Stupid Song Lyrics -- Christmas Edition

Here is one that I updated from the archives. Hope you enjoy as we enter this festive season . . .

Once again, we have arrived at the second Wednesday of the month, which can only mean it is time for another episode of Stupid Song Lyrics. In honor of the Christmas season, I thought it appropriate to delve into some of the more questionable lyrics from some of our holiday favorites. So, without any further ado . . .

1. “I saw three ships come sailing in, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day. I saw three ships come sailing in, on Christmas Day in the morning.” Subsequent verses: “And what was in those ships, all three?”, “The virgin Mary and Christ were there”, and “O, they sailed to Bethlehem, On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day . . .”

I guess I’m missing something, because I don’t remember the biblical passage that describes Mary and the baby Jesus on a ship—a ship in a flotilla of three vessels—sailing into the land-locked town of Bethlehem on Christmas morning. Is this figurative or metaphorical language? Is the writer of this song using one of those “paraphrase” Bibles? Or are these just . . . stupid song lyrics?


2. From “Here Comes Santa Claus”: Santa knows that we’re God’s children, that makes everything right.

Talk about your blanket statements. That makes everything right? Everything? You know, there are a lot of terrible things going on out there in the world today—murder, kidnapping, terrorism, starvation, violence and tragedy of all kinds. But you’re telling me that as long as we all realize that Santa (a fictitious character) knows that we are all God’s children (or as Bing Crosby sings, “we’re God’s chillin’”), well, then, that makes everything right. You’re okay. I’m okay. The world is okay. It’s all good.


3. In Little Saint Nick, the Beach Boys continually harmonize, “Christmas comes this time each year.”

Except for that one year when it came in March.


4. “Everyone’s dancing merrily, in a new old fashioned way.” Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree

Don’t let this one confuse you. When you are rocking around the Christmas tree (which all of us do, right?), dance in a new old fashioned way, not in the old old fashioned way. You see, at one point, there was only one fashion. Then, a new fashion came along so we had to distinguish between the old fashioned way and the new fashioned way. But as is always the case, eventually, an even newer fashion came along--this was dubbed the new new fashioned way. The problem is, when people would refer back to what had gone before, it was confusing. People would ask, "Are you talking about the old old fashioned way or the new old fashioned way?" This song exhorts us to dance in the new old fashioned way. Thank you for letting me clear this up.


5. The Little Drummer Boy states, “The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum.”

Really? A couple of animals were keeping time? Now how exactly did they do that? Were they tapping their feet on the ground? Clapping their hoofs together? Scratchin’ on a first century mix-master machine? Seems kind of unrealistic. Besides, in any band, the drummer is the one who keeps time, so why would the little drummer boy need someone (or something) else to keep time for him in the first place?


6. And finally, I want you all to enjoy your Christmas to the utmost. Don’t hold back from having the most splendid holiday ever. Celebrate with gusto! In other words, I want you to Jingle ALL the way! Don’t jingle half the way. Don’t jingle a little bit and then give up. Don’t talk a good game and then stop jingling on December 15th. Don’t make excuses. Jingle ALL the way! You can do it!

Taking the Gospel to North Africa and France

As you read the following post you will quickly realize that this is not David A. Quackenbos. It is however, his oldest son, David (or Chad) C. Quackenbos. My father has given me the opportunity to post on his blog today. I hope I can live up to the usual entries.

During my first week of summer in 2009 I went on a weeklong trip to Ecuador. I went on this trip because I was interested in seeing a new culture, eating exquisite foods, and helping out some kids. God had different plans. As the trip went on I saw firsthand the power of God, and by the third night I was completely shaken. The Lord dealt with me over the rest of the trip and since then I have felt the call to become a foreign missionary.

Throughout my senior year of high school, many things changed. I tried to take a more active role as a leader within my youth group. I also kept praying and seeking confirmation from those around me about this calling I felt. Those around me were very supportive and helped me realize that missions is where I need to be. Right now I am a freshman at Liberty University. When I arrived on campus in the fall I was immediately surrounded by a great group of guys. I have been given the amazing privilege of getting to learn from and be discipled by the leadership on the hall while also being able to pour into others through the ministry of being a Prayer Leader. My experience at LU has been one of exciting spiritual growth and maturity (though I still have a long way to go).

Since the summer of 2009 I have looked for more opportunities to go overseas. As I prayed about where to go a few things came to mind. First, I have recently read a few books which have laid the Muslim population of the world on my heart. Second, the only foreign language I know any of is French. I thought, ‘if there were a country (or countries) that was predominantly Muslim and also spoke French that would be perfect’. As I did research the area of North Africa came to mind.

Within the first few weeks here at Liberty there was a meeting held by Light Ministries (the global missions center on campus) in which they told us about all of the trips they are taking this year. Going into the meeting I knew what I was looking for, a trip to either France or North Africa. Sure enough, when I walked into the meeting there was a banner for a trip to North Africa and France. It was an answered prayer.

This trip will be from May 15th to June 2nd of 2011. The first week will be spent in a North African country being exposed to the Muslim culture. This first week will be essential for the rest of the trip. After the first week is over we will travel to southern France to help minister to Muslim, North African immigrants. We will be working with missionaries by distributing literature, helping with a kid’s camp, and prayer walking. I could not be more excited for the opportunity to share the gospel with these people.

I would like to invite you to be a part of the team through prayer and financial support. We have been asked to find at least ten people to commit to pray for the group. Through your prayers I hope to be able to better prepare for the trip both mentally and physically. To make this trip a reality I will need to raise $2700. I hope to be able to pay for much of the trip out of my own pocket. Please pray that God will provide the funds that I am unable to make through the support of friends and family. Thank you very much.

To donate: Go to www.luglobal.com. Click on "Light Ministries College Mission Trips" on the right hand side of the page, then on the next page click on "Donate." Again, the name is David C. Quackenbos. Thank you!

Seven score and seven years ago (November 19, 1863)

Does the name Edward Everett ring a bell? In the mid-1800s, he was a Massachusetts Congressman and Senator, also governor of that state, served briefly as Secretary of State under President Millard Fillmore, and was a gifted and noted orator of his day. He was well-known—so well-known that in November of 1863, he was invited to be the keynote speaker at the dedication ceremony for the Gettysburg National Cemetery. Just four months before, a brutal three-day battle had taken place on the otherwise peaceful fields of this sleepy southern Pennsylvania town, a battle that would go a long way in determining the future of the war, and the future of our country.

Well, most of you know the story. As sort of an afterthought, President Abraham Lincoln was invited to also share a few words at this event. Everett spoke eloquently for about two hours. After this, Lincoln stood up and spoke for about two minutes. And in that brief period of time, he gave perhaps the most stirring speech in our nation’s history, the Gettysburg Address. Everett himself is said to have lamented that he had not expressed in two hours what Lincoln had conveyed in two minutes.

