the alamodome and bc place: how the mls is viable in san antonio

This is an article I wrote from Crocketteers.com, San Antonio's Premier Soccer Supporters Group.

One of the best innovation strategies in business is to do nothing. Sit and wait and allow those around you to innovate. Sometimes the smart companies pay for the R&D to make incremental changes to someone else’s good idea rather than paying the tremendous R&D to create the idea in the first place.

It is in that spirit, San Antonio, that I invite you to tour Vancouver’s BC Place with me.

As you know, Vancouver is going to begin play in the MLS in 2011. They will be playing home games at BC Place for the foreseeable future.

BC Place is a 60,000 seat stadium, whose current primary tenant is the BC Lions Canadian Football League Team. That is to say, BC Place is a 60,000 seat football stadium. Built in 1983 in part to attract a Major League Baseball team that never materialized, BC Place hosts trade and consumer shows (Boat Shows, Home and Garden Shows) and motorsports events (Monster Jam, anyone?) in addition to the CFL’s Lions. BC Place, though relatively busy, operates at an annual loss.

Sound familiar?

The Alamodome is a 65,000 seat stadium and is currently lacking a regular tenant. Built in 1993 in part to attract a National Football League team that never materialized, the Alamodome plays host to annual football games, trade and consumer shows, motorsports events, and annual marching band competitions. The Alamodome, though relatively busy, operates at an annual loss.

Once upon a time, the MLS had an agreement with the city of San Antonio to bring a team to the Alamodome, much like the deal that they currently have to place an MLS franchise in Vancouver’s BC Place. Politics quashed the deal as the reins of power changed hands.

Then, this spring, we get word that Spurs Sports & Entertainment (SS&E) is interested in bringing professional soccer to San Antonio, provided they have a soccer-specific-stadium (SSS). An SSS would bring in maximum revenue and the group made the statement that the economics at the Alamodome don’t work.

Perhaps we need to introduce our friends at SS&E to BC Place. Like the Alamodome’s long, lost twin, BC Place is not only viable for a profitable MLS team, but it is viable and it is TEN YEARS OLDER. BC Place will be undergoing limited renovations that will create an intimate soccer venue from a 60,000 seat barn. As you can see in the photo, BC Place would limit the seating to the lower bowl, integrate a centrally hung scoreboard, and project a visually striking image through the use of a translucent canopy that prevents the empty upper bowl from even being seen, giving a fan the impression and experience of a true European-style soccer environment.

The Alamodome could be transformed in much the same way. It could probably be done even cheaper than the work in Vancouver, thanks to the Alamodome’s relative youth. It could be done. And if the economics work in Vancouver, are we really to believe that they wouldn’t work here?

All of this to say one thing: San Antonio could host the MLS tomorrow. San Antonio has the population, the desire, the corporate base, and the facility.

All we need are leaders that will give it a chance. More on that soon…

of gridiron and the not-so-vacuous void

There was a moment in February of 2004 when a tiny newspaper blurb from The Star, a South African newspaper, allowed me a previously unknown freedom. It read:

American Gridiron: New England 32 Carolina 29

I was living as a missionary in Johannesburg and, for the first time in my life, I had missed the SuperBowl. And then it hit me. I hadn’t really missed anything. Some steroid-enhanced guys in tight, shiny pants ran around chasing a ball and someone was declared winner when a backwards clock read all zeroes.

(Sure is silly when you put it that way…)

But it was true. I hadn’t missed a thing.

I began to reconsider a lot of things in those days.

I began to consider the identity that I had built around other people’s ability. I began to consider how I had sought transcendence in overpaid laundry rather than eternal surety. And, living in Africa, I began to consider that I didn’t need sports at all…especially not to the level that I had previously submitted my life to them.

As a result, I largely gave up the day-to-day following of sports.

The beauty of the process was in the freedom it delivered. Rather than possessing a void where sports once stood, the fullness of the other aspects of life crashed into fill the vacuous space, leaving me with a greater satisfaction than ever before.

I still enjoy sports. I read a columnist or two regularly, as I love reading and I love good writing. I watch soccer every now and then, as it transports me back to Africa and back to a place where I feel connected with my faraway friends.

But it is nice not to be owned anymore. All because of one little line in an African newspaper.

American Gridiron: New England 32 Carolina 29

a question

What are you doing right now that will outlast you?

the lost city of z

Among the items occupying the Kindle screen these days is David Grann's fantastic book, The Lost City of Z.

A tale of Colonel Percy Fawcett's perilous journey into the unexplored Amazon in search of a mysterious lost city ('Z') is soon juxtaposed with the author's own fascination with both Fawcett and the Amazon. The author is overtaken with this obsession and chronicles for us his own pursuit of 'Z' and his recreation of Fawcett's legendary route.

Brain candy? Maybe. Great summer non-fiction? Definitely.

MLS in San Antonio: Gooooooooooooal

As part of my ongoing (read: completely worthless) efforts to bring the MLS to San Antonio, allow me to present the best goals from the 2008 MLS season. It is a long weekend, so this is my way of mailing it in. Until Tuesday...

If you are a subscriber and cannot see the video, click here...

a prayer from the depths

'In my distress I called to the LORD,
and he answered me.
From the depths of the grave I called for help,
and you listened to my cry.

You hurled me into the deep,
into the very heart of the seas,
and the currents swirled about me;
all your waves and breakers
swept over me.

I said, 'I have been banished
from your sight;
yet I will look again
toward your holy temple.'

The engulfing waters threatened me, the deep surrounded me;
seaweed was wrapped around my head.
To the roots of the mountains I sank down;
the earth beneath barred me in forever.
But you brought my life up from the pit,
O LORD my God.

When my life was ebbing away,
I remembered you, LORD,
and my prayer rose to you,
to your holy temple.

Those who cling to worthless idols
forfeit the grace that could be theirs.

But I, with a song of thanksgiving,
will sacrifice to you.
What I have vowed I will make good.
Salvation comes from the LORD.'

From the Book of Jonah

that album that feels like home...

I was organizing some iTunes this week and re-discovered an album that was really transformative in my journey. I listened to the words and realized just how much they meant to me and how I can now imagine the scenes of that season as vividly as if it were right in front of me.

Do you remember that album that seemed to change your trajectory, define a season, or bring perfect meaning to a place? What is on your transformative album list? Is there anything embarrassing in hindsight? Are there albums you didn't even know were that important at the time but now seem so monumental? Leave a comment. I'd love to know that I'm not alone here.

ellis park, johannesburg: the silliness of soccer and the memories it made

There was a day, as residents of Johannesburg, when Stef and I welcomed some Americans and decided to show them what we thought South African culture really was. This small group was interested in something authentic, something real. They had been knee-deep in the most impoverished places in the world and wanted to see what really substantiated a South African existence.

We took that group to the Apartheid Museum and jokingly separated them by race (see photo) and then we stopped by historic Ellis Park to catch an international soccer match between the USA and South Africa. The Museum was heavy history and perspective. The soccer was light fun, a window into the diversionary passion of South Africa's Everyman.

At Ellis Park, the vuvuzelas were in full force and our folks got a true taste of life for everyday South Africans. There was chanting and dancing and some funny smelling smoke floating in the air battling the smell of sidewalk pap and chicken for nostrilian dominance. We sat in the cheap seats with the poor folks and just generally enjoyed blending into a culture to which we did not belong.

This Sunday, the USA again plays soccer in Ellis Park, this time in the final of a high-profile international tournament, the Confederations Cup. The vuvuzelas will again hum and the smell of pap and chicken will waft in the air. I can still see it, smell it, and taste it. I am thankful that something as silly as soccer can bring such warm memories.

this is your life

I am late to the party on this one...

Still...working through some of the truth within. Don't close your eyes...

con le parole

con le parole...

parabolic living and anecdotal education

I have mentioned in this space my ongoing quest to live and see more parabolically, to see as Jesus saw in an effort to walk as Jesus walked. Maybe it is that push that drove me to read a book called “How Soccer Explains the World” by Franklin Foer. Maybe I just wanted an easy history lesson for my own pursuit of some bizarre/trivial academic elitism.

Using soccer as the lens through which to view world history, the book dives into such varying subjects as Serbian militias, Spain’s autonomous/anti-Castilian regions, the Balkan Wars, anti-Semitism, the Scottish proclivity towards religious persecution, and an American xenophobia that percolates just under the surface of our everyday life.

I enjoyed the book in its ability to see more than what is happening on the surface and for its ability use simple anecdotes to educate me about larger realities. Education by anecdote – the choice of a new generation.

espresso, white water, and the hazards of what is unseen

I had an interesting discussion with two of my favorite people early this morning over espresso and high-carb breakfast foods. The topic du jour was whether our seemingly minor hang-ups are indicators of larger issues beneath the surface.

I argued that they were indeed. Where does my overeating/smoking/obsessive working out/asceticism/laziness/(insert your seemingly minor hang-up here) come from…and what does it say about me on some deeper level?

As best I can figure, these minor hang-ups are like spits of white water on a river. The white water, the turmoil, on the surface is only there because of a boulder or log or other obstruction under the surface which violently shifts the current on the surface. The larger the boulders under the surface, the more fierce the white water. If the metaphor applies in truth, then it would stand to reason - the greater the inner turmoil, the more evident the outward signs.

And sometime, the most dangerous hazards in navigating such waters are not the massive boulders that we can see bursting through, but the jagged rocks that lie just beneath surface.

Is this a reach or does this ring true? Does this resonate with any depth?

piper on movies, nudity, relevance, and more

The follwing is a post from John Piper...

Read the following and tell me what you think in the comments section. Think we should be losing our TVs or staying away from the movies? Think violence and sexuality are different? Is there wisdom in Piper's way?


Why I Don’t Have a Television and Rarely Go to Movies

Now that the video of the Q&A at Advance 09 is available, I can look at it and feel bad all over again. Here’s what I regret, indeed what I have apologized for to the person who asked the question.

The first question to me and Mark Driscoll was, “Piper says get rid of my TV, and Driscoll says buy extra DVRs. How do you reconcile this difference?”

I responded, “Get your sources right. . . . I never said that in my life.”

Almost as soon as it was out of my mouth, I felt: “What a jerk, Piper!” A jerk is a person who nitpicks about the way a question is worded rather than taking the opportunity to address the issue in a serious way. I blew it at multiple levels.

So I was very glad when the person who asked the question wrote to me. I wrote back,

Be totally relieved that YOU did not ask a bad question. I gave a useless and unhelpful, and I think snide, answer and missed a GOLDEN opportunity to make plain the dangers of the triviality you referred to. . . . I don’t know why I snapped about the wording of the question instead of using it for what it was intended for. It was foolish and I think sinful.

So let me see if I can do better now. I can’t give an answer for what Mark means by “buy extra DVRs,” but I can tell you why my advice sounds different. I suspect that Mark and I would not agree on the degree to which the average pastor needs to be movie-savvy in order to be relevant, and the degree to which we should expose ourselves to the world’s entertainment.

I think relevance in preaching hangs very little on watching movies, and I think that much exposure to sensuality, banality, and God-absent entertainment does more to deaden our capacities for joy in Jesus than it does to make us spiritually powerful in the lives of the living dead. Sources of spiritual power—which are what we desperately need—are not in the cinema. You will not want your biographer to write: Prick him and he bleeds movies.

If you want to be relevant, say, for prostitutes, don’t watch a movie with a lot of tumbles in a brothel. Immerse yourself in the gospel, which is tailor-made for prostitutes; then watch Jesus deal with them in the Bible; then go find a prostitute and talk to her. Listen to her, not the movie. Being entertained by sin does not increase compassion for sinners.

There are, perhaps, a few extraordinary men who can watch action-packed, suspenseful, sexually explicit films and come away more godly. But there are not many. And I am certainly not one of them.

I have a high tolerance for violence, high tolerance for bad language, and zero tolerance for nudity. There is a reason for these differences. The violence is make-believe. They don’t really mean those bad words. But that lady is really naked, and I am really watching. And somewhere she has a brokenhearted father.

I’ll put it bluntly. The only nude female body a guy should ever lay his eyes on is his wife’s. The few exceptions include doctors, morticians, and fathers changing diapers. “I have made a covenant with my eyes; how then could I gaze at a virgin?” (Job 31:1). What the eyes see really matters. “Everyone who looks at a woman to desire her has already committed adultery with her in his heart” (Matthew 5:28). Better to gouge your eye than go to hell (verse 29).

Brothers, that is serious. Really serious. Jesus is violent about this. What we do with our eyes can damn us. One reason is that it is virtually impossible to transition from being entertained by nudity to an act of “beholding the glory of the Lord.” But this means the entire Christian life is threatened by the deadening effects of sexual titillation.

All Christ-exalting transformation comes from “beholding the glory of Christ.” “Beholding the glory of the Lord, [we] are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another” (2 Corinthians 3:18). Whatever dulls the eyes of our mind from seeing Christ powerfully and purely is destroying us. There is not one man in a thousand whose spiritual eyes are more readily moved by the beauty of Christ because he has just seen a bare breast with his buddies.

But leave sex aside (as if that were possible for fifteen minutes on TV). It’s the unremitting triviality that makes television so deadly. What we desperately need is help to enlarge our capacities to be moved by the immeasurable glories of Christ. Television takes us almost constantly in the opposite direction, lowering, shrinking, and deadening our capacities for worshiping Christ.

One more smaller concern with TV (besides its addictive tendencies, trivialization of life, and deadening effects): It takes time. I have so many things I want to accomplish in this one short life. Don’t waste your life is not a catchphrase for me; it’s a cliff I walk beside every day with trembling.

TV consumes more and more time for those who get used to watching it. You start to feel like it belongs. You wonder how you could get along without it. I am jealous for my evenings. There are so many things in life I want to accomplish. I simply could not do what I do if I watched television. So we have never had a TV in 40 years of marriage (except in Germany, to help learn the language). I don’t regret it.

Sorry again, for the bad answer. I hope this helps.

Pastor John

romans 9

At the same time, you need to know that I carry with me at all times a huge sorrow. It's an enormous pain deep within me, and I'm never free of it. I'm not exaggerating—Christ and the Holy Spirit are my witnesses. It's the Israelites...If there were any way I could be cursed by the Messiah so they could be blessed by him, I'd do it in a minute. They're my family. I grew up with them. They had everything going for them—family, glory, covenants, revelation, worship, promises, to say nothing of being the race that produced the Messiah, the Christ, who is God over everything, always. Oh, yes!

Don't suppose for a moment, though, that God's Word has malfunctioned in some way or other. The problem goes back a long way. From the outset, not all Israelites of the flesh were Israelites of the spirit. It wasn't Abraham's sperm that gave identity here, but God's promise. Remember how it was put: 'Your family will be defined by Isaac'? That means that Israelite identity was never racially determined by sexual transmission, but it was God-determined by promise. Remember that promise, 'When I come back next year at this time, Sarah will have a son'?

And that's not the only time. To Rebecca, also, a promise was made that took priority over genetics. When she became pregnant by our one-of-a-kind ancestor, Isaac, and her babies were still innocent in the womb—incapable of good or bad—she received a special assurance from God. What God did in this case made it perfectly plain that his purpose is not a hit-or-miss thing dependent on what we do or don't do, but a sure thing determined by his decision, flowing steadily from his initiative. God told Rebecca, 'The firstborn of your twins will take second place.' Later that was turned into a stark epigram: 'I loved Jacob; I hated Esau.'

Is that grounds for complaining that God is unfair? Not so fast, please. God told Moses, 'I'm in charge of mercy. I'm in charge of compassion.' Compassion doesn't originate in our bleeding hearts or moral sweat, but in God's mercy. The same point was made when God said to Pharaoh, 'I picked you as a bit player in this drama of my salvation power.' All we're saying is that God has the first word, initiating the action in which we play our part for good or ill.

Are you going to object, 'So how can God blame us for anything since he's in charge of everything? If the big decisions are already made, what say do we have in it?'

Who in the world do you think you are to second-guess God? Do you for one moment suppose any of us knows enough to call God into question? Clay doesn't talk back to the fingers that mold it, saying, 'Why did you shape me like this?' Isn't it obvious that a potter has a perfect right to shape one lump of clay into a vase for holding flowers and another into a pot for cooking beans? If God needs one style of pottery especially designed to show his angry displeasure and another style carefully crafted to show his glorious goodness, isn't that all right? Either or both happens to Jews, but it also happens to the other people. Hosea put it well:

I'll call nobodies and make them somebodies;
I'll call the unloved and make them beloved.
In the place where they yelled out, 'You're nobody!'
they're calling you 'God's living children.'
Isaiah maintained this same emphasis:
If each grain of sand on the seashore were numbered
and the sum labeled 'chosen of God,'
They'd be numbers still, not names;
salvation comes by personal selection.
God doesn't count us; he calls us by name.
Arithmetic is not his focus.
Isaiah had looked ahead and spoken the truth:
If our powerful God
had not provided us a legacy of living children,
We would have ended up like ghost towns,
like Sodom and Gomorrah.

How can we sum this up? All those people who didn't seem interested in what God was doing actually embraced what God was doing as he straightened out their lives. And Israel, who seemed so interested in reading and talking about what God was doing, missed it. How could they miss it? Because instead of trusting God, they took over. They were absorbed in what they themselves were doing. They were so absorbed in their 'God projects' that they didn't notice God right in front of them, like a huge rock in the middle of the road. And so they stumbled into him and went sprawling. Isaiah (again!) gives us the metaphor for pulling this together:

Careful! I've put a huge stone on the road to Mount Zion,
a stone you can't get around.
But the stone is me! If you're looking for me,
you'll find me on the way, not in the way.

matt chandler and the rose

my bella and the journey into the presence of the father

My child continues to amaze me, to bring me to awe and wonder. The way that she looks at me and learns is stunning. An incredible gift from above, no doubt.

