The Death of Jackson, Fawcett, and Others all this week so check back often.

Tonight I met up with a professor of mine from college who was in town for a conference. Dick wasn't just a professor to me though, he was a mentor, and most importantly: a friend.

At one particular point in my life, when I was at a cross road on who I was to become, I looked around at all the people I respected and came to the conclusion that 20 years down the road my life would be the most fruitful and fulfilled if it looked like Dick Pritchard's. Needless to say I have an extreme respect for the man.

So amidst Shrimp Purloo, Peacan Pie, and a waiter that probably wished we hadn't taken a seat in a small, Midtown restaurant for 2.5 hours: tonight we discussed everything under the sun.

As the meal was wrapping up - but still an hour before we would leave - we began to discuss communication and relationships.

When I was in Dick's class, he assigned a book called "The Contemplative Pastor" by Eugene Peterson.

I didn't read it.

Dick knew I didn't read it (as with pretty much most of my assigned reading).

But I very much remember it's content and the discussion that came from it.

In the book, Peterson makes the point that we learn three languages in order:
intimacy, naming, and persuasion.

From our first moments in life we learn words of love - which in reality have little to do with actual words. We then proceed on to "naming" - it is here we get an understanding of possession. With possession understood, we finally complete our verbal development with "persuasion" - or the language needed to persuade in order to attain that which we want to posses.

It should be noted that this isn't just in romantic relationships. It translates to all relationships: parents, friends, co-workers, mentors, mentees, customer service agents, the homeless man on the street. Everyone.

The irony I pointed out is that I have essentially fallen into a profession that is hyper-focused on persuasion, opinions, belief systems, and world-views. And I think it is precisely because of this that for a while now I have felt a heightened struggle with most of human language in contemporary society being focused on persuasion. Something that if I would have read Peterson's book, I would have probably dealt with 4 years ago.

Unfortunately though, the causality of this sad state of affairs is intimacy.

I blogged about this before, but it bears repeating. I think one of the most powerful movie trailers I have ever seen was for the movie Crash. The line that hit me was, "...nobody touches you...I think we miss that touch so much that we crash into each other just so we can feel something."

When we remain stuck with persuasion in our relatinoships, intimacy gets thrown aside. But our desire to fulfill our lives with persuasion and attaining that which we have named, unfortunately only leaves us emptier for it.

This morning was one of those rare times in life where I got 5 hours of sleep and it seemed to be enough. Mixed with a mind that was racing at a million miles an hour, I decided to not fight it and just get up.

Due to my roommate's pretentiousness towards movies, my intake of movies has dropped significantly in the past year. Even Blockbuster tried to lure me back upon my last visit - since it had been so long - in hopes of bringing me back to our once happy and consistent relationship.

So with some extra hours on a lazy Saturday morning I popped in Seven Pounds thinking maybe I'd fall back asleep if it got boring. It turned out to be one of the deepest movies I have seen in a long time.

As I lay in my bedroom early this morning, amidst a sunrise I rarely get to be apart of, and a stillness I never experience in my home, I was brought to literal tears as I watched a man so deep stricken with a loss in his life attempt to make amends by lovingly sacrifice to those in need.

And while I guessed the ending from about 10 minutes into the movie, this did not detract in the least from its power.

I found myself gearing up for a powerful and emotional end, but it was the scene with a gift of new life for battered woman and her kids that best exemplifies the heart behind the grace and love in this movie. And as powerful as the final moments of this movie turned out to be, it was this scene that caught me off guard.



"All I ask is that you honor my wishes and of course live life abundantly."

Sound at all familiar?

Is that not the reason Jesus himself said he came to this earth?

Is that not the power of the gospel? That it not only has the profound ability to changes one's life, but that life that is changed yields one that isn't easy, or effortless, or without pain: but that is abundant and full.

I preached a mini-sermon series back in 2003 where I talked about the "Great Contradiction" between denying oneself and living life to the fullest.

Yet I wish I had this clip back then because I think it communicates not just the grace of God - which has become almost cliché in most sermons - but probably more importantly the heart behind the grace.

As Will Smith narrates, "...if you are wondering why you? Please stop." I find myself believing that it is that picture into the heart of God that best enables one to live an abundant life.

I have been waiting to do this blog for four years now. I knew one day it would come. I just never thought the complaint would be due to me (ok, I sort of thought it might).

Allen and I have been on the air for over four years and up until last week we have never had to use the DUMP button due to an obscene comment made on the air. That all changed last week.

Last Sunday Allen picked up a caller and the first words out of his mouth were "Fuck You" and then hung up. We were actually out of delay, so that went out live over all of our affiliates.

Then just last night, a caller from San Antonio (first night on that station by the way) was talking about something and accidentally said "shit" on the air. We were in delay, hit the dump button, and all was good. No worries.

The real surprising thing was the only real complaint we got over the last two weeks wasn't with the F-bomb being dropped, but rather the fact that when I talked about the bike race I completed for charity, I made a reference to how I could see how Lance Armstrong got "ball cancer" due to the way my crotch felt after riding for 30 miles.

One complaint! That's it. But as Family Guy puts it, for every complaint received has to equal one BILLION people offended:



I freely admit I am not concerned with obscenity. I don't really see a case to be made in the Bible that "fowl language" is really amoral. And don't even get me started on how as a culture everyone gets way too offended way too easy - especially Christians (and gays).

But beyond that, why is it the government's job to legislate this stuff anyway? Why did we decided that the public airwaves were owned and controlled by the government to begin with? And as delivery options become less dependent on "public airwaves" (satellite communication, cellular communication, hardwired communication), I have to ask myself, should the FCC and "obscenity" laws really become obsolete?

And as always, it isn't the situation we find ourselves in now that I am too worried about, but rather the precedent it establishes that will allow for the expanse of power:



Before anyone asks, no, we didn't get any complaints from the FCC (yet). I just found the Family Guy stuff to be pretty profound when I first saw it back in November of 2005 and have just been waiting for a "personal" story to commentate.

Enjoy the FCC song: