The Kingdom, The Kids, & The Cowboys

We’ve been sort of preparing for this for over a year now. But it’s still really strange when it happens. The Dallas Stars today have announced that they are parting ways with All-Everything Center Mike Modano.

Modano is arguably the greatest American-born hockey player in history. An eight-time NHL All-Star. An eight-time team MVP. He holds 15 franchise records and eleven postseason records. It was Modano who assisted on all four of the Stars’ last goals in their ‘99 Stanley Cup series win over the Sabres.

I have a theory about good guys in sports. There are many, many different kinds of characters and personalities in professional sports. There are guys who could pull up a chair with you and your buddies at Whataburger or Chili’s and join in the conversation and you’d never know they were famous. There are some who feel they are far superior to everybody else in the room and openly treat others as if they are less than human. Most are somewhere in between. It’s been my experience in 19-years of sports radio — 14 of that covering professional sports — that hockey players are, by far, the best of the bunch. Down-to-earth. Humble. Regular guys. And Modano was among the best of the best.

He is to the Stars what Staubach was / is to the Cowboys.

I remember a short conversation with Tom Hicks on a January night in 2003, inside the Stars’ dressing room underneath American Airlines Center. The team had just honored Modano with a custom Harley and several other trophies in recognition of his 1,000th point and becoming the Stars’ all-time leader in games played. Hicks told me that Modano was always going to be a Dallas Star. I reminded the team owner that he had once said the same thing about Pudge Rodriguez always going to be a member of the Rangers. Pudge had just signed with the Florida Marlins a few weeks earlier after ten years in Arlington. Hicks looked at me and said, “Modano doesn’t have an idiot for an agent.”

Modano may test the free agency waters later this week. Or he may be finished as an NHL hockey player. We don’t know yet. He’s supposed to address all this with the media tomorrow morning.

Either way, much like Emmitt Smith will always be a Cowboy, Mike Modano will always be a Dallas Star. But I’m betting on Modano retiring. He won’t chase money or immortality with a desperate team in a lousy city. He won’t go play for the Cardinals. Or the Predators. He doesn’t have a chip on his shoulder. He doesn’t have anything to prove.

Plus, he’s such a really good guy.

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The Rangers and Angels open up a three-game series tonight at the Big A. And, even though it’s still June, I’m really, really looking forward to this.

The Rangers have the best 75-game record in team history. They’ve won 13 of their past 14. They have the second-best record in the American League. And they own a 4-1/2 game lead on the Halos in the West. But the Angels have won seven of ten. And they’ve captured the AL West five of the past six seasons.

I know. We haven’t even reached the All Star Game break yet. I know. We’re not supposed to care very much about these games. It’s not time yet.

But this is pretty big, isn’t it?

So far, the Rangers have put up huge numbers and tons of wins against losing teams. But they’ve not beat the good teams. Their record this year against the Yankees and Red Sox and other teams of like calibar does not inspire confidence. Not in me. So I think this series means a lot. Late Thursday night when this little three game set is over, the Rangers can be up 7-1/2 games in the division riding a wave of confidence or the Angels can have grabbed the momentum, having closed the gap to 1-1/2 games. Either the Angels realize that this Rangers team is different or they realize nothing’s changed at all. The results of this series can force the Halos to tighten up. Or to relax. The outcome can push Texas to greater heights or bring them back down to earth. The next three nights can launch the Rangers on a dramatic push to the pennant. Or it can be the beginning of their burial.

Or it might not mean anything much at all.

Peace,

Allan

I’ve just finished reading a short book by T. David Gordon, a professor of religion and Greek at Grove City College in Pennsylvania, on the current state of preaching in America. The book is titled Why Johnny Can’t Preach. And it claims Johnny can’t preach because 1) Johnny can’t read and 2) Johnny can’t write. Gordon points to the rapid changes in the mass media culture of this country that have taken us from a literate society to a society based on images. And he says it’s killing preaching.

This book doesn’t come close to the ultimate work on the community and societal dangers of technology. Neil Postman’s masterpiece, Amusing Ourselves to Death, asks the questions we all should be asking about not what technology can do for us, but what technology is doing to us. His book, in my judgment, begins and ends all of those kinds of discussions. Every other conversation on this topic is a commentary on what Postman observed 30 years ago.