She has begun crawling recently, which is a new phenomenon and consists of using only her arms to pull herself forward until she collapses face first and then repeating the process over and over. (My Dad has resorted to calling it “the worm” as he watched her inch forward.)

On Monday night, I came in after work and kissed Stef and picked up my little Bella. We had a moment. You know, “a moment”. We like to have moments. Wouldn’t trade them for the world. Her eyes are hopeful and endless. It is joy.

Not long after our moment, I found myself in the kitchen doing some dishes and I called for Bella from two rooms away. We made eye contact and she began excitedly making her way towards me. Slowly, she flopped and pulled herself around the couch and onto the old wooden floor. She flopped and pulled herself through the legs of the chairs at the kitchen table, where she rested for a moment, laying her head on the floor in exhaustion. Eventually, I coaxed her all the way into the kitchen, where she proudly raised her little arms for me to pick her up. Almost relieved, she did in fact make it into my arms and we hugged and she smiled proudly, aware that she had traversed quite the distance to enter into my presence. All to see her Daddy. All to be close to her Father.

Neat picture for us…on the journey to God the Father…what will we do to reach His embrace?

the end of the static

Yesterday was the second of my two preaching Sundays in July. I was able to close out out STATIC series and I figured I would make the audio available.
STATIC - Re-engage, 26 July

While I am at it, here is the rest of the series, with my other appearance being the first of the three (July 5).

STATIC - Rediscover, 5 July
STATIC - Reorient, 12 July
STATIC - Revolution, 19 July

of graffiti, white-flight, and the ubiquity of brokenness

I heard a story from a friend recently about a co-worker lamenting the fact that urban crime had caught up to him in his neighborhood on the sprawling edges of the city.

Graffiti and petty vandalism had made it to the exurbs and the wringing of hands had begun. “Pack up the house, Maude, we’re moving to Canada!!”

It occurred to me that perspective is everything. I live in an urban area, where teen pregnancy rates are through the roof, homelessness is rampant, and graffiti is ubiquitous. It is the kind of place that when you move into the neighborhood, your car insurance rates rise. And we love it for its charm and intimacy, for its age and its connectedness.

Do I even notice tagging in our hood? No. Why? Because, when you think about it, a tagged fence is not nearly as threatening as the white-flight crowd makes it out to be. It is a kid with a spray can… Yes, there are underlying issues there concerning gangs, property values and the like, but at the end of the day it is paint on wood.

Society is pocked with brokenness no matter what the zip code. In the city center, it is graffiti and in the gated neighborhoods, it is securities fraud. Forget which one is more obvious. Which one is really more damaging?

At the end of the day, there is no neighborhood, zip code, or lifestyle that trumps any other when it comes to escaping the nature of man. We are all broken…all in need of a savior.

amazing josh wilson, my new bff

Video embedded. Click here if you are a subscriber and cannot see it: TO VIDEO.

Caught this guy at Leadership Summit. The first video is that live performance, which was pretty stellar. He also performed Amazing Grace (which was downright incredible), but I couldn't find that version so this link to another version will have to do. Enjoy.

ever wish you were someplace else?

it is always a good time for tim sanders

Tim Sanders: Mojo Rising Keynote from Tim Sanders on Vimeo.

insuspenders day and the impact you made

On July 4th, we again hosted our annual InSuspenders Day party. Friends came in droves - 50 folks in total this year, all stuffed into our 1100 sq ft house and our little backyard.

There were yuppie-west-siders everywhere, in addition to a beautiful collection of families, tattoo-sleeves, homeless guys, weirdos, dudes, and chicks. Basically, it was really hot and a little crowded and an unreal success. The hot dogs were scrumptious, the fireworks were awesome, and the picture of the Kingdom was tangible.

All of that was great. BUT THE BIG DEAL THIS YEAR WAS THAT...

...This year we asked our guests to consider offering some cash to the 'least of these' instead of bringing food and drink (even though some still hooked us up with sweetness). We took care of the food and our dear friends dropped $608 in a glass jar that went directly to feed kids in South Africa. What's cooler is that Tiffani, our housemate/neighbor/tenant/sistah got to hand-deliver the check to Pastor Willie in South Africa and then feed the kiddos herself when she was over there in July.

You will see many of the kids in this video that Tiff made when she got back. I hope you enjoy getting to see your love making an impact in far away places.

I hope you also see how we can do incredible things together when we think of His people and consider His children. I cannot thank all of you enough for your generosity and life-giving sacrifice. Children will be eating off of that $608 for months. I am forever grateful. And I am so excited to do it all again next year. Enjoy.

maybe darkness exists to showcase light

twittering for a cause

So a friend of mine went to give blood recently. And he usually faces a difficult series of questions, having been a missionary in Papua New Guinea several years ago and having contracted malaria in his time there. This most recent experience, however, was the most perplexingly difficult of them all.

The nurse began by scanning his questionnaire and zeroing in on the obvious issue. She asked him when exactly he “had last visited Malaria”. He stated clearly that he “contracted it” years ago and had not had it again. Unfazed, she made sure to double-check: “So you have not been to Malaria in the last 3 years?” The response: “Um, no I have not contracted malaria in the last 3 years.”

After consultation with the supervisor, the decision was made.

“Well, as long as you haven’t been back to Malaria in the last 3 years, you are good to give blood.”

Ok then.

In honor of his donation of precious plasma and our concern for the plight of the Malarian people, I have started a Twitter drive, a tweet-a-thon if you will.

Now I have never tweeted before, but I did sign up for Twitter some time back just in case I ever figured out what its purpose was. In the mean-time, I have attracted 5 followers, who I am sure have enjoyed my lack of twitter-iffic activity.

Beginning the 1st of September, I will give $1 to the Malarian people (if we can locate them) for every Twitter follower I get. So tell you friends and your family. Tell your neighbor and your blood-drive nurse. Tell them that the people of little Malaria need our help and (possibly) our blood. Tell them that they can help me just like they did Ashton Kutcher. Tell them that as long as they have not been to Malaria in 3 years, they are good to give blood. Together, we can make a difference!!
Follow me at http://twitter.com/kyleburkholder

so glad i'm here: 8 months as a dad

I just wanted to remember back to that first day.

of searing encouragement and arrows of restoration

On Monday night, Stef and I were hanging out post-Bella-bedtime. I was in the midst of a growing bout of idolatrous self-pity and we got a timely visit from Ryan Callahan.

Ryan had sensed my despair in reading between the lines of an earlier Twitter post and he proceeded to lay into me with every possible form of encouraging speech that anyone could imagine. I sat and took my punishment. In a way, it almost hurt to hear it all. How could I have been so selfish and foolish to have forgotten my place in this world? And when exactly did I start placing my own happiness above the hope and hunger of the world’s poor, the people that Ryan praised me for promoting so vigorously?

At some point, the punishment became pure joy. He continued to encourage me and my guilt turned into gladness. Tears streamed as he restored something deep within me. I sat speechless under a barrage of blessing. At one point, I closed my eyes and just listened intently as the words penetrated my heart. I literally felt like I was being seared with arrows directly into my heart, only it didn’t burn in a bad way. It was something like a fresh weld, a bond of strength amplifying my resolve to chase with reckless abandon the things that have been set before me.

It was a pretty good visit.

10/18 video

10/4 The Fall

Falling Gracefully from Grace Point Church on Vimeo.

10/11 The Fall

Falling Mercifully from Grace Point Church on Vimeo.

10/18 The Fall

Our Response to the Fall from Grace Point Church on Vimeo.

shameful defecation: a reminder of why i live in the inner city

When Stef and I went house-shopping last April, we went out with a distinct bias. We wanted an integrated neighborhood with character, walkability, and access to public transportation. We wanted to be in the city and in the midst of its people.

We settled just outside of downtown in the Deco District, on the fringes of the Monticello Park Historic District. The area is beautiful to the right set of eyes, home to modest century-old homes and plenty of inner-city culture.

We never did mind the run-down houses, graffiti, or crime statistics. In truth, we looked right past it. Having lived in South Africa, those things are part of the given life of urbanites and those who dwell among the poor. In a sense, I see those things as a badge of honor. It is a privilege to live amongst it all and it does wonderful things for my perspective.

After we moved in, other folks we know started coming over too. Eventually, we had a mini-takeover of 78201 going. Stef knew bus-drivers by name. Other neighbors bicycled to work and school. Still others were pooling resources and sharing all that they had. I laugh when I wonder what my neighbors must think as I walk down the street 0.8 miles to collect a borrowed lawnmower or to fetch a shovel. I smile when I consider the way that a shared garden utensil unites us, though. Just one more reason to say hello.

Strangely, life in the inner city is just like life on the outer edges. Same moving parts. Just different scenery out the window.

Strangely,I think I began to take the neighborhood for granted. I began to imagine that everyone lived about like I did. I began to assume that we’re all about the same, that we all have jobs and cars and high-speed internet. Then I took a walk, one that I take multiple times a week.

Bella and I often go grocery shopping while Stef teaches piano lessons. I plop her in her stroller and we make the short walk to the neighborhood grocery store. We pass through a nice part of the neighborhood, quiet and well-kept. We then pass an apartment building for men with mild mental disabilities and one of the busiest bus stops in the city. Fun trip for Bella as there is a lot to see. Fun for me as I can just leave the car at home and enjoy the world on foot, pretending that I am more urbane than I really am…

Recently, we made the trip and I was reminded that we are not the same, me and my neighbors. And it hit me again that I moved here in part to be close to the poor, to live among the desperate, and to love and serve them in community. It occurred to me that I just don’t do it very well sometimes.

On this latest walk with Bella, besides the regular stray dogs and wandering weirdoes, we saw some things that brought me back to reality.

There was a young couple having a shouting match that I feared would soon turn violent. What must they need? Can I give it?

There was an elderly man in the grocery store, stealing fruit. Taking simple things and dropping them quickly into his pockets. How hungry must this frail man be? What must he need? Is it mine to provide?

There was a young girl defecating behind a building while her mother kept watch for her. She could not have been more than 4 years old, crouching in the overgrown weeds behind a shuttered building that was a storefront for insurance or tarot readings in a former life. That little girl shocked me back into reality. What conditions must these people live in that they are forced to crouch in the grass in shame and release the waste of life? What must they need? Do I have it to give?

In the midst of these people, what does my life say about what I value? How does my time show them Christ’s love? How does my response to these scenes represent a beautiful God? And how did I get so busy and distracted that I forgot these people – these people I was called to live among and love? How is it that I forgot, even for a moment, that they existed?

There is work to be done…

of saltines and stomach bugs: another reason why i love my bella

Anecdotal reason #312 that I love my child ridiculously:

Bella and I are both sick. Stomach bugs and flu and just total nastiness.

And so I am breaking up Saltine crackers for her so she can get something in her little tummy without giving it all back. And she looks at me for a long moment and looks down at her crackers, picks one up, and reaches out her hand and gives it to me. As if to say...

'Here, Daddy - you eat some too'...

I hold it and look at her in disbelief as she then puts her little hand under mine and determinedly starts to push my hand up towards my mouth.

'Eat it, Daddy - it'll make you feel better too'...

I pray that she feeds many weary souls on her journey. A pleasure to be among the first.

live intentionally?

I don't blog much anymore. Don't really know why...

I still notice the parabolic realities in life. I guess I just don't share them as widely. I wonder if blogging weren't my pulpit when I had no physical pulpit to occupy. And now that I have a weekly place to preach...

If that weren't enough, I am more and more consumed with my little family, my precious wife and our ridiculous daughter every day. I am more and more consumed by the ministry God has provided for us, the place where folks exist to Amplify the King.

So I blog less - much less. I tweet now, since blogging takes a ton of time and thought and tweeting takes very little of either. And maybe that's OK. Maybe not.

