2-Year-Old Smokes. . . 2 Packs a Day. . . .

Just when I thought I had seen everything there is to see in youth culture. . . .

As Time Goes On, I Realize. . . .

Great friends, bad sound, a band I loved during the 1970s, and some overwhelming realizations. . . that's what last night was all about. Lisa and I ventured down to the local American Music Theater with our friends Duffy and Maggie to see Chicago. And before my young friends join together in mocking laughter, you need to remember some facts: 32 albums. The leading U.S. singles charting group in the 1970s. Over 120 million albums sold worldwide - 22 Gold, 18 Platinum, and 8 Multi-Platinum. Five number 1 albums, and twenty-one top ten hits. Stop your laughing. . .

I had been looking forward to this since, well, when I was in junior high. That's when my music teacher at Huntingdon Junior High School, Miss Margolis, verbalized some principles of music appreciation before blasting the band's new song, "Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?", through the Harmon-Kardons that hung on the front wall of the tiered music room. It grabbed me and I was hooked. I spent the better part of the 1970s (high school and college) blasting that stuff on the living room stereo and through the car speakers. But I never got the chance to see them in concert. . . until last night.

Lisa graciously went along in return, I think, for our trip to see U2 last fall in celebration of her birthday. Thanks Lisa.

Now, about last night. They played a non-stop barrage of hits. They even played an old favorite song I had totally forgotten, "Wake Up Sunshine." The problem with the night was the sound, something that I hope wasn't the fault of the band. Vocals were difficult to hear. The mix was horrible. Still, it was great to hear the old songs.

During "Color My World" I looked around the room, thinking seriously about how I'd fill in the blanks after the first six words of the song. I'm still processing it. But here's a sampling of some of the thoughts I had. . .

"As time goes on, I realize. . . .

- that men my age and older should NEVER wear tight pants, or a shirt that's unbuttoned to the belly button and tied beneath it. Oh, if James Pankow had only stuck to playing his trombone. All three of the guys in the horn section were guilty of wardrobe indiscretions for men their age, but Pankow was definitely guilty in the first degree! It was sort of like going to the beach and seeing guys who shouldn't be wearing speedos wearing speedos. . . and I'm not sure any guy should ever wear a speedo. Get the picture? Thanks for the visual warning, James. To the rest of you, if you ever see me dressed like that. . . do something.

-when it comes to Chicago fans, I might be one of the youngest. I was 12 or 13 when I started listening to their music. Last night, I was 53. This means that the fans who were 22 to 30 years old back in the day are now 62 to 70 years old. They were out in force last night. This realization hit me hard when a pair of short spinsters that had been sitting to our left excused themselves down our row three songs before the concert ended. As they squeezed through in front of me, I smelled the strong pungent odors of heavily applied old lady perfume that I remember smelling in church during my childhood. The trifecta - older ladies, strong perfume, Chicago - left a strong impression.

-the teenage music fans of the 1970s might have been able to dance back then, but they can't dance now. Which is why I don't even dance when I'm alone. It's too painful to watch. . . even for me.

-that time goes on really fast, that time and gravity are not kind to the human body, and that life on this earth is fleeting. I'm happy for the fact that one day, a new heaven and a new earth will be ushered in, and death, decay and everything else bad will be gone forever. I long for that day of restoration.

Hey, don't get me wrong. It was a fun night. I enjoyed it. I just have to wonder, where did the years between the first time I heard the band and the first time I saw the band go?!?

One more thing. . . at one point I looked around and chuckled as I imagined what my kids would be saying if they had been there with us. I'm glad they weren't. I remember thinking the same about my parents and their music. But sweet revenge will come. Thirty years from now they'll be sitting in the same place listening, clapping, and dancing along to some long-forgotten chart-topper. . . and my grand kids will be laughing their heads off!

Chicago then. . . .



Chicago now. . . in a setting I could never in my wildest dreams begin to imagine. . . or enjoy. . . .



Okay. . . go ahead and laugh!

He Loved Kids. . . And We Loved Him. . . .

Even though I'm 53 years old and long removed from my childhood, it still hurts a little when one of the beloved icons of your childhood dies, maybe because you used to think that these guys would live forever. That's happened to me twice this week. First on Sunday, with the death of Wee Willie Webber, a local Philly TV personality. Yesterday, it was Art Linkletter. Both of these guys made after school memories for kids my age. Webber did it with the cartoon shows he hosted. Linkletter did it with his nationally televised daily shows, House Party and People Are Funny.

Art Linkletter was one of my favorites. When he died yesterday at the age of 97, I couldn't help but chuckle as I remembered the way he made me laugh, even when I was a little kid. Linkletter had quite a life. 97 years is a long time to live. His deep faith in God sustained him during years that were filled with both great joy and great heartache. His heartache started at a young age, when he was born in Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan (believe it or not I've spent a lot of time in that little prairie town over the years), and then quickly abandoned by his family. By God's grace, he was adopted by a pastor and raised in a Christian home. He was married for over 74 years, an accomplishment that many view as astounding in today's world, but more than likely something Linkletter believed to be the way things should be. A father of five, perhaps the greatest tragedies in his life came through the deaths of three of his children. A son was killed in a car accident. Another son succumbed to lymphoma. The most hard-hitting of all was the death of his 20-year-old daughter to suicide in 1969.

