At 9:19am on a warm Saturday morning in June 2010, I said goodbye to MySpace.

“Omit needless words.” – William Strunk

… but why limit it to words? Why not all of life? Less is more.

I was an early adopter of MySpace.  I joined before there was a Facebook and held on longer than I should have.  Here’s a few reasons why I finally ended the relationship:

• The random SPAM messages from people I don’t know (or care to know) is annoying.
• The risque advertising was both inappropriate and unavoidable.  I was embarrassed to even log in at times and began avoiding the site.
• People (often even my friends0 would behave in ways and post pictures of themselves that they would not otherwise do in real life.  The ‘technological barrier’ of the ‘relationship’ often allowed there to be too much duplicity.
• The lack of features or ability to grow and change with it’s users.
• The pages are HIGHLY user customizable, which means they nearly always look terrible.  As a design professional, that annoys me!
• Tom really isn’t my friend.
• Most of my friends had long since jumped ship, those who still had an account hadn’t logged in for years.
• I hadn’t logged in for over a year.
• I’ve grown up

The last, and perhaps most important reason, MySpace gave me access to my friend’s lives without giving the time needed to maintain the relationships.

“It’s so hard to say goodbye to yesterday.” – Boyz II Men

Part of growing up is realizing that the ability to let go is more important (and often tougher) than trying to hang on to something you’ve long since lost.

To everything – turn, turn, turn
There is a season – turn, turn, turn
And a time for every purpose under heaven

I could never have known at the time all that God had in store for me. What I thought was going to be a sidestep, if not a step backward personally and professionally, has turned out to be quite the opposite. One year turned to two, and two to three, and eventually they began passing faster and faster. Slowly the Lord rested me, renewed me, and healed me. He even gave me the desires of my heart. I quickly fell madly in love with a tremendously beautiful Alabama girl. And thankfully, she fell in love with me (and/or my Jeep) as well. We were married and soon welcomed our first precious little girl, Libbie. Life was amazing. Not too long later thereafter little girl number two came along and Lucy changed our lives again.

As I look back at what God has brought me through I see his handiwork. At the time, though, it was not always so apparent. I lost a dear friend and mentor along the way. He walks streets of gold these days but I miss more than I care to admit. My extended family has experienced much turmoil and trial. I trust God is at work there as well. The church that I grew up in has also endured great transition and tribulation. For those who were lost and hurt in the process, I pray God will care for you and bring swift justice.

But time marches on.

Prestonwood no longer remembers me. Baptist Temple doesn’t care what I think. And I am looking forward, not back! That’s the way it should be. The scars I wear are a simply a reminder of the battles fought…. the pain is gone.

I don’t know how much longer I have on this spinning globe. It could be decades, it could be days. We are promised nothing. I feel in my spirit that God is bringing changes. Perhaps he always is and I am only now sensitive to it. I do not know what the horizon line holds, and frankly I don’t wish to know. God knows I work better by only knowing the next step or two rather than the next five or ten. I don’t want to leave this life and have not used and abused the talents God has given me to their full extent. I strongly feel that he requires us to make use of what he’s given us. The parable of the ‘talents’ is not just a parable. To whom much is given, much is required…

Here’s to another five years of great living with my family.

I’m just along for the ride…

Fast forward a couple decades to last week.

After a particularly crazy day of thunderstorms my wife and I were cruising the town getting together last minute details for our firstborn’s ‘monkey birthday party.’  I looked up into the sky for no reason at all and,

“Holy Crap!  What’s that!?”  I had never seen anything like it before.  “Honey, look at that!”  Above us, stretching as far as the eye could see, was the strangest thing I had ever seen.  Clouds that stretched for miles and were as smooth as silk.  Waves and waves stretched lazily across the sky like billows of fabric or, as my mind immediately thought, cotton candy.

“That’s just plain weird,” was all I could say.  I was so dumbfounded at what I was seeing that I never considered the importance of getting a picture of it.

I didn’t think much more about it until two days later when USA Today and the Birmingham News ran this article:

IOWA WOMAN’S PHOTO SPARKS PUSH FOR NEW CLOUD TYPE

DES MOINES, Iowa – Looking out the 11th floor window of her law office, Jane Wiggins did a double take and grabbed her camera. The dark, undulating clouds hovering outside were unlike anything she’d seen before. “It looked like Armageddon,” said Wiggins, a paralegal and amateur photographer in Cedar Rapids, Iowa. “The shadows of the clouds, the lights and the darks, and the greenish-yellow backdrop. They seemed to change.”