Gordon’s book isn’t bad. He points out that the “average weekday network news sound bite from a presidential candidate shrank from 42.3 seconds in 1968 to 9.8 seconds in 1988 (with only one percent of the bites lasting as long as 40 seconds that year). By 2000, the average was 7.8 seconds.” And he cleanly shows that these kinds of facts cause, and are a reflection of, an increasing inability to think seriously about serious things. He notes correctly that TVs and computers and cell phones are ruining us for personal communication, the skills to read and listen for more than just information and the talents to correctly organize and compose one’s thoughts. So, preachers are increasingly unable to preach. And, even if they were, the congregation is increasingly unable to discern good preaching if they hear it.

He’s right. He’s just a little over the top. His passion certainly shines through. But it’s unyielding and rigid.

Notice these lines about the way watching TV dulls our abilities to tell the difference between the significant and the insignificant: “Television-watching prohibits such discernment. One simply cannot regard the significant as more important than the insignificant, and then plop himself in front of a television for two to three hours an evening. The only way the conscience can survive such a colossal waste of a human life is for the individual to refuse to entertain the question of the difference between the significant and the insignificant.”

It’s good. It’s right. He’s dead-on right. But it’s a little much, don’t you think?

Gordon does spend half a chapter or so on the subject of moralisms in our Christian preaching, the practice of telling the congregation they need to shape up and start acting better, without a word of grace regarding how the Lord empowers us to act better. It’s preaching imperative without indicative. And I really struggle with that. I’m overly careful about it in my own preaching. I try to always include God’s grace through Christ and the power of his Spirit that enables us to live for him. Yet, I’ll ocassionally go back and still find moralisms all through my sermons.

Here’s Gordon on moralisms, which are, in his words, “never appropriate” unless they’re presented in the context of redemption: “Even when the faithful exposition of particular texts requires some explanation of aspects of our behavior, it is always to be done in a manner that the hearer perceives such commended behavior to be itself a matter of being rescued from the power of sin through the grace of Christ. When properly done, the hearer longs to be rescued from that depravity from which no sinner can rescue himself; and the hearer rejoices to know that a kind and gracious God is both willing and able to begin that rescue, which will be completed in its glorification.”

That helps me. That helps me a lot. Focus, Allan, focus. That’s good stuff. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I regret the firing of Stars coach Dave Tippett, the nicest of the head coaches I ever had the pleasure of covering during my time in sports radio. His personality might have actually been a factor in his firing: too nice a guy. New Stars GM Joe Nieuwendyk, who played the game hard and fair, who was everything you’d ever want in a team captain, is probably looking for a coach with a different kind of edge to try to make one or two quick postseason runs here with what is now an older team. Tippett was probably the right guy to take over for Ken Hitchcock who, despite taking the team to two Stanley Cup Finals and one title, had worn out his welcome with his star players. And it may be time for Tippett to go now, too. Who knows? But he was the last remaining of the four head coaches of Dallas’ major sports teams that I personally covered in my previous life. And one of my favorite. Although, I never got used to him without the mustache. Tippett was good for the Stars and he was good for his sport. He’ll catch on somewhere else. He’s too good not to. And I wish him all the best.

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Today is my little sister Sharon’s birthday. To honor her, go to Bonanza and flirt with the cook, build a “howsh,” sleep through a tornado, and take four weeks to return all phone calls. I love you, Sharon.

Peace,

Allan

What’s the over-under on the date Plaxico Burress becomes a Dallas Cowboy? Put me down for April 23, 2009. That’s a Thursday right before the spring mini-camps, giving the team enough time to get their new receiver on all the Sunday night sports shows.

Have you seen Dallas Stars coach Dave Tippett’s comments regarding his out-of-control winger, Sean Avery? Can you imagine Jerry Wayne ever reacting that way when a Cowboys player gets out of line? Are the Cowboys looking for a weakside linebacker? What’s the over-under on Avery showing up at Valley Ranch?

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My time with Lynn Anderson and the “Waco Alliance” this week was truly a blessing. I’m going to write much more tomorrow about some of our conversations in San Antonio. Today I’ll share with you something he said that captures completely the role and the heart of a preacher or an elder—any shepherd of God’s people. What’s our vision? What is our God calling us to be? How is he calling us to act?

At some point Tuesday afternoon, this is what Lynn said. Mostly. This is a paraphrase.

