The Rob BlogIt's Better Over Here.

To The Faithful Underground…

I’m very pleased to announce officially that I am writing reviews as part of Thomas Nelson’s review program.

We’ll see how this goes, but so far, I think it’s a neat idea. I have had the pleasure of corresponding with Michael Hyatt twice now, which is amazing when you consider how busy the guy must be, and I have to say that he seems to be on the level. As the person leading the Social media charge at our company (Life Care Centers of America is my employer) I always get fascinated by CEO bloggers, and Hyatt is, without a doubt one of the most active. He keeps a blog, FB page and tweets interesting content all day while still running Thomas Nelson. Fantastic. Anyway, my first book came in the mail and I’m really excited about it. One of the nice things about the program is that you get to choose your books form lists that interest you. It isn’t the kind of situation where Thomas Nelson simply sends you a book and that’s that.

My first book is “The Selfless Gene” by Charles Foster , and it deals with the idea of science and religion getting along…imagine that! Well, I can’t wait to read it, and as soon as I’m done, you can expect a full review here on The Rob Blog.

This of course brings me to my next order of business… I’ve been thinking a lot about my consulting jobs. For years, I have been a PR/Marketing consultant. I love the work, and it keeps my creative juices flowing. Life Care has a policy that permits us to work a second job as long as it is approved and doesn’t interfere with my dayjob. This, of course, means that I take care of consulting work mostly at night and on lunch breaks.

Now, I know that some of you out there might have an area of expertise that you think you can monetize by consulting, so as someone who has been doing this a while, I’d like to offer a word or two of advice…

#1. Never consult on a project that you wouldn’t be willing to do for free.

What?!?!?!?! Alderman, you gotta be kidding me!

No, dear reader, I swear it’s true. You see, if you are going to go into consulting, you’d better absolutely love everything about the subject matter. The fact is that I would give away marketing advice all day long if I wasn’t careful, and that’s a good thing. It means I love it and am not as likely to get burned out. You want to lose your mind? Go ahead and consult just for the money.

#2. Never consult for free.

Yep, I said it. In seemingly complete contradiction to my first statement. But here’s the thing- I never told you to do it for free. I told you to do it because you would be willing to do it for free. Instead, ask people to pay for it. When I play music, I rarely play for free. Sure, the occasional benefit concert will come up and I’ll play for a good cause, but a normal show? Never. Why? I’m not a popular touring musician anymore. No one knows who I am. But…I am providing a night of entertainment, and even though I’d be willing to do it for free, it’s much nicer to get paid for it.

OK…there you go.

In closing, I looked at our budget for the year this past week and it almost made me pass out. It was, at first, very discouraging. I couldn’t believe that we work so hard and still have so little savings. I’ve been working hard for many years now, and to be honest, when I saw the budget it made me feel like a failure. Once the shock wore off however, I was very glad that I had spent the time to plan the year out.

Here are a few budget observations…

#1. My wife, who has been paying our bills for years, is a saint.

#2. While the situation isn’t wonderful, at least I know what it all looks like and now, I have a plan to get free from debt once and for all.

Alright, Robloggers, it’s time for me to get back to work. I have a client who needs some marketing!!!

Pleasant dreams,

Rob

The Hike

Gavin loved hiking.

Out here in the woods, with his legs chugging along, he felt almost light. The sun managed it’s way slowly through the leaves and down towards his present location, a rocky bluff on the side of the mountain. He knew he was somewhere in Western North Carolina, but he wasn’t positive of his exact location.

There was one thing he WAS positive of though. Out here he could breathe.

He sat down on the rocks and looked out over the valley below. Far beneath him, the Nantahala River snaked its way through the forest. The steady breeze was moving the leaves in the trees in a rhythm of sorts, and it was hard to hear the river, but every now and again, the two would blend into a beautiful song.

For some reason, being alone here in the mountains made him feel less lonely and closer to God. It wasn’t that he was a pantheist or anything like that, but rather that he felt he could better listen when he was alone.

