My wife and I, sensing the impending doom of our youth once the baby comes in eight weeks, are spending the weekend on a last-minute trip to New York City to visit some old friends. I’ll be sure to post some thoughts on the trip (and plenty of other subjects) when we return.
Well, here we are. Just over a month ago, I graduated from seminary. I am now a Master of Divinity. Armed with my Divine Masterness, I still work at the YMCA. When people ask, “What do you do for a living?”, I simply say, “I yell at kids.” Yep, that education is really paying off.
My life is now that of the functionally unemployed. By this I mean that while I technically have a job which gives me money, I can’t truly say that I am employed. In my mind, being employed means that I am engaged, that I am involved; in short, that I care. I am functionally unemployed. My usual day goes something like this:
- 5:20am-Arise, shave, shower, get dressed.
- 5:50am-Take the dog out, feed him, eat breakfast.
- 6:00am-Hide from the dog because he is now awake and wants to bite me.
- 7:00-9:00am-Sit with kids at the YMCA. I yell a lot.
- 9:20am-1:40pm-Take the dog out to pee and poop. Try to play with the dog. Get bit by the dog. Shun the dog.
- 2:00pm-6:00pm-Go back to the YMCA. Yell even more.
- 6:00-10:00pm-Eat dinner. Hang out with wife. Get bit by dog.
- 10:00pm-Go to bed.
- 2:15am-Take dog out to back yard to “Go Potty.” Shiver in the back yard waiting for him to go. Marvel at the fact that I am a twenty-six year old man who uses the phrase, “Go Potty.”
- 5:20am-Start all over again
I am waiting to hear from the schools to which I have applied for doctoral studies, and in the meantime, this is my life. Yelling. Enduring puppy bites. Hiding from my attack pug. This is my life.
Janel is getting more and more pregnant every day. The due date for our son is May 8th and seems to be approaching at an alarming rate. I am excited and fearful. Right now I just hope I can get the dog to stop biting so he doesn’t playfully rip my son’s arm off. This is my life.
Our living arrangement has changed recently as well. Since we lived in seminary student housing, we had to leave our apartment after I graduated. Therefore, a couple in our church was kind enough to rent us their old house for the present while we are waiting to hear back from schools. Janel and I call this house our redneck house. Not to say that the house itself is redneck, but a lot of little things contribute to the conferring of this title. First, the woman who lived in this house before us must have never heard the words “Lysol,” “Comet,” or “Pine-Sol” in her life. The house sure didn’t look like it. The carpet was disgusting, dried food was plastered to the walls, and the house reeked of cigarette smoke. There is a pile of used Camel butts underneath our porch. At least once a week I find an empty tallboy of Busch or Natty Light in our front yard. Our neighbor across the street delights in turning the subwoofer in her car to the max and breaking it down to 50 Cent in her driveway. We have a redneck house.
This is my life.
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P.S. Despite the tone of bitterness which permeates this post, life is far better than I deserve. Life is frustrating at the present, but there is always hope in Christ. Therefore, I say to both myself and to you, “Take heart! Christ has come, and He makes all things new.”
Posted in Personal | 4 Comments »
Attention parents! Here is an article which a friend of mine (thanks Lauren!) sent me on the joys of fatherhood by Bob Rybarczyk of the St. Louis Post-Dispatch. Wow.
Here’s the Single Most Disgusting Thing to Happen, Ever
OK, so normally I try really hard not to write about the same topic twice. I’ll sometimes go out of my way to avoid writing about something I covered in 2003. So for me to repeat from a mere two weeks ago, especially this particular topic, well, I wouldn’t do it unless an extraordinary circumstance was involved.
In this case, there most definitely was an extraordinary circumstance. An extraordinary, disgusting, revolting circumstance.
In the event that you didn’t read my column from November 13, I’ll warn you now that it was about, ahem, vomit. I’d spent the better part of a sleepless night helping my older daughter, Gustavo (not her real name), through a somewhat unsavory bout of stomach flu. It was a disgusting thing to experience, and an equally disgusting thing to write about.
Now, before I go any further, I’m going to warn you once again. If you’re in the middle of eating, or are about to eat, or are planning to eat at some point this week, or even if you just want to be the slightest bit discerning about what you read, you might want to stop reading now. Seriously. If you continue after this point, I can’t be held responsible for any subsequent loss of appetite, breakfast, and/or self-esteem.
Still with me? Yeah, I figured as much. Sicko.
Remember, you were warned.
So on Saturday, we’d all woken up a bit early, and we thought it would be fun to go get a big weekend breakfast. I tell you what, few things in life get me as excited as the prospect of going out for breakfast. Biscuits and gravy, pancakes, coffee, hash browns, bacon, I order one of everything. By the time we got the kids bundled up for the cold morning, I was practically skipping around like Richard Simmons at a slumber party.
