Family Charged in Bunny Bump-Off

The town of Walkersville was rocked this morning by the news that one of their own families may be cold-blooded killers.

Four members of the Anderson family were arraigned in Frederick County Court on charges related to the murder of a soft furry bunny in their backyard. Detective Jason Keckler said the crime was discovered by students walking home from school on the railroad tracks behind the family's Hampton Place residence.

"The deceased was discovered yesterday afternoon near the Walkersville Railroad tracks and Walkersville Park," Keckler said. "The body was still fairly soft. K-9 units determined that the victim was killed in the Andersons' backyard and moved, perhaps even flung, into the wooded area behind their home to avoid discovery."

While motive is yet unclear, police believe sons Timothy (17) and Thomas (13) lured the rabbit onto the family's property with spinach dip. Neighbors had seen the boys building various animal traps over the years but thought nothing of it. "We just figured they were boys being boys," said Ellie Gilbert, a family friend. Police found evidence within the house that the family has a long-standing animosity towards rabbits. Mother Karen Anderson had left an Amish cookbook on the counter, opened to a recipe for rabbit stew. Witnesses said they remember the Andersons complaining about a previous family pet rabbit who chewed some furniture. A well-worn copy of Watership Down was found with the cover ripped off. Traces of rabbit blood were found on the doorstep of the carport. Steven Anderson, the father, was also charged with disposing of the body and tampering with evidence.

"The details add up," Keckler said. "It is certainly hare-raising to discover killers in your midst, but this was a well-conceived plan carried out by a family with a vendetta against rabbits for some reason."

Neighbor Sally Walton, who has lived next door to the Andersons for 11 years and has often cared for their cat Oliver when the family went on vacation, said, "It's just so hard to comprehend. It bugs me, this bunny business. I can't imagine any member of this family perpetrating a violent crime against a small furry creature."

Meanwhile, the fate of the family pets was uncertain. Both the cat and dog were visibly shaken by the news their owners would no longer be serving dinner. Oliver the cat seemed sad about the needless loss of life. "It's a shame, really--a waste of a perfectly good rabbit." Treble the dog denied comment, but simply licked her lips and stared out the window at the spot where the rabbit was believed to have died. She has been seen visiting the site often, apparently to help her deal with her grief.

Fights I'd Like to See

In what could accurately have been titled "Juice Box," Lenny Dykstra and Jose Canseco were scheduled for a celebrity boxing match this past weekend in Philadelphia.

Canseco, of course, is a former "Bash Brother", a talented but cartoonish athlete who once knocked a ball over the outfield wall with his head, and a steroid-abusing beefcake who has found a second career as a snitch, author, and authority on all things unseemly in sports. Dykstra, a former all-star centerfielder, has also been linked to steroid use, having been ratted out by Canseco. The man once known as "Nails" has been getting pounded financially in recent years as a series of whiffs on high-profile business propositions left him unable to cover the ground he had promised to some star athletes. Dykstra is now bankrupt, shunned, and the target of wrath for those who foolishly invested with him.

So in some strange way, it makes sense for these two pathological losers to take out their `Roid Rage in the ring: "Nails vs. Knucklehead for the stupid-weight championship of the world!" Let them knock each other out of cultural relevance one last time.

Apparently, there is a regular market for celebrity boxing matches. Most of the combatants are down-and-out wannabes and "D-listers" who are desperate for a buck. But it left me wondering what other tired and overexposed celebrity matchups we might be able to entice to enter the ring? Who could we bring together so they could pound each other into the distant past of our cultural landscape and be heard from no more? I think there are plenty of possibilities I would enjoy.

Justin Bieber vs. Adam Lambert. Girl Fight!

Ray Lewis vs. Jesse Jackson. The only problem is, there would be so much preachin' going on, they'd never get to the fight.

Tom Brady vs. Tiger Woods. I'd give the edge to Brady because Gisele would be there but Elin would not. The guy with the wife in the stands always wins in the movies.

Tiger Woods vs. Elin Nordegren. Oh, wait, we've already seen this one.