Anyway, I ran into the above photo and wondered if I was practicing what I preach. Do I live intentionally? Do you?

I don't blog much anymore. Don't really know why...

South Africa Mission Update #1

(Intermittent Updates on the Grace Point South Africa Mission Team will be posted here...)

Post #1

The Grace Point team has arrived in Johannesburg. An uneventful (if long) flight found them safely on African soil. After a late-night dinner at McDonalds (only place open after dark), the team was to sleep in preparation for Sunday ministry at Mayfair Baptist Church. The team will meet the church in the morning and have a special Sunday night service where they will do all of the music and teaching.

(FYI - Johannesburg is 8 hours ahead of San Antonio...)

Kyle

South Africa Mission Update #2

Just heard from Stefani...

The team is preparing for their Sunday night service. All are generally well and excited.

Prayer Requests:

- Kelly is sick to her stomach. Pray for a quick recovery and for God to teach her even in the ugliness.
- Crystal's bag has still not arrived. Pray for that situation to be worked out and for God to stretch Crystal in the uncomfortable place she finds herself.
- The team is exhausted. Jet lag + Time difference makes for a sleepless first night for most of them. Pray that they get rest tonight so they can be truly alive as they tackle a difficult week of ministry.

South Africa Update #3

The team enjoyed a Monday of ministry. Although a school visit was ruled out due to weather, the team was able to minister to the men of the Johannesburg Correctional Centre (a maximum security facility).

In addition, the team got to get up close and personal with the residents of the squatter camp nearest the church where they are serving. The team was able to feed the children there and to build a rapport that will allow them to continue to serve the residents for the rest of their stay...

Prayer answered:
Kelly is feeling better!!!

South Africa Update #4

The team broke up today, with some members running programs at schools and other members ministering to the prisoners at Johannesburg Medium B Correctional Centre.

Word is that the team members are starting to come together and that not only is great ministry happening during the day, but that the nightly devotionals are taking on a new depth and meaning.

In addition to all of the work of their Tuesday, the team was able to do some shopping at Bruma, a traditional African outdoor market. With hand-carved curios, soccer jerseys, paintings, and traditional clothing, there is something for everyone at Bruma. Between that and a lunch at CIRO's pizza, the team is said to be in high spirits and ready for more hard work coming up.

Prayer Request:
That the team would continue to get along so well and that the honesty and openness would continue to develop as the impact of all they are seeing and doing begins to settle into their souls. These are the days in the trip when one's heart starts to really internalize all that the eyes have taken in. Pray for the Lord to press in deeply.

South Africa Update #5

The team is again making the rounds at schools and prisons today, encouraging the believer and inviting the seeker.

Among the two biggest events left for the team (and the two that will require the most preparation) are services run through Mayfair Baptist Church in Johannesburg.

First, on Friday night (noon in Texas) the Youth of the church will gather and the Grace Point team will be completely in charge of programming a night for them. The team was only made aware of this yesterday and so is planning at the last minute and praying for a good response.

Earlier on Friday, the team is planning an outdoor church service at the Joe Slovo squatter camp near the church, the same one where they have been feeding the children all week.

Prayer Requests:
- That the team would be confident in the plans the Lord has before them and work without anxiety or worry.
- That the nightly devotional time would continue to produce discussion and deep questions as the Lord grows the faith of those on the trip.
- Pray for health on the team, as Stefani is the latest person to come down with an upset stomach.
- Begin praying for Ryan Callahan. As the team gets closer to leaving, he gets closer to being left behind. Pray that God would be his strength, his companionship, and his inspiration.

South Africa Update #6

Just a joyful report that as the team went to sleep Wednesday night, they were in great health and great spirits. No signs of upset stomachs and plenty of full bellies.

They had an African BBQ (known as 'braai') with the Africans they are staying with and, of course, Pastor Willie. A Burundian war-refugee played a solo 'concert' for them and a young Zulu showed off some traditional African dancing.

Those times of fellowship and relationship are lasting memories that the team will cherish. After long days of pouring out oneself in ministry, it is often the laughs around a fire that sustains the missionary.

Praise God for His provision and for a SAFE first half of the trip!!!

-KB

South Africa Update #7

The rains are falling in Johannesburg. And when the rain comes in Africa, it often comes in buckets.

Sure enough, the team had to put one ministry on hold due to the rain - they were to collect street children for a little mercy ministry project. The idea was to bring the street children to the church, feed them, give them a place to shower, and then send them on with new clothes and full bellies. That will wait for tomorrow, which will be here soon enough.

Instead of helping the children, the team again hit the prisons hard, ministering to juveniles who were awaiting trial. The response was great and the team is sleeping well tonight in anticipation of a HUGE day tomorrow that will start at 4:45am.

Tomorrow, the team will tackle two prisons (including a female prison). In addition to their work behind bars, they will be feeding and handing out soccer balls, ice pops, and jump ropes at the local squatter camp. If that weren't enough, they'll then be running a Youth service for 100 high school age kids at Mayfair Baptist. Somewhere in between all of that, they still aim to find and feed the street children.

Their reward? Time on Saturday to visit a lion park outside of Johannesburg.

Keep praying that they would finish well. They are headed into the last days of ministry and they will need all of the strength they can muster to finish strong.

And keep praying for Ryan, that he would transition into his role as a full-time missionary with grace and that God would steal away those hurdles to his being obedient and effective.

-KB

South Africa Update #8

The team is on their way home.

They sould be on the ground in San Antonio around lunchtime on Monday!!

that moment of transcendence: of memories and something larger

Scan your memory for a minute and consider those times in life where you've really experienced transcendence, where you've truly been part of something larger than yourself.

Maybe you were volunteering on a Habitat for Humanity project and the standing of a completed wall brought a rush of adrenaline that was beyond what should have been there for the simple application of hammers to nails.

Maybe you were in a delivery room and you saw the orchestral movements of nurses and doctors and husbands and mothers. You remember the beyond-words magic of a crying baby and a life unveiled.

