Lost in translation?

I wonder if this is what comes to mind when the world hears the church's or Christians' statements on making sacrifices to the Lord ...

Were you sprinkled, dunked, or cannonballed?

The video is funny, but the comments it inspired are ... well ... interesting.

Two words you never see in a sentence

Went to my neighborhood Target tonight on Sawyer for some stuff and stopped off at the Starbucks inside for a grande non-fat decaf peppermint mocha to keep me company. Hello, sweet friend.

I handed the cashier my debit card, but he waved it off. Afraid they would only take cash (which I didn't have on me), I began to mourn the loss of my sweet friend. But, the cashier explained that their cash register wasn't working so my drink was free.

That's right. Free. Starbucks gave me a grande non-fat decaf peppermint mocha for free.

Later, while standing in line to check-out with my basket of stuff, I wondered if the cash register were up and running yet at the Starbucks, and if not, would the cashier give me another grande non-fat decaf peppermint mocha for free.

But then I realized I didn't want to be that guy, so I wasn't.

Goodbye, dodgeball.

Well, this has come along about 25-30 years too late. If I could have just done THIS the whole time, my P.E. classes would not have been such a "Lord of the Flies" nightmare experience.

Be sure to watch the video under "Resources: Related Links."

Film Premiere at HFBC

For those of you in H-Town, come on out to HFBC on Saturday, December 2, at 7:30 pm for the premiere of an award-winning film -- The Oath of Desormeau. The event is free, so just show up!

With coverage in the Houston Chronicle and other sources, we're hoping to reach people who may otherwise not come to HFBC -- or to any church, for that matter. Pray that this will attract film enthusiasts here in H-Town.

"Steven W. Murray slept here"

This will only be of interest to about 2 or 3 of you, plus anybody who may be painfully bored at work this holiday week. After some searching on Google maps, I've found every place in which I've lived in the past 36 years.

(If you've used Google maps before, you know that the arrow is sometimes off by a block or two. So, some of these links may be misleading.)

San Jacinto Hospital, Baytown, Texas (1970)
St. Andrews Drive, Baytown, Texas (1970-1973)
Autumn Drive, Basking Ridge, New Jersey (1973-1975)
Glen Haven, Baytown, Texas (1975-1988)
Penland Hall, Baylor University, Waco, Texas (1988-1989)
Jamestown Apartments, Waco, Texas (1989-1991)
Cottonwood Apartments, Waco, Texas (1991-1992)
Mill Creek Condos, College Station, Texas (1992-1994)
Country Club View, Baytown, Texas (1994-1995)
Greenridge Place, Houston, Texas (1996)
- Radisson, Racine, Wisconsin (1996) - project with Accenture
Country Club View, Baytown, Texas (1997-1998)
- Chastain Apartments, Atlanta, Georgia (1997) - project with Accenture
- Some apartments, San Antonio (1997) - project with Accenture
Feagan, Houston, Texas (1998-present)


While we're at it, here are my schools, too:

Pumphrey Elementary, Baytown, Texas (1975-1981)
Gentry Junior School, Baytown, Texas (1981-1982)
Baytown Junior School, Baytown, Texas (1982-1984)
Ross S. Sterling High School, Baytown, Texas (1984-1988)
Baylor University, Waco, Texas (1988-1992)
Texas A&M University, College Station, Texas (1992-1994)

Do you hear what I hear? I hope not.

My excitement about Christmas expressed in a previous post has taken a bit of a hit.

Today, on 99.1 FM here in H-Town, I heard The Christmas Shoes by Newsong. Actually, I only heard the last two lines of the chorus as the song faded out. But that was more than enough to bring me down.

If I hear Happy Birthday Jesus any time soon, I may just have to shut off all radio stations between now and December 26.

Yes, the messages are sweet and well-intended. But, cheezy Christmas stuff is the worst. The worst, I tell ya. The worst!

Today, I was a Grandpa

Today was Grandparents' and Special Friends' Day at First Baptist Academy. Abby (12) and Isaiah (5), children of Denise and Don (HFBC's Singles Minister), asked me to be their "grandpa" for the day.

I was honored ... and humored, too. Clearly, I fall in the "special friend" category. But since that sounds a little too much like "domestic partner" I'm happy to be considered a grandpa.

When I arrived at Isaiah's kindergarten room, some of the other legitimate grandparents were already there. Apparently, each child had introduced their respective grandparents and told the other students what they call them, such as "Granny" or "Pops" or whatever.

Isaiah got up, came over and stood by me and told his classmates, "This is Steven. I call him Steven." Then he sat down.

Short. Sweet. To the point. Fantastic.

"We want our baby back, baby back, baby back, baby back, baby back ribs!"

Here's a little something I found on HoustonArchitecture.info -- a website I check out for the latest inside scoop on new developments in H-Town. It's a comment somebody posted about residents of new apartment complexes in the Heights area inside the Loop:

"Based on my observations, a large majority of those who dwell in the newish apartments that litter Studewood (and soon Sawyer Heights) are single or newly married twenty-somethings that grew up in Kingwood or Sugarland, and moved to "downtown" after A&M because that's what everyone does for a few years. As soon as they hit 28 or so, they'll be married, expecting, and happily moving back to the 'burbs, where a night out means baby-rack ribs at 6 pm."

That is brilliant and it makes me smile.

Interesting IM behavior

I've observed some interesting behavior when it comes to instant messaging.

Maybe my friends are all perfectionists. Maybe they think I have the IQ of a fork. Or maybe they are afraid of making a mistake in a message to a guy who finds misspellings and formatting inconsistencies on restaurant menus. (Yep. I'm that guy.)

