Join the revolution

There are many great men the in the history of the world, but there are only a few true revolutionaries. I have heard the call that I am to be the next great revolutionary. Revolutionaries not only do something spectacular, but change the world in the process. It is a burden to join other revolutionaries like Martin Luther King Jr, Mother Teresa, Abraham Lincoln, and The Beatles. Despite the weight of this task I have accepted this burden. I will carry it out. I expect nothing less than the transformation of the entire world. One man short of that goal would be unacceptable.

I have been stepping out in this beautiful revolution alone for the last few days. Yesterday (June 2^nd 12:37pm) I spotted the first fruit of this revolution. As we passed we did not speak. We smiled. We knew we had a joy that no one else on the street could understand. Simply joining this revolution connected us in a way that transcended words. I have a new bother. I anticipate the day when I can step outside and see a sea of brothers and sisters all sold in to the revolution. The world will pause, look around, and marvel at the magnificence of this multicolored revolution.

This is not a revolution of guns and bombs but one of beauty, color, and peace. No man, woman, or child who walks beside us will express their allegiance to our revolution with the same style. The simple sight of one of our sisters may conjure up the beauty of nature; sunsets, tropical breezes, or the ocean. Other brothers of sisters may bring to the forefront of our mind a grand vacation in the tropics full of tiki huts, laying in the sun, or sipping our favorite beverage. You may be enlightened by the simplicity of a person’s favorite flower or color. The vast possibilities of inspiration are endless. The revolution mirrors only the beauty of the people and the places of the world, and shields us from everything else.

I am a revolutionary. Join this revolution now and be a pioneer to this movement. Shine bright colors into a dark world. Take scenes of tropical paradises into the inner city. Carry with you flowers of every color and type into the concrete jungle. There will be a day when everyone has bought into the vision and the world is a brighter place. I deem this the summer of the Hawaiian shirt. Buy as many as you can and wear them daily with pride. When you pass a fellow revolutionary you don’t have to speak, simple smile and know you are brothers. Join the revolution.

Serving God with a Diamond Cutter...BANG!

When I was a kid I loved to watch wrestling. This love continued on into my adult life. The last time I watched wrestling regularly was before my son James was born, about 4 years ago. Even now, if I am flipping through the channels I stop sometimes stop and linger a bit at the show. I would probably watch the whole show if my kids were in bed or my wife wouldn't look at me like I was an idiot.

13 years ago i was still very much into wrestling. one of my favorites was diamond Dallas Page, otherwise known as DDP. DDP would beat his opponent senseless and then quickly throw his hands over his head with his thumbs and pointer fingers touching, making a diamond shape. This was his way of telling the crowd he was ready finishing move "the Diamond Cutter". When his hands went up in the shape of the diamond, all of the thousands of people in the arena jumped to their feet, mimicked him by throwing their arms up in the shape of a diamond, and screamed in an amazing unified roar of voices.

Around this same time I had just taken my first job as a youth director. I was only a 3-month rookie. I was with my youth at Summersalt, a summer camp in South Carolina. in between worship times, bible study, and meals we had some free time, and we usually chose to go to the pool. This was a really nice pool with a high dive. A bunch of people were going on the diving board and diving in, and each person diving from the high dive had the undivided attention of the entire pool.

I got in line and slowly made my way to the ladder, then up the ladder, and finally out on the board. I walk to the end of the board and realized it looks a lot higher when you are standing on the board. I looked out over the 50-70 youth in the pool, and I had no choice. The time called for it. I looked at the water, and then I looked again at the youth, and I threw my arms up in the air with my thumbs and my pointer fingers touching, the sign of the "Diamond Cutter". I quickly found that the 50-70 youth in the pool were also wrestling fans as all of their arms shot in the air, and i got a mini version of the scrams DDP received each week.

When DDP threw his arms in the air he was giving a sign of his finishing move. he was saying something special is about to happen. Here I was the heels of my feet on a high dive, my toes hangin off the edge. I had told the large group of youth (without saying a word) that something special is about to happen. I had better deliver. sure a 270 Lb cannonball is cool, but lots of people do cannonballs. I had told them to look at me here comes something special. I only had one choice once I had decided against the cannonball. i bent my knees, bounced once, and jumped hard. My arms and legs went spread eagle, and I dropped 20 feet parallel to the water. The volume of the sickening slap of my 270 Lb belly flop was only second to the cheers in the pool. My intense stinging and beat red wounds subsided, but the sound of that slap lives on in my head. It brings a huge smile to my face.

I am now 13 years older and 10 Lbs heavier. All of the youth in the pool have graduated. Many of them are married, and none of them remember that day. I don't throw up the sign of the "Diamond Cutter" anymore, but maybe I should. Maybe I should throw up my hands and use my thumbs and pointer fingers to make the shape of a diamond warning everyone in sight that something special is about to happen. But when you throw up the sign and step up with only your heels touching the board, you have to deliver.

Being a jerk at church

We had a great moment at youth group this week. It was spring break so only a handful of youth were there, but any student that missed this evening missed something special. Brain Dennison called me and told me of a concert at St. Johns Baptist church.

Brian Dennison, Mary Jane Dennison (holding her 6^th month old) Eliza Hallock, Kate Paul, Matthew Robertson, Heather Phillips, & I went in and found a seat on one of the back rows. We were the only white folks in the room of a few hundred black people. The concert was scheduled to start at 6:00pm but at 6:30 they did not even seem close to starting. Know some stereotypes of Black churches I joked that starting on time doesn’t matter so much when you have no plan for an ending time.

They did start around 6:45, and we were a bit shocked. The MC stared out announcing the first act would be from their mime ministry. Mime ministry? In a black church? It was a bit odd, but cool.

The second act kicked off with a bang. And they never stopped. They had drums, two pianos, an organ, a trumpet player, bass player, guitarist, etc. It was a great evening. It was loud, it was fun, and it was real worship. The easiest way to describe it was to think about the church scene in Blue Brothers (minus John Belushi doing hand springs and back flips).

They had a handful of cameras and two projector screens at the front of the church. During the first song the camera showed a picture of Heather and she got so nervous she could not help but laugh. Most of the room was standing, and clapping, and swaying. I, in comparison, was sitting quietly and would have looked bored had the camera saw me. I was VERY aware of the camera, and would try to sway and smile when it looked like it was pointing near me. I, thank God, never made it on camera.

A woman began to sing a solo with the choir accompanying her. She began singing her song and it was beautiful. Then she decided that the song needed her to hit somewhere in the range of 200 different octaves every five seconds. Everytime she hit a high note, everybody would start screaming and clapping. I, like a good sheep, also clapped even though I am still not sure if I enjoyed it. I could only think about how Simon Cowl would make fun of her if she tries out for American Idol. He would say, (thick British accent) “Honestly dear, do you think that was any good? It was all a bit over the top for me”. Then Paula would tell her how she liked her dress and how pretty she was. Randy would call her "Dogg" and mention something about her pitch being off.

Matthew Robertson teased Brian for clapping on the 2 and 4 count rather than the 1 and 3 count. Brain defended that he likes the 2 and 4 better. I nodded in agreement with whoever was talking at the time. I have no idea which count I was clapping on. I do know however I was clapping on the wrong ones. I finally decided to stare intently on the hands of a very flamboyant woman in the choir and I was mimicking her claps. Unfortunately she got bit excited and began to do a single clap and then a double clap, and never informed me when she would be do a single or a double. So I looked like Steve Martin, from the Jerk, clapping, stomping, and singing the wrong things.

Speaking of sining the wrong things… There was a song where the lead singer would sing “Protect”, and we would sing back to him “Protect”. Then he would sing something else, and we sing None but my Jesus”. We sung and yelled “Protect” and “none but my Jesus” for a while and then the song changed a bit and I could not understand the words. They sang for about 10 minutes with him singing something and the crowd answering something that sounds like “My Car Keys”. I was enjoying singing and it was loud so I just sang along “My car keys” hoping nobody could hear me.

We left at 7:30. They were just getting started, but we had to pick up my children up and the youth had to head home. It was a great night of fellowship, fun, great music, and true worship of Jesus Christ. If you missed it, you missed a very special night.

an Article written about Evan Marshall

Mourners try to 'find peace'

Cpl. Evan Marshall once told members of his church to accept pain and hardship in order to find peace - words that comforted mourners at Monday's funeral for the Athens soldier who was killed last week while serving in Iraq.

Marshall, 21, and four other American soldiers died Jan. 28 when a roadside bomb exploded near their vehicle while on patrol in the city of Mosul.

More than 800 people attended Marshall's funeral at First Presbyterian Church in downtown Athens, where Marshall was an active member of the youth group as a teen.

Marshall would want his friends and loved ones to find peace with his death, pastor Glenn Doak said, according to a sermon Marshall himself wrote for the church's youth group while a senior at Cedar Shoals High School.

"Peace is accepting life as it is rather than how you think it should be or how you want it to be..." Marshall wrote. "When life takes a turn for the worse, simply accepting the pain you feel instead of wishing it was different can bring you peace. ... Although sometimes our lives seem to be filled with sadness, we can rest assured that God is waiting to pull us out from the darkness at the end of the tunnel."

Marshall's sermon provided comfort to former youth group director Kim Mansfield, who remembered Marshall as a loyal friend who loved to spend time with other kids at the church.

"He had a faith and a spirit deeper and bigger than I ever knew," Mansfield said. "He wrote those words of his sermon for us here today."

Marshall was a quiet deep thinker who seemed to mature when he joined the military after high school graduation in 2004, friends said.

He served in Iraq from December 2005 until December 2006 and was less than two months into his second tour last week. He was awarded the Purple Heart and Bronze Star posthumously Monday and received a military funeral in Evergreen Memorial Park.

Several American flags flew outside the church, and more than 50 riders with the Patriot Guard, a group of motorcyclists who support fallen soldiers, escorted the funeral procession along with Athens-Clarke police.

Marshall's father, Andrew Marshall, is an Athens attorney and an active member at First Presbyterian, where he sings in the choir. Support from the church and across the community has helped sustain friends and family, he said.

"We've been touched by the outpouring of love and support from the church, family and the community at large and will always be grateful for that," Andrew Marshall said. "We wanted the service to honor Evan's sacrifice and be an expression of support for all the troops still in harm's way in the Middle East."

Marshall's decision to join the military came as a surprise to high school friends like Kevin Bradley, who said Marshall was never in ROTC or showed much interest in the military as a teenager. Marshall's friends are stunned by his death but proud of his service, Bradley said.

"I have a lot of respect for him," Bradley said. "Everyone's still kind of shocked by this, but more than anything, we're proud of what he did."

Several of Marshall's classmates shared stories over the Internet to remember him and deal with his death, classmate Holly Brightwell said.

Many of the stories revolve around snow skiing and trips with the church's youth group.

Beneath Marshall's shyness was a great sense of humor that would come out once he got to know you, said Joey Phillips, of Savannah, another of Marshall's former youth group directors. The youth group met once a week and spent a lot of time talking about God and playing video games, two of Marshall's favorite things to do, Phillips said.

"It took a little while to get to know him, but once you broke him out of his shell, he was one of the funniest guys we had," Phillips said.

As a close friend of the Marshall family, Patti Reed knew Marshall since he was a child and said she saw a definite change in him after he joined the Army.

"He really grew up," Reed said. "We saw him after basic training, and the physical change was incredible. He'd matured a lot, and he was much more focused."

Published in the Athens Banner-Herald on 02/05/08

Fear and Loathing in Athens Georgia

It’s been 6 years since I’ve been to Athens, GA. I worked as the youth director at First Presbyterian Church for a year and a half, starting back in 2001. I routinely taught the youth what I felt to be foundations of the Christian faith ;Jesus is the one and only way to Heaven (John 14:6) ; and the Bible is true, inspired by God, and our standard for living(II Timothy 3:16). I found myself routinely in the senior Pastors office Monday morning to debate what I had taught the youth the night before. It was dark time for me, and I left battle-worn, hurt, wounded, and confused about ministry. The wounds I took with me made it very easy for me to not look back.

Yesterday I returned to Athens to attend a funeral. This was the first funeral I have attended that was for a youth. Evan Marshall was killed by a roadside bomb while serving in Iraq. Evan and I were very close and It was very emotional and difficult day. (I will take some time to write my thoughts about Evan in a later blog).

The idea of returning to Athens was dreadful for me. I had suppressed all of the pain caused to me while I was in Athens, but as time drew near for me to take the trip back to First Presbyterian church this pain began to seep out in the form of anxiety. As I entered the church I felt myself literally peeking around corners to guard myself from seeing certain people I was worried about seeing. After dropping our children off at the nursery, Heather and I found a seat in the sanctuary. It was a beautiful service, but very difficult for me.

After the service concluded the family invited everyone to head downstairs to have a reception where we could hug, cry, and drink some nasty punch. I immediately bumped into Lynn and Happy Dicks. They are a family that allowed me to stay in their home for a season (a six month season) while I looked for an apartment. Lynn also started a prayer group where parents would come and pray specifically over me and the youth program. Then I meet some kid with a beard. I had no idea who he was, but I knew I knew him. After I walked away it hit me, “That was Lawrence Jones”. Lawrence was youth who I always felt very close to. When I last saw him he was in 8^th grade. Now he was at UGA and as I mentioned before had a great beard.

Heather and I met a slew of people, gathered a bunch of phone numbers, found out who is on facebook, and even made loose plans for some of the youth to come to Savannah to visit.

Yesterday was extremely therapeutic. I still have anger, but at for the first time I am being honest that it is anger. I will deal with the anger. I will not suppress it. I will forgive those who wounded me, even if they don’t realize they wounded me. I will begin a process I should have done a long time ago…building relationship with those from Athens who mean a lot to me.

Evan, I miss you. I sorry I did not pursue our relationship after I left Athens. I am sorry I did not get to know you as a man. Thank you. Through your death I am going to rebuild relationships I let fall apart.

I’ll see you Athenians soon.

Peace Out

Joey