Lady Gaga vs. Katy Perry. We wouldn't have to tell them the ring was located inside an arena about to be imploded by a demolition company, in order to make room for... talent.

Conan vs. Leno. "Last Comic Standing" would be hilarious!

John vs. Jim Harbaugh. Brothers and NFL coaches who need to chill after victories. "One, two, three, four, I declare an over-exuberant handshake war!"

Brett Favre vs. Anthony Weiner. Text War!

I'm sure you can think of a few.

Unfortunately, Dykstra didn't show up for the fight. He claimed he was misrepresented and never agreed to it. What a shame. I think Nails could have taken Canseco. But perhaps he's holding out for a matchup with Sammy Sosa?

Death of a Giant

Even giants fall.

Bubba Smith died recently at the age of 66. Smith was a football star in the late 60s and 70s, a ferocious defensive lineman, the number one draft choice of the Baltimore Colts in 1967, and a monster of a man who's perfect name, enormous size and super hero strength made him an object of awe for many little boys like me.

I don't have a memory of watching Smith play football. What I have is a memory of staring at his football card. By age six or seven, I had a box full of them and some bicycle spokes rat-a-tat-tatting with them, but Smith's card was a special object of fascination. On the front was his frightening face, with the huge afro, the beard and the stare filled with impending destruction he was about to bring. But it was the back of the card that held my attention. There, among a few cartoon images of football players and a random fact ("Bubba's high school coach was his father"), it listed his size. Six foot seven, 305 pounds. Three hundred and five pounds! Are there really people that big, I wondered? It was like the mystical nephilim of Genesis, "the heroes of old, men of renown." Can you imagine!?

Nowadays, of course, three hundred pounds is nothing. There may not be an offensive lineman in the entire NFL who isn't at least 300 pounds. Here are the sizes of the current offensive line for the Steelers: Legursky, 6-1 315; Scott 6-6 345; Kemoeatu 6-3 344; Essex 6-4 324; Foster 6-6 325; Gilbert 6-3 330; Starks 6-8 345; Even the smallest of the bunch, center Maurkice Pouncey, is 6-4 304.

Heck, now there are high school players that big, and reality TV stars--women--who weigh that much and are trying to become the biggest loser.

But back then, at age 6, weighing all of 45 or 50 pounds after Thanksgiving dinner, wearing snow boots and a heavy winter coat while playing imaginary games of football alone in my backyard, as I nimbly evaded the terrifying giant named Bubba while scoring the winning touchdown, it was the thought of a 300-pound man chasing me that spurred me to greatness. The fear of dying at his hands led me to victory. My brother might have been the one named David, but it was I who was conquering the giant. You can't catch me, Bubba Smith! Touchdown!

Now, my first giant is really dead. New reports confirmed that Smith died of high levels of weight-loss drugs which complicated some existing heart problems. It seems the giant couldn't nimbly evade himself and his own size in the end. Like most giants, it was his size that killed him. Tragic, but not surprising. He was a giant from a different era. And his time had come.

In the end, Bubba Smith was too big--even for himself.

I Live the Life

It has been six months since I've written for my blog. I'm rather ashamed of that, actually. This is something I need to do, both for my own spirit and hopefully for the benefit of someone else who may be encouraged by something I write. As I sat down to write this, I realized what an amazing life I get to live! Look at what's happened in the past six months!

* My son Jon graduated from high school. His final days of high school were quite exciting, between the baseball team making it to the regional finals, our church's senior banquet, and the opportunities he had to perform his songs publicly at a couple venues in Frederick.

* Tim had an outstanding junior tennis season, losing only 3 times.

* We had a long awaited and wonderful 9-day vacation to Colorado. We stayed in a beautiful rental house near Durango. We ate like kings, hiked in the mountains, white-water rafted, sang with cheesy cowboys, rode horses, sat in the hot tub, and spent time with family and old friends. I wish I could live in those moments every day!

* We came home from that vacation to our newly-remodeled kitchen. It's amazing, and it was definitely time! Our old kitchen (original to a 50-year-old house) was literally falling off the walls.

