36 & Counting

I should be doing my homework but instead I’m going to write a birthday blog (some people never change). This is what I wrote last year There have been momentous occasions since last year. I’ve decided to start a second career, we are expecting our first child and in the past few months I’ve lost a couple of old Bible college friends who were about the same age as I am. It’s been nuts to say the least.

There’s something I’ve noticed about myself as I get older. I really don’t worry about much anymore. Maybe by God’s grace, I haven’t been put into a situation where I need to worry a whole lot lately, which I’m extremely grateful for. Sure I still worry about the Laker’s title chances every year, but that’s the only thing I’ve consistently worried about. I haven’t signed my contract to return to teaching yet, but I’m not worried about it. I believe the contract will be provided from somewhere (I just found out I won't be returning to the same school. Bummer.). My daughter isn’t born yet, but I’m not sweating the “life altering experience” (more on this in a later blog). I do stress out about homework, but it always gets done. I’m content with life, yet I want to be ambitious and want to do more with myself.

Furthermore, I’ve learned to appreciate things a lot more. If losing a couple of friends to massive heart attacks doesn’t sober you up, I don’t know what will. For example, the other day my wife and I bought some flowers to plant in the front yard. We spent the better part of the day driving to the store, picking out the flowers (aka the cheapest ones), and digging up dirt to place them in. As you know, I don’t like to work, but for some reason it was enjoyable. Maybe it was because my wife and I are building a home together. Maybe I’m realizing more and more that the phrase, “everyday is a gift” is not a cliché but a theological truth and a picture of God’s grace.

(Speaking of “gifts,” my wife and the in-laws pitched in and bought a BBQ for me for my birthday present. We spent tons of money upgrading the backyard, so getting a BBQ to finish it off was essential. I’ll have to wait until next year for them to get me the propane tank so I can actually use it.)

Now please don’t take my lack of anxiety as apathy. Nothing could be further from the truth. I’m more passionate about the Lakers because of their recent acquisition of Steve Nash (and maybe Dwight Howard). Life is about to get more interesting with a child on the way and Chris Nolan’s The Dark Knight Rises opening next week. But most importantly, the Lord always keeps things interesting. The Lord is inexhaustible. You will always learn new things or understand things you already know even better as you pursue intimacy with the Almighty (I think that’s even a title to a book).

Hey! Maybe the arrival of our first child will increase intimacy with the Lord. At least that’s what I keep hearing will happen. I have no doubt my knowledge and relationship with God will gain a deeper understanding when our baby arrives. This should be interesting.

The Apprentice to The Principle

Back when I was a teenager, without much guidance or positive influence of any kind, I felt I had no purpose. When a teenager feels he/she has no purpose it only leads to bad things. Fortunately, I had a couple of buddies (Dom and Bryan – as if you didn’t know) who also lacked purpose in their lives, so we decided to just goof off until we could come up with something better to do.

One night at a Harvest Crusade the gospel was presented to us and our lives have never been the same since. You might be asking, “How did you guys end up at a Harvest Crusade when you were goofing off all that time?” Let me introduce you to Rick Ronquillo (aka Ronqzz). He was the assistant varsity basketball coach at Schurr High School at the time. Rick was also the youth pastor at Calvary Chapel Montebello and invited us to the event. That’s how it all got started.

Even though as young boys we committed our lives to Christ that night, it didn’t mean instantaneous change. HA! Nothing could be further from the truth. Instead, someone had to take on the daunting task of mentoring and teaching us arrogant and unteachable juveniles. Rick was just that man.

I remember the time when Bryan was kicked out of youth group for his constant outbursts of uncontrollable laughter. By mere association, I was also kicked out (that was unfair Rick), but overall, Rick had the patience to deal with us. There were several times when he told me not to do something shortly followed by me completely ignoring him and doing it anyway. Only years later did I realize, “Man, Rick was right about that one!”

There are many things that I appreciate Rick doing for me, but one story stands out in my mind. I was full of anger and Rick noticed. I didn’t take instruction or criticism well. There was an incident when my anger came to a head (I won’t get into the details), so Rick took me to his house and sat me down and just started talking to me. He started talking to me about my anger and rage. Most people just wanted to write me off but Rick wanted to get to the bottom of my anger. He knew it was beyond the situation on the surface. Through prayer, a ton of patience, and probing questions he finally broke through. My stepfather physically abused me for years before my mom finally had the courage to kick him out. That stepfather left a broken and confused boy behind. The light went on for Rick. He knew immediately why I behaved the way I did.

Then he went on to ask more questions, “Are you angry at God for what happened?” I said, “No.” “Are you angry at your stepfather?” he asked. I emphatically replied, “Yes!” “Do you believe that vengeance is the Lord’s and that He will take care of it?” he asked. Softly I said, “Yes.” Finally, Rick said, “Then let it go and allow God to heal you. Because He can’t heal you if you think you’re the one who needs to take vengeance.” So that night, I believe, God began to start healing that part of my life- a part of my life no one cared to enter into with me before that night.

Interestingly, as I mentioned before, I still managed to not listen to Rick a whole lot even after that breakthrough night. Yes, I was a jack@$$ of the highest order. It wasn’t until years later when I arrived at Biola University when God broke me and made me teachable. The professors at Biola took over, investing in my life, as I became a healing young man who was eager to learn. I soaked up that place like a sponge. One of my professors/pastors, Erik Thoennes, officiated my wedding and mentioned during the ceremony the quality he most appreciated about me was my “teachability.” I’m sure Rick got a nice chuckle out of that one.

In a lot of ways, Rick never enjoyed the fruit of his labor. He had to endure watching a young knucklehead making mistake after mistake wondering if he’ll ever “get it.” In reality, he loosened up the hard ground of anger and bitterness in order for peace and kindness to settle in my soul. It took time, lots of time.

Recently, Rick was promoted to being the principle of John Glenn High School in the Norwalk/La Mirada School District. I’ve watched him work hard throughout his life; getting his degree, becoming a teacher, and then getting more degrees in order to become an administrator. It’s a high stress job with little security. It takes a special kind of person to want that kind of responsibility and pressure, but he realizes all the experiences God has allowed him to go through have prepared him for this moment (Now that he's making six-figures maybe I could be his financial planner - shameless plug, I know.). I have no doubt that kicking out Bryan from youth group, dealing with crazy teenagers and their crazier parents, and coaching basketball will help him be successful.

I called him to give him congratulations. He began to tell me about his struggles and fears. He was completely transparent and truthful and didn’t feel the need to keep up pretenses and paint a picture like he’s got everything figured out. At the same time, he was also confident in what God has taught him throughout the years. It has clearly led to this moment and he was looking forward to the next school year.

I’ve made a commitment to pray for him (as long as I could remember anyway). Whatever happens, I hope he remembers he helped at least one young broken and confused boy find his way.

In Loving Memory of Kevin William Lines

In Loving Memory of Kevin William Lines
January 4, 1974 – May 23, 2012

It was an emotional weekend. On the same day my wife had her baby shower, I attended the memorial service of my friend Kevin Lines. As at most memorial services I’ve attended, my emotions were up and down. When I walked up to the doors of the church and was handed the flyer with the order of service, just seeing a picture of Kevin with the words “In Loving Memory” nearly caused me to break down on the spot. I had to go to the bathroom to gather myself.

In the week leading up to the memorial service, I told my wife about Kevin and what he was like. That also led me to start talking about the people we hung out with. One of the names that popped up was Sean Lowry (he’s one of my favorite people ever). When I went to the bathroom at the memorial service, guess who was there? That’s right. Sean. We talked for a while and decided to sit next to each other. He told me he had heard the news about Kevin from Dave (another mutual friend). Dave had texted him, “Call me, it’s about Kevin.” Sean immediately thought, “Kevin was in an accident” and was ready to take the next flight out of Seattle. When Sean called Dave, he broke the news to Sean that Kevin was already gone due to a heart attack. The news spread quickly. We were all shocked and immediately started praying for his family.

I met Kevin at Calvary Chapel Bible College. I’ve previously written about the host of issues I had during that time in my life. Kevin and I were similar in a lot of ways. Neither of us had ever studied or cared for learning much of anything… that is until the Lord captured our hearts and transformed apathy and indifference into empathy and passion. When we reconnected years after CCBC, I told him I graduated from Talbot School of Theology. Kevin, too, had become passionate about academics and was in the process of obtaining a PhD in philosophy of religion and theology from Claremont School of Religion. We picked up where we left off and started talking about what we were learning theologically and how it enhanced our understanding of who God was.

More than the academics, though, I remember Kevin being one of the most supportive individuals I’ve ever come across. Again, my time at CCBC was a struggle. I didn’t know who I was or what I wanted in life. I would often lash out in immaturity as a result. I thought I was ready for responsibilities but when given the opportunity, I failed miserably. Kevin was nearly always there to encourage me often showing empathy, love, and compassion towards me. He wasn’t detached from people because he was studying heady things. He was grounded and cared for people. He never really liked big crowds but if you were to sit with him in a small group, his joy for life and compassion for people clearly showed.

After his memorial service there was a reception. It was good catching up time with other friends from CCBC that I haven’t seen in years. We shared stories about Kevin and wondered what he would be thinking about all this since he never liked big crowds. Seeing everyone else made me appreciate my time at CCBC even more.

I don’t know why the Lord took Kevin home. I don’t know why his lovely wife, Grace, is now a widow. I don’t know why his son Mason, who is 8 months old, will grow up without his father. I don’t have answers. Interestingly, my church just finished preaching through the book of Job. Job had a lot of questions as well, but in the end, he was completely content knowing God is both just and good. Job was okay with not knowing what was really going on behind the scenes of his personal suffering. Maybe we should be too.

I know Mason will grow up with wonderful stories about his father. Kevin will be his hero even though he’s no longer here. If there was something I could tell Mason when he’s older it would be this:

Mason,

I met your dad at Bible College and believe it or not, he didn’t like children back then. But when you were born something drastically changed him. He didn’t think he was ready for fatherhood but when he was given the opportunity he clearly took ownership of it. He had his diaper bag, a few toys, and other assorted things children needed when he took you places. He loved spending time with you. He loved being your father. If you knew your dad when I met him, you probably couldn’t picture him carrying a diaper bag. He loved learning and he loved people but most of all he loved the Lord Jesus. Your father supported me through a rough time in my life. It was during a time when I struggled to find a clear path in life and your dad was one of the guys God used to help give me direction. Even though he’s not here, my prayer for you would be that his memory and example would be a guiding light to you, that the many people who loved your father dearly would keep his memory alive in you, and that you would become an even greater man than he was because that’s what he would’ve wanted. He loved you Mason. If you ever feel the temptation with bitterness towards God for taking him from you, just remember your father lived for your Heavenly Father. Jesus was his passion. Jesus was the one who changed his life, and Jesus is now the one preserving his life for eternity. You will meet your father someday and he will be waiting for you with your Heavenly Father. You will have all of eternity to ask him all the questions you may have in your heart now. I pray that you love the God your father served so well.

Tomorrow is promised to no one. I think many people wish they could have had a last conservation with loved ones they may have lost. If I could tell Kevin a few things it would be this:

Kevin,

First, I can’t believe you’re gone. It just feels too soon. Second, I can’t believe you’re in the presence of Jesus. That must be absolutely awesome. Finally, I just wanted to thank you for being one of the most supportive people I’ve ever come across in my life. I’ll never forget the compassion and empathy you showed me during our time together at CCBC. Your hunger for learning was infectious and the Holy Spirit supernaturally gave you a love of people. I remember almost every hug you gave me. It didn’t matter if I was spilling my guts, angry about losing my girlfriend, or stealing Josh’s food. You gave me the same hug every time. When we meet again in the presence of our Heavenly Father, I expect that very same hug. I know you never finished your PhD, but you know God better now than any scholar could hope to this side of heaven. So, I say “Congrats!” to you. Thank you for the hope that men who once didn’t like children could turn out to be great dads. I’ll never forget you and the person you helped me to be. I love you bro, and I will miss you dearly.

Your brother in Christ,

Junior Jamreonvit

Reflections On The CCBC Days

Due to the unfortunate and recent passing of our good friend Kevin Lines, who I met at Calvary Chapel Bible College, other friends from Bible college started reconnecting over Facebook and sharing old photos and warm memories of our time together.

(Note: I will write about Kevin Lines and my friendship with him after his memorial service. I still can’t believe he’s gone.)

Every time I think about CCBC I have a mixed bag of emotions. I’ve had some of the most fun and meaningful times there. I also had some of my greatest failures there. But instead of talking about “only the good times” I’ve come to realize that both failures and triumphs nearly always contribute to a person’s maturation and a Christian’s sanctification. So despite my shortcomings, I fondly look back at that time. Here are the reasons why:

Laughter

I can say with absolute certainty that I have not laughed as often or as hard as I did at my time at CCBC. If laughter is truly medicine to the soul then my soul nearly OD(ed). And yes, I still laugh often and hard. Okay, I will acknowledge that most of the laughter was juvenile but still, it was great. There’s a difference between Christian juvenile activity and secular juvenile activity, and I’ve been a part of both. For example, secular juvenile activity would include (but is not limited to) egging someone’s house. A Christian, however, would say, “Wait, we don’t want to destroy property, let’s just toilet paper it instead.” There’s a difference.

When my buddy Bryan and I arrived at CCBC, barely graduated from high school and never really having any real responsibilities, we didn’t know what to except. We just noticed there were a lot of white people. The first day of arriving at our dorm we met 6’9 130lbs Joshua Grooms. Everyone started to unpack. I had to get something from the car and when I got back Josh and Bryan were spilling their guts to each other like Steel Magnolias. Josh knew as much about Bryan as I did in a matter of 15 minutes. We decided to jump him in our gang (figuratively speaking). Over the next two years we would laugh, cry and steal Josh’s food at every opportunity we had.

Later we formed close bonds with Joey Bell, Andre Garces, and Jeremy Camp (when he was a nobody). A semester after that it would be Sean, Moxi, Andy, Andrew, Brandon, Jeanine, Vanessa, Jennifer, Shannon, Jeanette, Jason, Nick, Dave, Sammie, and yes, Kevin Lines. They were some of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. It would take too long for me to explain all of their uniqueness and how each one of them loves the Lord and the impact they had on my life. So I’ll give you only the cliff notes.

No matter how busy things got everyone had lunch together and when one of us was missing, we would notice. "Hey, where's 'so-and-so'?" During that hour of lunch everyday I couldn’t remember a more diversified group of people laughing so much with one another (and at one another). It was such a joyous time and the first time I felt a part of a family. And yes, Bryan and I kept trying to steal Josh’s food.

Worship

I don’t remember a sweeter time of worship. Even after earning two master’s degrees in bible and seeing how theologically incorrect and anthropocentric some of those songs were, they still had a positive impact on my life. Not so much because of their incorrectness but despite it. The main reason was because of the people I was worshiping with. Everyone sang and it all felt sincere. I don’t know if you’ve been in a worship service when no one is singing but lemma tell ya, it stinks. It’s like being at a ball game and no one is cheering but you, and you’re the one that looks like a lunatic. “It’s a freakin’ ball game, you’re supposed to be loud!”

I tend to analyze things to death reflecting on reflections of reflections. I feel like I’m in a house of mirrors with so much reflecting going on. It is possible, though, to over analyze things in the name of balancing the heart and mind in worship. I miss that time when I simply stop analyzing stuff, let my words be few, and allow my heart to weep because I am touched by the love of God. Every morning we had devotions, which consisted of 15 minutes of worship and another 15 minutes where someone from the student body opened up God’s word and read from it. I was in my young arrogant, “I could do things better if I were running the show” stage in my life and those 15 minutes of worship every morning slowly chipped away at my hardness of heart. Every morning, without fail, I knew the Lord loved me. It was humbling. Is there a better way to start the day? I say no.

It helped having Jeanine, Jennifer, and Vanessa singing. They had angelic voices and hearts of gold, which managed to stay uncorrupted dispute their constant contact with Bryan and I. Truthfully, I don't know why they were our friends. If I were them I wouldn't have been. It was probably because they loved Jesus and even Jesus hung out with jack@$$es.

Fellowship

As I already mentioned, it was the first time I remember feeling like a part of a family. The guys and I had prayer meetings every other night (usually for secular rock bands to become Christians so we could start listening to them again) we said hard things to each other when we needed to, and all us of wanted to become more like Jesus. Yes, we were an immature bunch of young guys. But we were a bunch of young guys pulling for each other (when we weren’t trying to steal Josh’s food).