Those driven by success are drawn to people who orchestrate great programs. Those seeking applause are drawn to people who get good press. Those looking for pleasure are drawn to people who show them a good time. Vengeance-oriented people are drawn to angry gangs. God-hungry people are drawn to those who possess and exhibit a spiritual vision of what God is doing in this world.

It’s all summed up in the mission statement for Lynn’s Mentor Network: “A spiritual leader is the kind of person God-hungry people want to be like.”

Do disciples of Jesus want to be like me? Do dedicated Christians look at my life and see something worth imitating? How about you? Are you turning people on or off? Do people look at you and see Jesus?

Peace,

Allan

“These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.” ~Deuteronomy 6:6-7

 Sometimes I hear myself thinking / saying / observing / complaining that the kids are always right in the middle of everything. And a quick glance through Scripture shows me that’s exactly where God puts them. Throughout the Bible, the children are never on the edges; they’re not peripheral participants in the community of faith. They are critical components. They are integral to God’s plan for his people.

In Exodus 10:1-2 God explains why he’s bringing the plagues on the Egyptians: “that you may know that I am the Lord” and “that you may tell your children and grandchildren.”

God explains the Passover ritual in Exodus 12 and instructs in v.26: “when your children ask you ‘What does this ceremony mean to you?’ then tell them…”

In Exodus 13 God is describing the feasts surrounding the ceremony of the consecration of the first born male. “Tell your son,” God says in v.8, “I do this because of what the Lord did for me.” Six verses later God repeats the familiar formula: “When your son asks you, ‘What does this mean?’ say to him…”

The whole book of Deuteronomy is like this. “Teach them to your children and to their children after them.” (4:9) “…teach them to their children.” (4:10) “…you, your children, and their children after them may fear the Lord your God.” (6:2) “When your son asks you ‘What is the meaning of the stipulations, decrees, and laws the Lord our God has commanded you? tell him…” (6:20) “Choose life so that you and your children may live.” (30:19)

And even into Joshua at the crossing of the Jordan River into the Promised Land, the pattern continues. God commands the stones to be stacked as a memorial and instructs the people in Joshua 4:6, “When your children ask you ‘What do these stones mean? tell them…”

                                    Impress them on your children.

Over and over again, God provides the ceremony and the ritual and the memorial as a way for parents and grandparents to facilitate the sharing of the stories with the children and grandchildren. It’s not an accident. It’s the divine design. In the middle of this ceremony when your children ask you… In the middle of this ritual when your children ask you… When they see that pile of rocks… Tell them the story. Tell them your story. Tell them your story in light of, and as a part of, the larger story of salvation from the Lord our God.

It’s important that we tell our salvation stories to our kids. And our rituals and our ceremonies are the God-ordained times to do that. Just like the Passover and the Consecration Feasts and the standing stones were intended by God as a venue for this passing on of the stories and the faith, our communion time together on Sundays around our Lord’s table is the perfect time to tell these stories.

And we don’t take full advantage of that time to do what our God intends for us to do.

Those mysterious communion trays with the crackers and those tiny little cups pass right by in front of our kids and we don’t talk about it. And if they want to talk about it, we hush them. “Shhhh! It’s the Lord’s Supper!” So over time, our children have learned to observe the Lord’s Supper the same way their parents do: heads down, eyes closed, not making eye contact with anybody, and certainly not talking to anybody. And during communion our kids keep their heads down, coloring or drawing or reading or sleeping, while the trays and the bread and the cup and THE STORY pass right by them!

We talked about this yesterday during our sermon here at Legacy. We acknowledged that, while our kids may catch bits and pieces from the pulpit about the meaning of our weekly ritual, they may never have actually heard if from us, in story form, as it relates to our salvation on purely personal levels. So yesterday we took a small step in changing that. We asked our parents and grandparents and all the adults in our assembly to, during the Lord’s Supper, share their story with their children or with the child sitting in front of them or behind them or across the aisle.

And it was wonderful.

Communion was truly communion here at Legacy yesterday. Interaction. Sharing. Koinonia. Fellowship.

Carrie-Anne and I huddled with our girls as we ate the bread and drank the cup. We shared how the meal reminds us of how God saved us by the life and death and resurrection of Jesus. We talked about how the cup reminds us that the blood of Jesus continually washes away our sins and keeps us holy and righteous in God’s eyes, even though we’re sinful and weak and selfish and do stupid things and hurt people. And we told them how thankful we are that God does that for us and that he also does that for them.

