Playing Sports at TCA

I am not and have never been very athletic but while in school I tried. Since our school was so small I was on the varsity soccer team since the fourth grade. I started on the front line and every two years I’d move back a position. Finally, the last three years I played goalie. I excelled pretty well at this. There are a couple reasons for this. First, I didn’t have to run. I hated running, not very good at running. In fact, even in high school I could only do a 10 minute mile, if I was lucky. Second, we played other Christian schools smaller than us and so competition was average and most of us on the team had played together for five to eight years and so I didn’t have to do a lot of work in protecting the goal. 

I loved playing soccer. When I was in high school, our team was undefeated. My favorite games were when we played a couple of the soccer leagues in town. We didn’t win but I had a lot of practice trying to block shots. It was a lot of fun and I got to show that I was pretty good. During my senior year I received the MVP award for individual, league, and tournament. I still have those trophies.

I was not good at basketball but during my freshman and sophomore years I kept trying. I was told that if I came to practice I’d get to play and those who skipped practiced wouldn’t get to play. It didn’t work out that way. I came to every practice but ended up only playing a minute or two each game. I know I wasn’t very good and I finally realized that it just was not worth my time. I gave up my dream of a basketball scholarship and getting into the NBA.

We didn't play football or baseball for number of reasons but we did play softball. I usually played catcher and was an average batter. I had a golf swing that worked okay but I worked on trying to change that so that I didn't pop out as much. I was an average player but I enjoyed playing. In one of our games, I still remember a friend named Richard jumping over the catcher to get to home base and he used to squat down while at bat to make it harder for the pitcher.

I remember the bus trips to and from the games. One time we even had somebody moon us. We’d take trips all the way up to north Phoenix to play Heart to Heart. We’d play Mexican Gospel Mission (MGM) and one or two other smaller Christian schools. Half the fields we played on were not well-kept but anyone who lives in Az knows it’s not easy to have a green lawn with 100+ degree heat especially when soccer starts before summer ends. 

Coach Fulmer was the best coach. No matter the sport, he would run us ragged to get us ready to play. We'd hold really loud team pep rally's in a classroom. One time he told us that if we scored a certain number of goals he'd switch and put the defense on offense. We got to ten goals and begged him to switch. It was great to play a forward again, even if just for a few minutes. I believe I was able to score one. That was one of many great games. 

Playing sports at TCA was a great experience.

Honor and Respect - A Lesson Taught to my son

Today's Memorial Day. A day I spend more time thinking my past, my country's past, our current history, and the future of America and remember all the people past and present who have made our country what it is. One of the biggest things I am proud of was that I spent 5 years in the Marine Corps and served during Desert Storms and I'm proud that I was able to serve my country as a Marine.

I tried to teach my son a lesson yesterday because his actions showed he did not understand. I know he's seven and was trying to be funny but that was no excuse for his actions and showed me that I have not helped him understand.

While at church yesterday, the church played a moving video regarding soldiers and the honor and respect that we should have for those past and current and ended with the line, "All gave some, Some gave ALL." Then the church had those of use who have served to stand up. While I and others were standing, the church gave us a round of applause. My son starts patting me on my lower back and then he starts patting me on my rear-end. I sit down, turn around, give him a chewing out, and then didn't let him leave for children's service.

I let him go after a while and I thought instead of punishing him I should give him a visual aid that might drive home what some soldiers go through for our country. So this is what I did.

When we got home, I pulled out the movie, Saving Private Ryan, and had him watch the first thirty minutes. I debated on this being appropriate for his age and I think it would have if I'd let him watch the whole movie. When the family went through Arlington National Cemetery, I explained the significance of it. After the storming of the beach scene, I stopped the movie and talked to him more about Honor and Respect, to me as his father, to soldiers, and to this country.

I may have scared him from being a soldier. He said a couple times he didn't want to be in the Army after he saw the soldiers storming the beach but I will teach him to respect and honor our soldiers even if he never becomes one. Although, I do hope he'll one day become a part of The Few, The Proud, The Marines, or any other branch of the military.

Youth Group Activities

Some of the best times that I ever had at TCBC were at youth group activities. We had the best youth pastor, Dave Bunt. He came a couple years before I got into the youth group and was at TCBC for ten years or more. From my perspective, I don’t think they’ve had a better one since. Pastor Dave wore many hats and his biggest one was being a father figure to many of the kids and being a mentor to many others. Some of the kids that came out from under Pastor Dave’s ministry have gone on to have a major impact in the lives of others in Christian ministry in one form or another. I don’t have anything bad to say about Pastor Dave. I’ve always admired him even though we never had a close relationship.

Every summer I went to summer camp. We went to Colorado a couple times. We had great times up there with 4-wheeling, hiking, swimming in the icy cold river during the middle of summer, games, and even the preaching services. My parents came on a couple of them. My mother and her best friend would work in the kitchen. My dad would be one of the chaperones. 