They dissipated within 15 minutes, but the photo Wiggins captured in June 2006 intrigued – and stumped – a group of dedicated weather watchers who now are pushing weather authorities to create a new cloud category, something that hasn’t been done since 1951.

Breaking into the cloud family would require surviving layers of skeptical international review. Still, Gavin Pretor-Pinney and his England-based Cloud Appreciation Society are determined to establish a new variety. They’ve given Wiggins’ photo and similar pictures taken in different parts of the world to experts in England, and are discussing the subject fervently online. 

“They (the clouds) were the first ones that I noted of this type and I was unsure which category to put them under,” said Pretor-Pinney, author of “The Cloudspotter’s Guide.”"When we put pictures up online we list the category, and I wasn’t sure how to categorize it.”

Some scientists are skeptical. They argue that researchers who have long watched the sky haven’t seen anything distinctly new for decades.

There are three main groups of clouds: cumulous, cirrus and stratus. Each has various sub-classifications built on other details of the formation.

Brant Foote, a longtime scientist at the National Center for Atmospheric Research in Boulder, Colo., said the clouds photographed by Wiggins already fit into the existing cumulous classification.

But Pretor-Pinney, who never studied meteorology, believes the clouds merit their own cumulus sub-classification. He proposes they be called altocumulus undulatus asperatus. The last word – Latin for roughen or agitate – is a reference to the clouds’ undulating surface.

“Not necessarily gentle or steady, but quite violent-looking, turbulent, almost twisted in its appearance,” he said.

The group has compiled several photographs documenting the formations from the billowy, rolling clouds shot by Wiggins in Iowa to ones from New Zealand that were much more menacing, hanging lava-like in the sky.

Foote said it would be “very unusual” for such a formation to be recognized as a new variety of cloud.

“People have been looking at clouds for hundreds of years and the general cloud classification is well defined,” Foote said. “It’s not as if someone discovered a new plant in the Amazon. It’s what you’ve seen every day. There was no atmospheric condition that caused a new kind of cloud to form.”

Pretor-Pinney is working with the Royal Meteorological Society in Reading, England, to prepare his case. If that group signs off, the proposal will go to the United Nation’s World Meteorological Organization in Geneva.

Society executive director Paul Hardaker said a small panel within the society is gathering evidence to review. Their efforts include talking with those who took the submitted photos to determinine when, where and amid what weather they were taken. Hardaker said meteorologists tend to be skeptical of such proposals.

“We like to believe that just about everything that can be seen has been, but you do get caught once in a while with the odd, new, interesting thing,” Hardaker said. “By this stage we think it’s sufficiently interesting to explore it further and we’re optimistic about the information we’ve got.”

Written By MICHAEL J. CRUMB

Am I the only one in Birmingham who noticed the occurance on June 12 and realized its significance?

I headed home, hoping I could make it. The discomfort continuing to grow and the pain intensifying in waves that brought initial false comfort and then intense pain. Nearly passing out twice on the short five-minute drive, I arrived home in what probably looked to be a drunken stupor. I sat in the car for awhile after throwing it into park, exited the vehicle without closing the door, crawled up the steps, and fell into my wife’s arms. Pain. Severe discomfort. Nausea.

It was difficult to discern who was in worse shape, my wife or I. Looking back it is difficult to believe that at this point we were still trying to decide between a doctor or an emergency room and while I was beginning to wonder if it was a kidney stone I had yet to fully embrace the thought. We packed up the girls, ourselves, and headed to the car. I stopped short, emptying my breakfast on the ground in front of my 20-month old. Not my finest moment. It is interesting to note that in this moment of personal misery and humilty my foremost thought is to sheild my child from her father’s agony. It was soon apparent I had failed at that venture.

“Daddy feel better?”

Yes Baby, Daddy feel better.

… it was short-lived comfort. From that moment I knew I was headed to the ER and I knew the road ahead was not going to be easy. Things were getting progressively more intense on all fronts.

What followed is partially blurred in my mind. I was lucid and rational, but primal instinct took over and my only priority was a selfish one: manage the pain. Short breaths. Squirming. Sweat. Please hurry, Honey. Relax. Puke. Squirm. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. I’m OK, I know it doesn’t seem that way Honey, it just hurts really bad. Radiating pain. Cramp. Release. Searing hurt. Release. Shock. Release. Family history. No kidney stones before.

Kidney stones. Finally someone agrees with my fear. In the moments I am lucid I wonder if I will endure this. I never thought I would die, but I never imagined living through it.

“On a scale from one to ten where ten is the worst pain imaginable, what is your level of pain?”

10.

I was soon to realize I did not know what a “10″ really was.

Wheelchair. Ouch. Breakfast again. Stretcher. IV. That didn’t hurt. 11. 12. Where is your pain now? 13 or 14. Dilauded. No effect. Dilauded again. Better. Better. OUCH. Worse. Fetal position. Crying. Moaning. Tears. Screaming. I’m OK Honey, I really am, it just hurts really bad. OUCH! Clutch wife’s hand. Breathe. Pain. Breathe. Moan. Breathe. Breathe. Yell…

Demorol. Ouch. Pain. 7 or 8. More breakfast. Off to CT Scan. Nausea. Wait. Pain. Ouch. Moan. Moan. “Can I help you?” Please let my nurse know I am in pain again. Pain. Breathe. Pain. No one around. Pain. Scream. My phone’s in my pocket. Try to focus. Call wife. No answer. Aaaaargh. It hurts. Breathe. Call wife again. No answer. Call father-in-law. No answer. Breathe. Time for X-Ray. Moan. Scream. “You need to be quiet right now Sir.” I would if I could. Please call my nurse and tell her I am in pain. Hold breath. Scan. Scream. Hold breath. Scan. Scream. Hold breath. Scan. Scream. Wait. Candy striper. Boy, am I glad to see you. Transport. Nausea. Demorol. Mild relief. Rest. Discomfort. Breathe. Rest. Rest. Relief. Rest. Relief. Relief.

Discharge.

Was I crazy? What would the next step be? Where would I go? I have a great job and a family that is growing by leaps and bounds. What am I thinking? Is the timing right? How can we ever make it work?

I thought. I prayed. I discussed with my wife. I sought wise counsel. I prayed again. But mostly…

I dreamed.

Pieces quickly began falling into place and I soon found myself in an empty classroom on a bitterly cold January morning awaiting the start of my first class.

De’ja vu…

Students (several by far my junior) began filing in. Bookbags. Notebooks. Laptops. Finally a professor.

“Welcome to class. Let’s begin with devotions. Open to Matthew chapter five….”

My mind immediately trailed off. I knew I was in the right place. I knew I was home.

I leaped thirteen years into my past to the first class of the first day in undergrad. 1996. An unknown Professor who was destined to become a great friend, Jim Leightenheimer, opened the class by saying simply, “Let’s pray,” and then actually doing so.

To a boy who grew up in the public school system, those are defining words.

I was instantly and insatiably hooked.

Back to reality.

So here I am: Doing quizzes, writing papers, attending study sessions, and subjecting myself to the educational system again. And I am loving it…

I’m loving it because I’ve had an epiphany. I finally understand why I continue to find myself behind a wooden desk.

I am a lifelong learner.
No. I am compelled to be a lifelong learner, in both media AND biblical studies.

The fields of media and communications are always changing. I must always be a student of them to remain effective in the practice of them.

The Bible is never changing, but it is a pursuit that I will never master. The more I learn the more aware I am of how little I truly know.

So as that friend of mine aptly closed, “I hope the first day back on your continued journey is fantastic,” I’ve realized that is a journey that will not end.

If you ever need to find me, now or decades hence, … look in a classroom.

Hi, my name is Kevin Young.  And I have Psoriasis.

There, I’ve said it.

Psoriasis is probably one of the longest known illnesses of humans and simultaneously one of the most misunderstood.  Some scholars believe psoriasis to have been included among the skin conditions called tzaraat in the Bible. In more recent times psoriasis has been frequently described as a variety of leprosy (though it not). The Greeks used the term lepra (λεπρα) for scaly skin conditions. They used the term psora to describe itchy skin conditions.  Psoriasis is a non-contagious disorder which affects the skin and joints by causing itchy red, scaly patches which rapidly accumulate.  It is chronic and recurring… and most often, lifelong.

So why am I telling you all of this, many of whom I do not know and will never meet?

Society tells us we should hide the ups and downs of our personal lives, or at least the downs.  So we try to hide our problems in order to fool those around us.  Why?  Perhaps we wish to be seen as strong and viral – something more than human.  Or perhaps we don’t want the attention.  Often, I am afraid, we don’t want the stares and concern – the misunderstanding that comes from lack of knowledge.

