Moneyball - The Right Question

I watched the movie Moneyball this past weekend. It is worth your time. Based on the true story of Oakland Athletics manager, Billy Beane's attempt to create a World Series team on one of the smallest budgets in baseball, Moneyball tells a reveals the boldness of human creativity and the determination it takes to actualize change in an established system.

You can view the trailer below.

My biggest take-a-way from the film comes from the challenge to change the way we are thinking and ask different questions. When we are faced with something that isn't working, and trying different approaches doesn't seem to work - why not go all the way back to the question of what we are trying to accomplish and ask it and a different way?





Have you seen the film? Did it make you think differently? Where am I asking the wrong question?

Sunday Coffee Cup - Enduring Pottery

Earthen, grounded, primal and essential are all words I think of when I encounter pottery. The connection between potter and medium is the creation moment. Dripping earth, turning upon the wheel, yielding to the slightest touch or brushing stroke of artist colliding with possibility – this is the moment I see in every piece of pottery.

There is something more substantial in a pottery mug. The weight of it and the irregularities of shape and color demand that each piece be seen and treated as individual. Pottery seems never to disconnect with its origins. No matter how finely shaped, painted or glazed, just the substantial feel of the pottery cup in my hands reminds me that it came from that particular combination of earth and craft. This morning’s Sunday Coffee Cup holds the honor of being the longest surviving piece of hand crafted pottery in my home.

It was a gift from my days as a pastor and has traveled between parsonages and offices; always radiating warmth to my hands as they clasped around its solid coil. It has held coffee, tea and the hopes and fears of a young pastor trying to make a difference. It's listened to people’s secrets and the rhythm of a daisy wheel printer typing out sermons. This potter's cup has seen months of daily use and adoration and has spent its time gathering dust on bookshelves and holding unused pens. It has survived moving boxes and the division of marital goods. Somehow, it remained in an unassuming fashion, waiting patiently for its turn to be held and used – to serve its quiet and steady purpose – solid, earthen, and primal is this cup.

It is amazing, warmed by the brew it holds today, cradled between my hands, all that this Sunday Coffee Cup holds for me.

My Tim Tebow Problem

With Denver’s loss in the playoffs, the dust is settling somewhat on the Tim Tebow news hype, and it is time for me to vent a bit at the media frenzy that has made this an event.  I have some thoughts about this public praying, football slinging, media promoted, and public adored Tebow event.

First, the good stuff. What I like about the high level of attention in the media and in the public includes the following:

1. The media is talking about something in the religious realm other than political issues.
2. It is nice that the news about a professional athlete is about personal faith and not guns, crime, and dog fighting.
3. That a conversation about prayer and its impact on a person’s life is in the news.
4. It is good to see that people, youth in particular, are finding some hope in faith and prayer.

Then, the stuff that drives me crazy:
1. Do we really believe the somehow Tim Tebow has been chosen by God to demonstrate God’s power through football victories? Does God invest in the outcome of the NFL games?
2. Since when did a nationally televised dramatic display of prayer posture become the symbol of spirituality? I’ve always had a problem with drama around public prayer. Tebow is too much of an exhibitionist for me. Tebowing isn’t praying - it’s parading.

The amazing thing is that apparently the US population, fueled by the media, still has interest in the David and Goliath paradigm.  You know the story: small undersized boy, undergirded by God and a simple faith, sleighs the giant warrior of the evil empire. It is an enduring story and one that has been popular for centuries. David, Luke Skywalker, Tim Tebow… ? The problem is that the storyline needs to deal with something that really matters – on a universal and spiritual scale to make sense. I just don’t get how Tebow’s situation is anything more than a passing sentimental David and Goliath story. Is there really anything of godly significance here? This is football we are dealing with – not global military domination or genocide.

When a professional athlete, parading around in prayer and Jesus language becomes the poster child for faith in action we have a real problem. One glance at the lives of some real spiritual warriors - Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Martin Luther King, Jr., George Fox, Desmond Tutu, Mata Amritanandamayi – reveals lives lived in self sacrifice and service of others for causes that were not self promoting.  While I have reasons to believe Tim Tebow is a caring person, it appears he has, unfortunately been led to (and willingly followed) a position of a plastic and shallow public display under the guise of spirituality.  All the while, we have run screaming to adore the latest rock star of American Christianity (Tim Tebow has over 1.5 million subscribers to his Facebook page).

