A Link

Just thought I'd share a link with my readers today. I really think that Dr. Moore hits the nail on the head with this article and I think that he's articulated what a number of evangelicals are thinking. God, give us a singleness of purpose!

Check out the article here.

Kids These Days!

As I begin today's brief post, I hope that you will take a moment and enjoy the video below:



This video was produced by four of my former students from FBC Wetumpka. Rodney Riggs, Jake Levins, David Windham, and Cody Arant are the young men teaching you some basic principles of Calculus. My observations on the video:

1) When did kids start getting projects like this? I think the most technologically advanced thing I ever did in school was make a poster.

2) I'm digging the wardrobe. Guys, I think it represents a definite improvement!

3) Pretty impressive parabola you've got there.

4) I don't remember learning a lot of those things in Cal I. Apparently 1999 was farther back than I thought.

5) I'm blessed by students that are gifted by God to do great things. I'm even more blessed because I know these young men and have seen God do great things through them.

That's all for today, but be sure to check in next time for my view from N. Wintzell!

Two More Days

"Men are clinging to football on a level we aren't even aware of. For centuries, we ruled everything, and now, in the last ten minutes, there are all these incursions by women. It's our Alamo."

We're only two days away. After an entire off season of waiting, it's finally time. Preseason camps are drawing to a close and it's game week for high schools across the state of Alabama. College games will start a week later, followed by the pros a week later. Last season was the greatest season of my life. My beloved Crimson Tide won the BCS National Championship and was led by Mark Ingram en route to the team's first win of the trophy that dare not be named. As an Alabama fan, this was outstanding, but was also to be expected. For better or for worse, it's in our DNA to expect excellence out of our team. (To my wife and others that are about to complain about my use of "our" to describe a football team: I help buy the merchandise and watch the games on tv that reap financial benefits for "our" team. I'm a part of the team, and look for my national championship ring to come in any day now. Also, if it weren't for my lucky shirt, we'd have never survived that Tennessee game.)

The greatness of last season was found in the unexpected: My Saints won the Super Bowl. If that statement doesn't take your breath away, you obviously either don't bleed black and gold, or you are a bandwagon jumper. I've been a Saints fan as long as I can remember. I was born during the Aints era and I've lived through an awful lot of ups and downs with this team. I fondly remember Pat Swilling and Ricky Jackson, Bobby Hebert and Dalton Hilliard, the Dome Patrol and the antics of Jim Mora. The rhythm of the first 25 years of my life was to go to church, make it home right after kickoff, watch the Saints build a nice lead in the first half, fall asleep at halftime, and wake up with just enough time to see my Saints blow the game in spectacular fashion.



Every year I get excited about the Saints, only to see my hopes dashed on the rocks of cruel reality. During last year's run, I promised myself that I wouldn't get emotionally involved in the outcome of their games. During the NFC Championship game, I had a youth event and was unable to do anything but check my Blackberry over and over again for score updates. I got in my truck just in time to hear Bobby Hebert tell the world, "The Saints are going to the Super Bowl!" All by myself, in my truck, in a church parking lot in Central Alabama, I went crazy. All hopes of maintaining my composure were lost. I managed to stay low key through the Super Bowl, going to church and coming home in time for the second half. My wife and kids went on to bed and I stayed up in eager anticipation of the final moments. Interception. Touchdown! Ballgame. I sat by myself in my living room and did what any respectable, reasonable grown man would have done in my situation. I cried like a baby. I witnessed something that I never thought I would see in my lifetime. My Saints won the Super Bowl. My family got in on the ground floor with the Saints, and 43 years later we saw it all come to fruition. All of those years of yelling at the tv, all of those naps ruined, even the remote control that I broke throwing it on the floor in the 8th grade-- all of that defeat was swallowed up in the greatest football victory I could imagine. I thought of Buddy D. I'm not sure what Buddy D. would have said about the Saints winning the Super Bowl. I know it would have come out as completely unintelligible gibberish and it would have been great.

Now here I am. I got to spend last Thursday on the sidelines at my alma mater, Alma Bryant High School with the team. I help out as a team chaplain along with my friend Chris Taylor. I'm obviously way past my prime. I find that I relate more easily to the coaches than the players, since we're the same age. When I last walked off of a high school football field as a player in November 1998, the class of 2011 was in Kindergarten. I still love it. I love being out there, celebrating the good and lamenting the bad. I love listening to the band and watching the crowd. I love watching these guys come together and build a bond that is greater than they can imagine. The practice games are gone. Saturday morning will arrive before you know it and half of the state will be 1-0 while the other half is 0-1, but between here and there, we've got a football game to play. I'm counting down, are you?

Hungry?