Sally and I are pregnant with our second child.  In a recent discussion about Downs Syndrome we both agreed that we would not mind for a moment having a child with it… but the hard part was thinking about the way others would look at us, most likely with pity.  Perhaps that is why our culture seeks to hide and avoid any physical abnormality.

My psoriasis IS a physical abnormality.  But I do not wish to hide it.  Of course, it would be easier to do so, but in so doing I would be hiding a part of who I am and for better or worse it IS a part of who I am.

Surely, some look at me with pity.  And surely I have looked with pity at others who are unable to hide their abnormality.  But that must not keep me from being honest and open.

I sit writing these thoughts from the Waiting Room of a doctor’s office.  I’ve spent a lot of time in this room over the last three years.  My treatments began with topical creams and solutions.  They progressed through UV Light-ray therapy that is not unlike standing in a tanning bed.  Eventually I moved to a much scarier regimen of oral medicine that could only be taken for a short period due its destructive effect on the liver and digestive system.  We chose this one over lesser treatments because of our desire to get pregnant.  A few months later we found out Libbie was on the way and we knew that we’d made the right decision, and that life goes on.

After I was forced to come off the oral treatments I went to a new therapy that required self-administered shots on a weekly basis.  That treatment had few side effects, but unfortunately did not adequately control the disease.

Now I’ve progressed to a more long-term, but no less scary, treatment called a biologic therapy.  It is basically chemotherapy, a drug used to treat autoimmune disorders.  While it is a drug originally approved to treat severe arthritis, one of its side effects is immune system suppression, which in turn helps Psoriasis.  So every 6 weeks I go to a treatment center and relax for several hours as the drug is administered through IV infusion.

It all sounds scarier than it really is.

The cause of Psoriasis is unknown and there is no cure.  One doesn’t die from it, but probably will die withit.  Since the treatments generally all suppress the immune system, there is a higher risk for cancer, heart disease, and lots of other terrifying problems.  But life is unsure for all of us and out of all the ‘crosses’ I could be required to bear, I do not think this one comes close to ones that many others are required to carry.

So I survive, and I thrive.

It is now a part of who I am, and to know me know means you should also know this part of me.  It changes who I am on the outside as well as on the inside.

Now you may begin to understand my desire to maintain a healthy bodyweight and active lifestyle.  By so doing, I help minimize the effects of my disorder and perhaps even one day overcome it. 

The phrase “the heartbreak of psoriasis” is often used both seriously and ironically to describe the emotional impact of the disease.  The term can be found in various advertisements treatments; conversely, it has been used to mock the tendency of advertisers to exaggerate (or even fabricate) aspects of a malady for financial gain.

Be assured.  There is no heartbreak here.  Sure, it’s not something I would choose to battle… but this world is not my home, I’m just passing through.  This too shall pass.

www.stophiding.org

In the ensuing years, many have moved on to other ministries, other churches.

I have as well.

But here, at a going-away party, a snapshot tells a story that words cannot.  Perhaps my smile gives more insight than mere words are able.  What does it say?…

Here is a group of people that I loved. 

They are the threads that wove through the tapestry of my time at Prestonwood.  A time that, overall, I greatly enjoyed.

The picture tells a truth about that time, that moment in which it was taken in, but it also lulls me into false perception that nothing has changed since then.  And yet, as I recall the stories of these volunteers’ trials over the year’s since the photo, I know that much has changed.

But that is the beauty of the picture.  It remains. It remains forever, unchanging.  I can look at it and remember the good times, forgetting the bad.  And there were many, many good times.

And in that moment I am there again with them.

The Prestonwood Media Team

Curtis Geesamen.

A 15-year-old kid who, as many us once did during our summers, joined his church and others for a week-long youth camp focused on fun and spiritual renewal.

During a simple game Curtis suffered blunt head trauma… an accident that took his life away.

Curtis’ youth camp was organized by LIFT Student Ministries, a camp that I attended for many years and worked at many more… a camp that I gave blood, sweat, and tears to over many hot summers… a camp that changed my life.

Further, Curtis’ accident happened on the grounds of my alma mater, Cedarville University.  A place that I love nearly more than any other place on this earth.

So why can’t I get him out of my mind?

Curtis walked many of the same paths that I did as a kid his age.  But he shall walk no further.

Today, he walks down streets of a city far beyond.  Curtis has left the rest of us to find our way without him.  And someway, somehow, Curtis calls out to me as a reminder that life is short.  Fleeting.  But a vapor, then gone.