Regardless of why it happens, here's what I've observed: When instant messaging, my friends are compelled to self-correct their typos in an apparent effort to clarify any confusion their typos may have caused me.

Here's a sample (though fictional) conversation:

me: how are you doing?
Friend: i'm just fine
me: where did you go this weekend?
Friend: we went to ausitn
austin
me: what did y'all do?
Friend: visited some of out friends
i mean "our" friends


Seriously? Are these corrections really necessary? Does my friend really think that I am sitting there scratching my head or searching Google Maps trying to figure out where Ausitn is?

I may not have mastered sudoku yet, but I think I'm able to solve these IM word jumbles pretty easily.

I prmoise!

It may smell, but not from cigarettes

Tim Russert and Brit Hume may not have been watching, but my eyes were on an election in Baytown last night.

I am happy to report that my hometown approved a city-wide smoking ban, with 57% in favor and 43% against. The ordinance is said to be one of the toughest in the state.

Before long, Baytown will be known for having the cleanest darn bowling alleys, ice houses, and auto repair shops in all of Texas! So to all you folks in The Woodlands ... you better watch your backs. Baytown's givin' you a run for your money!

Me vs. Lance Armstrong

Seven years ago, I finished the Houston marathon. It was certainly the most significant athletic and physical accomplishment of my life, and possibly my most significant accomplishment -- period.

Today, Lance Armstrong joined the club of marathon finishers. He called the race "the hardest physical thing I have ever done" -- even more grueling than his worst days on the Tour de France. You see, Lance -- you don't get to sit down on your bike seat in a marathon.

What really encourages me is that he was in a lot of pain. I don't mean that in a mean-spirited way, but the fact that arguably the greatest athlete of our time suffered more in his marathon debut than I did just really makes me feel good. (OK, so maybe that is a little sinister.)

And it's worth noting that Lance doesn't have quite the stamina that I showed in my marathon. He could only last for 2 hours and 59 minutes. I stuck it out for an amazing 5 hours and 32 minutes.

How's that for endurance, huh?

Can we just skip Thanksgiving?

Forget what Hobby Lobby might have told you back in July. The Christmas season did not officially begin until today, Friday, November 3, at about 10:54 am.

That's when I had the first sip of my first Starbucks peppermint mocha of the season.

I rounded out this first day of the Christmas season by buying Christmas music on iTunes. Nothin' like Martina McBride beltin' out "O Holy Night" to put me in the mood!

The "key" to a happy life?

When I got home tonight, I walked up to the front door of my house and pressed the "unlock" button on my car's remote opener on my keychain.

When nothing happened, I pressed it again. Still nothing, so I very intently aimed the remote at the doorknob, pressed the button firmly, and furrowed my brow for good measure.

Then I realized what I was doing.

Praise the Lord for the ability to laugh at ourselves, right? Life would just be too boring -- and miserable -- without it.

Rejected by Trick-or-Treaters

In the 8 years that I've lived in my house, I'm pretty sure I've never had trick-or-treaters. I was either at HFBC's Fall Festival each year, or kids just simply didn't show up. Living inside the loop in a transitional area filled with townhomes and crack houses, there aren't many young families in the 'hood.

So last night, when I heard footsteps and giggling voices coming up the stairs, I knew I was in trouble. Trick-or-treaters were approaching and I had nothing to give them. Nothing. Not expecting to have any visitors, I didn't buy any candy.

This was not going to end well.

Keep in mind that my accountability group was meeting at my place. Dave, Todd and I were talking when we heard the kids approaching. (Lincoln is on his honeymoon.) Also, keep in mind that my front door is 2/3 glass with a direct view into the living room where the three of us were sitting. The kids spotted us before we could hide.

Again, this was not going to end well.

DING-DONG!

"Trick or treat! Hey, I see people in there!"

I got up and ran to the kitchen in hopes of finding something that I could give them. My mind was working overtime, trying to rationalize each thing I saw as being a worthy treat for the kids.

Trail mix? No, it's not individually packaged. I can't give the kids a bunch of loose raisins and nuts.

Pretzel sticks? No, they're not individually packaged either. Plus, they're the whole-wheat kind. What kid wants health food?

Plastic cups? Maybe they could make something fun out of it. Add some string and you have an old tyme phone system. No, this isn't Little House on the Prairie.

As my frantic search continued, Todd and Dave did their part. Todd answered the door and spoke with Darth Vader and his Power Ranger friend. Their princess friend was still working her way up the stairs, trying not to trip over the dress and not to let go of her wand. Little did she know ... all that work for nothing.

Meanwhile, Dave hid from sight from the kids but shouted out ideas to me in the kitchen.

"Give 'em the Doritos!" he suggested, referring to an unopened extra-large bag of Doritos left over from a party a few weeks ago.

By this time, the Power Ranger had actually come into my house about three feet and had a look on his face that seemed to say, "Really, mister? You got nothin' for us?"

Oh, but I did have something! Nacho cheese Doritos in a bag bigger than the kid's torso!

When I offered the Doritos to the kids, they actually shook their heads no. I was rejected by a group of American kids -- kids who are known world-wide for their ability to scarf down their weight in junk food on a daily basis. Unbelievable.

So off they went, empty-handed on Halloween. I stepped outside and apologized to the adults waiting for the kids down on the street. (The princess was still working her way up the stairs.) The adults laughed and told me not to worry about it, but I did feel badly.

Next year I'll be prepared.