* Jon and I went to Ecuador on a mission trip for 10 days. It was a phenomenal experience and something we would like to do again. We met many wonderful people and saw God do amazing things.

* Thomas and Tim went on mission trips to Pittsburgh and Portland, Maine, respectively. They both had marvelous times.

* We spent a few days at Rehoboth Beach.

* We survived dropping Jon off at Grove City College. It would have made a good blog, for sure!

* Tim is in college-mode now. We have some decisions to make. We are actually having a family meeting tonight to talk about it.

* Thomas made his 8th grade travel basketball team.

* Thomas and I celebrated his "coming of age" with a surprise trip to see Switchfoot in concert, complete with backstage passes and some awkward talks about, you know, man stuff.

* Karen is back to teaching 4th grade for another year. She is an amazing person. I get to see her a few times a week.

* We had an 80th birthday party for my father. It was a sweet time, although my aunt, his sister, passed away shortly afterwards.

* I kicked off another year of youth ministry at MVCC. Highlights so far this year include a ridiculous number of kids each week at our middle school meetings, and over a dozen decisions for the Lord including nine just this past weekend at our annual fall retreat.

I'm sure I missed a few things as well. So what this tells me is that 1) I need to make time for writing this blog, because it's not going to happen without discipline, and 2) I have so much to write about, I have no excuses.

So here's my promise to myself, and perhaps to you, to write at least twice a month.

My Good Friday Message

Several people asked me for copies of my Good Friday message, which I delivered on, yes, Good Friday. It was a 10-minute reflection on Matthew 27:32-44. It's a bit long for a blog, but here it is if you are interested. It would help to read the passage first.


Humiliation is the worst of human emotions. Most of us have experienced at one time or another. Perhaps it was a childhood humiliation born of our awkwardness, our red-faced moment before the whole class as they laughed at our misfortune. Perhaps it was during the teen years, as we were unceremoniously dumped by the boy or girl we thought cared about us. Perhaps it was later in life, the firing at work, the broken relationship, the appearance before the court. Humiliation is almost worse than physical suffering.

As Matthew records the crucifixion, he focuses more on the humiliation of Christ than on the physical suffering he experienced. In fact, notice how Matthew barely mentions the crucifixion – “and when they had crucified him…”

He doesn’t go into detail about the nails pounded through Jesus’ wrists. He does not mention the nails in his feet, the splinters in his shredded back, or the excruciating pain of being hung vertically, his full weight bearing only on spikes through bones and skin.

Matthew speaks mostly of the incredible emotional humiliation Christ underwent. He has already been stripped naked and adorned with a scarlet robe, a mockery of his claim to be a king. Likewise with the crown of thorns on his head, and the mocking jeers, “Hail, king of the Jews.”

The soldiers began marching the prisoner towards the site of his execution. Jesus is weak from the beating he has been given, so weak that he cannot bear the cross himself. And so a man from the crowd, Simon of Cyrene, is enlisted to carry his cross for him. Jesus is offered something to drink. A rare act of kindness, perhaps? No, gall’s bitter taste served mostly to deaden the pain, a foul-tasting narcotic serving only to numb the body and the mind, and Jesus refused it.

Jesus had few possessions, but what he had was bartered over by soldiers casting lots, like pathetic gamblers in the back room of a washed out bar.

He is flanked in suffering by two ordinary robbers, two low-lifes who are here by their own doing. Even they cast insults at him.

It is a public spectacle, and for some hideous reason, some evil that rises out of people at moments like this, the people watching insist on screaming at Jesus from the ground. It’s not enough that he hangs naked on a cross. It is not enough that he has been up all night, beaten, bruised, whipped, kicked, spit upon. He must be insulted some more.

“Save yourself! Come down! Didn’t you say you were the son of God?” Didn’t you say you were going to destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days?”

Perhaps it is less surprising that the chief priests, elders and teachers of the law mock him. At least we can know what to expect from them; they are the ones who set this whole thing in motion. These are the men who plotted to kill him, who paid off Judas, who sat in the corners of the rooms and the outskirts of the crowds where Jesus performed miracles and healed diseases. They stroked their beards and shook their heads and wrung their hands in anger and anticipation of this moment--these conniving mutilators of the law, these guardians of small and powerless kingdoms, these spineless collaborators of injustice. Do we really expect any less from them?