And we had that same kind of thing happening all over our worship center. Parents and grandparents and little children. Two and three generations of families in some cases. Across seats and across aisles. Prayers and hugs and stories and tears and smiles and pats on the back and hands held.

                                        Impress them on your children.

There are times in our corporate assemblies for personal reflection and introspection and quiet thought. There are times to put our heads down. Communion time with God’s family around his table is not one of those times. Especially when we’re surrounded by hundreds of little children who need to be told the stories.

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I’m not apologizing any more. It’s a fact and it can’t be denied. I’m not going to shy away from it anymore. I’ve hedged and explained before. But I’m through hiding. Overtime playoff hockey in the NHL is better than football.

Brenden Morrow finally put the biscuit in the basket 9:03 into the 4th overtime period to put the Stars into the Western Conference Finals for the first time in eight years.

What an amazing game. What a fantastic series. Four overtime games in this second-round series. Five games decided by one goal. 117 shots on goal last night. The two goalies, Marty Turko and Evgeni Nabokov, were unyielding, refusing to flinch. Turko was Belfour-esque last night, stopping a Stars record 61 shots. He looked so much like Eddie the Eagle of old, standing on his head to make save after save after save, I wouldn’t be shocked to see Turko show up on my TV this summer being released from the city jail wearing a FuBu shirt. He was that good. Quite a display of “substantial net-minding,” according to Strangis. Razor admitted last night (or was it this morning?) to “running out of superlatives” to describe the two goalies.

The greatest thing about overtime playoff hockey is that it really is the only true sudden death in sports. Forget baseball where the home team always gets the last at bat. Forget basketball with its timed extra period. Even football, which calls its overtime “sudden death,” generally ends with a field goal that you see coming for at least four or five minutes. In hockey, “sudden death” comes swiftly and unexpectedly. In the blink of an eye. It’s so wonderful.

Another wonderful thing about overtime hockey is that the referees totally swallow their whistles. You could murder a guy at center ice and leave him there — they could Zamboni around the guy for two intermissions — and you won’t get a penalty. They don’t want these important postseason games, especially the elimination games, to be determined on a power play. Although, last night’s (this morning’s) was. Brian Campbell’s tripping of Loui Eriksson was egregious enough to be whistled. And Morrow pushed the puck through on the ensuing power play at 1:24 this morning.

It’s the 8th longest game in NHL history, the third longest in Stars history. I was at the longest Stars game ever, in 2003, when Dallas lost in five overtimes to the Ducks. And I was reminded again last night about what makes overtime playoff hockey the greatest event in sports. The desperation. The tension. The drama. The dread. The hope. Having absolutely no idea, no inkling at all, how it’s going to end.

On to Detroit for Game One of the Western Conference Finals Thursday.

Go Stars.

Allan

I know. I know. It’s been a while. A full week now as I look back. Thank you for your emails and your phone calls. All four of you. Since Virgil Fry was scheduled to preach yesterday and present the vision for Lifeline Chaplaincy’s Tarrant County mission to our Legacy family, I seized the opportunity to take one of my vacation weeks. And, no, I wasn’t on the beach somewhere in South Texas or in the mountains of Colorado as some of you have suggested. I spent the week painting the exterior of our house. Six days of hanging off a ladder, 24 feet up, with a paintbrush in my hand. I couldn’t be happier to be back in the study today.

Today’s been filled with a ton of catching up. So allow me to just post a bunch of pictures, give you a couple of quick-hit updates, and resume the full-time blogging tomorrow. As always, click on the pic for the full size. Except the one of all the tongues near the bottom. Gross.

Since last we blogged, I’ve performed my first ever wedding ceremony, joining Jim & Elvera (Long) McKillip in holy matrimony. And it was so low-stress for me. They have 120 years of marriage experience between them. And they couldn’t have cared less about the ceremony itself. It was absolutely a piece of cake for me. They told me to write the whole thing and just show up and do it. No rehearsel dinner. No pre-marital counseling. I asked them if they wanted to at least write the vows and Jim said, “Why don’t you write them and email them to me.” Great wedding. We ate barbecue and peach cobbler at the reception. Whitney, Valerie, and Carley: I hope you’re taking notes.

