Transitory Psychosis

In recent days a series of celebrities have died. Three such deaths have prompted my thinking. One was an actor: Farrah Fawcett. One was a musician/entertainer: Michael Jackson. One was a former NFL quarterback: Steve McNair.

Farrah, and MJ were part of my world as a teen. McNair captured my attention after I moved to Tennessee, where he played for the Titans. All three individuals were talented in their own way and rose to public notoriety as a result. Their deaths have left literally millions of people mourning the loss.

Unfortunately, each died with a certain shadow over them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not depreciating their talents and contributions. Judging by the testimonials I’ve seen on TV, all three had a profound positive effect on some people. Still, even their friends have to look past certain indiscretions or unanswered questions to find the good.

I’m not suggesting we adopt a holier-than-thou attitude about these deaths. We’ve all got too many skeletons in the closet to adopt an attitude of moral superiority. What I am reminded of, however, is that in spite of all their accomplishments, all their money, and all their popularity, their lives came to an end.

Some years ago, I did a graveside funeral service for a homeless man. I rode in the hearse (the front seat), alongside the funeral director. Upon arriving at the cemetery, the director recruited four cemetery employees to help carry the casket to the grave. When it was in place, we gathered around –the director, the workers in their dirty jumpsuits, and me. No family. No friends. No acquaintances. None of us even knew the man. I read Scripture. Talked for a moment about the brevity of life and the love of a just God. I prayed. We left.

Today I am reminded that these celebs and that homeless man, though occupying quite different places in life, stood on level ground in the end. Death is the great equalizer. The writer of Hebrews put it this way: “. . . it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment” (Hebrews 9:27).

The reality is that every person on this planet will die and all will face their Creator. A sobering thought for all. And for some, a heartbreaking thought.

Jesus, however, offered the counterpoint: “I am the resurrection, and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die” (John 11:25-26). Then Jesus asked, “Do you believe this?” (verse 27). I do. Do you?

March Madness has begun. The first round games are well underway. Some are already in the books. All across the country, people are sneaking a peek at the scores (or more) at the office and some (like one of our associate editors) has taken time off to enjoy the festivities at home.

For the fan, March Madness needs no explanation. It is one of the most fun events in sports–64 NCAA basketball teams battling it out for the right to be number one.

For the non-fan, March Madness is a head-scratcher. Why would perfectly sane men and women spend hours trying to complete their brackets with winning guesses and then spend more hours watching to see if their guesses were correct?
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I well remember the shock of discovering how many great basketball players there were in the world. I thought I was pretty good when I only played against my friends, at my school, or in my region. Even in those areas, there were guys better than me. But when I got outside the box of my little athletic world I was blown away! There were tens of thousands of players I couldn’t begin to compete with.

In this day of ultra-organized kid’s sports, it is tempting for parents to believe Junior will almost certainly win a full-ride college scholarship and even cash in on a big pro contract one day. I read an article by Walt Mueller (president of Center for Parent/Youth Understanding) in the Fall issue of CPYU’s journal, Engage, that speaks to this issue. (To read the entire article, click here.”
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Unless you were living under a rock in the early 1980s (or a womb or merely your parents’ imagination, like some of my RHP colleagues), you undoubtedly remember the movie, “Chariots of Fire.” The movie followed the story of two UK sprinters (Eric Liddell of Scotland and Harold Abrahams of England) who were rivals in the early 1920s and gold medalists in the 1924 Olympics.

The story is both engaging and inspirational. Liddell’s deep faith (he was the son of missionaries to China and was actually born there) figures prominently into the film, as does his famous quote, “When I run, I feel His [God's] pleasure.” After the Olympics, Harold Abrahams became a well-known English sports commentator and chairman of the Amateur Athletic Association. Liddell, however, returned to China where he served as a missionary until his death in a Japanese internment camp just four months prior to the end of World War II.
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Airline flights aren’t supposed to be fun . . . at least I don’t think they are. Tonight, October 11, I’m on a plane from Chicago back home to Nashville. This time, the plane is full and one of the passengers is ex-Tennessee Titan football player Eddie George. Although he is retired, Eddie is still drawing considerable attention from those who admired and followed his playing career in the NFL. Let me tell you, Eddie looks very muscular, as though he could walk on the football field right now and compete at the same high level.

He’s been gracious to those who’ve asked for autographs and those who want to shake his hand. I find it interesting that he is flying Southwest Airlines, the low-cost airline that has no first class section. It makes me wonder. Is he as broke as the rest of us who are looking for a way to save a buck? Or is he merely being smart with the millions he made in the NFL, not throwing it away needlessly. On the other hand, could he be flying on someome else’s dime and they would only spring for the cheap tix? Of course, none of it matters. Whatever the reason, he’s flying with the rest of us on Cattle Call Air.
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The 2008 Olympics are over, but I’m still thinking about them so I’ve decided to put into words some of the random thoughts rolling around in my brain. Nothing profound, to be sure, but just a peek into my near-empty cranial cavity.

Michael Phelps is one amazing guy. Dara Torres made 40 somethings everywhere feel better and worse. Better in that she proved crossing the four decade mark doesn’t mean you have to be put out to pasture—even in the world of athletics. (Yea, for us!) Worse in that we are reminded again that we’re not too old to be in shape. (Woe is me.)
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I was reminded yesterday by an article on maximumimpact.com of an Olympic story that had slipped from conscious memory—the decathlon duel of Dave Johnson and Dan O’Brien that was supposed to take place in 1992 in Barcelona. As the Games approached, Reebok saw an opportunity and played up the rivalry of the strait-laced Dave and free-spirited Dan. The two were the best decathletes in the world and it seemed the only question was who would get gold and who would get silver.
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I’ve already posted today, but I wanted to share this video of Team Hoyt—a father/son team competing in the Iron Man Triathlon. I’ve read a lot about them, but hadn’t see this video. I thought you might enjoy it. I’m not sure if they are Christians, but the video of a father’s love for his disabled son is inspiring.

Baseball needs a new hero and Josh Hamilton, an outfielder with the Texas Rangers, just might be the man. Hamilton wowed ‘em at this year’s Home Run Derby by hitting 28 baseballs over the fence in a single round. While Hamilton didn’t actually win the contest, his towering blasts into the far reaches of Yankee Stadium will long be remembered as the highlight of the derby.
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It’s baseball season, and I love it! Although I played basketball in high school and college and quit baseball in junior high with arm problems, baseball has always been my first love in the world of sports. I’ve heard all the complaints about the game being too slow and I’ve followed the steroid stories, but I can’t help it—I still love the game.

Baseball is a lot like a duck paddling placidly through the water. On the surface it seems like he’s just floating along, taking it easy, but beneath the surface his feet are a blur of motion. To the untrained eye, baseball seems like a slow, lazy game, punctuated with moments of frenzied action. In reality, however, there is much more going on beneath the surface.
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