Back home, things felt…cluttered. His brain didn’t seem to work amidst the constant needs of his job, church and family. He loved them of course, and would do anything for them, but it did make him at times feel tired and unable to process thought.

It hadn’t always been this way, had it? He struggled to remember.

There were a lot of things Gavin could no longer remember. He found as he got older that some memories had crawled into the far recesses of his brain and simply would not emerge no matter how hard he tried. This enraged Shelley, of course. She struggled to see why he couldn’t feel remorse for the things in his past, but how could one be remorseful for something he didn’t even remember?

He slowly stood up and looked down again at the valley. So beautiful.

When Gavin was out here, it had the effect of a prescription drug. The kind of drug made just for him. The kind of drug that could lift his sadness and give him a clear head. The kind of drug the doctors told him didn’t exist for his condition.

He longed for Shelley to join him, out here in the woods. If she would, he thought, she would see me for who I really am.

But was that true? Was the person in the woods the real him or was it simply who he wished he could be? Was the real him the man back home?

It didn’t matter really, because she would never meet the man in the woods. Long ago, Shelley had been hit by a car as she was out walking. It had been a horrible accident, leaving her in the hospital for months and years of therapy afterward. You couldn’t see it now, but every step, even on carpet hurt her a little. Hiking was out of the question.

Sometimes, this seemed to be a good explanation for their entire marriage- Each of them unable to join the other. She couldn’t do the things that set him free and he couldn’t free his mind for her.

Both were cages.

He wondered for a moment, how long they could last like this.

The very thought of being without her made his head reel, and he had to reach out and steady himself by grabbing the nearest tree. He bent over, thinking he might be sick for a moment, but slowly, the feeling dread passed, as it always did. He straightened up, and gazed out over the valley.

Along the tree line in the far distance, he saw a thin black line. For just a moment, the breeze picked up, throwing leaves around him in a tiny whirlwind. The sweet smell of summer rain reached into his senses.

A storm was coming.

Gavin glanced at the ridge one more time. What he would like to do would be to find a dense grove of trees or perhaps a small cave far up in the mountains and sit protected as the storm passed over him. He would like to close his eyes and listen as the rain fell down all around him. He would like to stand in it and let the wet mountain air embrace and clear the sweat away.

Instead, he turned and began the walk back to the main trail that would lead down the mountain and then eventually back to his truck.

After all, a storm was coming.

The Trade

It isn’t every day that you get offered the chance to have one free Saturday morning to fish every month. A man would be crazy to turn it down. So why is it that I haven’t taken my mother up on her offer yet?

I guess that would require some explanation.

You see, my Mother is by far, the hardest working person that I’ve ever known. She seems able to bear any weight. She raised my brother and I and once Dad died, she stayed pretty well put together. She has never remarried. That’s probably a good thing, since I don’t think there is a man on the planet that could bear the sure embarrassment at finding out he was that much weaker than his wife…

When Mom finally made the move to Tennessee, she brought with her my Grandparents, Nana and Cappy. It wasn’t long after the move that Nana became terribly ill and eventually died. Mom cared for her up until her death with the devotion that one can only have for their mother.

She has sisters, who visit from time to time, but in the end, it’s Mom who cares for Cappy now, and she has been doing so for years. Plodding along, steady at the wheel, every single day. No help in sight. She has long ago stopped going to Church. Social life? Don’t make her laugh. Her best friends are her home-bound Father and her grandkids. (all under the age of 7)

My brother and I help when we can of course, but this is that time of life when young men throw themselves into their careers, and that doesn’t leave much time for, well, anything.

The most amazing thing is that she never complains. Never gets too tired. I can only imagine that happens at night, just before bed when she falls into a deep sleep. It’s the kind of sleep that is interrupted by her coughing, incontinent, elderly father.