Lincoln delivered the Gettysburg Address on November 19, 1863—one hundred and forty-seven years ago today. Most of us readily recognize the first and last lines of the address. It begins with the iconic line “Four score and seven years ago” (although, in my history class lecture yesterday, several of my students were not aware of what a ‘score’ is in this context), and ends with the equally memorable “that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” However, I am afraid that most people are not familiar with the large “middle section” of the address, and are equally unfamiliar with its overall purpose and meaning.

In short, the Gettysburg Address is a masterpiece. It is one of those works of art that gives me goose bumps regardless of how many times I have read it. I could probably write for hours commenting on its contents, and Lincoln’s brilliance, but instead I will try to keep my comments short and let the address, printed below, speak for itself.

Of all the salient points in the address, two jump out at me more than any of the others. The first is that Lincoln cited the proper foundation for his remarks: “Four score and seven years ago.” A score is twenty years. That means that Lincoln was referring to 1776, specifically the Declaration of Independence. Our county had been ripped apart by several sectional issues, the most prominent of which was slavery. It was THE hot-button issue of the day. You think health care, abortion, and border control are controversial today . . . well, slavery was worse. Compromises worked for a little while, but over the years, states and citizens became increasingly polarized and hostile. By the 1850s, Kansas had exploded into violence in what would be a precursor to the Civil War (known as “Bleeding Kansas”). In Washington, a southern senator beat a northern senator with his cane (many southerners responded by mailing this senator more canes!). In 1859, John Brown invaded Harper’s Ferry, hoping to incite a spontaneous slave revolt throughout the South. Then, of course, in 1861, the Civil War started. And it was, in a word, a bloodbath.

But in all this time, no president had forcefully enunciated that slavery was incompatible with the ideals upon which this country was founded. But in this speech, Lincoln begins by reminding us all that our country is based on the idea that “all men are created equal.” His ensuing appeal for a “new birth of freedom” in our land could only be achieved if it was placed solidly on this foundational idea. Compromises and half-measures would no longer work. Things after the Civil War could not, and would not, be the same as they were before the conflict.

The second point is that Lincoln makes it very clear that this address is not for the dead, but the living. In stirring fashion, he exhorted his audience—those who were still alive—to be dedicated to the task that the fallen soldiers had started. That task, in short, was for them to live lives that embodied the ideals upon which our country was founded, and to help ensure that all people could realize their inalienable rights. If everyone would do their part, our form of government would not “perish from the earth.”

Well, enough of my verbosity. But let me just ask this in closing: Is this “task” of which Lincoln spoke finished in 2010? You see, I believe that the Gettysburg Address applies to us as American citizens today just as much as it applied to Lincoln’s original audience. In my view, there are laws, Supreme Court rulings, and various practices that take place today that are not in keeping with the ideals upon which our country was founded. It is therefore up to me (and, I would suggest, all of us) to be dedicated to the (still) unfinished task that those soldiers at Gettysburg had “thus far so nobly advanced.” Lincoln was talking to a large crowd in 1863, but he was also talking to us.

I hope you enjoy reading and reflecting on the words of Abraham Lincoln:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great Civil War, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated can long endure.

We are met on a great battlefield of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we cannot dedicate, we cannot consecrate, we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it far above our poor power to add or detract.

The world will little note nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us, the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us, that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion,

that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain, that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom, and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

June 4th: From Bible trivia to bathrooms

June 4th was the final day of our five-day swing through northern Israel. We weaved our way from the Galilee region through the Jezreel Valley, and by the end of the day we were back in Jerusalem. The day was exciting as they all were, but the sad feeling was starting to sink in that this was it. Once we got back to Jerusalem, it was time to take our final exam, do some last-minute shopping and sight-seeing, then pack up to go home. The picture you see here is of Beth-Shean National Park, our last stop of the day. Beth-Shean probably had the most intricate Roman remains of any place that we visited, but more on that later.


I think I have mentioned this before, or at least alluded to it, but this trip had a lot of “Bible trivia” associated with it. Like the famous Rorschach ink blot tests, you might look at this photo and see a simple clump of trees in the foreground. But it is actually the biblical site of Endor, where Israel's first king, King Saul, visited a witch who called the prophet Samuel back from the dead (1 Samuel 28—things weren’t going so well for Saul at the time). Okay, if you insist that it is merely a clump of trees, you are right. But it is so much more!


Likewise, this is a drive-by photo of the town of Nain (you can tell that I took it from the bus). This town is prominent in Luke 7, where Jesus raised a person from the dead there--the only son of a widow. It consistently amazed me that so many places where biblical miracles took place are today just normal old towns with houses, apartments, shopping centers and automobiles.


These are the ruins of the fortress of Megiddo. This is where King Josiah was killed when he went out to fight against the Egyptian pharaoh and his army (2 Kings 23:29). Josiah was a God-fearing king, and he was sort of the “last best hope” for the kingdom of Judah. After his death, Judah took its last downward spiral into disobedience and was conquered and exiled by King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon. I have a memory aid for this historical episode based on Elvis Presley’s “In the Ghetto” (my version is “In Megiddo”), but I won’t go into that now.


This is a photo of the Jezreel Valley, which is a large area mentioned many times in the Bible, particularly during the time of rulers such as Ahab and Jezebel. The thing I remember most about the Jezreel Valley is that it is about the only place in Israel that was very flat. Unfortunately we did not do much walking there.


As I said, we ended the day at Beth-Shean National Park. This picture is an overview of the remains of the Roman city. Notice the very steep mountain in the background. This would be the last major climb of the trip!


And a tough climb it was. Click on this photo to get a closer view of this steep mountain. Notice the size of the steps compared to the mountain. I would add that what you can't see in this picture is that it took many steps, maybe about 100, just to get to the area of the palm trees in the foreground. This was indeed one of the steepest climbs we did! And when I got to the top, I was rewarded by getting to see . . . you guessed it, more Roman remains! (And a wonderful view of Beth-Shean)


This is a Roman stadium at Beth-Shean, with my seminary Hebrew professor signaling victory at the top.


My final photos from Beth-Shean are ones that I just couldn’t resist sharing with you. During this trip we spent a lot of time talking about the events, culture, and lifestyles of ancient peoples. This included famous folks like King Herod as well as the everyday people. One thing we never talked about—up until now, that is—is, how did all of these people go to the bathroom? Well, at Beth-Shean, we got a glimpse into this piercing question, at least from the Roman perspective. If you click on this picture, you will see a close-up of a sign that explains the remains of a Roman-era public lavatory.


So here it is, an ancient public bathroom. Now, without getting into too much detail, you can see the “toilet seats” against the wall. Notice that they were not separated. Everyone got to sit right next to their fellow-citizen out in the open air, one seat per customer (actually, they would sit straddled on two consecutive seats, and that’s all I’m going to say about that). When finished, they would lean forward and make use of fresh water running through a narrow trough to clean up (you can see the trough in the picture), using some sort of sponge or leaf contraption.

Admit it, don’t you feel blessed now that you know this little tidbit about ancient history?