As part of this fellowship at CCBC, I watched a group of wonderful young ladies grow to be confident, selfless, and God fearing women. Most of them are now amazing wives to decent men and even better mothers to lovely children building a house that serves the Lord, a foundation which every society needs in order to thrive. None of us were perfect but we all knew it and we loved each other anyway. Isn’t that what a community of believers is supposed to do? I say yes.

Personal Failure

There are some advantages, although not many, from growing up in a broken home without any Christian influence. One of those advantages is never feeling obligated to appear to have it “all together.” I struggled and thrived during my time at CCBC. I failed at so many levels and at one point thought my life wouldn’t ever be the same. I wasn’t always a good friend to people. I wasn’t always patient or kind. I was selfish and egocentric. I was upset when I didn’t get my way. I felt like I knew everything and that no one had anything to teach me. I thought of myself highly and then God in His mercy brought me to my knees.

It was all a road test. It was a loosening up of the hard ground. I needed a little extra time to mature. I mean, I had Bryan as a friend. Who wouldn’t need extra time? A couple of years after CCBC I started attending Biola University. There were a lot of similarities but plenty of differences. I don’t think I would’ve cherished my time at Biola quite as much without my experiences at CCBC. My friendships were rooted in meaningful things. There was less time for juvenile behavior (although there was still plenty of it) and a deeper sense of responsibility towards my academics. Chapel was actually enjoyable for me. Most of my groomsmen were guys from Biola, and there was plenty of food so I didn’t have to steal it from a guy like Josh.

All of these things were a direct result of having spent time at CCBC, having spent time with the people at CCBC. This, it appears, was God’s plan all along. It was a place where God gave me the grace and room to fail in order to succeed later on. I’ve certainly failed in other ways since that time but unlike the initial failures I had, I know there’s redemption at the end and there’s a purpose and a plan from the God who is both sovereign and good.

I’ll never forget my time at CCBC. There were so many wonderful people, amazing friendships, tears of pain and joy shared, confessions to one another, rejoicing with one another, grieving with one another, being wronged and forgiving, having wronged and asking for forgiveness, being kicked out, being let back in, beating up Josh, getting beat down by everyone else, sobbing over God’s goodness, laughing until it hurts and then laughing some more, eating like there’s no tomorrow and then eating Josh’s food, praying deeply into the night, worshiping in the early morning and then missing breakfast because you were too late and the café closed, reading, learning, getting your heart ripped out, learning some more, and now wondering, “Where has the time gone?” That sounds a lot like life.

What’s In A Name?

My wife is done torturing her mother. For the last several months, she has been withholding our daughter’s name from her despite my mother in law’s numerous attempts to find it out. The torture came to an end on Mother’s Day when my wife gave her mom a card with each letter of our girl’s name cut out and stuffed inside the envelope. It was up to my mother in law to unscramble them in order to figure out the name. I guess white people think this is fun. Whatever.

Once we told my in laws, we decided there wasn’t a whole lot of point in keeping the name a secret any longer, so my wife posted our daughter’s name on Facebook last night to rave reviews. Our daughter’s name is “Joelle Penny Jamreonvit.” It’s important to note that it’s atypical for Thai people to have middle names. Since our last names are so long already we figure, “What’s the point of having a middle name?” Apparently, though, white people like middle names, and it seems they often use them to let their child know when they’re in trouble by emphasizing it. For example, if little Joelle does something wrong, I’m sure to hear an exasperated voice from my wife saying, “Joelle PENNY!” Then Joelle will know she’s in trouble. This will be a bit different from my childhood. When Thai children mess up, Thai people just yell and start cussing up a storm in Thai. Growing up, my sister and I knew that when Mom started cussing in Thai, it was time to run because the sandal was sure to come off and the swat to follow. (Unfortunately, my mom was a ninja when it came to the sandal, and running didn’t always help. She had great aim and could throw it with ninja-like precision.) It was about the equivalent of a middle name, I guess.

The Break Down: Joelle

So, here’s the breakdown of how we picked the name. I wanted a “J” name because my last name starts with a J. It just sounds nice. I was perfectly content with common names like, Jamie, Jessica, Jennifer (ex), or Justine (not so common). Eventually, though, my wife and I decided on Joelle, which means, “Jehovah is God.” Look, I know I went to Talbot School of Theology and have two masters degrees in Bible. And yes, I know that “Jehovah” is a nonsense word. But every time I try and explain this to people no one seems to care. Whatever. Joelle sounds nice anyway.

