I’ve written in the past about some of the interesting relational things about facebook. And now…another one.

I’m writing this on the day where I write about relationships with enemies, but that might or might not be extreme for the topic today.  You see, one thing that is fascinating about Facebook is the ability to be friends again with people you’ve been around in days gone by, in different eras of your life.  This is great in one sense, because I love seeing friends I haven’t seen in a while.  In another though, we must meet up with the realization that there is a reason we are no longer in that season of our life.

For instance, I grew up in the thriving metropolis of Fremont, Ohio.  A set of my friends live there or know me from there.  The theology was rigid and the music was bad.

At 17, I moved to Pensacola, Florida to attend college.  A big number of my friends attended there with me.  The theology was also rigid, but the music was good.  By good, I mean professional as opposed to a type that I liked.

When I moved to Florida, my parents moved to Arizona, so during the summers I lived there.  A small portion of my friends live or lived there.

After college, I moved to Atlanta, GA where I taught school and other odd jobs for the year of 1998.  It appears that I have a lot of facebook friends from this are of my life.

Then I moved to Massachusetts in the middle of 1998 and have been here ever since.  Meeting friends, seeing people move away.  Meeting new friends.

I bring all this up because I wonder whether it’s healthy to have an eye on all these people from all these various stages of life.  I’m really glad the technology exists, and I have become close again with friends from my past, and in some cases closer, but for the most part, it has been just a means of seeing that they ate chili this morning for breakfast or that their kid puked all over their back seat because of travel sickness.  But here’s the interesting predicament I’m processing.  I wonder if they (meaning my friends from a different era) like the ideal of the old Marty, who was sheltered and didn’t listen to rock music and didn’t say things like “crap” and “screwed”  and who towed the party lines when it came to eschatology and the church?

Then I wonder if I’m just creating a new crop of enemies for myself by having a facebook account?  I could just as easily write the names of the people who I’d really be in contact with, and get on with my life post facebook.  Wow!  That’s a lot to think about.

I’m just glad I didn’t grow up a Calvinist and jump out of those circles.  I would be so screwed.

I am friends with 3 of these people on Facebook. I have occasional facebook conversations with one of them.  But in 1984, these people were a major part of my life.

At some point I had to make an adjustment.  I had to be able to meet new people, say hi even when I didn’t feel like it, and open myself up to people even when it wasn’t comfortable.  With the meeting of new people came opening myself up to new ideas.  New ideas were not looked on positively by the community I was a part of in 1984, but they were important for my growth.

I think we grow fastest and best as people when we separate ourselves from our present communities for a time, and then come back to it for a time, like hopping back and forth through the middle of a river on rocks,  each side bringing a new and fresh perspective of the entirety of the river.

I grew up in Fremont, Ohio and have lived in Tucson, AZ; Pensacola, Fl; Atlanta, Ga; and Massachusetts. Each community bringing its own fresh perspectives and the ability to help me see things more clearly (and sometimes less clearly) as I continue on in life.

Sometimes I’m thrilled to have lived in all of these places and known all of these people and gathered all these perspectives, and sometimes I just want to be the little boy again.

I had way more hair back then.

Hello,

I’m Marty.  Thanks for reading my stuff.

I went to Pensacola Christian College from 1993-1997.  There were so many stupid rules I can’t even tell you.  I couldn’t go to a movie, hold hands with a girl, or go anywhere without a belt on (of course, it couldn’t be hanging down, looking like I was all gangsta though).  Obeying these rules were hard.  There was a handbook of rules several pages in length.  But I knew this information when I went to PCC, and I was not going into my 4 years of schooling negligent of what was ahead.

So when I heard the story of the young man in Findley, Ohio who decided that he would attend the prom of a neighboring high school against the rules and wishes of the Christian school that he attended, I was shocked to read in several articles that he had no clue that he attending the prom would call for consequences.

Then I heard all the radio stations and read all the articles and editorials and talked to several people who thought the school was being ignorant for such a steep punishment, and worse yet, for even having the rule in their books.  “Dancing?  Why shouldn’t the kid be able to do that?  What kind of a lame school would stop a kid from going to a prom?”

These are all great questions, but none of them are the point.  we can crack all day and then some on the school for being legalistic or for the punishment being too steep (which by the way, I believe they are legalistic and the punishment is too steep), but none of these thoughts mater in light of the actual point of the discussion.

Authority.

I know the school well.  I played basketball against this school when the early 90’s as an attender of a rival Christian high school in Ohio, and they are extremely legalistic.  And I have no clue why this kid is actually telling the news media that “he didn’t know the rules applied “outside of the school”.  I went to these schools, and you kind of get the hint that when all the girls have skirts two fingers below the kneeline and when all the guys have short hair, but not too short, that the rules apply everywhere.  What was he gonna do, not dance in the cafeteria?

All that being said, the father now plans on filing a law suit because the school enforced the breaking of this rule by not allowing him to walk during graduation.

To this, I say, “get over it.”  You knew the rules.  You knew there would be consequences.  And you thought it was worth it. But now if it was worth it, you need to deal with the consequences.

I believe that authority is important.  Imagine if I decided that I wanted to take a walk the next time I was in Washington DC.  As I walked, I decided to stop by Pennsylvania Ave.  From there I saw this big white house and decided to go in.  Some men stop me and say something like, “You can’t go in there sir.”  I say, “Why not?”  The reply, “Because this is the residence of the President, and you are not authorized to enter.”  I of course would say, “I believe that to be a stupid rule.  I go into my friends houses all the time back in massachusetts.  I walk into his house.  he walks into mine.  I’m a safe guy, and I’d never do anything to hurt Prez. Obama.”

This would hardly be a good excuse, would it?  You see, the issue is not whether or not the rule is stupid.  The issue is not whether or not I agree with the rule.  The issue is submission.  I can choose to ignore whatever rules I want, but if I do, I must also face the consequences that come with breaking the rules.  It’s called authority…

so suck it up kid.

I wrote this recently in a topic discussion of a facebook group I’m in for those who attended the church/school in which I grew up.  The topic is my dad, who was the pastor of the church, and who now pastors a church in Indiana.  So here goes:

“It’s taken me quite a bit of thought to write what I’m thinking about my dad.

One of the things I’ve learned in my 10 years of ministry here at Fellowship Church in Massachusetts is that “everything rises and falls on leadership.” (thank you John Maxwell)  We have all learned this through examples like the office of the presidency or through what happened at TCA when it closed down, not to mention how close the church was to closing.  And the reason this was, was because of poor leadership at the top.

As a pastor, one thing I know now is that at the end of the day, there is a monstrous difference between being a part of something and being the leader of something.  Someone who is a part can quickly choose not to be a part.  Or even to undermine that which leads.  The person who leads must take the ultimate blame for each failure and give praise to others for the good things that have happened.  This is what makes a leader a person of character.

So here is my dad, a 23 year old man, who walks into a situation where everyone’s older than him, yet he must lead them.  Then years down the road he has three kids (who were all selfish if you ask me), and whose wife ends up having, what we now call “Bipolar disorder.“  Of course people in the Independent Baptist movement didn’t really believe in mental disorders at that point, so it was much easier to think of her having some sort of sin on her life.  (which by the way, they were told, more than once)

So running this home, and the church, and spending time with the kids, and going to every funeral, wedding, and church event, coupled with the way he was trained as a fundamentalist (Have I mentioned that I can’t believe these people get to call themselves “fundamentalists”?) was all certainly more than I could have handled.

Then there’s the pain of friends who turn their backs on you, typically because of someone else’s wrong doing (though not always).  They get mad.  They walk away.  And years of investment in the life of friends is wiped out by someone getting pissed off.  This too is leadership, and something which every leader must deal with.  I don’t speak of these things by the way, because they are what my dad told me.  My dad never said an unkind word of anyone in Fremont.  In 18 years of being there, he still feels like this was one of the greatest times of his life.

Then the truth is that my dad was at home who he was at church.

We hear stories all the time of pastor’s kids living badly because their parents were hypocrites.  This is absolutely not true of our household.  I’m sure that Amie and Brooke and I made some poor decisions in our lives, but none of them had anything to do with the character of my dad.   In fact, when I went into college, I wanted nothing more than to stay away from the church.  Not because of my dad, but because I knew the sacrifices it would lead to.  Later on,  the example of my dad was one of the big reasons I chose to go into ministry.  We saw at the house who you saw at the church.

The smile.

The occasional drifting away look like some big decision had to be made.

The immediate desire to help someone who needed his help.

As a pastor I’ve seen a dozen men in ministry run from their families if things weren’t going well.  But not my dad.  He was called to a ministry-at home, at church, in life-and he was going to accomplish those tasks.

He still is accomplishing those tasks.  And I’m proud to say that although I have a lot of pastoral mentors in my life, there is none more important to me than him.

Thanks Martin F. Holman

Imagine:

What if your power went out for one week?  Not just in your house, but your entire city, which would also affect your work environment too.  No refrigerator, no freezer (sorry Sam’s club users), no television or hairdryers, or internet.  To be honest, that would totally stink for me.  One couldn’t even DVR “Prison Break” with this particular crisis.

But this is what is happening right now in Ohio.  Hurricane Ike rode through Texas, not causing as much damage as many believed it would, and like most hurricanes, lost some steam as it traveled north by land.  Then on Sunday it rode into Ohio and blew its 70 mph winds and rain onto the Ohio mainland, and it would appear that all the emergency vehicles that Ohio had were away in Texas.  Therefore, they were not prepared for what would happen if the electricity went out for a week.  But they are finding out now.

My friend Clay called me last night and shared that he was on his way to pick up his father-in-laws generator.  “You can’t buy one right now,” he said to me sounding more tired than normal.  Of course.  After about three days of having no power in his entire house, or at work, a 9 office enterprise he’s co-owned for 5 years or so, not to mention not being able to blog his thoughts on politics through the whole ordeal, I’d be sounding tired too.

But I have an idea for Clay (who can’t read this quite yet) and for anyone else who is out of power for this extended period of time.  What if you were to stop, and before you get involved in a lot of work to make this “problem” go away,  sit around with your wife and kid(s), and/or your best friends, college roommates, co-workers, and just talk and play and chill for a while?  Not just an evening, but a big 24 hour ordeal.

What if you took advantage of this currently irreparable problem and turned back the clock, and forced yourselves to enjoy the company, not of a 50 inch square box with surround sound, but the company of one another, really taking time to connect with the people in your life?

Please don’t misunderstand me, I’m not saying I want this electricity problem to ever happen to my beautiful area of the northeast US…

I’m just wondering how that would affect our lives?

Update:  The power company has told Clay that his power “just might” be on from Thursday to Sunday.  Thanks for that info, Captain Obvious of the Ohio Light Department!

This post is a part of Watercooler Wednesday.

I was 12 years old in 1987, and this is a true story.

I loved to play football as a young boy.  Still do.  I’m just a lot more sore by the end of it.  So one day in September, 1987, my sister and I and our 9 year old neighbor Mario rode our bikes about a quarter of a mile to see if our neighbor down the street “Ethy” wanted to play football.  Brian and I were closer friends than the other 2, so I was really hoping he would play.

His real name was Brian, but everyone called him “Ethy” because he was so skinny.  Lay off, it was the midwest in the 80’s.  So he said he would play.  We all ran out of his house and towards our bikes, jumped on them and took off.  I led the way, followed by Brian, my sister Amie, then Mario at the end.  As we drove toward our football field that day, “Ethy” yelled at me, “I’ll race you”, and made his way past me.

I of course sped up in an effort to win the race.  For several yards we raced next to each other, when suddenly our handle bars collided, stuck together, then catapuled us away from each other.  I immediately fell to the ground on the green grass of someones front lawn.  Brian fell the other way, into an oncoming car driving the opposite way.

He died three days later, never waking up from his state of unconsciousness.

That was 21 years ago today.  Brian was 13.

I’m 33.

The view when I left Worcester on Tuesday night.

Ray (Left) traveled with me from the Northeast,and Brian took the easy (and smart route) and flew in.

My best friend in high school, Clay and his wife Carrie. 

My grandfather, Dr. Frank Holman in Richmond, Indiana

Schuyler Snell and his first kiss.

Sterling smiled.  Silas just stared.

The Snells.

The pastor of Landmark Church in Cincy Matt Holman and his wife Joy.
They also happen to be my uncle and aunt.

“Yes, Marty, that is a very interesting story”

Shepard is certainly giving me that winning smile he always had.

“So, you like the L-train’s beard?”

Vote now for your favorite photo.

I returned last night from my weekend trip to Ohio.  I have several great stories for you that I’ll share next Monday for “Monday’s Moments”, but for today, I’ll just give a story from my wife Carie and what she thought of our first trip together back to my hometown.

It has been 15 years since I graduated from high school and left Fremont, Ohio.  The town has not grown any and seems to be slowly headed for extinction by way of run down buildings and businesses that hardly seem used anymore, save for the liquor stores and tattoo parlors.

To be honest, Carie found the whole experience in Fremont to be creepy.  This coming from someone who grew up in some of the smaller towns of Massachusetts, that’s saying something.  It also didn’t help that it was a dark day due to a storm system across most of the midwest.  I really don’t think it was as bad as she did, but she’s my wife, so I certainly will respect her opinion.

What also didn’t help was that everyone who we talked to made her feel like a martyr for being a Christian and living in Massachusetts because “It must be so hard to be a Christian and live there,” or “How do you live in that blue state?” to which we constantly were saying, “Actually, we like it” or “We just take it one day at a time.” (yes, I occasionally use sarcasm)

Carie also wasn’t thrilled that everyone she talked to said “God bless you” as if it were a pat on the back or a handshake. I told her it was just a common greeting in the midwest, and this didn’t make her feel any better.  “Why would they want God to bless someone they don’t even know?” she asked. Good question. 

All in all, I enjoyed my time in Fremont, though there were moments of awkwardness and moments of resorting back to a religion (please don’t take this to mean something it doesn’t, like that I hate God or something) I have no desire to return to. But going back into memory lane can be a lot of fun, and on this day, it was….about 50% of the time.

Going back any time soon?

Until next time…