The return of Stupid Song Lyrics

Well, it has been a few months since I have forayed into the realm of the bizarre and sometimes illogical world of pop song lyrics. So today I continue the second-Wednesday-of-the-month tradition with three song lyrics that have oft left me vexed and perplexed.

1. “Mama always told me not to look into the eyes of the sun” -- You remember this line from the 70s hit “Blinded by the Light,” don’t you? (sung by Manfred Mann’s Earth Band, written by Bruce Springsteen).

Since when does the sun have eyes? Hurricanes have eyes. Needles have eyes. The sun has earth-sized flames of molten heat measuring to about a million degrees Fahrenheit. This song is the only place that I have ever heard of the sun having eyes, and since neither the performers nor the songwriter are scientists, I am left skeptical. The other thing about this lyric that makes me chuckle is the folksy appeal to motherly advice . . . “Mama always said to brush your teeth before you go to bed, pack an extra pair of underwear, never kiss on the first date, life is like a box of chocolates, and, oh yeah, NEVER, EVER look into the ‘eyes’ of the sun.”


2. Speaking of chuckling, how about Steve Miller’s “Abracadabra” from the early 80s? “Abra-abra-cadabra, I wanna reach out and grab ya.”

“I wanna reach out and grab ya”??? In the infamous words of John McEnroe, “You can’t be serious!” I can picture Steve Miller being stymied for weeks, asking everyone he knew, “Hey, what rhymes with Abracadabra?” Finally, it dawns on him . . . “-dabra . . . grab ya . . . yeah, it just might work!”


3. “Girls become lovers who turn into mothers, so mothers be good to your daughters, too.” -- John Mayer, “Daughters” (2005)

Yeah, yeah, I know. This is a heartfelt song about a young man who realizes that his girlfriend’s emotional distance is not his fault, but rather a result of the lack of love and even maltreatment from her parents, particularly her father. Fathers and mothers must be good to their daughters. I get it. But, whenever I hear this particular line, I envision the following scene. A mother and her six-year old daughter are at the kitchen table, as mom helps li’l schnookems with her homework:

“Mommy, I love you so much. You are just sooooo good to me.”

“Oh, thank you. I love you sooooo much too, darling. But do you know why I am sooooo good to you?”

“Well, I think it’s on account a that you have an instinctual maternal bond with me that desires to provide for me and protect me and because I have intrinsic worth and human value as a child created in the image of God and on account a that you take seriously your God-ordained role to bring me up in the training and admonition of the Lord.”

“No, sweety, don’t be silly. It’s because some day you are going to be somebody’s lover. And soon after that, you will turn into a mother. That’s why all mothers should be good to their daughters.”

[Pause.]

“Mommy?”

“Yes, sweety?”

“Can I go outside and play now?”

My two sons (part 2)

Matthew’s surgery was a bit of a curveball thrown into our lives last week, and as we brought him home from the hospital last Thursday, we were not sure if we would be able to proceed with our plans to visit my older son at college over the weekend. As it turns out, Matthew felt fine by Friday morning, so we took off that afternoon for Lynchburg, Virginia, to visit Chad at Liberty University for Parent’s Weekend.

First of all, it was a terrific getaway weekend, even though we still had not quite recovered from being awake for forty straight hours during the appendectomy episode, or from falling further behind on all of our work. Nevertheless, it was a perfect fall weekend, which in the mountains of western Virginia means beautiful scenery of the leaves changing all sorts of wonderful colors.

We did the standard stuff on Parent’s Weekend. We walked around the campus, looked at a few of my son’s classrooms, visited his church, and of course, ate a lot of food. We also took a drive up some narrow, steep trails on a mountain right near campus, which I thought was fun, though it freaked out a few others in the car. All in all, it was terrific to see Chad, chat about how he is doing, meet a few of his friends, and talk about his plans for the spring and summer. On this last subject, he is planning to go on a mission trip after the spring semester to North Africa and France.

And, by the way, he has been having the time of his life at college since day one, meeting lots of new friends, leading a prayer group in his dorm, and basically soaking in all of his new-found freedom and independence. In a lot of ways, his experience reminds me a lot of my first semester at college. Even his appearance reminds me of me back then. The only big difference is—and don’t tell him this—is that his grades are a lot better than mine were.

On our drive home from Lynchburg on Sunday I got to thinking. You know, two years ago Chad went on a mission trip to Ecuador. He had a great time (which included eating roasted guinea pig), and when he came home he told us that he felt God might be calling him to be a missionary when he “grew up.” This was exciting news, but at the same time, Barbara and I cautioned him to continue to pray about it and see where the Lord leads. After all, this could have been more of an emotional reaction to the Ecuador trip.

But, in the past two years, he has continued to earnestly grow in his faith. He led a Bible study for the youth group at his church, volunteered to be a prayer group leader when he arrived at college, volunteered to speak to his old youth group a few weeks ago (they were on a retreat up near Lynchburg), and has his eye set on doing another significant mission trip next spring. Looking to the future, his plans right now are to attend seminary after college in order to prepare for the mission field.

As I began to ponder the broad trajectory of his life, it dawned on me that God is really “up to something” in this young man’s life. It has been one of the extreme joys of my life to see Chad grow and develop into an excellent young man, particularly in the way that he lives out his Christian beliefs. And, it will be incredibly exciting to see how God continues to mold him and work in his life in the future.

I suspect by now that you realize what “part 1” and “part 2” of this blog entry have in common. As my family and friends are aware, my life has been busier in the last few years than it has ever been before. The reason is that I have embarked on an “extended career transition” after my twenty years in the Navy, and this has necessitated a very demanding schedule. It is very exhilarating, though, and I wouldn’t change it for the world. However, sometimes I get so caught up in my day-to-day busyness that I don’t take time to appreciate what God is doing in the lives of my sons, nor take the time to thank Him for just how good He is to me. I honestly believe that God is “up to something” significant in the lives of both of my sons. I am as proud as a parent could be of both of them. At the same time, I realize that I don’t deserve such goodness from God, but give Him thanks for what He is doing in the lives of Chad and Matthew, and that I have the privilege of being a part of it.

My two sons (part 1)

Last Wednesday, as my nine-year old son lay on a hospital bed about to go into surgery to remove his appendix, our church’s children’s minister stood at his bedside. She was chatting with him and comforting him in the moments before he would be carted off to that mysterious and unknown place known as the O.R. Before she left, she asked if there was anything she could do for him. Pausing for only a second, Matthew said, “Can you pray for me?”

Having an appendectomy is an unpleasant and scary thing for a young child. First there is the physical pain in the lower right area of the stomach. Then there are the tests in the hospital, including the dreaded contrast dye that must be drunk prior to a CAT scan—not exactly a chocolate milkshake. The child must also endure various shots with needles—again, not a favorite activity. But on top of all this is the fear of having surgery. It became apparent to Matthew early on that he was going to require an operation, and he could not help but overhear some of the conversations between the doctors and his parents regarding incisions, the process of removing the appendix, being put to sleep during the procedure, etc. He was scared.

