Ask Bweinh! Poll — Radio

09/20/2007, 12:00 pm -- by Steve | No Comments

This edition of the Ask Bweinh! poll is sponsored by our friends at Sirius — with whole channels devoted entirely to NASCAR, disco, trucking, Martha Stewart, and the traffic of Las Vegas and Detroit, we’ve got exactly what you don’t want to hear!

What’s on our radio?

Rank	Radio Format	Points
1.	Talk (political)	23
2.	Talk (sports)	22
3.	Alternative Rock	15
4.	News/NPR	13
5.	Christian	12
6.	Old Time	9
7-10 (tie)	Request; Theatre; Stories; Hip Hop	5
Other	Top 40/Adult Contemporary; Oldies; Talk (Self-help); Chanting; CB	1-4

OoCCTA

09/20/2007, 10:30 am -- by Steve | No Comments

What changed the school??

If you picked “Gang leader ‘Moose’ became a Christian,” you’re a winner!!

‘Scared of the Dark’

09/20/2007, 8:45 am -- by Steve | 2 Comments

Ten years ago yesterday, Rich Mullins died in a car accident. He was a singer, a songwriter, a poet and a prophet, an honest and authentic man of God. He was 41.

Two days before he died, he wrote my favorite poem of all time, reprinted below. It was the last piece he wrote before his death.

Please read it.

Scared of the Dark
Rich Mullins
September 17, 1997

i don’t remember meeting Him
He had just always been there.
when people ask me, “how did you meet the Lord?”
i don’t know how to answer.
meeting Him seems unavoidable
recognizing Him can be tricky
loving Him seems impossible.
people often ask that too – “do you love Jesus?”
and again i’m stuck for an answer
i know the right one – the answer you’re supposed to give
i know that it presupposes so many things that it could hardly be honest
so i say,
as much as i love,
i love Jesus.

if love was easier, i would love Him more
but then again
if love was easier, it would hardly be worth the little it would ask
if i was stronger, i would love Him more
or maybe
i would more know how little i love

we grow slowly,
and love takes time . . .

Continued here!

Joke of the Day, 9/20/07

09/20/2007, 7:00 am -- by Steve | 3 Comments

A soldier met a pirate in a bar, and talk turned to their adventures. The soldier saw that the pirate had a peg leg, a hook, and an eye patch. “How did you end up with the peg leg?” he asked.

“I was swept overboard into a school of sharks. As me men were pullin’ me out, a shark bit off me leg.”

“Wow!,” said the soldier. “What about your hook?”

“Well,” answered the pirate, “we was boardin’ a ship and one of the enemy gone and hacked off me hand.”

“Incredible! How’d you get the eye patch?”

“A seagull pooped in my eye,” the pirate replied.

“You lost your eye to a seagull dropping?” the soldier asked, bewildered.

“Well,” said the pirate, “it was me first day with the hook.”

Battle of the Bands XXVII

09/19/2007, 2:00 pm -- by Steve | No Comments

Exodus results
Fourth Place: Acacia
Third Place: Faltering Lips
Second Place: No More Forever

And the winner is Stripe For Stripe, joining Kindred in the Pantheon of Biblical band names!! And this one has never been taken!

Moving on from last week in Romans is Just Damnation; here’s the next group!

{democracy:135}

Civics Quiz

09/19/2007, 1:14 pm -- by Steve | 14 Comments

I took this rather difficult civics quiz that’s in the news today, and got 56 out of 60 correct (93.3%).

Can you beat me? Take a stab!

I’m pretty sure Bweinh!keteers would beat the average of 54% reported for all college grads…

Bible Discussion — Romans 4

09/19/2007, 12:00 pm -- by Bweinh | No Comments

This week, Bweinh.com looks at the next chapter in the book of Romans, Romans 4.

Genesis: 1-4 | 5-9 | 10-14 | 15-18 | 19-22 | 23-26
27-29 | 30-32 | 33-36 | 37-39 | 40-43 | 44-46 | 47-50

Exodus: 1-4 | 5-8 | 9-11 | 12-14 | 15-18
19-22 | 23-26 | 27-30 | 31-34 | 35-40

And the book of Romans: Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

INTRODUCTION:
David:
The last chapter ends with a question about the law being “made void” by faith, and an assertion by Paul that justification by faith for both Jews and Gentiles does not void the law, but establishes it. The Jews just needed to understand that the law was intermediate, not pre-eminent. It was a step toward redemption, but not the bearer of that redemption. It was like a mirror that could show us our need of a bath, but contained no power to clean us up.