Those thousands attending camp with him will never forget the lesson he taught them this week.  I know I won’t.  As Reagan said of the Challenger astronauts, “We will never forget [him], nor the last time we saw [him], this morning, as [he] prepared for [his] journey and waved goodbye and ‘slipped the surly bonds of earth’ to ‘touch the face of God.’”

Tonight, I lament with the Geesamen family.  I lament with Cedarville.  I lament with Dan Brown and all of those who have been changing teen’s lives since 1992.  This week, I wish I were still an integral of producing camps for youth.

I wish I had been there, if only to be a part of the healing that will come… albeit somewhere long down the road of an unforeseeable future.

Writing over 2,500 songs in her lifetime, she was an unassuming little women who’s testimony and way of weaving words could keep you spellbound for hours.

“I Will Glory in the Cross”
“For What Earthly Reason”
“Holy Spirit Thou Art Welcome (In This Place)”
“If That Isn’t Love”
“I Go to the Rock”
“I’ve Never Been This Homesick Before”

Dottie will be greatly missed.  And yet, sadly, most people will never know the contribution that she made.  And while churches will continue to sing her sweet words for ages to come, there is a fresh hole in Christian music left by the little lady that somehow knew exactly how to paint words in our minds and spin stories to our hearts about the most important thing of all: God, Heaven, and Salvation.

I think there is no more fitting tribute than to close with the words of one of her most famous songs, “We Shall Behold Him”:

The sky shall unfold, preparing His entrance;
The stars shall applaud Him with thunders of praise.
The sweet light in His eyes shall enhance those a waiting,
And we shall behold Him then face to face.

And we shall behold Him, we shall behold Him
Face to face in all of His glory;
And we shall behold Him, Yes, we shall behold Him
Face to face, our Saviour and Lord.

The angels shall sound the shout of His coming,
The sleeping shall rise from their slumbering place.
And those who remain shall be changed in a moment,
And we shall behold Him then face to face.

And we shall behold Him, we shall behold Him
Face to face in all of His glory;
And we shall behold Him, Yes, we shall behold Him
Face to face, our Saviour and Lord.
We shall behold Him, our Saviour and Lord.

• We need to stay in better contact with friends both present and past.  Life is too short and too precious to let time or distance rob of us of those friends from our past who’ve impacted us.  It is my goal to do better at renewing and maintaining those connections. Whether it be calls, letters, or visits.  I think I fail by thinking I don’t have time to have lengthy ‘let’s catch up’ conversations… but I’ve decided I’m being selfish and a simple short call/contect is better than nothing.
• I need to mentor others.  To me, this simply means spending time with those people that God has placed around me, especially those who could be benefitting from my time and knowledge.  Selfishly, I’ve cut myself off from others because I thought my own work and family time was too precious to sacrifice.  I’ve realized, though, that God has placed me in ‘community’ for a reason and I am required to share my life with them.  I in yurn yearn for others to also share their lives and learnings with me.  You see me taking more time to slow down and connect with those around me.
• I need to pray more.  At the funeral, I reconnected with a man who had opened his home to me in Dallas many times during my years there.  I had not spoken to him for nearly four years, but he greeted me as warmly as the day I left, telling me that though I may not believe him, he had prayed for me almost daily for the past four years.  That nearly wiped me off my feet.  I felt i neither deserved this blessing, nor had it within myself to ever do that for another person, especially someone I had not heard from for YEARS.  My prayer life needs help.
• I need to say thanks more often, and do it in concrete and meaningful ways.  I fear I’ve been too lax in letting others know when they’ve blessed me.  I am making a commitment to be more grateful and let others know when I am grateful to them.
• I need to be in the Word more often, especially with my wife.  We’ve committed to going through a devotional together.
• I need to slow down and enjoy the gift of life that has given to me.  I’ve been living life too fast and I need to not let the pace of others, or the pace of my job, destroy my relationship with God and others.  I have nothing to prove, except that the love of God conquers and covers all.  Anything else I might try to prove with my life or my toil is nothing but hebel… fleeting and futile.
• I need to be doing more ministry.  Ministry is not a vocation but a way of life.  I make that mistake often.  But I get too drawn down by the fact that my current job description does not allow much time for ministry. This is an excuse. 
• I long for a change…. many changes.  more changes than I care to discuss here.  But simply know, change is on the horizon, and I plan to embrace it.