We were also duped and deceived into attending a PTA meeting. You know how these schools do it. They say your fifth grader is performing in a concert or a play at 7:00 Thursday night when, in actuality, the PTA meeting starts at 7:00 and your fifth grader performs at 8:00. But you don’t realize it until the gavel bangs at 7:01. After they elected next year’s Green Valley Elementary PTA Officers (I almost nominated Whitney for Third Vice-President of Recruiting) Valerie and her class wowed us with their rendition of “We Go Together” from Grease. I hate it when movies I watched as a kid are presented as “classics.” Carrie-Anne’s mom made the poodle skirt. Way to go, Gram!

Now, about those Stars! I keep having flashbacks to ‘99. The Stars keep winning and they keep advancing and we’re so surprised. How do they keep winning? Nobody was really expecting this. They’re playing so well right now. Modano looks like he’s 27 instead of 37. And they’re dominating the 3rd periods. If you’re playing the Stars and you’re not up by two or three goals heading to the third period, you’re going to get beat. Last night’s whipping of San Jose puts the Stars up two games to none in the second round, the second time now Dallas has taken the first two games of a series on the road. That’s only happened four other times in NHL history. And all four times, the team that’s started 2-0 twice on the road has made it all the way to the Stanley Cup Finals.

And then there are the Mavericks. Yuk. The Jason Kidd trade, made out of desperation almost two months ago, is killing them. He can’t score like Devin Harris. He can’t defend like Harris. And he can’t block shots like Diop. Man, they’re missing Harris and Diop. More than that, though, they’re missing Josh Howard. So far in the four games against New Orleans, Howard is averaging only 12.8 points per game on just 25% shooting and 6.5 rebounds. Yuk. And while Mavericks fans probably have huge issues right now with everything from the Kidd trade and Avery’s coaching to the ManiAACs shirts and Laura Green’s hair, my biggest issue—an insurmountable issue for me—is with Josh Howard. And I’m facing a serious dilemma right now in my own house over it. I’ll have to share all this tomorrow and maybe even solicit your opinions and advice.

They’re finally putting the steel roof on our new worship center here at Legacy. The north side was finished Saturday and they’re working on the south side today. By this time tomorrow, I think, everything will be dried in and they can start really working on the inside. The air-conditioners and duct work are in, the rock at the front of the worship center above and around the stage is set and a lot of the interior walls are taped and bedded. I’m still hopeful this can all be done and we can be in the new building by our next 5th Sunday on June 29.

I also want to share with you this picture of Matt and his daughter, Elizabeth, in our living room last night during our Small Groups Church meeting. She’s reading from Romans 15 and I can’t resist the picture. Passing on the faith in our homes. Our children singing with us and reading with us and watching their parents and other adults worship and study and pray. I love the picture and the way it symbolizes one of the key things Legacy Small Groups Church is about. Apply the Word, Connect as a Family, and Evangelize the Community. And do it together.

After last night’s Small Groups meetings I/we hosted a come-and-go ice cream deal to celebrate Carrie-Anne’s 40th birthday. It was a surprise right up until the moment I walked in the door with six half-gallons of Blue Bell. The jig was up. And she knew something was going on. But she wasn’t quite sure what. By the time it was over, we must have had close to a hundred people, mostly from Legacy, through the doors with well wishes and tacky birthday cards. It was a fantastic night with great family and friends. These pictures are of the friends we couldn’t quite run off.

No comment. Thank you, Tonia, for the pics.

And thank you to everyone who came last night. We are so blessed to have made such great friends in such a short amount of time. We love each of you very much. We especially love Jean for washing spoons, Beth for leading us in a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” in Portuguese, and Kevin for taking out the trash. And Jill for waiting until they got in the car to ask Kevin why he never does that at home.

Carrie-Anne, I love you. You are the perfect partner. I love you forever.

Allan

Happy April 15th. I’m reminded today that taxation with representation ain’t so great either.

I need to apologize to Richard and Joanna and their two young boys, Nathan and Daniel, for my language at Saturday’s Rangers game. I’m sorry. In my defense, though, I’m not sure how anyone pays attention to a Rangers game and doesn’t occasionally use the word “stupid.”

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“But the Lord is in his holy temple;
let all the earth be silent before him.” ~Habakkuk 2:20

This is not just the song we sing very quietly before the prayer. No. If this verse is ever sung by God’s people, it ought to be shouted. This is the most powerful verse in Habakkuk. It sums up and concludes God’s great revelation to the prophet. It Habakkuk the bottom line. This verse is packed with power and victory and life.