So, a few months ago, my mother approached me with an idea. She would swap me a Saturday a month. I could go fishing on my day and she would watch the boys. (Typically, April is doing her Masters homework, so I can’t fish since I’m running the show.) On Mom’s day, I would watch Cappy and my boys while she does whatever she wants.

Now, this would be a no-brainer if it weren’t for the incontinence of my grandfather. I have changed plenty of diapers in my day, but it’s one thing changing your kid and another thing entirely to change your grandfather. I have done it a few times, and it isn’t something you get used to.

The idea is terrifying to me.

To be honest, I don’t know that his ego can even take it. He has a familiarity with my mom that he and I don’t share.

Now, here’s the rub. I also feel convicted that I need to do this to help my Mom out. God knows, she’s been at this far too long by herself. The scriptures tell us to care for the widow. I shouldn’t need a fishing day to be the incentive. Just the fact that mom is alone should be enough. It sucks that I’m so uncomfortable and selfish…

So, I think I’m going to do it.

I’m not exactly excited about the idea of learning hands-on elderly care (ironic eh, given the fact that I work in the elder care industry…trust me when I say that I really admire our caregivers who do this sort of thing every day all day.) but I am excited about giving my mom some time to herself.

Ok people, new adventure… Ready? Go.

People Making Bad Decisions

I spent some time on the phone today with an old friend. He doesn’t get on the internet much, so I have no fear of him reading this, and to be honest, I’d still write even if I knew he would read it.

It was in some ways, a very nice call. This is a dear old friend of mine, and we love each other like brothers, even though we don’t keep in touch like we should. We know how to make each other laugh and we dig music in the same ways. (He’s a very talented musician) In other ways though, it was a very sad call. I listened as he nonchalantly told me how he was divorcing his wife. he simply “didn’t love her as much as she loved him” and “if they’d lived together first, they never would have gotten married.”

I knew that they had been having some trouble, but I had no idea things were so bad. To make things worse, I could tell that his mind was made up and no amount of argument would change it. To make matters worse, he began telling me about another old friend and how he had gone off the deep end, cheating on his wife multiple times and then getting fired for looking at pornography on a school computer where he was a teacher. (There were other things too, far worse.) Now, he apparently was back with his wife, but wasn’t being faithful, hitting on girls 20 years younger than himself.

It hurt listening to the stories, and I simply had to shake my head and fight back the anger.

It wasn’t the cheating or the divorce that angered me. That may surprise you, so I want to make myself clear. I don’t think that divorce or cheating on your spouse are acceptable. But here’s the thing… people in this life make mistakes. They sin. They fall. We all do in some way. So, I was sad, but not angered by those things. No, what angered me was the way that they seemed devoid of shame. Somehow, cheating and debauchery were completely acceptable.

I wonder sometimes where shame has gone.

It’s tough to imagine pride without shame, but somehow, we have that in spades around here…

The History of Religion

I saw this over at Eric Wilbank’s Blog, and felt like it needed to get a re-post over here at The Rob Blog.

It’s very cool to watch this map and contemplate the movement of religion and its consequence. I like to sit back and think about the implications involved with viewing religion with eyes open. What happens when you look at things that really happened through the lens of how and when it truly happened? For some reason, a lot of Christians simply can’t fathom a world that exists outside of their Sunday-school versions… I think there is far more to be gained from an honest look.

Check it out and let me know what you think.

History Of Religion

CAFFEINE AND GREEK

A lot of people ask me what kind of Bible I read and the answer isn’t as easy as you might think.

You see, I tend to use several. Here is an approximate break down-

My standard reading Bible is the NASB. There are a few reasons for this, but the main reason is that it was the required text from Bethel Theological Seminary in St. Paul where I received my Masters degree in “Uppity Theologian Who Thinks He’s Always Right”.

For sacred occasions such as reading the Christ Birth at Christmas time, I prefer the St. John Bible. This is a hand scribed book and I never cease to be amazed at it’s beauty.

