Jerseys for Jesus

So I was at church this morning and saw Peyton Manning, Percy Harvin and Drew Brees ...

Well, not them actually, but their jerseys were there. And I guess you'd call it a pet peeve, but is it really necessary to wear a football jersey to church, especially if you're older than a fifth grader?

I think sometimes people don't really think about what they're doing, or they might realize what a slap in the face it is to God. You think so much of another man that you wear that man's name and number on a shirt while attending the one (for most people) religious, God-oriented event of the week.

How can you worship God with somebody else's name on your shirt?

I don't know, maybe I'm just well on my way to being a grumpy old man. But in the meantime, I did think of one condition on which people would be allowed to wear football jerseys and the like to church.

OK, get an image of Jeff Foxworthy doing "You might be a redneck ..." jokes and then follow along.

If you wear a jersey for Jesus to an NFL stadium, you might be able to wear an NFL jersey to church.

And I think such a jersey would be gold (for heaven) with a red (for Jesus' blood) infinity symbol in place of a number and the name 'I am' printed on the back. I mean, really, if Peyton Manning is so important you can wear him to church, why not wear Jesus to the Colts' game?

If you wear a shirt and tie so you can leave the game early to attend church, you might be able to wear an NFL jersey on Sunday morning.

If you put on headphones to listen to a sermon during the game, you might be able to wear an NFL jersey to church.

If you rent a big screen TV to celebrate Super Church Sunday by watching your pastor's sermon, you might be able to wear an NFL jersey to church.

If you actually play in the NFL and have your own uniform, you might be able to wear an NFL jersey to church.

I Want To Know What Love Is

Well, as this blog is prone to do, it's time to take a detour from my ramblings to spotlight some musical meanderings instead.

The video above speaks for itself, but the reason I've posted this interview from November 2009 is because I've been recently listening to the new Lou Gramm Band cd. And it makes me realize what a testimony Lou Gramm has. It would be enough if he was just a famous rock singer turned Christian. But add in the brain tumor and wow!

The interview above (please watch now) doesn't really do justice to the seriousness of Gramm's 1997 illness.

"You know, when you find out you have a tumor in your brain the size of an egg, it changes everything," Gramm told the New York Daily News in 2007. "Even though it was benign, it threatened my life. All of the best minds in Rochester and New York City shied away from it -- and that kind of shook me up."

He actually was watching 20/20 when he saw a segment about a new laser surgery by this one doctor (Peter Black), so he called.

"I got a hold of his office that day and by that Thursday I was in the operating room. For 19 hours," he told the Daily News.

Gramm was already a Christian by that point, but the tumor put the halt on building the momentum Foreigner had from the success of its previous album, Mr. Moonlight.

Gramm hurried back and went on tour with Foreigner again from 1998 to 2002, while still recovering. The surgery impacted his voice, his adrenal glands and caused him to gain a great deal of weight before he quit Foreigner for good in 2002.

Two years later, he formed the Lou Gramm Band, including two of his brothers. His health is the best it has been since the surgery and while he still plays his solo and Foreigner hits, the words of the infamous I Want to Know What Love Is take on a different meaning, just as the video hints at:

I'm gonna take a little time
A little time to look around me,
I've got nowhere left to hide
It looks like love has finally found me

In my life there's been heartache and pain
I don't know if I can face it again
I can't stop now, I've traveled so far
To change this lonely life

I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me

Whiter than snow

OK, I'm back from my blogacation and ready to roll.

Two days over freezing in a row, and we are finally rid of last week's 5-inch snow dump -- except for those lingering piles in the parking lots, of course.

But the snow reminded me of one of the many metaphors Christians like to throw around ... whiter than snow.

The origin of the phrase comes from Psalm 51:7b: "... wash me. and I will be whiter than snow." And I'll bet more than a few of you out there remember singing the hymn of the same name that determined to drive its point home with the chorus: "Whiter than snow, yes, whiter than snow. Now wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow." OK, got it.

I even have one of those "salvation bracelets" hanging in my car. You know the ones with a black bead for sin, red for Jesus' blood, white for washing away our sins, green for growth and gold for heaven?

But unfortunately, our beautiful metaphors don't allow for carrying out a complete comparison. Because while our hearts can be washed whiter than snow, like the piles in the parking lot, they don't stay that way.

Once the snow has stopped falling, the pure white coating begins to fade under the tread of boots, the pushing of shovels and snow plows. As time passes, the snow fades into slush and those piles in the parking lot display specks of dirt.

In fact, today a wise 5-year-old asked me, "Daddy, why is the snow rotten?"

And the same question could be asked of our hearts, once whiter than snow, now specked with the dirt of life and sin and struggle. But the good news that unlike the snow, which ultimately fades completely away, our hearts can be purified again and restored to the whiteness they previously knew -- a sort of miniature resurrection until the ultimate day of resurrection when they will be permanently pure.

Just a few verses later in Psalm 51:10, David writes these words: "Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me."

It's all in the bristles

I had an epiphany while brushing my teeth ... really, hang with me here.

I have one of those toothbrushes that requires a AA battery (see picture) so that with a flip of the switch, the bristles begin rotating to help clean your teeth better -- supposedly. While that is up for debate, here's what struck me.


I stuck the toothbrush in my mouth and commenced to spiffing up those pearly whites when suddenly I realized, 'Hey, that feels different. It even kind of hurts. When did those bristles become so sharp?'

Well, it turns out my wife ... unbeknownst to me ... had replaced my old, worn out and soft bristles with new ones. But I liked my old bristles. They were comfortable. They did what they were supposed to do although I didn't really have to feel anything. These new ones are sort of painful, like they're cleaning a little deeper than before.

And that's when I realized that I had just stuck a metaphor for the spiritual life in my mouth.

I settle for a routine of doing the same old things, going to the same old services, singing the familiar songs, saying the appropriate prayers. But I get comfortable and soft, and before long I don't even realize the compromise I've made.

At least not until I hear something new in a sermon, a song or a scripture -- and it feels different. There is a sharp edge to it, even kind of hurts.

And, yeah, suddenly I'm cleaning off the grime underneath that I let build up. An appropriate resolution as it turns out for the New Year -- digging a little deeper, feeling something more, letting God's bristles do their work.