“He saved others, but he can’t save himself. He’s the King of Israel. Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. He trusts in God. So let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said he was the son of God.”

Sneering, contemptuous, disdainful words spoken from mouths overflowing with hideous hatred and unbridled jealousy. All the venom of the world and its unimaginable evil flowing upwards in torrents of verbal spittle to the solitary man on the cross who has done nothing wrong.

Humiliation of the perfect one, by the ones whom he came to save. And there, above his head, is a sign explaining it all. It was placed their in mockery as well. It says, simply,

“This is Jesus, King of the Jews.”

A mockery that is really a truth. Just like the other mockeries, which are in actuality, truths as well.

“He saved others.”
“He is the king of Israel”
“He trusts in God”
“He is the Son of God”

All of it…true. How ironic. How painful. How paintful it must have been for Jesus to be mocked by the truth. How humiliating is that?

So here’s a thought to ponder tonight. What if the tables had been turned, and instead of Jesus receiving the mocking and the spitting and the humiliation, it had been his accusers? What if Jesus had dragged them through the streets, had them arrested for their crimes and sentenced to die? What if they had been mocked, spat upon, beaten, and publicly humiliated for complicity in a plot to kill the Son of God? Can you imagine the signs placed over their heads?

“These are the soldiers, mere minions of a puppet king, without the backbone to stand up for justice.”

“This is the crowd, stiff-necked and bitter, easily manipulated, stupid at best, evil at worst.”

“These are the teachers and chief priests, power-hungry, jealous, enemies of the God they claim to represent, hypocrites, small-minded men guarding their miniscule authority with bribery and secrets. So pathetically cowardly they can’t even do it themselves, but have to hire a bunch of Roman soldiers to clean up their mess.”

Those are the words that should have been on that sign, a sign that should have been hanging over everyone else but Jesus.

But before we move on, let us consider that those involved in the crucifixion of Jesus are themselves guilty, but they are also representatives. They are representatives of all of us who have sinned against God. We are all deserving of the suffering Jesus underwent, and all deserving of the humiliation he received. We are no better than they were, we would only have different signs placed above our heads…

“This is Tom; he lives for himself and thinks little of anyone else.”
“This is Sheila; all she cares about is keeping up with appearances.”
“This is Gregory; he manipulates people for his own purposes.”
“This is Cynthia; she is unfaithful to her husband.”
“This is Albert; he is filled with bitterness and unforgiveness.”
“This is Mary; she is a thief and a liar.”
“This is Brandon; he is full of lust and hideous secrets.”
“This is Martha; she is a full of pride.”
“This is Jack; he is a judgmental racist.”
“This is Michael; he has rejected the Lord over and over again.”

This is me; I've treated the grace of God like a cheap date at a crummy restaurant.

Do we see what was really going on that morning at Golgotha? Do we see how the world was turned upside down, how the guilty were on the ground and the innocent was on the cross, how the evil were free and the good was captive, how the mocking was the truth, and the truth was mocked?

It was humiliating for Jesus. And it is humiliating for us.

Bible Fantasy Draft

This Friday we will kick off the 21st season of my fantasy baseball league. I started this league way back in 1991, and somehow it has managed to survive a complete turnover in league membership, work stoppages, steroid scandals, and the existence of Bud Selig.

For the first 20 seasons, we chose our teams through a "snake draft," meaning that we each took turns choosing players, reversing order from one round to the next. For the past two seasons, I ended up with the very last pick, thanks to my evil son Thomas, who chose the names "randomly" (so he says) out of a cup. I fired him. Twice.

This year we are doing something different. This year we will be conducting an auction. Each owner will have an imaginary sum of $260 to spend, and we will bid against each other until our money is gone and our rosters are filled. This will present a new set of challenges and strategies. Should I spend big money on the top players and settle for scraps at the end, or should I try to balance my team with middle-of-the-road guys throughout? Should I spend equal amounts on hitting and pitching, or is pitching too risky to spend good money on? I'm not really sure how it will go, but it should be fun.