I still casually read from my NIV Bible that I was presented upon my graduation at Lee University. The inside has an inscription by President Paul Conn himself! How’s that for your tuition dollars at work?

Now things get a bit trickier.

If I’m studying the New Testament in an effort to introduce context and proper meaning, I use Marshall’s NASB-NIV Parallel. It’s a nice sturdy hardbound edition that April got for me years ago, and you can read all three translations (Greek, NASB and NIV) at once.

I also like to read The Message (not a true translation, I know…) when preparing a lecture or sermon. I thing Peterson is a linguistic genius and we can probably get closer to the spirit of the text from the Message on most days than we can from any real “translation”.

I have a small pocket version of the ESV that was presented to me on the evening of my Ordination into the ministry. I don’t read it much, but I do often keep it in my back pocket just in case.

You will notice that nowhere on the list is the King James or the New King James. I know that many pastors love the sound of the King James while screaming it. It definitely has an air of authority to it and with the proper Southern twang it can sound downright brimstone-y. A definite must-have if reminding people that they have a one-way ticket to Hell.

In my opinion, neither of these texts are better than the NASB or ESV and in most cases, The Message will serve your purpose better anyway.

Now, on to the matter of Coffee…

Starbucks or Dunkin. Period.

Growing up, my Dad always made sure we were in church. ALWAYS. I mean, if the doors were open, the Alderman clan was there.

On the rare occasion that we didn’t go, (and some Saturday mornings as well) Dad would cook the “Big Breakfast”. Sausage, biscuits, gravy, hashbrowns, scrambled eggs, juice and milk. We would sit and feast like kings.

This morning, Riley had a bad cough, so we stayed home. I was feeling industrious, so I locked myself away in the kitchen and tried to make my old man proud.

We are now stuffed and ready for a nap. I think I’m gonna read my Bible for a bit now while I drink my morning coffee.

Yes, there are leftovers if you would like to come get some…

(Note: I’m trying a little exercise. I’m going to be writing some semi-autobiographical pieces over the year in an effort to sort my feelings out about various emotions, thoughts and feelings that I have going on inside. These stories aren’t fact, though they certainly have elements of truth in them. I ask that you please accept them for what they are. The simple ramblings of an old blogger.)

The Writer

Gavin had never intended to be a writer in the first place.

Perhaps this is why he felt as though the well was dry. Perhaps there had never been any well of creativity to begin with. In fact, Gavin was beginning to wonder if there was any purpose to any of it.

How could he write from the bottom of his heart if he wasn’t even sure there was anything in his heart at all? Most days, he simply felt dead inside. It had been this way ever since the crash.

Everyone knew about the crash. It had happened years ago. Something inside Gavin had snapped and gone horribly wrong. To this day, even close friends and family wondered why it had happened, though he often heard them speaking among one another about his “overloaded schedule” or “Silly dramatic tendencies”. He had no doubt that they meant well, though he also knew they couldn’t possibly understand. Since the crash he had come to understand that unless you had gone insane for a while, there was no real way to understand those who had. It was kind of like trying to understand someone who claimed to have been “born again”, except  instead of hanging out with Jesus and being insanely happy, you hung out with Jesus and were insanely miserable. Either way, Jesus and you hung out by yourselves.

No one else is invited to the crazy party…only crazy people.

Whatever the reason, one thing was certain. A part of Gavin had died, and no amount of begging, pleading or praying had been able to bring it back.

Gone was the playful and loving man who had enjoyed spending time with friends. The faithful trusting man of God had disappeared too, leaving behind a disillusioned, frightened, angry person that even he could hardly recognize.

When had he stopped praying? Tough to tell. Was it the millionth time he had cried out to God with no answer, or the Millionth and one?

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to say that he didn’t “pray”. After all, he spoke to God every day. The difference these days was that he wasn’t expecting any answers.

Most days, the conversation between Gavin and God played itself out in clinical fashion. During the crash Gavin had finally turned off the voice in his head that he had once believed to be his Creator. It was too confusing hearing that voice alongside all the others. Now, even though the voices were gone (or at least in the background) he felt no trust.