Middle Name: Penny

Penny was my mom’s name. I was asked on Mother’s Day, “Is it harder for you without your mom on days like these?” I said, “No, I miss her all the time.” I’ve only visited her grave a couple of times since her passing. The reason I don’t visit often is purely theological (she’s not there but in the presence of the Lord). I don’t need reminders that a big part of my life is no longer here. I have pictures of my mom all over the house and I think about her often, especially these last several months because Joelle will be screaming bloody murder soon. I wonder how she would take the news that I’m having a child. She would be excited beyond containment, overflowing with thankful enjoy. She would also be deathly afraid I would screw up somehow and forget to feed my daughter or something, but then she would realize Katie is her mother and that she has nothing to worry about.

Every time I run into people who knew my mom (and there’s a lot of them) they always mention a story I haven’t heard about her and how they were so touched by the way she lived the gospel and loved others with the love of Jesus. I hope Joelle loves people the way my mom loved people (Unless she’s on the basketball court, then I want her to destroy people with assassin-like proficiency.). I’m looking forward to telling my daughter dozens of stories about her grandmother. Joelle will shortly realize the impact her grandma had on her father’s life and will also feel a sense of love as well, much in the same way my wife does without ever meeting my mom.

My hope is that those stories inspire Joelle to love much because she is touched by the love of God in the same manner her grandma was. When she gets old enough, I’ll take her to visit grandma’s gravesite to see that grandma was real, and that death is also real. I’ll want her to realize that as a result, we should live our lives with Kingdom purpose, just like Grandma Penny did, for tomorrow is promised to no one.

Last But Not Least: Jamreonvit

A person’s last name has their legacy attached to it. Throughout the Bible, the Lord was very concerned about His Name and what it meant to Him and to His people. It was a window into His character. If you know me or have been following this blog for any amount of time, you’ll know I grew up without a father.

I remember watching a documentary on Ray Lewis who also grew up without a father. He took his mother’s name (Lewis) instead of his father’s name because his mother was there for him and his dad never was. There was bitterness in his voice when he spoke about his father. Lewis was extremely emphatic about not wanting to know his father and that having his mother was enough for him.

I have my father’s name, but I’m not my father. I’m sure some psychologist would tell me that because I lacked a father growing up, it’ll impact my parenting. Of course it will. I’m determined NOT to be him. I’m not bitter towards my father anymore. It just takes too much emotional energy to be angry with someone who isn’t even around. I can use that emotional energy towards loving my family, loving my Lord, and yelling at refs. I’m not going to change my name the way Lewis did. I’m just going to redefine it. Joelle will know her father and know him well. She will be a part of redefining the family name. (That is until some jerk marries her and changes it.)

So, in summary, Joelle is an extension of my mom, a part of my wife and I, and will be her own person (who doesn’t play soccer). I have no idea how she’ll turn out. If she turns out to be like my mom and wife, she’ll be one of the most godly women in history and absolutely beautiful. However, she has half of my DNA and may have anger issues as a result. So, we may have some challenges to work through, but that’s what makes parenthood so interesting, right?

Starbucks Advantages

Who doesn’t like Starbucks coffee? Starbucks has become a permanent fixture of our culture, so much so that other countries have decided to open franchises and overcharge their people for coffee as well. Recently, Starbucks brought back “Happy Hour” which means that during the hours of 3pm to 5pm, a frappuccino blended beverage is only half price! So, during these two wondrous hours, Starbucks is only half screwing their customers. Of course, what is most certainly to follow is absolute madness for those two hours at your local Starbucks, right? Far be it from me to miss out on this opportunity.
Last week, I decided to take the plunge and arrived at a local Starbucks a couple of minutes before 3pm. Yes, people were already forming a line. There were a couple of high-school girls waiting for their drinks, and the barista already had about 27 cups lined up. I took my place in line and began to watch the madness. As the barista finished up one of the drinks for a high school girl, she looked at it disdainfully and said, “Put more whipped cream!” The barista, wanting to make sure he had the correct drink, pointed to the cup and asked, “This one?” She replied with even more disdain, “Yeah!” as though he was supposed to know which one out of the 27 other cups needed more whipped cream. It wasn’t like he was stressed out about the other orders or anything. He kindly added more whipped cream and then handed her the drink. She grabbed the drink and walked out in a hurry without saying anything. Stay classy John Glenn High.