When we got to the restaurant, little Chi Chi (not her real name), my 6-year-old daughter, said that she wanted to order fried eggs. Not only did this come as a surprise to me, since I’d never seen her eat fried eggs, but in hindsight, this information also seemed, I don’t know, ironic.
The hostess told us there would be about a 40-minute wait for a table. A 40-minute wait with three impatient kids didn’t seem like the greatest of times, but I had my heart set on some tasty vittles, so we chose to stick it out.
Many minutes passed. We shuffled around the restaurant’s gift shop, killing time. Whenever I found something cool, I called the kids over, enjoyed their excited reactions, then informed them that they could not have it. You’d be amazed how many times in a row you can get a kid to fall for this.
I checked my watch. Our time was drawing nigh. Sweet victory over morning hunger was near. Chi Chi tugged the leg of my jeans and informed me that she needed to use the bathroom. I walked her to the ladies’ room and told her I’d wait right outside.
A few minutes passed, and I started to become a bit concerned. I spotted Colette nearby and waved her over, asking her to go check on Chi Chi.
At that exact moment, however, Chi Chi emerged from the bathroom. That was the good news. The bad news was that she was sobbing hysterically.
The worse news, as she then informed me, was that she’d spent her time in the bathroom throwing up.
Colette and I exchanged a wide-eyed look. Not good. And of all the rotten timing – I hadn’t even gotten a single whiff of biscuits and gravy. Although, to be honest, the idea of country gravy had suddenly become slightly less appetizing in the wake of Chi Chi’s news flash.
Colette shuffled the still-sobbing Chi Chi back into the bathroom. The rest of us stood in the gift shop, unsure of what to do next. Breakfast was definitely out of the question. I gathered up Gustavo and my step-daughter, Melon Ball (not her real name), and told them the bad news.
Chi Chi and Colette came back out of the bathroom. Chi Chi looked pale and was still crying a little. Colette shrugged. “She didn’t get sick in there,” she said. “But she’s really upset. I’m not sure what we should do.”
I felt bad for poor little Chi Chi, who seemed a more than a little frightened by the entire experience. “Come on, let’s get you home,” I said as I picked her up to comfort her.
And then Chi Chi threw up on my face.
Yeah, that’s right. My daughter threw up on my face.
I told you to stop reading, but you just couldn’t listen, could you?
For a moment, time in that crowded, busy gift shop ceased to exist. Every person with a clear line of sight to what had just happened froze in place and gaped at the carnage before them.
Splashes of what had just been in Chi Chi’s stomach were on my face, all over my leather jacket, and all over the floor. But that wasn’t the worst of it. I realized, as I stood there in dumbfounded horror, that my beloved child had not just thrown up in my face. I apparently had still been talking when Chi Chi exploded. As a result, she had also thrown up in my mouth.
My child. Had thrown up. In my mouth.
All I could stand to do was make a sort of guttural “urrrh” sound as I set Chi Chi back down on the floor. Anything more articulate than that would have required me to close my mouth or move my tongue, and sweet lord in heaven, that was the last thing I wanted to do.
Colette whisked Chi Chi back into the women’s room. I glanced at Gustavo and Melon Ball, saw that they had been rendered both motionless and speechless, concluded that they weren’t going anywhere, and dashed into the men’s room.
When I entered, both sinks were occupied by dudes washing their hands. “I nee a shink,” I croaked, in a tone intended to brook no resistance. The dudes at the sink took one look at me and, with hands still dripping and soapy, got the hell out of my way.
I could not rinse my mouth often enough, but I tried. I rinsed and repeated about five thousand times, then cleaned the rest of me as quickly as I could. What I really wanted to do was go for a swim in a hot tub full of bleach, but the bathroom sink sufficed for the moment.
By the time I was done, Colette and the girls were ready to leave. One of the restaurant employees had been kind enough to clean up the mess Chi Chi made on the floor. All I wanted to do was go home and shove my head in the dishwasher.
And then the hostess called our name. Our table was ready. It was somehow par for the course.
So, the way I figure it, I have now qualified for the Daddy Hall Of Fame. I know there’s no such thing as the Daddy Hall Of Fame, but I don’t care. I’m in it. I could accidentally sell my kids to a meat-packing plant next week and it wouldn’t matter. I’m in. Do you hear me? I’m in. I have to be. Otherwise I endured having my delightful little girl chowder in my mouth for no good reason whatsoever.
And we all know that fate could never be that cruel.
Right?
Posted in Humor | 3 Comments »
Okay, so I know the title looks bad. I promise I’m not begging for any, “Oh man! I forgot your birthday was last week, now I feel like a jerk” comments. You should not remember my birthday. You’ve got more important things to remember, I understand. I’m actually writing this post now because I’m swamped with a million more important matters, and so naturally I’m wasting time. I’m sure you understand.
So, yes, as the title of this post states, my twenty-sixth birthday was last week. I am now officially closer to thirty than to twenty. And no, I still don’t have a job. I did, however, get a couple of gifts that were especially cool, which I would like to blog about in the future. The gift from my parents was my first volume of the Yale edition of The Works of Jonathan Edwards. They gave me JE’s “Letters and Personal Writings,” which is filled with fascinating glimpses into his personal life. In the near future I hope to write a post about JE’s first thoughts about the young Sarah Pierpont, who eventually became Sarah Edwards. The man was smitten by her, and his words are particularly beautiful.
A second gift is one which was made possibly by multiple people. With my birthday money I bought something I’ve been wanting since Janel and I got married: a pug puppy! During Christmas break I’ll pick up a seven-week old pug (I named him George) in Alabama. Below is a picture of the two males in the litter. I’m not sure which one is George yet, but you can expect many more photos to follow.
Alright, back to work now…
Posted in Edwards, Personal | 3 Comments »
Mark Driscoll, pastor of Mars Hill Church in Seattle, Washington, recently made the following critique of mega-pastor Joel Osteen. I haven’t seen a preacher yet who has done a better job of providing a biblical critique of Osteen’s ministry.
Thoughts?
Posted in Ministry, Theology | 5 Comments »
If you quickly look at my previous post, you will learn that it has now been over a month since I’ve last posted on this blog. Shameful. Disgusting. Unacceptable. I can only hang my head in embarassment and apologize to the three people who may have visited my blog in the meantime. To you, O faithful ones, I owe my deepest apologies.
The end draws nigh, ladies and gentlemen, the hour quickly approaches. On December 14, 2007 I will graduate from seminary. This is less than two months, and life shall remain busy until then. A quick look at these next two weeks should serve as an example of the frantic pace which should accompany the final seven weeks of my seminary career:
October 24th-Taking the GRE for four hours
October 26th and 27th-Attending the C.S. Lewis conference at the seminary
October 31st-November 4th-Attending the CCEF conference in Philadelphia
Coupled with the fact that I have several major assignments to complete, graduate school applications to finish, and have to find a place to live for the next eight months on short notice, I think it is safe to say that things will not exactly be dull around the Jones house for a bit.
Posted in Personal | 1 Comment »
Today I have had the privilege of a double-dose of Albert Mohler, president of The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Kentucky. Because I have benefitted from both encounters, I thought that I might share the wealth.
First, Dr. Mohler preached today in Southeastern Seminary’s chapel service on Luke 15 – all of it. I am not exaggerating when I say that it is the finest sermon that I’ve heard this semester. Mohler’s basic premise was that Jesus is speaking pointedly to two groups of people: “sinners” (immoral societal outcasts) and “Pharisees” (self-righteous moralists). Jesus’ message is the same for both groups: You must repent of your sin, for no one is righteous before God. The full sermon can be listened to online here, and I highly recommend that you do so.
The second bit of Mohler is his blog post for today, which is a helpful review of John Vincent’s new book on the academic study of history, titled An Intelligent Person’s Guide to History. As someone who is currently applying to graduate programs in history, I very much appreciated Mohler’s review.
So there you have it, folks. Enjoy!
Posted in Academia, Ministry | No Comments »
There is something about being in your twenties that resists any hint of stability. We enter this decade normally in the chaos of college, with all of the pining, striving, and transience that comes with being an undergraduate. As soon as you take off the cap and gown, you’re off to either more school, beginning a career, or possibly even taking your wedding vows. Your twenties are arguably the single-most formative years of your life.
In keeping with this decade of confusion, instability, and yes, even panic, I have an announcement to make. One week ago I learned that I am a father. My lovely wife is pregnant with our first child, who will be born in April. Just in case you’re wondering, I couldn’t be more thrilled!
So yes, chaos continues to reign. A week before Janel and I found out about the pregnancy I decided that I would not be attending Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia as I had originally planned. Instead, I am now preparing applications for doctoral programs at a handful of universities. For the time being we will stay put here in North Carolina, waiting for our baby to be born and to hear if more education is going to be a possibility.
It’s an exciting time in life. For all of my friends who know full well the changes that come for twenty-somethings, here’s my contribution to the confusion.
Posted in Personal | 2 Comments »
Here is a word of encouragement to those who are bearing heavy hearts:
Q. What is your only comfort in life and in death?
A. That I am not my own, but belong – body and soul, in life and in death – to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ. He has fully paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil. He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven: in fact, all things must work together for my salvation. Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him.
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Source: The Heidelberg Catechism (1563), Question One.
Posted in Church History, Ministry, Theology | No Comments »