We had winter camps a couple times. They’d only be a couple days long and they’d be somewhere north of Phoenix where there would be snow. I remember one time taking over the gym of a church with sleeping bags and Bibles. I remember the older kids trying to give the younger kids wedgies. I was one of the few strong enough to be able to fight them off. That was also the year that I was going to go skiing for the first time but there was very little snow and the ski resort didn’t open.

We also took day trips up to snow and Pastor Dave would find a spot on the side of the road and we’d all get off and tube, sled, or whatever for a couple of hours and then we’d head home. Everybody would be wet, cold, and dirty but it was a great time.

We also had local activities. A favorite of mine was when we’d take the bus up to Indian Bend Rd and skate down Indian Bend Wash down to ASU where we would skate around for a while. There was a time when we’d have to take some city streets out of the wash because it wasn’t completely connected. Some would stop at the DQ we passed and get ice cream. Later the path was completed to ASU and that made it nicer and then after doing this for a couple of years we were not allowed to skate on ASU property any more. 

I also loved the all-night activities. Sometimes we’d have all-night bowling and sometimes it started out as an all-church family activity but most families did not make it all the way through like the teens. Typically, youth group all-night activities would consist of roller skating and bowling. We’d spend 8pm to midnight skating and midnight to 6am bowling. Some would go to breakfast afterwards but I usually had to go home and go to sleep.

I’m sure if I thought about it I could think of more but that’s the highlights. The activities always included a preaching or teaching time before or during the activity. Pastor Dave loved to have fun but his primary focus was on training young men and women to serve God. I believe he did a pretty good job.

My TCA trip to BJU

Our school, TCA, went to BJU several times for national competition. I only remember going to one of these competitions. I went to several regional competitions during my high school years and I thought it was funny because these were usually after the national competitions. I was part of the choir and ensembles but I did not participate in any of the preacher boy or other competitions at the national competition like I did at local or regional competitions. To be honest, I wasn’t very good and it was just kind of expected of us boys. Below are some of my memories from that trip which happened in the spring of 1983.

The first memory I have of that trip was our group packing into a couple of vans and we had CB radios to communicate with each other and my sister being sick. There’s more to this story but for the sake of my sister I will leave it there. By the end of the trip we had given names to different kinds of smells and new words had been created that were used months after the trip finished.

On our way across the country, we stopped at a number of different churches. There was one place we stopped at in OK and they had a special service and a banquet afterwards. Based on some of the people we saw and us high school students being shallow, we did not think or say very nice things about this place. I’m sure they were nice but we were not and I’ve always felt bad about that. One place we stopped at had arcade games that cost us a nickel to play or we’d play basketball in the school gym.

This was the trip that I was introduced to country music. I had a Walkman type radio with headphones and the only thing we could pick up driving through the South was country music radio stations. They kept saying, “Up next, Alabama.” I kept waiting for this song about Alabama and I didn’t understand until later that they were talking about the group Alabama. I remember hearing The Judds, Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, Oak Ridge Boys, Alabama, and others. I took my headphones apart and my friend and I would share and we’d listen to it as the vans went down the road. I remember feeling guilty about the music and it was my first taste of music outside of hymns, classical, and elevator music. I was quite the rebel.

At the campus of BJU, we were put in dorm rooms. I remember feeling uncomfortable. I was always afraid I was going to break some rule, show up at the gym at the wrong time, walk on the wrong sidewalk, or anything else that I couldn’t remember I was not supposed to do. I remember eating at the dining common. It’s where I was introduced to grits. Gross. I vaguely remember singing and I think we did pretty well but I’m not sure if we placed or not. I remember checking out the art gallery, dating parlor, the bridge, and other interesting places around the campus. 

I remember running around BJU with my best friend taking pictures and his brother was a student there and we met him and his fiancé. I remember sitting in the auditorium and how big it was, especially the pulpit.

This is the trip that I was introduced to southern style biscuits from Hardee’s and make them with sausage, awesome!! I remember forgetting to order cheese for my burger at Wendy’s. I think that pay phones cost $.10 and I’d call my parents occasionally. This sticks out to me because I remember later in high school when it jumped to a quarter and we thought that was a big deal.

To say the least, this trip was quite an adventure.  

My Wife's Blog

My wife just started her own blog at Glimpses of Hope. Check it out. I'm excited to see what she's going to write.

“BJU, Here We Come” – Well, Almost

When I was in sixth grade, my dad decided that we were going to move to Greenville, SC. He was going to attend BJU and we were going to go to Bob Jones Academy. I remember telling everybody at school and church, which in my circles would have been mostly the same people. I was so sure we were going that you can imagine the surprise and even my disappointment when I showed up for seventh grade at TCA. 

I don’t know why we didn’t move. I just know that one day preparations were being made to move and the next we were staying put. I wonder how my life would have turned out differently. For one thing, I’d probably be a BJU graduate, in the ministry somewhere and probably spouting off the party line. I’m glad we stayed put. I was able to stay with my friends and I believe I received a better education and my life experiences have been more diversified than they would have been if my family had become a part of BJU.