God draws this rich contrast between the idols of the nations and himself. He points out very clearly that an idol has no value because it’s been carved by a human. It can’t speak. It can’t come to life. It can’t wake up. It can’t give guidance. It has no breath. The idol is dead. Worshiping idols isn’t just disobedience. It’s foolish and useless. (3:18-19)

The idol is dead.

But the Lord—see, here’s the contrast—however the Lord is in his holy temple. Our God is alive and powerful and he reigns supreme forever and ever in the eternal temple of the heavens. Our God is speaking. He is awake. He gives guidance. And he is the One who gives the breath of life. No one has to call to wake him up. No one has to arouse him to teach.

God is already speaking.

And this silence before this God is not just the silence of reverence. And it’s not just observed by God’s chosen people. The demand—or the prophesy, however you read it—is that all the people, all the nations, all of creation, all the earth participate in this silence before the Creator. The silence is an act of submission. It’s an act of faith that’s reflected in the way we live our lives. It’s a humbling realization that God is sovereign over all. Instead of trusting in our own power and strength, it’s allowing him to teach us and guide us and shape us and our futures. It’s accepting his time frame for delivering his people and judging the wicked. And it’s living day-to-day by faith in his power and his promises.

Empires will rise and fall. The Babylonian Empire. The Roman Empire. The American Empire. But the Lord is in his holy temple. God remains on his eternal throne as the King of Kings and the Lord of Lords.

All this stuff going on around you? Everything you see in the world that has you so upset? God says, “I got it. I’m in charge of all of it. I’m in control. And everything’s going pretty much exactly the way I have it planned.”

We can put our faith in that. And we can live by that faith.

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“Strong” is the title of my favorite Audio Adrenaline song. It’s on the Worldwide album. I listen to this song in my truck at 7:30 every Sunday morning on my way here to the building to pray with Mike and Paul. It inspires me. It reminds me of who I am and to whom I belong. It pushes me to remember who’s pushing me and why. My God has called me to preach his Word. And he’s called me to minister to him and his people here in North Richland Hills and Tarrant County. He’s given me his promises that he will be with me every step of the way. Wherever he leads me. Wherever he sets me. And I’ll be strong.

I will follow wherever you lead me;
Wherever you are underneath the stars is where I long to be.
And I will lay down this ol’ life of mine;
I’ll leave behind all the things of the world to follow you.

Chorus:

And I’ll be strong and courageous.
I’ll live my life for you, my only King.
‘Cause you’re my God through all the ages;
Here am I, I am yours, send me!

When I fall down, and I’m broken,
When I stumble on the rocks and lose my way;
I will cling to your eternal love,
When I’m weak, you come to me, you give me strength.

Chorus

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The first ever NHL hockey game I ever attended was the first round playoff opener for the Stars at Reunion Arena in 1999. I was working at AM-990 in Wichita Falls and covering the Stars for my station and stringing reports for the One-on-One Sports Radio Network out of Chicago. Going in, I didn’t know a whole lot about it. I had watched several games on TV. I had been covering the team on a limited regional basis, only reporting the big stuff and rarely talking about it on my show.

But it only took that one game to fall completely in love with all of it. I covered every home playoff game during that Stanley Cup Championship season. The overflow pressbox at Reunion was actually the top four rows in the arena. And if you remember Reunion, there’s not a bad seat in the house. It was incredible. The energy. The noise. The intensity. The sheer absurdity of our seven year old team in Texas winning the most hallowed and most impossible trophy in all of sports. I fell in love with the speed and the beauty of the game. I was enthralled by the at-once poetry and brutality of the game, the skill and the strength, the dance and the brawl. I couldn’t get over how quickly momentum shifts, how fast the puck changes hands, how dramatically fortunes are changed with one turnover or penalty.

I want to say this very carefully. I want to be very specific about this next statement. I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding. Football is king, yes. But a live NHL playoff game in person—not a playoff game on TV, not a regular season game in person, but an NHL playoff game in person in the arena—is better than football.

More speed. Bigger hits. More action. More tension. More excitement. Much more drama. Louder. It’s the only sport with a true sudden death.

If you’ve been, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, don’t judge me or my statement until you have.

I’m shocked that the Stars are up 2-0 against the impossibly-loaded, defending Stanley Cup Champion Ducks. I can’t believe both of those wins came in California. It’s beyond me how they’re in a position now to close out the team to beat in the Western Conference at AAC. And I can’t wait for tonight’s puck to drop on, as my good friend Ted Sorrells says, the big ice in Big D. It’s not even close to being there in person. But I can’t wait.