This also got me thinking, What if we had a Bible fantasy league? What if we had to choose teams of Bible characters, but only had $260 to spend? Would we load up on "superstars," like Jesus ($48), Paul ($39) and Peter ($32), or try to get by with some of the lesser-knowns?

Here are a few of my choice picks and projected prices...

Elisha ($18). He's not quite the caliber of Elijah ($32), who is a human rain delay and bringer of fire, but Elisha can bring miracles and prophecies with the best of them. I think he's a steal at $18.

Joshua ($16). Like better known OT leader Moses ($36), Joshua brings excellent leadership skills and good experience in battle. He might be the one to get me to the Promised Land.

Job ($12). Yes, he's an injury risk and can be temperamental, but he's also primed for a major comeback.

Luke ($7). It's always good to have a doctor on the roster.

Andrew and Nathaniel ($4 each). Let's face it -- you're gonna have to pay big money for Peter, James ($27) and John ($31). These two guys are underrated and under-appreciated. Nathaniel is a guy you can trust, a good "clubhouse" guy, and Andrew enjoys setting the table for his teammates. I think it's a good one/two punch.

Timothy ($2). Since we have a "keeper" rule, meaning I can keep him for the next two years at a discount, it's worth taking a shot on the young guy and hope he pans out in 2013.

I would enjoy hearing your suggestions for filling out my roster.

Simply Blessed

Sometimes you find the best wisdom in surprising places.

I just spent the weekend in Chicago at the Simply Youth Ministry Conference. This annual conference is designed to encourage and equip more than 3000 youth workers for the daunting and beautiful work of student ministry. There were general sessions with worship, comedy, well-known speakers and concerts. There were tons of workshops with titles like, "Engaging the Soul of Youth Culture" and "Taking it to the Next Level: Advanced Junior High Ministry" (Enter your own joke here). And of course there was a small planet of exhibits filled with books and resources to address everything a youth pastor could ever need, with the exception of a chiropractor.

I enjoyed it all. It was a nice hotel (Hyatt). I ate well (on the church's dime). And my room had a 40" flat screen with NCAA games playing all weekend. It was worth every penny.

However, I must confess that it wasn't the conference itself that provided me with the majority of encouragement and wisdom. It was my traveling companions.

There were six of us from Frederick, all youth guys from the churches involved in Epicenter. We are good friends and have spent a lot of time praying and working together over the past five years. We all have our distinct personalities, represented by our nicknames for the weekend (Grandpa, Pa, Sista, Cuz, Bro and Crazy Uncle Dan). We all have our unique ministry contexts. But we all share the same devotion to the insanity that we call "working with kids." And like soldiers bonded by war, we share common experiences and a like-mindedness that we cannot find among "civilians."

That's why I learned so much at this conference. I learned more while we were crashed on the giant bean bags the conference was selling, asking each other questions about how we structure our student leadership teams, recruit volunteers, or relate to our senior pastors, than I did while the "experts" were speaking from the stage. That's why I laughed more sitting around the table after midnight swapping stories of "worst parent encounters," "mission trip disasters," and "worst thing we ever did to a kid" than I did at the paid comedians. Youth ministry is a strange animal, staffed by even stranger ones. Finding camaraderie and true brotherhood is all too rare, and we are blessed to have discovered it here at home.

So to make this blog seem spiritual, I thought of a few verses that might apply. How about Amos 4:10: "I filled your nostrils with the stench of your camps." That's accurate, especially after the Chicago-style pizza. Or maybe Proverbs 12:8: "A man is praised according to his wisdom, but men with warped minds are despised." No comment. I actually like these guys and I think they like me. So how about Proverbs 15:22: "Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisors they succeed." Yes, that works. Our impromptu conversations, questions, stories and jokes are what filled my head with great ideas, my body with a second wind, and my heart with the realization that I am in the company of fools. And I love them.

(For the film version of this blog, check out...)
http://www.facebook.com/reqs.php#!/video/video.php?v=10150099798002724