I loved two things about Art Linkletter. First, there was his voice. It was gentle and smooth. To this day, I think of him as the kind of guy that you'd love to sit at your bedside to read you stories as you fall asleep. Second, was his love for kids. He was an effective communicator with kids because he had the great ability to move to their level, ask good questions, and then listen intently. He did that each and every day on House Party in a segment called "Kids Say the Darndest Things." He not only modeled great communication skills in those interviews, but he could really make us laugh. He'd masterfully use a progression from great question, to a kid's answer, to his follow-up interaction with viewers through the camera and a simple look of wonder and surprise. . . and it was brilliant.



Art Linkletter has a lot to teach us about living a life of faithful presence in the seductive world of media. He has a lot to teach us about communicating not just with kids, but with people of all ages. Art Linkletter loved kids, and we loved him back.

Losing My Religion. . . .

If we were playing Jeopardy and the title of this blog was the answer, what would the question be? Based on the research - both anecdotal and quantitative - it might read, "What song title best describes the college experience for our Christian kids?" Observant youth workers and concerned parents know this to be the case - not for everyone - but for too many. Who's to blame?


As with any social trend or reality, there are a multiplicity of causes. The family and church have combined to fail to build a strong theological foundation on which kids can make good decisions during college. . . or for the rest of their lives. As they get older, we fail to help them prepare for the realities of campus life, thereby making their transition that much more difficult and that much less deliberately God-centered. And then there are our kids themselves, who sometimes head off to school to allow themselves to get swept up in the pressures of college life. It's all this stuff and more that led us here at CPYU to establish our College Transition Initiative six years ago.

Last Saturday I took the time to attend the CPYU College Transition Seminar that Derek Melleby - our CTI Director -
led locally here in our area. It was a joy to see the room filled with a healthy mix of high school students, parents, and youth workers. You see, this is an issue that is best addressed not by the students themselves, but by the students and the supporting "village" that can and must surround them long before, all the time during, and for the rest of their lives after the day they first set foot on the college campus.

What impresses me most about our College Transition Initiative here at CPYU is a combination of careful research on the issue, application of that research to real life, and an interactive presentation style the engages people in ways that lead to the adoption of healthy resolutions before they arrive on campus or sit down to take notes at that first lecture. Not only that, but the tone and flavor is far different from what we usually give our kids in the church. Rather than talking about college in negative and alarmist terms, Derek masterfully communicates a positive and realistic message that encourages students to embrace college for what God intends it to be. I saw that happen once again on Saturday. . . and I was (humbly) proud.

After the seminar Derek received some great feedback. A couple of comments he shared with me stand out. First, there was the group of youth workers who were responsible enough to come and check out the seminar and its content before making it available to the people in their church. (I don't think we do that enough.) At the end, they told Derek how happy they were with the fact that the content was God-centered. Could there be any greater compliment paid for anything we do here at CPYU? Second, there was the attendee who told Derek that the seminar reminded him of a Pixar film. Hmmmm. What does that mean? He explained that while the seminar targets and reaches a younger audience composed of those heading off to college, there was lots of valable insight and takeaway for the older people who have been called to walk the journey with them. Again, what a great compliment!

Each of us knows at least one person who will be walking across the commencement stage in the coming days and weeks. Are we sending them off? Or, are we sending them off prepared? As you consider those questions, I want to challenge you to consider looking for ways to play a more significant and proactive role in these young lives by tapping into the College Transition stuff we're doing here at CPYU.

First, check out the College Transition portion of our website. Derek has made this a great place for you to learn more about the issue and how you can support and encourage the transitioning kids you know and love.

Second, get some resources into the hands of the kids you know who are graduating from high school. To make this doable, we've put together an affordable little gift pack that includes Derek Melleby and Don Opitz's great book, The Outrageous Idea of Academic Faithfulness.

Third, get to know the issues related to College Transition now! Don't wait until the kids you know receive their acceptance letters. By knowing the issues now, the home and church can work together to build a strong foundation while the kids are growing up, something that will serve them well all through their teen and young adult years.

Finally, think now about scheduling our College Transition Seminar during the fall, winter, or spring of next year. You can lean more here.

Ouch! . . . Win Big. . . .

Fun stuff for the weekend. Take a look at this amazing photo from a couple of nights ago at Citizens Bank Park. Lisa, Chris, and myself went down to the game with our CPYU researcher Doug West. Doug has an amazing camera that he's been using to take some equally amazing photos. So, when Carlos Ruiz took one in the ribs . . . ouch! Just take a look at the ball on his side. Nice work Doug!

We love the photo so much that we're running a little caption contest over the weekend. Be creative and just leave your caption as a comment here on the blog. We'll be choosing the winning comment on Monday. The prize will be a nice one.

If you want to check out more of Doug's Phillies photos and some great nature shots, visit him on Facebook.

Life Sucks. . . God Is. . .

