The story of Danny and Zsa-Zsa

Once upon a time, in a far away land, lived a family made up of a little boy named Danny, and a little girl named Zsa-Zsa.  Yes, Zsa-Zsa.  They were in a household in which their dad loved them very much, and they were always joyful and happy, playing basketball like life was perfect.

One day, they were watching Rocky, and Danny and Zsa-Zsa realized that they too wanted to become boxers so that one day they could be even stronger than their dad.  They wanted to be the best boxers in the world, so obviously they moved to Philadelphia, where Rocky trained. 

Once there, they quickly realized that not all of Philadelphia was a meat processing plant in which they could train, and they became quite disappointed.  Trying to mask their sadness, Danny and Zsa-Zsa decided that their next best option was to be WWE fighters instead of what was shown in Rocky and Million Dollar Baby. 

They got into a rhythm of loving WWE, and they soon forgot all about basketball at home, or their boxing dreams, and they started enjoying "fighting" in the WWE.  They were making money, on pay-per-view, and their lives seemed just great.

But soon even their fighting days were gone, and they found themselves homeless, entertaining themselves by making toy boats out of thrown away newspapers and floating them down the torrent of water that was flowing down the gutters.  Yeah, life had gone downhill.

But you see, their dad had never actually forgotten about their basketball dreams, or their boxing dreams, and remembered how much passion they had for those things, and how much he knew they enjoyed it.  Mostly though, their dad just missed them.  He was longing for the days where they would watch a movie together, or wrestle them until they were too tired to get up, lying on the floor giggling. 

Often times, he would try to call them, or to hook them up with a facebook message.  But they never responded.  You see, they were quite content with their boat making, and they were getting good at it.

Finally, though, he sent Michael Jordan to convince the kids that the dad wanted them back, and to come back into the household and hang out with Jordan and the dad.

"No," they replied, "we're actually getting really good at making these little boats.  See?  Look at that one.  Look at the sails and how fast it goes down the street."

The Air himself tried to convince them, but it wouldn't work.  They could no longer imagine a land besides the paper boats, and were convinced that this "dad" that they heard of was just like a Nigerian prince who often emailed them looking for their bank account numbers.

Michael kept persisting however.  One day he told them straight out, that there was more to life than paper boats, and that they could have a better life.  Becoming defensive, they  shook their heads in fury and screamed "Don't take us away from this life!  You're a liar, and we don't want anything to do with you!"

And they stabbed poor Michael with the only weapon they could find, their scissors.  And Michael Jordan died that day.

 And three days later, Danny and Zsa-Zsa saw MJ playing basketball on a playground.  "MJ," they said, "What the heck just happened.  Why are you still alive?"

Michael was still alive because, let's be honest, we all know what's going on in this story already, of God.  And because I couldn't think of a relevant thing that would be equated to someone dying and then raising to life.  Because that doesn't really ever happen.  

Michael explained to Danny and Zsa-Zsa that it was true.  They had a dad, he existed, and he actually really liked them.  He also explained that his Rolls-Royce Phantom was the only way to get out of the hood and to his dad.  They jumped into the Rolls and headed towards their dads house. 

There, they played a game of 2 on 2, which, of course, the dad and Michael Jordan won.  But it was still a party.  And the kids promised to never ever leave their father again.  And everyone was very happy.  And, if you haven't noticed, that was more than a story of Michael Jordan's only successful comeback in his life.

Nerd Alert.

This past weekend, I drove to Washington State University to visit my sister, who goes to WSU and majors in something about broadcasting and Spanish.  It was pretty much a party all weekend, and on Sunday we pulled ourselves off of the couches in the basement to go to their church, called "Real Life."

Once there, I quickly realized that I was in the wrong spot.  This is what my brain immediately jumped to as an uncool church.  The nerd alert in my brain was blasting through my brain as I entered into a time of worship.

I couldn't stop thinking about how the woman keyboardist looked like Tina Fey.  The male keyboardist looked like Phil Collins.  Gabe from "The Office" was playing guitar, and the main singer kept throwing up hand gestures that I was convinced were Christian gang symbols that people who were holier than me knew.

I'm not used to this atmosphere.  My church has pool tables, people who dress in basketball shorts, and a worship pastor with mountain man facial hair.  We listen to Christian rap, and this church probably liked Michael W. Smith.  Yes, I was in a different style of church, and I was freaking out.

Then something in me began to stir.  The Jim Gaffigan look-a-like came out for announcements, and I laughed at his jokes.  Surely I was already becoming one of them, and might walk out of the church saying "thee", "thy", and calling people "bless-ed." 

But I kept being stirred.  A back-up pastor came up and began to speak about prayer, and it was awesome.  I found myself learning, and applying what he was saying to my life.  And I realized that the coolness of a church is based off of Christ, not cultural relevance. 

I began to process the amount of time that I think about what people think, rather than what I know about God, and what He thinks of me. 

I realized that people think that I look like a main character from "American Pie", and that that's a lot worse than looking like the guy who wrote the Tarzan soundtrack.

So as I go into life, I need to focus on Jesus, rather than myself.  I need to look to Him, so I know what I should be like.  I need to stop judging people.  And I need to realize what God has done for me, and what He will continue to do in this world. 

High treason

Today I marched in a parade, I did yard work, and I just ate two cinnamon rolls.  The first two things gave me plenty of time to think, and the last one just gave me satisfaction and a feeling of grossness.  Here are my thoughts as of late:

The act of treason is a violation of allegiance to one's sovereign or to one's state.  It's betraying the trust of your superior whom you've said that you would follow.  


In Brazil, treason during war fare is the only crime punishable by death.  The only one.  Worse then killing people, worse then raping people, worse then stealing, worse than having a ginormous Ponzi scheme and taking everyone's money.  


So all this time I've been thinking of this, I'm thinking that if in Brazil, you commit treason during war fare once, you're done.  No second chances, no opportunities for redemption.  Death.


And frankly, that might be how it should be.  When some one pledges their life to some one, and then turns around and back fires, their pledge is their life, and maybe they shouldn't have even that.  

The main point I'm trying to make is not about treason in Brazil.  I'm not a social commenter telling you what to think.  I just think this is incredibly important.  Because, as you may know, we are all held guilty of high treason, the kind of treason that directly affects the King. 


And we should be dead.


After we first decided to run away from God, we should've died.  When we say that we follow Christ, and we don't, we should die.  Our whole existence seems like a treason indictment should be coming our way soon, leading us to death.


But our King is better than that.  Our King has unlimited grace, constant waves of mercy, and a bottomless (Red Robin influence) love for us.  We commit treason every day, and He gives us a chance to serve again.  We are the cause of His Son's death, but His Son's death was also caused by His Son's love.  


So as you go out today, keep in mind one thing: You are insufficient, but God gives you grace, God gives you power, and God won't leave you behind.  Treason during warfare is punishable by death in Brazil.  We aren't in Brazil, but we're certainly in warfare.  So let's let God's grace wash upon us, so that we could be the best warriors for Him that we can be.