Hunger is one of the least pleasant experiences we can have as humans, isn't it? Over the past two weeks, I've started an effort to lose a few of these unsightly pounds (and I carry a number of them). The problem is that I hate to be hungry and I love to enjoy food. It consumes my thoughts, blurs my vision, and drives me to extraordinary measures to pursue it. Food can only be truly appreciated by those who are hungry for it. As I drove into town today, I faced a minor pang of hunger. Even through this light distraction, all of my thoughts turned to my hunger. Each restaurant I passed called to me with the promise of some delicacy that would sate my desire for lunch. This hunger controlled everything that I did. Until I took the opportunity to eat lunch, my focus was on nothing but my desire food.

Similarly, in the past 24 hours I've found myself filled with deep spiritual dissatisfaction. I'm hungry to see God grow me more into the man that He is making me to be. I want to see Him working in the hearts and lives of our church so that He would be glorified in our midst and that we would take action to spread His fame to the world beyond our walls. Last night and today, I've prayed for God to give us a vision for how He would use us as a part of the church's mission on Earth.

Today, I was reminded of the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount:

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.
Matthew 5:6

May we all hunger and thirst for the righteousness of Christ in our selves, our families, and our churches. May we see that hunger filled. Would you join me in praying?

Back to School

It's that time of year again, as students mark the beginning of a new school year. At my house, it's a little different, as we are all affected by the return to class. As most of you know, my wife Suzanne is a teacher, so the return to school means that she has to go back to the grind of the daily school routine. Maggie has made the big leap forward and is joining Suzanne as a Dixon Dolphin in the 4K program. So far, so good on that count. She seems to be settling in well and is enjoying her new class, teacher, and friends. Joseph moved into 3K this week and he appears to be enjoying learning about his ABC's and 123's.

Even I'm affected by the return to school. Last Spring I started the journey back to school after 4 years out. I'm a doctoral student at New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary. I'm currently preparing for my Fall trimester seminar, and I look forward to what it holds. In the meantime, I've got a lot to do to get ready. So, for both of my readers, don't be surprised if posting is a bit lighter over the next month or so. Check in regularly, though, because I do plan on posting!

Nerds!!!

Just a little eye-candy for the readers...


Greetings from N. Wintzell! Sorry I missed posting yesterday. As I cruised Facebook earlier in the week, I came across an article that really caught my attention. One of the young ladies at our church posted a note describing the cutthroat world of academic competition. It was a thoroughly enjoyable read, and I think it captured the essence of what will be taking place over the next few months in high schools across the country over the next few months.

The article resonated with me because it was something I could readily relate to. Once upon a time, I was an academic gladiator. Stepping from the gridiron to those hallowed halls of academia at Faulkner State Community College in Bay Minette was something akin to taking a trip down the rabbit hole. On the football field, it was easy to spot danger. When you were faced with a hulking behemoth that appeared fully capable of tearing you limb from limb, he probably could, and you could prepare yourself accordingly. During my first Spring practice at Grand Bay, I was thrown as a lamb amongst wolves into a varsity football practice as a 7th grader. My devotional life grew by leaps and bounds as I stared death in the face multiple times a day.

Scholar's Bowl and HiQ offer a different set of obstacles. Danger was not as easy to spot in academic circles. That weird-looking kid with 1,267 buttons of bands that you've never heard of on his book bag? Silent academic assassin. The girl carrying on a conversation with her stuffed animal? Shakespeare expert. The beautiful blonde? A plant to distract you from the moderator. It's a virtual minefield designed to prevent you from achieving glory for you and your school.

I was never that crazy about HiQ, but Scholar's Bowl was my first love. There's only been one thing in my life that I was truly exceptional at, and it was Scholar's Bowl. I may not look like much, but put a buzzer in my hand and watch out! I got an early start. PACE students in Mobile County got to participate in a special, once-a-year Scholar's Bowl at Mobile College (University of Mobile). As we prepared for our first competition, another mother cautioned my Mom, "Now, he's probably going to be timid at first. Don't be surprised if he doesn't answer any questions, or if he doesn't even press his buzzer. Most kids are pretty scared their first time at Scholar's Bowl, but be patient with him, and he'll get better as he goes along."

There are a few moments in life where things just click. When I held the buzzer for the first time that day, it just felt right. I went crazy. I had no fear of the buzzer, or of the competition. It was the beginning of a beautiful relationship that would endure for nine more years. In the 7th grade, I started attending Grand Bay. By a quirk of scheduling, I ended up in the only 7th grade science class taught by the high school Biology teacher, Linda France. As fate would have it, she was the sponsor for the high school's Scholar's Bowl team. We talked one day, and she invited me to stay after school one day for practice. It was a serendipitous moment.

I made the team that year and got to hang out with the varsity Scholar's Bowl team (how nerdy does that sound?) I got to play pretty regularly, and answered a decent number of questions. 8th grade rolled around and brought me a spot as the Captain of the JV team. I was the leading scorer and team MVP. 9th grade saw a promotion back to the Varsity team and a spot on the County All-Star team. 10th grade held our first County championship and recognition as the second-highest scorer in the league. My last two years saw less team success, but greater individual honors as I led the County in scoring both years.