Forgive me if I wish him well, kick dust on the media and walk the other way while trying to remember something of more substance.

Digital Prison

Sometimes, this is me.

Word Wednesday - Alate

alate  \ EY-leyt \  , adjective, noun;
1.Having wings; winged.
2.Having membranous expansions like wings.

noun: The winged form of an insect when both winged and wingless forms occur in the species.

Alate - Again, I was a late arrival. Oh, how often I wish to be an alate human to speed my travels.

The Loss of the Virtual Self

Sometimes, I miss the days when who I was online wasn't so intimately connected to who I am in real life. I once kept a blog under a pseudonym and as a result felt a liberating permission to voice there anything at anytime about any subject. It was a wonderful forum for processing thoughts and feelings.

Today, Social Media and the sophistication of Search makes it easy to see who is behind the posts, updates and mentions.

Do you ever miss the days of virtual anonymity?

Sunday Coffee Cup - Cafe Roche

Jazz floats through the space accompanied by a pleasant din of community conversation. A chat about home repairs, banter about the most accomplished local jazz groups and the common agreement that this is the best coffee served in tow are all a part of my morning today.

I often drive the short distance from my home to Café Roche on Sunday morning. If you’ve been there you know why. There is a welcoming eclectic mix of décor and people– always. Today’s coffee cup doesn’t come from my cupboard and isn’t adorned with a clever saying or photo, but it is rich and familiar in both its simple form and steaming content.

I enjoy my stops at Café Roche. This morning is a writing day, so I’ll nestle into the back corner of the use to be white sofa and pound out an hour or so worth of creative writing. Maybe I’ll write down my thoughts about the current craze around Tebowing (oh I have some strong thoughts about God and football), or continue my work on “Things I Wish I Had Said from the Pulpit”, but whatever comes the energy here will help. It is strong, animated and stimulating – just like this Sunday Coffee Cup.

Note: If you like, find out more about Café Roche over at Sarah’s blog.

In From The Sea - Poetry Repost

When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear the

crackle of palm fronds breaking free from the heat
hiss of sea oats defiantly bowing inland
whisper of sand celebrating its lofty release from gravity
sputter of foam cascading skyward cut from wave caps
chimes of delicate shells dancing across dunes

When the wind blows in from the sea you can hear the
prayers of ancient mariners reaching home.

Word Wednesday - Cimmerian

Cimmerian \si-MEER-ee-uhn\   , adjective:
1. Very dark; gloomy; deep.
2. Classical Mythology. Of, pertaining to, or suggestive of a western people believed to dwell in perpetual darkness.

Cimmerian - I had been depressed before, many times depressed, but this most recent season of despair had taken me to a cimmerian existence, a lifeless place for any soul.

Sunday Coffee Cup - A Welsh Dragon Friend

Although the dragon has been associated with many cultures, events and causes, one of the oldest and most continuous references is the Welsh dragon. Commonly attributed to the coat of arms of King Arthur, the Welsh dragon has flown for centuries over castles, armies and feasts.

This morning, a Welsh dragon stands undaunted in my kitchen; a coffee cup sporting a pewter design given to me by a long standing friend as a gift this past Christmas.

 The dragon is a welcome member in our home. Somewhere in my own ancestry, I have Welsh heritage.  My wife’s Chinese zodiac sign is the dragon. I have read more stories and novels about dragons than I care to publicly admit (although, if you haven’t discovered Christopher Paolini’s “Inheritance Cycle” you should).  Yet, what gives this mug particular brilliance this morning is the manner and source of the gift.

We all have them, friends who have been with us for a long time. They're the friends who know us “warts and all.” Friends -that take the time to visit, laugh and celebrate with you. Friends -who have stood with you through your best and worst, reminding you not to take too much credit for the former nor too much blame for the later. Such is the friend who gifted me with the Welsh dragon of today’s Sunday Coffee Cup. For these reasons alone I am grateful. The cup is more, however.

Over the past two years, this friend of mine has struggled with employment. This Christmas has found him on the short end of long line of financial challenges and still unemployed. Unable to buy gifts this Christmas, he gave me this gift from his common possessions – something he regularly used and valued. He chose to offer to me a measure of his life, a gift – appropriate in nature for sure – but a gift that meant he would in a small way, be doing with less by the giving of it. There is something remarkably refreshing in such giving and in this cup of coffee this morning.