Throughout our long evening and even longer day at the hospital (two hospitals, as a matter of fact—he had to be transferred to the local children’s hospital for the surgery), one thing that I noticed is that prayer was at the forefront of Matthew’s thoughts. Before asking the children’s minister to pray for him, he had asked his mother and me the same thing throughout our time at the hospitals. To me, Matthew’s initiative in taking his fears to the Lord in prayer indicates a spiritual awareness and sincerity beyond that of a typical nine-year old.

Let me put it this way. We all face crises in life. It’s sort of where “the rubber meets the road,” in our Christian walk, so to speak. It is during these times when, if you are a Christian, you must ask yourself, “Is all this stuff I believe about God really true? Or do I simply pay lip service to it?” You see, it’s possible—and sometimes even easy—to go to church every week, study the Bible, memorize Scripture, give to the poor, sing in the choir, and do a hundred other “Christian” things, but not really believe in Him at the very core of your soul. Is there really a God who made this whole universe? Was there really a man named Jesus who lived, and died, and rose from the dead about two thousand years ago? Is there really such a thing as a “Holy Spirit” who lives inside of me? When things are going well, it is easy to answer “Yes, of course.” But when crises arise, we are given the opportunity to put into practice our stated beliefs. It’s like the difference between, on the one hand, understanding how a parachute works, and, on the other hand, jumping out of a plane with one strapped to your back. Jumping out of the plane shows that you really believe it.

Matthew made it through this routine surgery fine, and bounced back rather quickly, as most children do. And as I have reflected on this episode over the past few days, I have felt excitement, encouragement, and exhilaration over what I witnessed in my young son. Matthew is a Christian, and does a whole bunch of appropriate “Christian stuff”: Sunday School, Bible Drill, prayer before meals and bedtime, etc. But, in the face of fear, he realized that all this “stuff” points to what is really true. It’s not just a bunch of good works that he is obligated to do.

In addition, I wholeheartedly believe that God is “up to something” very significant in this young boy’s life. Since his birth (details in “My Story” portion of this blog), I have seen God’s hand on him at many times and in many ways. Seeing his childlike faith-in-action during his appendectomy is just one more incident where I see a very special, God-honoring life taking shape. It will be one of the immense joys of my life to see what is in store.

June 3rd (part 2): Walking in His footsteps

In my last Israel trip entry, I said that June 3rd was kind of a special day. It was the day we toured all of the towns around the Sea of Galilee, where Jesus did the bulk of His earthly ministry. This day included stops at the three towns where Jesus did most of His preaching and teaching: Capernaum, Bethsaida, and Chorazin (collectively known as the "Evangelical Triangle"). The photo you see here is a sign welcoming us to Capernaum, “The Town of Jesus.” Matthew 4:13 tells us that after His baptism and subsequent time of fasting and temptation in the desert, Jesus lived in Capernaum.


This picture is of a fifth-century church built by Byzantine pilgrims that marks the location of the house of Simon Peter. We know that Peter had a house in Capernaum from Mark 1:29 and Luke 4:38. Also, in this immediate area, archaeologists have unearthed inscriptions from another house, dated to the late first-century A.D., that reference Jesus Christ, Peter, and the Eucharist (Communion, or the Lord’s Supper). It was likely a house church (that’s where churches met back then) that met just a few decades after Jesus lived.


In Israel, churches are often built on top of places of historical significance. At the location of Peter’s house, it has happened twice. A modern church is built over this fifth-century Byzantine church. The photo that you see is an overhead view of the old church from inside the modern church (obviously, looking through protective glass).


Here is a picture of a statue of Peter in Capernaum, complete with a freshly-caught fish at his feet. Not seen in this photo are several inscriptions underneath the statue noting the significant life of Peter.


Having finished our tour of the towns on the northern side of the Sea of Galilee, we proceeded to check out a few interesting places on the eastern shore of the Sea. The first was near a place called Gergesa. The Bible describes it as the region of the Gadarenes. The picture you see is of a steep bank dropping into the Sea of Galilee (it might not look terribly steep in the picture, but believe me, it was very steep). This is the probable place where Jesus drove a legion of demons out of a possessed man, and sent the demons into about two thousand pigs. The pigs then ran down this steep bank into the Sea of Galilee and drowned (see Mark 5:1-17).

By the way, I had always been slightly puzzled by this passage in that, I thought Jews did not tend, raise, or eat pigs. I asked about this. The professor reminded us that the eastern side of the Sea of Galilee was known as the region of the Decapolis (a term mentioned in the Bible). As the name suggests, this was an area of ten Roman cities. Thus the pig farmers were likely not Jewish.


This picture is of prominent mountains on the northeast shore of the Sea of Galilee, and is the most likely sight of the Feeding of the Five Thousand. This is deduced primarily from what we are told in the biblical accounts, i.e. these mountains were in a somewhat remote area, removed from towns and villages, and could support the amount of people referenced in this event (which was five thousand men plus women and children, perhaps fifteen to twenty thousand in all).


Our last stop of the day was at the remains of the Roman city of Hippus. Hippus was one of the cities of the Decapolis. The photo that you see is the main road of the ancient city, the “cardio maximus.” Every Roman city had one. It was kind of like “Main Street.”


Hippus had a lot of interesting Roman remains. In this picture you can see an example. But, what I’d also point out is the mountain top in the background. Hippus was a city that rested atop a mountain of a few thousand feet! I remember as our bus approached Hippus, I noted a large mountain in front of us, but I thought, “No worries, the bus will take us to the top.” But guess what? The bus stopped half way and we had to walk the rest of the way up! Believe me, after a long day of touring, the last thing I wanted to do was make another long, steep trek.

As I think back on my trip now, I can remember having this thought on several of our “final stops of the day.” This trip was mentally and physically taxing. By the end of some days, I just didn’t feel like making one last climb to another ancient city’s ruins. But you know what? In every case, that last stop of the day was well worth any climb. I saw some amazing things on June 3rd, and even though Hippus may not seem to compare to a boat ride across the Sea of Galilee or Peter’s house in Capernaum, nevertheless, I can’t tell you how amazing it was to see the intricate nature of this Roman city perched all alone atop this breathtakingly steep hill. I would have hated to have missed it. I would also have hated to have been the first-century “delivery man” who had to hike a bunch of supplies up that hill every day for the people of Hippus!

Pet peeve #435: It’s not their “bye week”

As long as I’m on the subject of pet peeves, allow me to share another one briefly. We are in the middle of another NFL football season, and the pet peeve I describe here has to do with a specific word that I hear used all of the time during the season.

The word is “bye.” Not “bye” as in “good-bye,” but rather, as it relates to sports schedules. In the NFL, each team has one Sunday off during the regular season. The week varies for each team. For instance, this coming Sunday, four teams do not play (the Detroit Lions, Indianapolis Colts, New York Jets, and Houston Texans). The following week, four other teams are off, etc. This scheduling template has been used by the NFL for years.

The problem that I have is that for years now, whether it’s athletes or sportscasters or sports journalists or casual fans, I generally hear people refer to a team’s off week as their “bye week.” If you are a football fan, you’ve no doubt heard it a million times. “The Steelers are 5-2 going into their bye week” or “Who do the Falcons play this week? . . . Oh, it’s their bye week.”

And as is the case with most of my pet peeves, for years I suffered silently (up until recently, that is, when I can now blog about them!). Externally I grinned and carried on with the conversation, or with watching the telecast, or with listening to the sports talk radio program. But internally, I screamed, “IT’S NOT A BYE! THAT’S NOT WHAT THE MEANING OF ‘BYE’ IS!”

Let’s go to the dictionary.

Webster’s: A bye is “a position of a participant in a tournament who has no opponent after pairs are drawn and advances to the next round without playing.”

Dictionary.com: Bye: “in a tournament, the preferential status of a player or team not paired with a competitor in an early round and thus automatically advanced to play in the next round.”

The NFL regular season schedule gives each team a week off, not a bye. A bye has to do with automatically advancing in a tournament. Venus Williams might get a bye in the first round at Wimbledon, but the Detroit Lions do not have a bye this weekend. They just have the week off. Yet the use of “bye” is nearly universally accepted as valid to describe these off weeks. In fact, I just went to ESPN’s website to check out the NFL schedule, and sure enough, they use the term “bye” when listing the teams not playing on given Sundays.

I think the main reason I have this particular peeve is that I was a wrestler in high school, and an average one at that. As such, I often had to wrestle against a comparable opponent in the first round of a tournament. If I won, I inevitably would then have to face the top wrestler in my weight class in the second round. And more often than not, he was coming off of a bye, i.e. there were not enough wrestlers to match everyone up with a first-round opponent, so the top wrestler was not paired with an opponent and thus advanced to the next round without wrestling . . . the textbook definition of a bye!

And, more often than not, I would get manhandled in the second round of these tournaments. Having come off of a hard-fought win, I would go up against the fresh top-seeded guy, and I didn’t stand much of a chance. Those were painful matches, but looking back, at least I can say that they forever cemented in my mind the meaning of the word “bye.”

Pet peeve #253 (actually, let’s just call it #300): Estimation

Quick: How many seconds are in an hour?

(Pause to let you come up with the answer.)

Okay, you probably quickly recalled that there are 60 seconds in a minute, and 60 minutes in an hour. Therefore, the number of seconds in an hour is determined by multiplying 60 x 60, which equals 3,600. That’s the correct answer, right?

Well, hold on. Remember that I said “Quick.” I would suggest there is another way to come up with an answer, and it is theoretically quicker. I do it by estimating. Let me explain. I make a mental note that there are 60 seconds in a minute, and 60 minutes in an hour. But to make it easier to calculate, I round each 60 to the nearest hundred, which in this case would be 100. Thus my quick estimate of how many seconds are in an hour is 100 x 100 = 10,000.

So even though the actual answer is 3,600, I was able to come up with a reasonable guess of 10,000 by doing some simple, quick rounding. Surely you can begin to see the power of estimation.

Does this strike you as ridiculous?

Well, stay with me for a moment. Here is an actual question from an actual math worksheet assigned to my fourth-grader a few weeks ago. They were studying estimation.

846,543 – 587,018 =

I will spare you the need to do the calculations and tell you that the real answer to this subtraction problem is 259,525. But to find the answer by estimating, the “proper procedure” is to round to the nearest 100,000. So the first number rounds down to 800,000 and the second number rounds up to 600,000. So, the correct estimate of the answer is 200,000.

Now, I don’t know about you, but this astounds me. What good is estimating if your estimate is almost 60,000 off from the real answer? I’ll say it again. The real answer is 259,525, but the “correct” estimate is 200,000. Really, what’s the point? It’s like me “estimating” that there are 10,000 seconds in an hour. It’s meaningless. Not to put too fine a point on it, but according to Webster, an estimate is “an approximate calculation,” and approximate means “nearly correct or exact.” An estimate is supposed to be close to the real answer!

Sarcastic parent that I am, I tried to remember learning estimation when I was in grade school. And for the life of me, I can’t remember it. I might just be forgetting it. Or perhaps I thought it was so stupid that I’ve blocked it out of my memory. But what I do remember is this . . . brace yourself . . . I remember learning how to add and subtract really big numbers rather quickly so WE COULD GET THE RIGHT ANSWER THE FIRST TIME AND NOT HAVE TO MAKE BOGUS ESTIMATIONS!

Nevertheless, maybe I can briefly offer a more plausible alternative. Look once again at the problem I posed above. Maybe instead of teaching kids to round off to the nearest 100,000 in a situation like this, they can be taught to round off to the nearest 10,000. This would make the estimate look like this:

850,000 – 590,000 = 260,000

Now that’s a lot closer of an estimate! Of course, one might object that this would not be fast because a child would have to subtract 85 – 59 in his or her head rather quickly. That seems difficult. All I would say to that is I disagree. Instead of trying to subtract 59, just subtract 60 then add 1 back on to it. That makes it quick, and kids are capable of learning a trick like that.

Well, I’m going to estimate that a few people will not agree with my flow of thought on this matter, or wonder why it bugs me. But hey, that’s why they call them “pet peeves.”

June 3rd (part 1): Put your hand in the hand . . .

I was in Israel for three weeks, and without exception, every day was amazing, awe-inspiring, awesome, plus many other superlatives. It’s hard for me to say that any one day was better or more fascinating than any other. But if I did speculate in such matters, June 3rd might jump out as special. This is the day that our class toured the towns bordering the Sea of Galilee, so we saw many places where Jesus taught, healed, and performed miracles—including the Sea itself! Because we saw so much this day, I have decided to split it into two entries. As you can see by this first photo, our day began with a boat ride across the Sea of Galilee.


The resort where we stayed was on the southeast shore of the Sea, so our early morning ride took us across to the north/northwest shore, where Jesus performed much of His earthly ministry. This picture was taken from the back of the boat. At the front, on the right side, you can see our professor, with a microphone, teaching us. This reminds me of just how jam-packed our teaching was. The professor rarely wasted time; she spent a ton of time lecturing, answering questions, and providing various wise tidbits on bus rides (and boat rides) all over the country. I can't say enough about what an excellent scholar and teacher she is. We never stopped learning.


This is a picture of the Sea of Galilee from the boat. Two things. First, in the distance you can see the Arbel Pass, the narrow ravine that leads into the Sea of Galilee region. You might recall that we previously were on top of that dangerously steep mountain. Second, amidst all the excitement of taking the boat ride, I remember taking a minute to just silently gaze out on the water. We were crossing over the water where Jesus walked! This was the sea that Jesus calmed! It was almost too much to take in. It’s one of those experiences that is so incredible that I sometimes think it must have been a dream.


When we got to the other side of the Sea of Galilee, we went to a museum to see a significant archaeological find. This photo is of a first-century boat discovered under the Sea of Galilee in the 1980s. The story of how this boat was recovered is an amazing one in and of itself, because it took quite an effort (hundreds of volunteers from all over the world) to keep the 2000-year old boat intact and preserved. There are various clues that pinpoint the age of this boat to the time of Jesus. Unfortunately, there are no initials carved into the boat, so there is no way of knowing whether Jesus or His disciples (some of whom were fishermen) owned or operated this boat.