For a kid that nothing came very naturally to, this was a revelation. Football required hours and hours of training my mind and body for Friday Night combat. On the football field, I was an offensive linemen. Offensive linemen tend to be a rather unassuming bunch. They tend to be relatively large young men who toil in anonymity while their teammates gain glory. Even defensive linemen get the opportunity to have a moment in the sun when they make a tackle. There is no such glory for the offensive linemen. When these guys are doing their job the best, you never notice they are there. You only see them when they screw up. Offensive linemen gain attention by missing blocks, holding, or jumping offsides (great moments all). When I went to those Scholar's Bowl competitions, I got to be something of a celebrity, and it felt good.

With that backdrop, you can imagine my interest as I read the aforementioned post. I'm now a washed-up old has-been, but I still think back occasionally to those halcyon days of my youth and smile as I remember the fun that I had competing. My favorite part of the article was the comments section that followed. I got to witness actual academic trash-talk. We didn't have Facebook to do this with back in ye olden days, but I don't know if it would have happened even if it did. While I loved Scholar's Bowl, I worked to identify myself as a football player. I'm not quite sure why (other than the obvious nerd connotations) but Scholar's Bowl was as important to me as any football game.

Academic athletes, enjoy yourself this year. I love you and understand you, because I was one of you. The best part about going to an academic competition is the level of weirdness that you can encounter each and every go-around. You'll find kids at every Scholar's bowl match who are completely comfortable with expressing themselves by whatever means necessary. You never have to worry, "Is my personal interest too strange or nerdy to be expressed here?" So students, when you're up to your elbows in current events articles, short stories, or lists of dates and places, don't stress out. Remember that you are a part of a special fraternity of men and women who seek the knowledge of the obscure. Have a blast, enjoy hanging out with your team, don't get too frustrated if things don't go well, and know that you too may one day be writing a semi-coherent blog about your glory days as a member of the Scholar's Bowl team.

The Bayou Top 10: #7

Grocery stores in the Bayou have a long and storied tradition. I'm not certain that the entirety of the Internet has the space to contain the stories that could be shared about good times had at all of the grocery stores that have gone on before in our town. As a small child, a trip to the grocery store in the Bayou provided two options: Schambeau's and Greer's. Schambeau's was a longtime Bayou La Batre institution that has closed, sadly, after the death of its longtime proprietor Mr. Crum Schambeau. Volumes could be written about the original "one-stop shop" where you could find groceries, comic books, shrimp boots, and shotgun shells all in the same place (assuming you needed all of those things on the same trip). For more information on Schambeau's, check out this link.

Today, all we have left is Greer's Food Tiger. Greer's has a special place in my heart for a number of reasons.

1) First and foremost, I was an employee at the Grand Bay location for a few months as a high school student.

2) Greer's is not for the pretentious. If you live in Bayou La Batre, you never have to ask yourself if you are under dressed for a trip to the grocery store. After my kayaking adventure (see here) my wife had left a message asking me to go pick up a few things from the grocery store. I examined my situation: I was wearing gym shorts, a ratty t-shirt, a Milwaukee Brewers baseball cap, Crocs (yes, a grown man in Crocs, no shame at all!, and a healthy dose of Bayou water. I was worried for a second, and then realized, "Wait a second, I'm going to Greer's!"

3) No shoes, no problem. Greer's is where the term "grocery store feet" originated. More bare feet have walked across the floor at Greer's than any other grocery store in the world, most likely. During my sojourn in Central Alabama, I learned that amongst a certain subset of the culture, it was considered high-style for a family to send their children to church and/or school without shoes. The children would come to church in their fancy, dress-up clothes, barefooted. People of the Bayou, apparently we were far ahead of the curve.

4) You never know what you might find to eat at Greer's. Here are a few pictures that I took on a recent trip to Greer's. I'll try to let the pictures do the talking:


Chicken feet: They're what's for dinner!



Pigsnout: The other, other white meat.

5) The folks at Greer's are willing to go above and beyond to serve those of us who are in less cosmopolitan areas. Did you know that there are 16 Greer's stores in Alabama? They include a number of exotic locales: Coffeville, Eight Mile, Grove Hill, McIntosh, Millry, Robertsdale, Semmes, and Theodore.

6) For those of you who are less culturally fortunate, check out the following pictures:






That's right, Greer's has an entire section dedicated to crab boil, Cajun seasonings, and fish fry. As you eat your bland, boneless, skinless, baked chicken breast tonight, we'll think about you.

So, there you have it. I like Greer's. Earlier this week, my wife sent me to pick up some sugar for tea. There was no question where I'd go. I grabbed my little barefooted boy and we hopped in the truck for a quick trip to Greer's. I saw some familiar faces and my boy and I had a good time on our field trip. For more information on Greer's, check them out here: