explanation: Johannes Brahms!

sorry for the delay in blogging, everybody. i have VERY limited computer access right now . . . so enjoy this!

Really Big News

So . . . maybe you've heard . . . I've taken another job.

After ten years (and eight months) working at Harvest Bible Chapel, I've taken a new position at Cornerstone University that begins this fall.

I'll be doing three main things at Cornerstone. (1) I'm going to be overseeing music and worship for their chapel services; (2) I'm going to be serving as adjunct faculty in their music division; and (3) I'm going to get a Master's degree from Grand Rapids Theological Seminary.

For some of you, this announcement might seem to come out of no where, others of you who might know me a little better can see this as the next divinely inspired step for both my ministry and my family. We are thankful to God for leading us.

Now, the most difficult part of this decision has been the decision to leave HBC. I have been attending Harvest Bible Chapel since September of 1993. I have grown and learned so much there. We love the church, and if my goal was to stay in a place where I am the most loved, respected, cherished, and well-paid, I would never leave.

But Jesus said, "By this my Father is glorified, that you bear much fruit" and so my life has to be about more than gathering appreciation and resources. I must be about stewarding my strength, gifts, and opportunities for maximum impact in the kingdom of Jesus Christ.

I believe that Cornerstone is entering a new season of ministry that has fantastic potential for bearing much fruit. Their new President, Dr. Joe Stowell, is a proven leader and a friend who I believe in. Cornerstone will provide a great place for me to sharpen my musical and leadership skills and talking with their students will help my sharpen my thinking about worship and the Lord. It will be a joy to advance the kingdom in Grand Rapids for the glory of Jesus Christ.

Some of you remember my post about my friend Joel Noland, who is going back to active duty with the Marines.

He's set up a blog to keep people in the loop, at joelnoland.com.

NEW SERIES: starts with new header

the new series I'm doing this next week was so important, it demanded a new header.

Can you guess? Can you guess?

big series coming next week

including a new banner!

Explanation

Sorry for all the quote posts recently, everybody.

I've got nine string players this weekend who require sheet music arranged for them. And a God who requires my perfection. And a Savior who provides it for me. And a thankful heart.

Thinking about blogging

I'm making a proposal to change the blog over at jamesmacdonald.com. Any suggestions?

Target audiance? Graphics? Topics of interest?

Retro change: hair today . . .

brief break. CHANGE COMING . . .

I'm in FLORIDA all week. And when I come back, there's a huge RETRO change coming - that will be seen in THIS PICTURE.







I'll be looking for your opinion, or . . . uh . . . [RETRO]grade.

Post # 400

Time for a little quiz!

1. What's the square of 20?
2. How many "grads" are in a circle?
3. What is the http status code for a bad request?
4. What's the most popular Lebanese card game?
5. What year was First invasion of Italy by Alaric?

In all seriousness, thanks for reading the blog and for the conversation. It's really encouraging.

lalalandon: i heart hats

read the internet's funniest/ profoundest man: Landon MacDonald. His post on hats is breathtaking.

Poll: How often do you read [retro]?

How often do you read retro-evangelical?
	Are you kidding me?
	You haven't posted anything for, like, a long time.
	You taunted me with "I'm in Michigan and will blog soon,"
	then you waste my time with a poll? Get serious, blogman!
pollcode.com free polls

Blogging needs a patron saint.

I suggest Augustine.

"For I am the sort of man who writes because he has made progress, and who makes progress -- by writing." St. Augustine

8 MINUTE segments

It's time to blog, and I've got to do it in 8 minute segments. Wanna know why?

Well, my wife is at a pastor's wife's retreat. (Good luck trying to find the correct possessive form there, grammar police.) She left at 2:00 today and is coming home tomorrow at 7:00 pm.

No problem.

I ask her "What are your normal Monday chores?" and she raises an eyebrow. Her expression says "You're feeling pretty cocky." But I get the complete list. In my pride, I think, "I'll be done this tonight by 10pm and we'll play all day with the boys all day tomorrow."

"Don't forget that Owen is potty-training right now," she reminds me. "And Ethan has a birthday party for a school friend tomorrow."

"No problem," I say.

One embarrassingly-long kiss later, she leaves.

I leap into daddy time like it's audition time for dad-of-the-year. We race. We wrestle. I build a fort under the piano. We play hide and go seek. We have a big laugh competition.

. . . in 18 minutes.

O.K. Now I'm exhausted. To be fair, I had a really stressful weekend of ministry, and normally take a quick Sunday afternoon nap. Also, it's "SPRING AHEAD" weekend. So, I take a break from the d-o-t-y audition, and set the boys up with a video, go upstairs and set the alarm clock for 30 minutes, and promise myself this is a small blip in a perfect two days of fathering.

I'm awakened by the sound of about $18 dollars worth of nickels hitting a tile floor.

"Wow," says Ethan (my four-year-old to his two-year-old brother, Owen). "That was sooo coool! Let's build a MONEY VOLCANO!!!"

This is about 7 minutes after I started the video. Worthless Jay-Jay the airplane. Yes, Owen's pants are soaked.

(BEEP! 8 MINUTES)

Clean Owen. Clean up the nickles. Set up Ethan with a writing project (he's working on his letters) and read a story to Owen. I get them busy. I get them active. I'm Doctor. James. Dobson. right now to my boys.

I set Owen up with a jumping game and go to check on Ethan. He's doing O.K., but is getting hungry. Fruit snacks. I go back to Owen. No wonder he was jumping so well. Yes, Owen's pants are soaked.

I get new pants on Owen. I get socks on Ethan and send him down to get his shoes. I get socks out for Owen, who tells me the socks I've chosen are "too big." So I get another pair, which are also "too big." Two more pair later, I figure out he's stalling me and hates to wear socks.

Ethan has not put on his shoes. Not really surprising, but it did surprise me that he was drawing some blue pictures on some paper at the new kitchen table. (Remember this part.)

I get them into the car. Owen is mad at me because he likes to get in Ethan's door, and I put him in the door by his own seat. Ethan wants gum. I announce "We're going to SKIPPY'S for dinner." This brings no break from the tears that I hear. I pull out of the garage and turn on the Christian radio . . . loud . . . in an attempt to settle them down. (BTW, it was Matt Redman "O No, You Never Let Go".)

We get to the restaurant. Ethan is sad we took Randall Road instead of Rt. 20, which he is convinced is a short cut. It's not. There's a motorcycle gang of 10 riders in front of us, who Ethan sees and wants to talk to. I say no way. Owen falls completely asleep about 2 blocks from the restaurant.

(BEEP! 8 MINUTES)

I get everybody out of the car. Owen is crying and trying to go back to sleep. Ethan says he's cold. I tell him the restaurant will be warmer.

We order (two hot-dog meal for the boys to split, burger for daddy). Ethan says he's still cold. Loving father that I am, I place him in a chair in a sunbeam. Providentially, my seat is facing a TV with the NCAA basketball "Selection Sunday" show on. (Side note: maybe we should make this part of a new church calendar. I mean, does anybody still celebrate Ascension Sunday? ;-))

"The sun is making me cold," says Ethan. I take Owen to the bathroom (he goes!) and when we come out, the food is there, but it's too hot for Ethan to eat. I'm getting "red dip" (ketchup) and drinks for the boys. Ethan wants a straw, and is still cold. I'm about to lose it with him when I see him convincingly shiver, and he puts back on his own coat.

(BEEP! 8 MINUTES)

We leave the restaurant, and I herd both boys toward the car. They both want me to carry them, so I do, accidentally banging Owen's head against the exit door. I put them both in Ethan's door (fool me twice, shame on me) and get them all buckled. Ethan still wants gum, so I let him chew a piece.

Driving back, Ethan wants it warmer in the car, so I'm blasting the heat. "Daddy," he says, "I'm very sleepy."

We hustle home. I feel his forehead, which feels (how am I supposed to know?) warmer. That's probably from how hot the car was, thinks the optimistic part of my brain. I go looking for the thermometer, and hear Owen laughing in the basement. Perfect, I think. Go for it Owen. I find the ORAL thermometer (a crucial distinction) and put it in Ethan's mouth. I've got about two minutes, so I head downstairs. Yes, Owen's pants are soaked.

102.9. And that's not a smooth-jazz f.m. station.

Clean pants for Owen. (No, Owen, these pants are NOT too big.) Motrin for Ethan.

(BEEP! 8 MINUTES)

I set up Ethan with a little electronic game in his bed. (Daddy, I got another Yahtzee.) Owen and I go downstairs. He tells me he has to go, and does, so he gets a treat. Daddy is thinking about some treats HE'D like right now, as well.

Ethan comes down, feeling better. Fires up the computer with his favorite game, Madden '02. (Where's Grossman, daddy? And who is Kordell Stewart? -- heh, heh, -- Who indeed, my son.) Call the birthday party mom, and tell her we can't come; console my son, who really wanted to go.

It's bedtime, and nobody (except me) wants to go to bed. They are not getting Daylight Savings Time. . . and I've explained it very carefully. I force everyone down. (Owen: No, daddy. No praying. No Jesus. Daddy: Oh, yes, Owen. Definitely Jesus.)

Time for me to head down for a little clean up time. Then I'll write a blog where I talk about my quiet time. Again.

I pick up Ethan's little blue pictures, and realize he's made them with blue SHARPIE marker. Yes. Yes. Yes. It's bled through the paper onto our new(ish) WHITE kitchen table.

I find some "oxyclean" under the sink, and spray it on. I let it soak for EIGHT MINUTES then try wiping it up. It's 10% better. Set a timer. Let's try that again.

Maybe I can write a blog while I do this.

300th post

New Blog Recommendation: Heart and Voice

I'd like to recommend a new blog to [retro] readers entitled Heart and Voice by Ken Boer, worship minister at Covenant Life Church in Gaithersburg, Maryland.

Did Ken get the title for his blog from the hymn "Come Christians Join and Sing"? (Let all with heart and voice.) Or perhaps "Rejoice the Lord is King"? (Lift up your heart, lift up your voice.) Or perhaps, cunningly, one of my favorites "When Morning Gilds the Skies" (And at your work rejoice, to sing with heart and voice.) Perhaps we'll never know.

Ken has the happy privilege of writing songs, playing piano, and providing oversight to the musicians at Covenant Life. He is a Wheaton graduate and a new husband.

Ken has the unhappy privilege of reminding people of me. The normally thoughtful David Jones and others who have met both of us have both said so. I, however, see very few resemblances and find him far kinder, wittier, and insightful.

Wish Bob Kauflin wrote everyday? Me too. I get that itch completely scratched at Heart and Voice. If you are interested in theologically informed practical worship writing, visit Ken's blog often. I know I will.