SOMETHING YOU’D NEVER NOTICED BEFORE:
Steve:
The law brings about wrath, because without the law, there would be no transgression. But would the end result have been any different?

Chloe:
Paul portrays Abraham’s faith as acknowledging his shortcomings and believing God would overcome them. A crucial part of faith is humility. Why don’t preachers talk about that more often? “You can’t do it! Give up! . . . Let God do it.”

BEST BAND NAME FROM THE PASSAGE:
Josh: Against All Hope
Chloe: Heir of the World
Connie: Seed of the Law
Steve: All The Seed

Continued here!

The Difference Between an Englishman and an American

09/19/2007, 9:30 am -- by Chloe | 6 Comments

I have, on many occasions, been accused of being an Anglophile. People say this to me with any number of emotions in their voice, ranging from disgust to perplexity. They have horrible food, bad teeth, and haughty demeanors. Why would I choose to be obsessed with the English culture? How could I betray America like that?

Gentility. They have it. We don’t.

On my way from the airport to my new home, I had to carry two 50-pound bags on the metro, up and down many flights of steps, and through vast crowds of people enclosed in tight spaces. I had no idea how I was going to do it alone, and I was sorely tempted to spend an outrageous amount of money on a taxi to avoid it altogether. However, when I got onto the platform for the train from the airport to the Underground and started struggling with my suitcases, a man nearby carried them into the train for me. On the way out of the train, another person did the same thing. When I reached the Tube, people walked around me, didn’t bump me or harass my luggage, and helped me on and off the train.

The real kicker, however, was when I got to my home stop and faced a huge escalator, many people, and the difficulty of getting through the narrow ticket passage. A little old lady, not more than five feet tall and somewhere between 65 and 70 years old, swooped in and announced that she was going to help me. She grabbed a suitcase right out of my hand and carried it off. I thought for sure that she was trying to steal it, but of course she wouldn’t have gotten far, since she couldn’t have weighed more than twice what the bag did. She carried it all the way out of the station before handing it back to me, then nodded once and walked off. I have never experienced that type of kindness in a big American city.

While England is much more secular than America, its people seem to understand something that we don’t: those around us are people, too. We as a general population are very capable of walking by a struggling person and ignoring them. The English do not. They treat each other with respect, even saying “Sorry” whenever they bump into someone on the street. Americans keep walking, or worse, instigate something. This flaw in our society saddens me even more in the context of our beliefs. We’re supposed to be a Christian nation. Where did our common courtesy go?

Quote of the Day, 9/19/07

09/19/2007, 7:00 am -- by Steve | No Comments

“It ain’t the heat, it’s the humility.” — Y. Berra

OoCCTE

09/18/2007, 2:30 pm -- by Steve | 1 Comment

{democracy:133}

Clash of the Titans L: Gas v. Charcoal

09/18/2007, 12:00 pm -- by Steve | 5 Comments

In this corner, on the side of gas, is David!

And in this corner, backing charcoal, is Josh!

Meet the Gutierrez family. After suffering catastrophic health issues in Mexico, they left their native land to emigrate to the United States. Settling (illegally) in an affluent Hispanic community in the lush suburbs of Macon, GA, they received free health care, food stamps and supplemental income from various welfare agencies, allowing them to heal from their several maladies and settle into an ideal American existence.

They moved to the suburb, initially, because of the many jobs open to undocumented aliens at area chicken processing plants. But they stayed because they became hooked on fresh chicken and the outdoor BBQ experience — and they don’t use charcoal. See, back in Mexico they suffered a series of disturbing ailments thought to be byproducts of American manufacturing practices, but in reality were caused by the manufacture of charcoal.

As with most countries in South and Central America, there is a burgeoning illegal charcoal industry in Mexico, destroying the environment ways impossible to calculate. I know, because I tried with my calculator and I could not find a way to input words like “greenhouse gases” and “smog.” Charcoal is made by cutting down trees and burning the wood in a furnace (without oxygen), creating coals for consumption by fat, lazy, rich Americans. The immediate effect of the process is the release of carbon monoxide, a major contributor to both global warming and the long, drawn-out twilight of William Shatner’s acting career (speaking of rich, fat Americans). In addition, removing the trees strips hillsides of vegetation, leaving the land prone to erosion, which kills by starvation, and flooding, which kills — well… pretty much by flooding. Oh, and also mudslides.