As I watched this scene unfold, I thought to myself, “Maybe she was waiting for her drink a very long time. Maybe she had a rough day and just wanted some extra whipped cream to take the edge off. Or maybe she was just rude.” When I got to the counter, I told the barista, “I guess they don’t teach the words ‘Please’ and ‘Thank you’ in high school anymore.” He chuckled and said, “No comment.” “Don’t worry.” I said, “I’ll speak your mind for you.”

Before being able to place my order, I also had to wait for the lady directly in front of me who apparently had decided to order enough drinks for three different generations of her family and was extremely particular with how each drink was prepared. She examined each one of her 80 drinks to make sure they were done correctly and sent a few back because they weren’t. Sweet! Look, by this point, I wasn’t thrilled at waiting for a solid 23 minutes for a frappuccino that normally takes 37 seconds to make any other hour of the day. Considering the circumstances, however, I figured I needed to be more patient. It would be like going on the freeway during rush hour and being upset that there is traffic.

Adding even more intrigue to this adventerous trip to Starbucks was the random guy who entered the store and walked right to the front of the line while everyone, including myself, had a “What in the heck is he doing?” look on our faces. As it turned out he was looking for some paperwork, which he had forgotten at the store the last time he was here and was asking if they had found it. I thought to myself, “You came at the wrong time.” A moment after, I’m pretty sure the manager told him the same thing. The line was already out the door, everyone looked angry, and it wasn’t even 3:30 yet. Apparently he didn’t have the Starbucks phone app that notifies you when there are promotions going on at Starbucks.

When I finally got my drink, I told the barista “Thanks, man. You have a nice day.” He didn’t really have time to respond, which is understandable but I have no doubt he appreciated a customer being polite and showing him a shred of dignity under probably the most stressful time of the day. So, two final thoughts; first, if you’re planning on going to Happy Hour at Starbucks this week, just know what you’re getting into. Secondly, if you’re a Christian this is a good opportunity to shine like “stars in the heavens” and be “pure children of God” (Phil. 2:15) by simply NOT being a jerk.

Girls In Baggy Shorts

A couple of weeks ago, the Biola women’s basketball team had the “End of the year (season) team dinner.” Any “End of the year” type thing is often a time to reflect on, well, the year, and like most years, it went by fast. Things move at the speed of life, and if we don’t cherish the opportunities given to us when we become older, we’ll just end up bitter old people (and probably fat as well). So here’s me cherishing a rare opportunity I thought I would never have.

This past season I was given an opportunity to be an assistant coach of the Biola women’s basketball team. One of the assistant coaches had to drop out mid-season. The head coach of the team, Bethany Miller, and I have been good friends since our undergraduate days at Biola. I’m making us sound old, but we’re really not. I’ve watch Bethany since she was a college athlete who received the President’s Award (a scholarship that paid 90% of her Biola tuition), got married to my friend, Jared Miller, went to grad school, became a physical therapist, worked as an assistant coach to the girl’s team, and then got hired as the head coach (1st year) and the assistant athletic director at Biola University just last year. She’s one of the hardest workers I’ve ever met and loves the game of basketball. We’ve also been in the same Grace Group (home Bible study) for several years. So when she needed help with the team, I couldn’t possibly say, “no.”