Right now I'm at the point in my yearly cycle of things where the travel is winding down and I'm looking forward to a summer of decompression. It's also a time to look back at the busy months that have passed since last summer ended. I think about lots of things. What I think about most are the face-to-face conversations I've had with people during my travels. The conversations I think about most are the ones where I've simply listened while the person across from me tells a story of deep pain and brokenness. Sometimes it's a watery-eyed parent. At times, it's a confused and hurting kid. They're all pretty beat up. Entering into the endless string of these stories at the most basic level of simply listening is like jumping into the ring for a 12-round fight. Each story is a new blow that piles up on previous punches to slowly wear you down. I'm old enough now to realize that this is life. . . that this stuff is inevitable. . . that - as I've heard a number of my young friends say it with blatant honesty - "life sucks." My own story has enough of this stuff woven in and through it, but my unique personal version isn't nearly as bad as most of what I hear.

The other day I received a little package in the mail from the publicity folks at Multnomah. Inside were a couple of booklets featuring text from some of the publisher's newer releases. One of them grabbed my attention quickly. The title on the cover asks the question so many of ask as we live a world where the reality that "life sucks" continues to unfold around us and in us. If God is Good Why Do We Hurt? The title is from Randy Alcorn's larger new book, If God is Good. . . Faith in the Midst of Suffering and Evil. I've developed a real appreciation for Alcorn while reading his wonderful book, Heaven.

In the Intro to this little booklet, Alcorn says something to readers that presents us all with a watershed moment of decision that will deeply effect our response to the reality of life's sometimes horrific and debilitating difficulties: "I frequently quote Scripture in these pages. As you read along, I urge you not to let your feelings - real as they are - invalidate your need to let the truth of God's words guide your thinking. Remember that the path to your heart travels through your mind. Truth matters."

Read that one more time. Those three sentences capture a reality and offer a challenge that will shape our entire lives. I've always believed this to be the case. In recent years I've come to know myself better - most always as a result of life's difficulties - and I know how important and necessary Alcorn's challenge really is.

A few weeks ago I read another book that addressed this same reality. Joshua Harris - the author most-known for a book I really didn't like, I Kissed Dating Goodbye - has penned a vulnerable and autobiographial challenge to a contemporary American church suffering from self-inflicted truth-starvation, Dug Down Deep - Unearthing What I Believe and Why It Matters. Harris describes the book as an invitation for Christians to jump into the pool of orthodoxy and doctrine, and then to move from the shallow end to the deep end. Why? So that in the midst of living in what many of my young friends describe as a "life sucks" reality we can rest on the solid rock of sound doctrine. Harris is right.

I've got a hope and a hunch that the next wave of emphasis in youth ministry and ministry in general will be a wave that answers the deep hunger we all have to go deep, to live deep lives, and to know that God is. It's nothing new. It's simply the long-overdue recovery and rediscovery of the most basic stuff that's been long forgotten. If we continue to forget, we're in big trouble.

Madness. . . .

Last summer a young friend asked me if I had ever watched the critically-acclaimed AMC series "Mad Men." My simple "no" was followed by a list of reasons for never tuning in, not the least of which is that I really don't have the time or interest in getting hooked on something that would require my attention on a regular basis. I've been down that road with "24." My "no" wasn't enough, so he proceeded to excitedly tell me about how the show reveals what life was like in the early 1960s, along with the development of the ad industry and Madison Avenue. I'm not sure what he said that eventually caught my interest, but I think it was when he described the old days as lacking seat-belts, while being filled with things like cigarette smoke and lots of alcohol. His descriptor sparked enough memories of life in my 1960s suburban-Philly neighborhood that I made a mental note to someday give "Mad Men" a shot.

A few weeks ago, after recalling that conversation, I sent the "Mad Men" Season 1 DVDs to the top of my Netflix Queue and we started watching. I got hooked. . . for several reasons. The writing's great. Numerous moments have taken me back to life as a child. Blink, and you'll miss a host of subtle visual and scripted cultural references that are sometimes just plain funny. There's the not-so-funny elements of excessive tobacco-use, alcohol abuse, philandering, and work-place sexual harassment. While still present in today's world, those things worked themselves out in different ways back then. And while the story sometimes feels like a soap opera, it does capture the realities of the human condition, our brokenness, and our deep yearning for redemption. Lead character Donald Draper is a tragic figure who knows that's the case.

As a youth culture watcher, "Mad Men" has grabbed me because of the way it documents the rise of consumer culture and marketing. For the most part, we have no clue at all how pervasive and compelling the marketing soup that we swim in everyday really is. Watching "Mad Men" is like taking a step-back away from the soup to see what the original marketing-chefs were doing when they were creating the recipe. We not only see the universal human longing for wholeness - something that can only come through Christ - but the ways in which marketing makes redemptive promises it can never fulfill. . . over, and over, and over again.

When watching a string of episodes of any show on DVD, one is tempted to fast-forward through the opening credits and theme. If you're going to watch "Mad Men," don't do that. Instead, give it a look every time. Over the course of Season 1 my repeated viewing of the opening sequence became somewhat haunting. Give it a look. The abyss that so easily swallows so many is filled with empty promises that we keep on believing. And the more we keep believing, the further we fall.