I remember my own moments. I remember moments in a sports arena, cheering on modern-day gladiators with thousands of others, getting swept up in the metaphor of an us-versus-them battle that represents such a larger reality.

I remember being in a hotel in Naivasha, Kenya singing of the kindness of a savior in the darkness of an African night, disparate souls tied with a common experience and a common yearning to be led to repentance.

I remember the embrace of men in a hospital hallway before being wheeled into surgery, the weight of their hands pressing their faith into my weary body.

I remember the feeling of my new wife's hands in mine as we explored Seattle on our honeymoon. Alone in a charming, bustling metropolis, we were at once in our own world and yet connected with the larger Love that bound us.

I remember the last time my daughter squeezed my neck, knowing that such deep joy could not come from such an arbitrary embrace apart from a transcendent Source being represented in that moment.

I remember...

What do you remember?

the mission: go

From February 7, 2010...

The Mission - Go from Grace Point Church on Vimeo.

faith: of rubber chickens and internal emptiness

I am sure that faith is real.

I just don't always know if our faith is real.

I mean, we have so many culturally established ways of displaying faith that one wonders whether it remains faith at all. I wonder if our faith hasn't shifted from actual faith to cultural faith. Like, 'If I am faithful to this culture, it will reward me with ease and comfort and acceptance.'

So that's still faith, but not in some higher power or creative Source. That's faith in the collective swings and trends of humanity.

This Sunday night at Amplify, I'll start a series of services/sermons called Rubber Chicken Theology. I hope we'll find out whether we're living as followers of Christ or just looking like followers of Christ. Because, like a $4 rubber chicken, you can look the part and fool a few folks...but inside of us a very different story is being told.

squatter camp(out): of awareness and action

Awareness is a seductive drug. It is powerful in the right hands but completely worthless in practical terms.

Awareness cannot cure, help, or comfort. Awareness does not win wars or topple evil. It does not do... It simply is...

On the same token, awareness can rouse the warriors to charge up a hill to fight for justice. Awareness can inspire greatness in medicine and art. Awareness can open eyes and hearts and the floodgates of heaven.

So what if I offered you some awareness...? What if I invited you to live like the world's poor for one night...? What if I invited you to a Squatter Camp(out)...?

why awareness matters

As College Pastor at Grace Point Church, I get to preach almost every week, which I absolutely love. We've started making the sermons from the College service available online at http://sermon.net/gpAmplify Check it out sometime and see what we're all about...

The most recent message comes on the heels of the Amplify Squatter Camp(out), which was basically an urban campout where 53 folks from our college ministry decided to sleep in cardboard boxes in order to know better the plight of the world's poor.

We gained an incredible awareness. The linked message explains why that awareness matters - and when awareness is totally worthless...

Enjoy: http://sermon.net/gpAmplify/sermonid/2358555

squatter camp(out) 2010

sin separates

Its All About Relationship - Sin Separates from Grace Point Church on Vimeo.

World Vision Micro

Healthy Distrust? Costco and Questions

I don't know exactly how not to be skeptical.

The wife and I recently made our way over to Costco. We were given a membership by a sweet couple that I married some months back and I had yet to actually make it to the store. Stefani had been several times to take advantage of great deals on detergent and food and various other things.

So I step into this warehouse and slowly realize that shoppers at Costco are happier. And it doesn't take me long to figure out why. These shoppers feel like they are getting a good deal - on EVERYTHING. They are being buttered up (literally) on all sorts of snacks by the friendly sample-pushers and they are encountering row upon row of low prices on bulk goods.

I, on the other hand, am growing more and more agitated.

You see, I understand the basic reality that for any business to turn a profit, they have to actually get me to part with MY money. They have to, for lack of a better term, separate me from my cash. And I get this. I really do. One of my favorite local business owners openly tells me what his mark-up is on items. And I am happy to pay that mark-up. I enjoy his product and his family eats and has a roof over their heads. Win-win...

But Costco seems to attempt to convince me that they are somehow sacrificially offering these great deals. And I don't know how they do it. But they do - and they have millions of raving fans that can't believe that the rest of us poor souls would procure produce and perfume at mere ordinary shops.

So every aisle of the store is like an incredible exercise in self-control. No, I don't need an 8-pack of toothpaste. No, I don't need a 12-pound bag of fresh unshucked oysters. No, I don't need 24 glorious cans of Red Bull.

And I left Costco strangely bitter. Not only because I bought 3200 ounces of Heinz Ketchup that I didn't need... More because I was almost guilted by the absence of all of the 'great deals' I left on the shelf. Like they had offered to do me a favor (and the case of Red Bull was tempting) and I had so rudely declined.

I was skeptical of their use of psychology, their subterranean assault on all of us unassuming consumers. I was suspicious of their great deals (which somehow escapes the scrutiny that befalls Wal-Mart) and the fate of the folks on whose backs I profit. I was cynical that so many things could really be in one place - and still be good.

I don't know.

Maybe I felt guilty because of the abundance we have that so many lack. Maybe I felt ugly because I had to use all of the willpower I possess in order to turn down delicious deals while others on planet earth would have killed for 5 minutes alone in that store, for a simple moment to consume what they could.

Maybe I just don't trust things to be as they are presented. And maybe I don't think that's such a terrible thing.

Coffee Conversations: Just Passing Through?

Over coffee this week, I had an interesting conversation about where we're all going. No, not in an eternity/heaven/hell type of way, but in the sense of intra-life destinations.

Like, how a young dude claims to be unprepared for marriage until he gets himself all fixed up in the unruly areas of bachelordom. In a larger sense, this is the idea that if we can somehow get ourselves all sorted out and stain-free, then we'll be ready for that next challenge or season.

And yet we all know the reality that it is in the journey when the junk gets sorted out. It is in the breakdown where the beauty becomes visible again.

So why go through life waiting to be acceptable enough or prepared enough or fixed-up enough or polished enough to actually engage in that life? Why not jump in and watch the way that the world was designed to refine us along the way? And why not be satisfied with the notion that we will pass away imperfect and incomplete in our own effort?