On the north shore of the Sea of Galilee, we visited the three towns known as the “Evangelical Triangle”—Chorazin, Bethsaida, and Capernaum. These are the three towns where Jesus did most of His teaching and preaching. The picture you see here is of a synagogue in Chorazin. Specifically, this is a prominent chair found in many ancient synagogues known as the “chair of Moses.” It was the place where the teacher would sit while teaching. You might recall that Jesus once harshly criticized the Jewish leaders when He taught, “The scribes and the Pharisees are seated in the chair of Moses. Therefore do whatever they tell you and observe it. But don’t do what they do, because they don’t practice what they teach.” (Matthew 23:2-3) Some of the students got their picture taken sitting in this chair, but after the professor had read those verses, I felt a little funny about it.


This synagogue also had stone remains with various decorations on them. The stone pictured here has an imprint of helios, the Roman sun god. This prompted an obvious, and very good, question: What is a decoration of the Roman sun god doing in a Jewish synagogue? The professor proceeded to explain that it is common in many cultures to have decorations that come from their society, and therefore some are of pagan, or at least unbiblical, origin. It seems kind of inconsistent with their sacredly-held religious beliefs, but it happens. It was at this point that I, ever the smart aleck, chimed in, rather loudly, “Hey, my church back home had six Christmas trees in the sanctuary last December.” Nobody laughed.


To round out part one of our June 3rd travels, I show a picture of the Mount of Beatitudes, named obviously for the location of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. I’m afraid the photo does not do it justice, for the Mount of Beatitudes juts out of the Sea of Galilee, forming almost a natural bowl-shaped mountain. This makes for excellent acoustics. In fact, I noticed that from several hundred yards up the mountain, I could hear music and laughter from one of the boats that was near the shore. Being there made it a lot easier to comprehend how Jesus could have addressed thousands of people without the need of a microphone. And, as was so often the case in Israel, being there made me ponder many of the teachings of the Sermon on the Mount. When you think about it, that sermon has a very radical message.

Part 2: Reconstructing the days of your life

Last time I posed this question: If you were able to replay any given day of your life (starting at an age when you are capable of remembering things), would you be able to recall at least one thing that happened on that day? I postulated that I think I’d be able to recall something—at least one thing—from the large majority of the days of my life. However, I did not express rock-solid confidence in this speculation.

Today I want to examine this question from a different angle—not in terms of replaying a day in your life, but rather by taking a distant memory or event and trying to pinpoint the exact day on which it happened. Let’s look at a few examples.

In a recent blog entry, I shared a memory from my early childhood about a day when I forgot to pay for my milk in the cafeteria. My question now is this: Is there any way that I can figure out the day (or even the month) that this episode took place?

I think you can readily see that this is a difficult task. In many cases it would be impossible to determine the exact day on which an event or memory took place. But as I have pondered this whole idea over the past twenty years or so, I have come to the conclusion that many memories and events are possible to reconstruct—even more than I initially thought. Doing so is like doing detective work, and sources such as family and the internet are very helpful.

Let’s look at my “forgot-to-pay-for-my-milk” experience. This is what I know: I know it happened when I was in first grade, so it happened in either 1972 or 1973. And it was a school day, so it happened sometime between Monday and Friday. And that’s about all I can say about it. Suppose, though, that I reminisced about this with my parents, and my mom said something like, “I remember that day very well. You came home from school and told me all about it. I had been sad about Aunt Matilda’s death the previous day, and this cheered me up.” Well, then, in that case, I could do some research and find out the day that Aunt Matilda died. Then, Voila!, I would then have “reconstructed” the exact day that the milk event happened. (I don’t really have an Aunt Matilda, it is just an attention-grabbing name used for illustrative purposes.)

What has fascinated me is that I have been able to combine distant memories with corroborating or verifiable facts and have come up with exact dates of events in my life. I recently did a silly experiment in this regard on the subject of rock concerts that I attended in high school and college. By combining the memories of specific conversations with relatives and specific known events in my life, and with the aid of the internet and my college yearbooks, I was able to pinpoint the exact dates of eight different concerts that I attended. For instance, I saw the Police in concert on August 20, 1983, Billy Joel on February 14, 1984, and the Cars on July 16, 1984. The Billy Joel concert is a good example of what I am talking about. I have a very distinct memory of being at that concert on Valentine’s Day, and I remember it was in my senior year of high school. Joel’s past concert dates are available online, so I was easily able to look it up and verify that my memory was correct.

All this has led me to an ambitious idea, and it is where I will leave this subject for now. I have never kept a diary or journal in my life. But all this pondering has persuaded me that I can reconstruct one to a sizable degree. So over time, as memories come back to me, I do a little digging to see if I can verify exact dates of events. And if I can’t get the exact date, I can sometimes narrow it down to a range of dates, or perhaps a particular month. When I can deduce a date or range of dates, I jot it down. And at some point, when I have the time, I'll transfer all of the notes onto an Outlook calendar, or something like that.

In the meantime, I hope I don’t forget where I put all of those notes!

Remembering the days of your life, Part 1

Imagine if you could board a time machine and go back to any day of your life. It could be ten years ago, it could be twenty-five years ago . . . just any random day. Imagine further that you could re-live that day with yourself, observing from a distance everything that happened to you, from the time that you woke up in the morning until the time you set your tired head upon the pillow at night. You could see once again (but not change!) everything that happened to you on that day.

My question is this: For any given day in your past (starting at about the age of five or six, when the human is capable of remembering things), would there be at least one thing that happened that day that you specifically remember? One specific event? One conversation? One thought? Or, are there days in our lives that contain no specific, discernable memories?

Now, you may or may not have thought about this question before, and you may or may not think it is an interesting one. But, in the spirit of confessing my innermost thoughts on the internet for anyone to see, I will say that this is a question that has fascinated me for at least twenty years. I often find myself pondering whether or not, given the chance to replay, say, April 10, 1974, I would say at least one time, “Ah, yes, I specifically remember that!”

The great thing about hypothetical questions is that everyone can give hypothetical answers, and (at least in situations such as this) nobody is wrong. But having contemplated this question for a few decades now (and, by the way, this is the first time I have ever told anyone about this), here is what I think:

I believe that if I could replay every day of my life, in almost all cases (probably more than 95%), I would indeed be able to recall at least one specific memory from that day—a joke that someone told, something a teacher said, a conversation, a fight with one of my sisters (wait, that never happened!), a baseball game, etc. But I do think that there are a very small percentage of days, most of which would be from my early childhood, where I really could not honestly recall one thing. I think I would certainly recall some “constants” of my life during the time periods in question—the wart on my finger, the dent in the back of the Station Wagon, the way that the dog acted when she needed to be let outside, etc. But I would not necessarily remember a specific memory that happened only on that day.