I stand with the Gutierrez family in my resolve to use only gas when I grill my loco pollo from nearby chicken plants. If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me. Besides, I like to make my own sauce from mustard, soy sauce and Italian dressing, and soy sauce tastes funky when it’s grilled over charcoal.

Not that I have ever personally used charcoal.

There are few things finer in all the world than a cookout on a warm summer day — the smell, the camaraderie around the grill, the way everything just tastes better when you eat outside. You feel alive. The only way to put a damper on such a tasty scene would be to cheat.

I’m talking to you, gas grill guy.

First off, it’s undeniable that food cooked over a real, charcoal fire tastes better. Since quality of taste is the most important factor when discussing food preparation — particularly if you’re going to go to all the trouble of a cookout to begin with — the debate really begins and ends there. But I will continue, because there’s more to love about charcoal.

For one thing, the grills are less expensive. This leaves more money available for quality cuts of meat. Also, studies have shown that when it comes to expensive cooking gadgets, there is an inverse correlation between how much money people spend and how much they actually cook for themselves. In other words, gas is for posers.

Throw in the fact that charcoal offers an infinitely lower chance of an explosion, and much greater ease and safety of storage and purchase. When I go to Lowe’s (let’s build something — together), I don’t need someone to unlock an outdoor cage to get me a bag of charcoal.

Proponents of gas will say that charcoal takes too long to heat up, and that gas offers more even control of heat. Well, you know what? My microwave heats up quickly and provides even heat. Maybe I’ll just go nuke some hot dogs and call it a day. Give me a break!

The whole point of cooking out is to master that open flame, to connect with nature. For a genuine cookout experience, charcoal just can’t be beat.

{democracy:134}

Camp Maranatha

09/18/2007, 10:30 am -- by Job Tate | 1 Comment

Best of Job, April 2006. Visit Camp Maranatha here!

“Job, the ‘No Running’ sign on the pool deck needs to be repainted,” my boss, Keith, told me. I set to it right after lunch, when I knew the campers wouldn’t be swimming. A simple job requiring a one-inch paint brush and — at best — a capful of red paint.

I brought a brand new 5-gallon pail of paint out to the pool deck and set about to repaint the masterpiece some staff guy had begun years ago. “The 11th Commandment,” I thought to myself, as I colored in the letters that had been faded by the hot California sun. I was quite different from the sign…kin to Casper and hailing from the cool green hills of Vermont, the sun had darkened me considerably. A feat, for sure.

Nearing completion (and proud of my work), I backed up to view the sign from a distance — and straight up waltzed into the 5-gallon pail.

Sweet Moses.

Like the scene of a grisly murder, the paint spread like blood down the slightly slanted pool deck, running straight toward the clear blue water of the pool.

Oh, sweet Moses.

I hopped the fence (again a feat, for sure) and grabbed the hose. But it wasn’t attached!

Feeling sick to my stomach — it had just been last week that I caught the mower blades on a rock — I quickly attached the hose, hopped back over the fence, and began to fight the paint back with the water. Dilute, spread out, turn into a snake, whatever, paint — just please do not go into the pool.

It was the greatest fight of my life so far. As I cleaned up the murder scene, fully intent on the remains never being found, suddenly I heard a gate open on the adjacent basketball court — and I felt the express horror of watching Keith approach, a quizzical look on his face.

Sweet fancy Moses.

“Sign looks good, Job.”

He watched me with the hose.

“Is the pool deck dirty?”

“A little, yeah.”

And away he whistled.

Found out later he was color blind.

Out-of-Context Chick Tract Answer

09/18/2007, 9:00 am -- by Steve | 3 Comments

What was worth $4 million??

If you picked “The uncut diamond given to them by their dying neighbor,” you’re a winner!!

Last Chance to Vote!

09/18/2007, 8:15 am -- by Steve | No Comments

One more day until the big finish in the Exodus band name playoffs!! Vote today (maybe for the second time) and break the tie!

{democracy:128}

Joke of the Day, 9/18/07

09/18/2007, 7:00 am -- by Steve | No Comments

An old man lived on a farm, a large tract of land that included a fruit grove on the banks of a beautiful pond. One evening he decided to go down to the pond and look it over, and he grabbed a bucket to bring back some fruit.

As he neared the pond, he heard voices shouting and laughing. When he got closer, he realized a group of young women were skinny-dipping in his pond. He announced his presence to the ladies and they hid underwater. One shouted, “We’re not coming out until you leave!”

The old man frowned. “I didn’t come down here to see you ladies swimmin’ naked!”

He held the bucket up. “I’m just here to feed the alligator.”

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