Ad Hominem and other logical fallacies

I read a lot of different blogs and websites on a daily basis and lots of other articles and postings that I come across throughout my daily reading. Typically what I read is addressing abuse in one form or another. Some blogs and website are considered safe sites that don’t allow dissenting comments and other places thrive on discussion, debate, arguments, banter, whether friendly or not. No matter the website I find the comments usually the most interesting and I see a lot of logical fallacies being used.

We all use logical fallacies and my purpose is not to explore what comments are using what kind of logical fallacy but to make some general comments about some of the things that I read. If you want to explore logical fallacies, I suggest you visit thou shalt not commit logical fallacies. I think it’s a great and helpful website.

It bothers me when people wonder why the person is spending so much time addressing the abuse in Baptist fundamentalism and not the abuse in the catholic church or some other organization that is also known for abuse. I can only guess at the purpose of this but maybe it’s like being pulled over for a speeding ticket and having other cars obviously speeding past you while the police officer writes you a ticket and you’re wondering why they aren’t going after them or trying to catch a murderer or thief. You think there are bigger fish to fry other than you.

My thought is that people addressing abuse in Baptist fundamentalism, Southern Baptist, Catholicism, or anywhere else are doing it in the area that they are familiar. People know abuse is elsewhere but he/she focuses on his/her small part of the world that affected them. This would be like wondering why the neuro-surgeon won’t operate on the heart. I mean, he’s a doctor and he knows people have heart disease and he/she shouldn’t just work on the brain when hearts need fixing too. You’re a doctor and you’ve heard people’s hearts need mending. You shouldn’t just specialize on one part of the body.

It bothers me when I read about a person’s abuse and, especially when we know it’s true, instead of accepting the person, he/she is attacked and any mistake or misjudgment the person has done or is perceived to have done, whether real or imagined, is criticized and critiqued as if that makes the abuse any less real. People are not perfect and no matter who or what the person is or has done, he/she does not deserve to be abused and they especially don’t deserve to be abused again by spectators.

It also bothers me when people assume the motivations, reasons, or circumstances that led to what happened or why something happened the way it did and dismiss, discard, or ignore the abuser’s statements of what happened and why. It’s like being at a baseball game and yelling at the ump that he got the call wrong because we all know that the person in the stands or the person on the couch watching the TV can see it so much better than the umpire who’s standing at the bag a couple feet from where the action is happening.

It makes me sad when the abused are told to be quiet so they don’t hurt the name of Christ but in reality God was hurt when that person was abused. God was hurt when that sin was covered up. God was hurt when the abused don’t get justice. God is honored when the light shines on darkness, when sin is exposed, and when sin is defeated and the abused is victorious and people stand up for and with the abused. The name of God is not an institution. It’s not a church. It’s not a religious affiliation.

Jesus is a great example of standing up for the abused. He took a stand against the “holiest” people of His day. Jesus called the leaders and followers of the holiest, most righteous, and pious looking religious organization and Temple attendees of His day abusers and hypocrites. Jesus was concerned about His name. He couldn’t be quiet when He saw abuse. They even attempted to quiet Him a few times but they couldn’t and He couldn’t let them. He had to do what was right and that was to stand up for the little person. The person who couldn’t stand up for themselves.

Let’s be like Jesus and stand up for the individual who’s trying to stand up for what is right. Let’s help them find their voice and comfort them like Jesus would and not cast the stones of the “righteous” religious leaders who want to protect the “name of God” and not the true God of the Bible.

My Parents' Vehicles

One of the earliest cars that I remember my parents having was an AMC Javelin that was so dark green that people thought it black. I don’t know what year and I was too young (maybe 10 or 11 years old) to appreciate it but I do remember having conversations about the pronunciation between the Javelin (car) and the javelina (animal) and the “j” is sometimes an “h” sound. It’s strange what you remember some times.

For a while, probably when I was about 13 or 14, my dad drove a pickup truck that had a flat backend with side railings that could be removed. My dad put a bench seat from some other car on the back end but didn’t fasten it on and that is what my sister and I sat on the way to church. 

Then came the ’71 VW van. We had this for years and it was known for blowing engines and breaking clutch cables. As a teenager, it was not uncommon for me to push the van so that my dad could jump-start it. If it was my dad driving, it didn’t take much but my had more trouble with it and I’d end up pushing it quite a ways down the road before she could jump-start it. The other interesting part of this van was my dad took the middle seat and turned it around so that it set up against the back of the front seats and we as kids had to face each other when going anywhere. This seat was not latched down and had a tendency to rock occasionally.

I don’t remember us having two cars until we were teenagers and had finally moved out of our mobile home into a rental home. My mom drove a very, very old Rambler. The windshield wipers had a small motor right above the windows but it didn’t work and I remember a couple of times trying to move the wipers manually as we went down the road. Fortunately, it does not rain a lot in Az. 

It was not until we moved out of the house that my dad bought himself a new car.