Are you an active participant in life? Or are you delusionally waiting for some perfect scenario to present itself, sitting on the sidelines all the while?

So You Hate the Vuvuzela?

Why I Love the Vuvuzela

I love the vuvuzela. Straight up love it.

I love the vuvuzela because it is uniquely African. It is a cultural staple. And, for once, we (the powerful elitist of the developed world) are being forced to deal with someone else's culture rather that simply overwhelming the 'lesser' nation with our vapid idea of what proper culture should be.

All of the complaining parties are offenders of one form or another. Some of you yahoos in Texas shake cowbells at sporting events, which makes the vuvuzela sound like a lullaby.

Others among us are guilty of using those annoyingly lazy hand-clapper things. Who thought there was such a gap in society that we needed to invent that? And what did that brainstorm sound like? 'Hmm, I have two hands but that is awfully bothersome to have to clap using both of them. And sometimes I clap wrong and it almost hurts. What if I just had to shake these plastic hand-shaped things and they made a rackety clapping sound? Yes!! Perfect!!'

Worst of all are the dreaded thundersticks. Inflatable banging plastic demons sponsored by Crocs or Kraft Foods or the local Autoplex. Let's just not go there.

But here is the deal. And here is the difference. We use noisemakers in America because we generally lack passion enough to produce organic noise from our own beings. And we're generally too lazy to do much noise-making even if we have all the zeal in the world. So we rely on gimmicky noisemakers that allow us the ability to make 'supportive' noise while eating nachos and drinking a 72oz soft drink.

The South Africans, on the other hand, are so over-excited about their teams that they need more ways to make noise. So beyond singing and clapping, they grab the vuvuzela and start to blow. They blow in unison, creating deafening chants with the horns. They wave them in unison, creating impressive displays of spontaneous pseudo-choreographed support. And they dance all the while, celebrating not the ability to dominate on the pitch but the simple freedom to enjoy sport and recreation free from the deafening burdens of life as third-world slum-dwellers.

I love the vuvuzela and the departure it is from life as we know it. I love that it is an instrument of celebration for a people who for so long lacked something to celebrate. I love that in 2004 when the World Cup was awarded to South Africa, the streets immediately filled with the sound of the plastic trumpet and the din lasted long through the night. I love that FIFA has allowed the culture of the host nation to bleed through and that the uptight residents of the rest of the world are irritated by someone else's joyful noise. I love it all.

I love South Africans. I love the vuvuzela.

Vuvuzela Lovers Rejoice!!

As you may have heard, I love the vuvuzela. And I know that you do too!! (Really, somewhere in you there must be a part of you that doesn't hate the vuvuzela - and that is the part that I will call 'love'...)

So to celebrate your love of the vuvuzela, I now have two versions of this blog.

One is traditional, vuvuzela-free. http://theburkholders.blogspot.com/

The new version comes with vuvuzelas for your enjoyment. http://www.vuvuzela-time.co.uk/theburkholders.blogspot.com/

You can thank me later.

Ellis Park: Memories of 2007

This post originally ran on 05 December 2007. In honor of the US World Cup game in Ellis Park today, I wanted to relive my first experience at the historic stadium...

of apartheid, pap, and crazy, horn-blowing soccer fans: culture day on a mission trip

Every team that I have a hand in leading gets one 'culture day' on their mission trip.

The team that was here from San Antonio, from Grace Point, got a unique day of South African culture to be sure. No safari, but that really isn't the culture of Joburg, now is it?

We first went to the Apartheid Museum, where they learned about the people that they would be ministering to. They were able to see, firsthand, what real oppression looks like. It is a sobering trip through the museum, but one which gives the visitor a much clearer picture of why present-day South Africa looks the way it does.

After that, we stopped at Anna's roadside stand for a real South African lunch. Anna sets up a portable kitchen every day in the same spot, with little gas skillets and cardboard counter-tops. She has been in this spot since 2001 and, in our opinion, makes the best pap in Africa. We (eventually - long story) treated the team to pap and chicken or pap and steak. For about $2 a person, you get more food than almost anyone can eat in one sitting. This is the meal that many (if not most) Africans eat every day (minus the meat which is a luxury) and very few visiting missionaries ever try it. Mmm.


Finally, we headed over to Ellis Park for a soccer match between the USA and South Africa. To really know South Africans, you have to see them in their element. And soccer is their element. The USA won 1-0 in a exciting match that saw the South Africans take (and miss) about 47 shots that could have tied it in the 2nd half. The fans were nuts, dancing and shouting and blowing horns and clapping hands... They were the real highlight of the game and the real reason we were there.

The team got a taste (literally and figuratively) of what real Africans go through on a daily basis. They mourned with them, ate with them, and cheered with them.

My hope is that no one on the team will soon forget them.

Time is Money? Being Versus Doing

As a College Pastor, I am frequently confronted with students worried about what it is they will do when they get out of school. I am constantly trying to change the conversation from what they will 'do' to what they will 'be', mainly because we have become obsessed with (and identified by) career. But should we be?

Let's admit that we live in America and no one is likely to go hungry after finishing college. So the question is not how are we going to earn money, but how will we live this life (a small portion of which involves making money).

And so we have to rearrange our thinking. We have to stop meeting people and asking them 'what do you do' and start asking them 'how's your life'. I mean, really, it's a much more interesting question with a whole possible range of provocative answers. I get blank stares half of the time when I ask it as people have to mentally shift out of auto-pilot and engage in actual thought in order to answer the question. And, not surprisingly, every so often someone answers honestly.

'Not so good, man.'

This is where life happens. This is where eternity or infinity or destiny gets established. Not in pay stubs or job fulfillment, but in relationships, both vertical and horizontal.

So let's agree together to stop worrying about what it is we have done, are doing, or will do. If He provides for the birds and lillies... Right?!?! It's going to work out just like it is supposed to...

And just in case you hear the phrase, 'Time is money', feel free to correct that person.

Life is more than money. And time was never money. And, no matter, one day we'll all be Gone.

Love y'all.
Kyle