Go Stars.

Allan

“…you are no longer foreigners and aliens, but fellow citizens with God’s people and members of God’s household.”  ~Ephesians 2:19 

It was announced yesterday by the NFL that the number one selling player’s jersey for the first two-and-a-half months of the football season belongs to Cowboys quarterback Tony Romo. Nationally, Romo’s replica jersey is outselling LaDanian Tomlinson, Tom Brady, and Peyton Manning. That’s initially surprising to me. But when I consider that the Cowboys — overall, the top selling team in NFL merchandise since April — have always been one of the more popular sports franchises in the country and the Cowboys’ best players have always been among the individual top sellers, it makes perfect sense. Plus, Romo’s such a great kid with such a great story. He’s come from nowhere (in football circles, Eastern Illinois is nowhere). He’s had to work hard for everything he has. He makes gutsy plays. And he’s always smiling. What’s not to like?

And the better the Cowboys’ record, the higher the sales. The Cowboys are always in the top ten among NFL teams in merchandise sales. But just two years ago, they had dropped to sixth. Now they’re back to number one, no doubt due to their 8-1 start.

All of us feel a human need to belong to something, to be a part of some group. We get our identity, in large part, from the groups to which we belong. And that something or some group should be successful and popular. The human drive to identify with someone or some group or some cause — even if it’s only a sports team — is enormous. So we buy the jerseys. We refer to our teams as “us.” These identifications make us feel important. We have a need to belong, to have some sense of fitting in the world. And from that sense of belonging, we have the confidence and ability to relate and accomplish things. Our own families, of course, are foundational in giving us a true sense of belonging.

And the apostle Paul tells us in Ephesians 2 that we do belong. Christ has brought us home to God. We live in God’s house as members of his family. And at the same time, we are a house in which God lives. We belong with God and are involved in what he is doing. The other people in this same house are family with us. This home defines us. Christ gives us a place in his world. And from that sense of belonging we grow in our abilities to relate to others and accomplish great things for the Kingdom. Ephesians 2 tells us to remember where home is, remember where family is: We are at home with our God.

And our Christian life flows from there.

The church, as a family of faith, ought to feel like a family. Family members care for each other, are committed to each other, confront each other, protect each other, and sustain each other. That same sense of family should shape our worship. Worship should not be like a production we watch. It should have the free and comfortable feeling of being involved in a family experience, joining together to communicate with each other and with our Father. No one should be allowed to feel like an outsider in the church. Everyone needs to know they belong.

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There’s nothing quite like hockey people.

From the players and coaches and GMs down to the trainers and water boys, you’ll never find nicer people anywhere in sports. Hockey people are by far the most accomodating, the friendliest, the most down-to-earth in all of sports. I’m convinced it has a whole lot to do with my theory based on the relationship between job hazards and pay and the way athletes treat other people. I’ll share that with you some other time. The point is that I really hate to see Hicks fire Doug Armstrong.

Maybe he needed to go. The Stars are obviously missing something. Being bounced out of the first round of the playoffs three consecutive years puts the pressure on. But the mediocre start this season along with the two or three total meltdowns we’ve already seen makes it so much worse. I just know that Doug was/is the most open, available, friendly, honest GM I’ve every worked with. He could be clear across the country, in a crowded airport, in-between planes, and still answer my phone call. He could be on Central Expressway or stuck in traffic between Dallas and Frisco and he’d still return my call. That was great and always made my job so much easier. But better than that were the times we’d visit in-between periods up in the AAC pressbox. I don’t have a ton of hockey knowledge. And he knew it. But I don’t think he ever got frustrated with me. He always answered my questions and explained things to me. And he always asked about my girls.

I’m not sure Brett Hull’s the guy to take his place. Hulley’s another one of those hockey players, like most all of them, who are just as down to earth as you and me. I love his candor and his wit. His talent, during his heyday, was unmatched. He owns the signature moment in Stars history—even if his foot was in the crease. I do know Hull will provide the media with many more volatile sound bites than the guarded and laid-back Armstrong ever did. And that’ll be interesting and fun. But this move by Hicks has all the marks of desperation. This is a huge gamble. It’s either going to pay off huge or it’ll be a complete disaster. I don’t know what to compare it to.

I just feel bad for Doug Armstrong today.

Peace,

Allan