So in the majority of the “days of my life,” I think I could recall a specific memory. But whenever I start to feel confident about this answer, I begin to wonder if I am wrong. Maybe there are more days than I care to admit that have forever become black holes, where, even if I could see a replay of the whole day, nothing would jump out as memorable. Maybe I would only be able to recall a specific memory from 75% of the days of my life, or maybe 50%. But I rather think that there is more information (including specific memories) packed into our brains than we tend to think, which drives me back to my original conclusion.

Indeed my uncertainty over this is what has led me to ponder it for so long. What do you think? (To be continued . . .)

Just my four cents worth

When I was in kindergarten, or perhaps it was first grade, school lunch cost thirty-five cents. Great deal, huh? With the start of a new school year recently, I found out that lunch at my son’s elementary school is $1.90, and according to him, “it’s not enough food.” Now, this comment did not surprise me at first, since, theoretically speaking, there was never enough food in the known universe for my older son (now in college), and my younger one is catching up rapidly. But upon clarification, I found out that the standard lunch at his school is four items: entrée, milk, and two sides. I can specifically remember that when I was in school, the standard lunch was five items. Higher cost, less food. But of course, isn’t that the case with everything these days?

The conversation got me to thinking about the cost of a single carton of milk. My son told me that it is fifty cents. That doesn’t sound too bad, does it? And maybe it’s not. But hearing this gave me a flashback of an incident that happened to me in the first grade, when I was about six years old.

Back then, I typically brought my lunch to school, and bought milk at the cafeteria. And at the time, milk cost four cents. Four cents! That sounds kind of unbelievable now. Is there anything nowadays that costs four cents? But it’s true. I would bring a nickel to school in my pocket, and go home with a penny’s change.

One day, something happened that scared me to death. It was in the afternoon, and I was in the bathroom washing my hands. I froze in fear as I realized that the nickel was still in my pocket! I had taken a milk at lunchtime, and somehow forgotten to pay for it. I remember looking in the bathroom mirror trying to hold back the tears, almost in panic. What should I do?

Well, I told my teacher that I forgot to pay for my milk, and asked for permission to go back to the cafeteria. When I got there, I sheepishly walked “backstage” to the cooking area (a no-man’s land for students) to find the lunch lady. I can remember that she was surprised to see a student standing there. She asked me what I was doing, and I proceeded, nearly in tears, to tell her what happened. Pulling the nickel out of my pocket, I paid for the milk, and got my penny in change. I do recall a slight grin on the lunch lady’s face, though at the time I did not know why—this was a serious matter! But of course it must have seemed cute to see this little kid in such distress over a four cent milk.

As for me, I just breathed a huge sigh of relief. I had been envisioning the authorities bursting into my classroom to apprehend me when they found out that I was the one who had not paid for his milk. To have made things right and to return to class without the specter of trouble . . . that was a huge burden off of my young shoulders.

So, there is my “Honest Abe” story. It wasn’t a twelve mile trek in the snow to repay a penny to a poor old widow, but hey, nothing is as dramatic as it used to be.

And finally, this little jog down memory lane got me to thinking. With all of this inflation, have you ever noticed that the phrase “just my two cents worth” has never changed over the years? Somehow it has not “gone up in price” like everything else in our economy has. So, in honor of my four cent milk memory, and in recognition that it is time to raise the cost of this saying, and because I fancy myself a cultural trend-setter in inconsequential matters, I am going to start using the expression “just my four cents worth” instead of “two cents worth” in every day conversation. We’ll see if it catches on. Won’t you join me?

June 2nd: The northern edge

Since I have been home from Israel, nary a Sunday goes by when I don’t give my wife a nudge in the middle of a sermon and whisper, “I was there!”—in reference to a Bible verse or other anecdote made by the pastor. I’ve been back for nearly four months, so now that I think about it, she’s probably getting tired of it. However, one thing that was so awe-inspiring about this trip is that I had the privilege to be at so many locations mentioned in the Bible. Some of these places were rather obvious, like the Temple in Jerusalem. But some were rather obscure. But in either case, I found all of these places fascinating just the same. On June 2nd we traveled to the north of the Sea of Galilee region to the extreme northern end of the country of Israel. We saw some well-known, and some not well-known, biblical sites.


“This is the account of the forced labor that King Solomon had imposed to build the Lord’s Temple, his own palace, the supporting terraces, the wall of Jerusalem, and Hazor, Megiddo, and Gezer.” 1 Kings 9:15 The photo you see here is the gate to the town of Hazor from the time of King Solomon. Yes, sirree, an actual “Solomonic Gate.” We saw many such gates in Israel (for instance, we also visited Megiddo and Gezer, mentioned in this verse from 1 Kings), and it never ceased to amaze me that we were looking at the actual walls built during the times of the Bible. Solomon built the town of Hazor as a fortress in order to defend Israel from would-be invaders from the north.


“Simon Peter answered, ‘You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.’” Matthew 16:16 Later on we visited the town of Caesarea-Philippi, several miles north of the Sea of Galilee. Jesus had taken his disciples to this town to “get away for a bit” before His final journey to Jerusalem to be crucified. While alone with His disciples in this town, Jesus asked them a very pointed question: "Who do people say that I am?" The disciples had several responses. But then Jesus asked them, “But who do you say that I am?” Peter, of course, answered with his famous confession.


In Caesarea-Philippi, we saw a large, heavy device (sorry I didn’t get a picture of it) that could be turned in a circle and leave an imprint in the sand. The imprint, which you can see in the photo here, commemorates the important interchange between Jesus and Peter in this town.


“The Danites set up the carved images for themselves. Jonathan son of Gershom, son of Moses, and his sons were priests for the Danite tribe until the time of the exile from the land.” Judges 18:30 This verse in Judges tells us that the tribe of Dan, in northern Israel, worshiped carved images over the course of several centuries. The photo you see here is a cultic site in the town of Dan, one of the places where this false worship was conducted.


By the end of the day we had made it pretty close to the northern border of Israel. The photo here shows a white gravel road toward the top of the photo and a gray gravel road parallel to it in the foreground (harder to make out). Before 1967, the gray gravel road was in Israel and the white road was in Syria. The border is now a few miles to the north of here, but this shows you just how close we were to the border. It also reminds me of just how much of the country we traversed in this three-week trip.

When our day was done, we returned to the resort at the Sea of Galilee and took a nice refreshing swim. On this day I had seen places that had references back to three very different times—the Judges, Kings, and the New Testament. This, I think, gives you a good flavor of the layers and layers (and layers) of history that exist all over Israel. Anyway, after a swim in the Sea of Galilee and a great dinner, it was once again time to prepare for the next day and get some rest. June 3rd would be the day that took us to many places where Jesus walked—including the Sea of Galilee itself!

P2X

If you have been alive in the past year or two, chances are you have heard of “P90X.” It is the latest in a seemingly never-ending parade of fitness programs available to the American consumer. I have no idea what the “P” stands for, but the “90” signifies that the program is 90 days long. (One of the first things I noticed when I bought the P90X DVD set is that it is a 13-week regimen, which technically is 91 days, but I won’t quibble.) The “X,” of course, stands for “EXTREME,” a word that can only be adequately expressed by placing it in all capital letters. P90X joins the nearly endless list of “EXTREME” products on the market today. In fact, the only way I can think of to advertise this product better would be to call it “P90X-Naked.” (If you don’t get that, see my blog entry from September 15th.)

Alright, so, in addition to the slick marketing, I have also been impressed with the personal testimonials. Over the past year I know of several people who have done the P90X program, and to a person, they all have glowing praise for it. Over time I became intrigued enough to look into doing the program myself. And the first problem I ran into is that it costs about $120 to $150. I wasn’t sure I wanted to pay that much for a program that, quite frankly, I might use just once or twice and then never use again. But then I got an idea. I figured that there must be a lot of people out there who have paid $120 or more for P90X, used it once, and now it is collecting dust on their bookshelf. So, I bought the DVD set via Craigslist. After withdrawing $50 from my bank account and executing what felt like a covert drug deal at a local mall, I became the proud owner of P90X.

My next big decision (after making the purchase) was when to start my first 90-day run through. I already knew that I was going out of town for a weekend in September for my mother and father-in-law’s 50th wedding anniversary, where I would not only be away from home, but I would be doing a lot of eating. In keeping with my long standing policy of not starting any diet or exercise program before such a trip, I decided to start after I returned home. That way I would weigh even more at the beginning of the 90 days, and my results would be all the more impressive.

Okay, one more decision to make before getting started. That is, how much extra “fitness stuff” am I going to buy before I begin? Like any company concerned with the welfare of the American consumer, P90X recommends/offers exercise mats, fitness drinks, push-up hand grips, exercise bands, heart-rate monitors, etc. etc. In addition, they recommend that participants take “before,” “during,” and “after” photos so that you can see your progress. I think they want you to have your photo taken at Days 0, 30, 60, and 90 (why not on Day 91 when you really finish?).

Anyway, at the risk of great embarrassment, the photo you see above will suffice as my “Day 0” photo. Let me explain. The day that I bought P90X, I watched the first video in my family room, just to see what a workout looks like. By the end of watching it, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep on the floor. My wife thought that it was pretty funny that I fell asleep merely watching P90X (yes, it does seem pretty pathetic), so she took the picture. Things can only get better, right? Anyway, I decided not to buy any of the other stuff, at least for now. If I waited to buy this, that, and the other thing, I’d never get started.

By the title of this blog entry, you may have guessed that I have now been on the program for two days—it’s just “P2X” for me, so far. So, how do I feel after two days? MISERABLE! Day 1 was an hour-long chest and back workout, admittedly a weak area for me. In keeping with one of the program’s catch-phrases, I “did my best, and forgot the rest” (meaning do what you can, and don’t worry if you can’t do it all). I did a modest amount of the push-ups and pull-ups, nowhere near the full workout, yet still, I could not feel my arms when the workout was over. I didn’t want to be too sore the next day, but, by the morning of Day 2, I was—how can I put it?—EXTREMEly sore.

The Day 2 workout was “Plyometrics,” which is basically an insane aerobic routine which is heavy on jumping, squatting, and using the leg muscles. I began the day with my own “fitness drink”—a half a glass of milk with an 800mg Motrin. As for the workout, I could do only about half of it, which was more than enough for the first try. The thing I liked best about the Plyometrics workout is that my legs hurt so much that I actually forgot about how badly my chest, arms, and back hurt from Day 1!

Well, I’m sure I’ll have more to say about this as my 91-day adventure proceeds. While I am very sore now, I do believe that over time, once I get used to all this, I will no doubt enjoy the program to the EXTREME.

June 1st: Nazareth

“He [Jesus] went to Nazareth, where He had been brought up.” (Luke 4:16)

On Tuesday, June 1st, we continued on our five-day trip through the northern part of Israel. As always, we made several stops. But the key stop of the day was Nazareth, the town where Jesus grew up. The first thing one notices about Nazareth is that there is one high mountain in the city that is very prominent. You can’t miss it. It is called the Mount of Precipice, and it was our first stop in the town.

The first photo is of a sign at the Mount of Precipice. I was surprised that it alludes to a tradition that Jesus jumped off of this precipice to get away from the crowds. What actually happened here is the episode in Luke 4:28-30. Jesus had been preaching in his hometown, and the folks did not like His message. So, they led Him to the “brow of the hill,” to throw Him over. Jesus, however, “walked right through the crowd” and left. When you are in Nazareth and look around the city, you can see that the Mount of Precipice is the only place where this episode could have happened. As for the sign, I don’t know why it does not directly correspond to the Luke passage. I will say that while in Israel, I noted several instances where “tradition” trumped what the Bible actually says. Good thing that doesn’t happen in our Baptist churches in America.


This is a photo of the modern city of Nazareth from the Mount of Precipice. In the middle ground, you can see two structures with green domes. This is the site of the Church of the Annunciation, the supposed site where the angel visited Mary to announce the birth of Jesus through her. Again, scholars don’t know if this is the precise site, but it was likely in this vicinity. We later visited this church.


Here is another photo from the Mount of Precipice showing the other side of Nazareth, which is the Jezreel Valley (the only consistently flat part of Israel that I saw). I think this picture does a pretty good job of depicting how steep the Mount of Precipice is.


This photo is of the city of Nazareth from outside the Church of the Annunciation. It was pretty, and, it was the only place on the whole three-week trip where I got lost. For some reason I missed the call for my group to return to the bus (several blocks away). I didn’t panic, but at the same time, it’s a little scary to be looking around for twenty minutes and not seeing anyone you know, with no idea of how to get to the bus. Fortunately, our professor came back to get me.


Later we went to a first-century Nazareth village. Here you see a replica of an olive press, an extremely valuable tool in the ancient world, as olive oil was used for many purposes (lighting lamps, cooking, anointing, etc.)


After our visit to Nazareth, we proceeded to the region of Galilee. To get there, we traveled through the Arbel Pass, a very narrow, imposing ravine. It was a dangerous route in ancient times, however it was a key connecting point in the roads of the day, so it was widely traveled. We went to the top of one of the sides of the ravine, which was perhaps two thousand feet high. My photo does not do it justice, but if you were to take one step over these rocks, you would take an unpleasant fall of a few thousand feet. I found it interesting that there were no safety rails up there, no warning signs, nothing of what you would see in America. You were on your own to be smart enough not to get too close to the edge.


We ended the day by checking into a very nice hotel/resort right on the Sea of Galilee, where we would spend three nights. What an incredible treat this was! Here is a picture of the sun setting on the Sea of Galilee on June 1st.


When I say we were staying “right on the Sea of Galilee,” I’m not kidding. This picture is taken from the back porch of my room (How about that? Our rooms had porches!). It was about fifty yards from the water. I can remember looking around and shaking my head in disbelief. “Am I really at a resort sleeping fifty yards from the Sea of Galilee?” I still can’t believe it.