Coaching Girls

I’ve always thought about coaching, but only after I started making six-figures as a financial planner. Also, I’ve never really thought about coaching girls. I mean, how in the world do I relate with girls? Especially girl athletes, since they’re cut from a different cloth sometimes. For example, I was talking to our starting center trying to motivate her for an important conference game. The opposing center had made All-Conference last year as a junior and will probably make it again this year as a senior. Our center played her well and is two years younger. I said, “Two years from now you have the potential to be even better than she is.” She stoically replied, “Yeah, I don’t really get up for that.” Well, never mind. Bethany later told me the same things that motivate guys don’t always motivate girls. “Okay then. It’s time for a different approach,” I thought. It was definitely a learning experience for me. My comfort was my knowledge of the game. Basketball will always be basketball and I love the sport at near idolatrous levels so, I was confident I would figure out ways to help the team.
As I was getting to know the girls on the team and their needs I was impressed with how mature they were. Of course there were moments of immaturity but they weren’t atypical of your average college student. If anything, they made me more settled with having a girl. I probably had a half dozen “I wonder if my daughter is going to be like that” moments each week while I was with the team. It was fun to think about. I certainly won’t “make” my daughter play basketball. However, considering that she’ll end up “daddy’s little girl,” I don’t see how she’s not going to play the best game in the world. Also, since I’m not allowing her to play soccer or any other sport in the Winter Olympics (e.g., figure skating, curling, etc.) she doesn’t have much of a choice anyway.
Beyond the X’s & O’s
What really helped me as a coach is the ability to step inside the player’s situation. I liked to ask myself the question, “If I were going through what they were going through, what would I need?” It’s often like looking at a younger version of yourself, having been at that life-stage knowing exactly how they are feeling and what needs to be said at a given moment. There were disappointing losses, emotional trials, and epic victories, often happening week to week. The challenge isn’t always the x(s) and o(s). Actually, that’s usually the easy part. You study film of your opponents, pick up their plays and player tendencies, and formulate a plan accordingly. The challenge is implementing the plan by getting different people with very different personalities and different perspectives on the same page in order to execute the plan. That’s no small task.
The hard work of seeing your players execute the game plan, which results in team success is well worth the labor.
Another component of coaching that doesn’t get mentioned enough is managing people. When an individual, or the entire team, is on the verge of losing confidence or their emotional psyche is about to be broken, you as a coach need to see that and prevent or know how to mend it back together. Empowering players by transferring the confidence from coach to player can’t be taught in classroom or read in a textbook. It makes human beings created in the image of God that much more fascinating to me.

Girls In Baggy Shorts (you know I had to work the title in somewhere)

Society seems to view basketball as a more “masculine” sport. Girls in baggy shorts and big bulky basketball shoes don’t seem “feminine.” Some of that is true. Yes, I’ve met girls who would rather spend time in the weight room instead of the beauty salons. But what’s harder? Always acting feminine (whatever that means) or being able to adapt to a given situation or context?
Attempting to play extremely hard on the basketball court and maintaining eloquence and grace off of the court is a much more daunting task than always remaining one or the other. These girls were able to pull that off. No, I don’t believe a girl has to lose some of her feminine instincts in order to excel at basketball. I fully expect my daughter to have an “assassin’s mentality,” seeking to destroy everyone on the basketball court while completely acting like a lady off of it.

The College Experience
College was an experience I’ll never forget. I never got a chance to play college basketball at a university, but I can only imagine doing so would’ve enhanced the college experience even further.
So then, as a coach, it was a complete delight to watch the girls grow as basketball players and how that overflows into their personal lives. I don’t know what prepares a person more for real world professionalism than athletics. As I’ve mentioned before, there are a million parallels between life and basketball. Nothing worthwhile comes easy. In achieving excellence, discipline, commitment, and sacrifice are not optional but pre-requisites. I believe the girls learned that lesson. Their teachability allowed it to happen, and those are the lessons that go well beyond the basketball court.

Here’s what five-time NBA champion Steve Kerr had to say about his college experience at Arizona:

I had no chance of making the NBA after my first season at Arizona, much less right out of high school. (The thought actually makes me laugh.) As a slow 6-foot-3 white guy, I was lucky to even stick around for one NBA season, much less 15. I had the "anti–Anthony Davis experience," spending five full years in college (redshirting one season with a knee injury) before entering the NBA at 22. And maybe this wouldn't be true for everyone, but for me, those five years at Arizona were the most important of my life. My teammates from those Wildcat teams remain my best friends to this day. Our loss in the Final Four during my senior year in 1988 remains the single most disappointing game of my life — but one that motivated me for the rest of my career. The collective value of the experiences we shared — every tough practice, every difficult loss, every euphoric win, even those times on the bus or the plane — created a bond between us that will live forever. And the education we received from our coach, Lute Olson, had an immeasurable effect on all of us. He was a teacher, father figure, and mentor; without his influence, the last 25 years of my life just wouldn't have turned out the same.

I have no doubt coach Miller has impacted the girls in this manner and that she’ll continue to do so for as long as she is the head coach. I feel extremely blessed to have been a small part of it.
I'll leave you with a clip.