Trust.

How could he ever trust again? After all, a lifetime of service to God hadn’t saved him from the agony of the crash. Worse than the agony during the ordeal was the lingering residue…a smoky crater that sat in the middle of his chest, directly where his heart had once been.

The crash had affected everything.

Even his marriage was damaged from the crash. (or was it from the fallout? Or perhaps the cold realization that this was his new life?)

She had hoped for better in life. Surely, she thought, she deserved more than a house and kids and a husband who sometimes thought of ending his own life. Her job was nothing more than 8 hours of frustration a day, and she arrived home in no mood for fun, even when the kids needed it.

‘They take”, she thought. “They all just take…and I’m dying.”

Gavin didn’t have the strength to help her anymore. He couldn’t. There was nothing left. So instead, he watched helplessly as it all fell slowly apart.

That was part of it. The speed.

Gavin had never been one for slow burn. He had been a firebrand of a person before the crash. He had loved explosions. A nice big fight had never bothered him. But there was no passion anymore. The crash had taken it from him.

She would try to argue with him sometimes. Anything to feel something. But instead of fighting, he would just look at her and sigh.

She hated him. He was certain of it. Inside he wished there was some way to tell her that he still cared, but she was far too angry to hear him, even if he could.

No, Gavin had never wanted to be a writer at all. It wasn’t his plan. But here he sat, staring at the blank screen. The cursor blinked on and off, mocking him.

No words came out. After all, how could they?

There were no words left.

OK…first things first. Welcome to the new RobAlderman.Net. …Super glad to have you here.

Now, on to more important things, like Avatar . Wow.

To say that this film is EPIC, would be an understatement in the truest sense. In fact, I struggle to even find a way to review the film, so in the end, I’ll probably just let the Slinky do it. Still, I feel like I should say something, so here goes.

Let’s get the bad stuff out of the way…

Yes, the movie steals it’s plot from Ferngully , though much of Ferngully has better dialogue. Let that sink in and just accept it. ready to move on? Good.

Now on to the good stuff.

You have NEVER, ever…like, EVER IN YOUR LIFE seen a movie like this. Now, my good pal and old professor Matthew Melton went and saw this movie in regular 2D format, and he still loved it. I’m not really sure how this is possible.

The fact is that this movie is an absolute gamechanger. I think that beyond anything, it was the fact that I never had a “Wow, this is 3DDDDD!!!!!” moment that really showed how brilliant this film really is. The tech is so amazing that you just buy into it from the opening scene. My eyes never needed adjusting, nothing weird…just simple transportation into an alien world that seems just as real as the person sitting next to you.

Now, there is something else worth mentioning. The acting is actually really solid, and doesn’t seem to hurt from the cliche dialogue. what’s more is that you really truly feel for the characters. Their pain and happiness affect you deeply, which is a real triumph in this day and age.

As for the message, it isn’t anything you haven’t heard before, but that doesn’t make it any less important. i love movies that tap into the basic human needs. Love. Hate. Waste. Forgivness. Grace. Ect…

When you look at this film through a theological framework it becomes even more intense. There were moments during the film that I felt I was communing with The Almighty, and that doesn’t happen much. When a film takes me to a place where I feel the need to pray,(and I don’t mean in that “Dear God, this movie is so horrible. Please get me out of here.” sort of way) I am forced to take notice.

As you know, I really REALLY enjoyed Sherlock Holmes, and I think you should go see it. I’ll stand in line for the sequel and I’ll go to bat for the film against any of it’s detractors for no other reason that America needs to learn to enjoy a fun movie when they get one. But here’s the thing. For as good as Sherlock Holmes is, it isn’t even in the same league as Avatar. You can’t compare the two, so don’t try. While Sherlock Holmes is a fun ride, Avatar succedes at being something much deeper and meaningful…and I, for one, am grateful.