Our church is just getting ready to start a 12-week series on the Book of Galatians.  Different people from our church will be tag-teaming on the teaching part of things... But we’re hoping to make this something more than a once-a-week sermon thing, too.  We’re asking our church’s life groups and communities to focus on studying Galatians during the fall, in addition to the stuff that we’re doing on Sunday afternoons.  And even beyond organized activities, we’re encouraging everyone in the church to be reading and studying and meditating on Galatians, individually.  The idea with all of this is that if we can approach things from this multi-level perspective, it will create a much richer learning environment.

But anyway -- one of the more unusual things that we've developed to support this particular series is to set up a Facebook discussion on-line, to allow for others to participate in -- or at least observe -- the teaching process, even as it’s unfolding.  It's supposed to be a sort of "open source" approach to biblical teaching.  We've never done it before, so I'm honestly not sure how it's going to work out (or if it's going to work out at all)... It's certainly different than how the Apostle Paul did things way back in the day!

At any rate, the discussion is open to anyone.  You don't have to be a member of our church community to participate -- and you don't even have to have a Facebook account.  You can just go to http://www.facebook.com/amsterdam50, and join in from there.  I'd be curious to hear if anyone has any experience with "open source teaching," like this -- and if any advice could be offered for how to best avoid pitfalls and maximize the educational benefits of such an approach to Scripture...

Ik ben weer nat... en ik ben het zat.

A week-and-a-half into my re-immersion in Amsterdam, and I'm still feeling the effects of the transition pretty heavily.

The weather has been absolutely atrocious.  It's like we left Ohio in the dog days of summer -- mid-August heat and humidity, sunburns, sweat, and mosquitoes -- and landed in Amsterdam to experience late-October / early-November conditions:  skies of battleship gray, buckets and buckets of rain, high winds, and cold fingers.  The only contants, as it turns out, are the mosquitoes and the humidity.  Absolutely every surface here seems to be immediately susceptible to mold, mildew, must, and moss.  Our basement has flooded twice since we've been back (once likely from the weather, once from plumbing problems).  Shoes and jackets are perpetually stinky.  It's simply inescapable... this morning, and seemingly every morning.

Ik ben weer nat... en ik ben het zat.

The summer is officially over.  Elliot and Olivia went back to school today.  Buckets and buckets of rain soaked us on the way from home, but we made it.

Cor doesn't actually start pre-school until next month (which, I'm sure, will warrant its own post), but he wanted to put on a backpack and join in the photographic fun.

Olivia is now in Group 3 (1st grade), and Elliot is in Group 5 (3rd grade).  It's absolute lunacy to see how quickly time flies.

I heard the news about LeBron James (star of the Cleveland Cavaliers basketball team) signing with the Miami Heat on the morning of our family's departure for Ohio, six weeks ago.  Because I didn't want to make the travel preparations any more stressful than they already were, I didn't break the news to my son (a huge Cavs fan and LeBron James fan) until we were about half-way over the Atlantic.  But I knew that I had to let him know -- because it was definitely going to be a topic of conversation when we landed in Ohio.

Elliot and I, like a lot of people from Ohio, were disappointed by LeBron James' decision to leave his home state and pursue glory, glamor, and success in Miami -- down south, on the Coast (common destinations for the oft-lamented Midwestern talent drain).  But as I've processed his decision further, I have to admit that it makes a lot of sense -- and I think that it actually reveals a lot about the evolution of cultural and generational values.  And I, for one, don't mean that this shift in values is necessarily a bad thing.  It's just interesting to note.

A lot of people have given LeBron James a lot of crap over the last month and a half.  They say he's a sell-out, that he's self-centered and childish and unfaithful.  The previous generation's great basketball players -- guys like Michael Jordan, Magic Johson, and Charles Barkley -- have publically and universally denounced the move, which coincided with Miami re-signing its biggest star, Dwyane Wade and also winning Chris Bosh, another highly-regarded talent in this summer's free agent signings.  They say that a phenomenon such as Miami's new "Big Three" would never have happened in their days because they were too competitive, too intent on beating each other rather than teaming up to run laps around the competition.  The previous generation's superstars complain that LeBron's legacy will be tainted by his lack of competitive individualism -- that he'll never be as great as they were in their day, because he didn't "go it alone" against the top talent of his generation.

But I really have to wonder if this criticism is just generational ignorance and arrogance.  To me, LeBron James' move to Miami is very much in line with the cultural values of today's twenty-somethings:  less individualistic, less cut-throat competitive, more global, more synergistic.

LeBron James has his own set of values that aren't so hung-up on individual "greatness."  I'm guessing that he's not so concerned with having great enemies (as if this somehow made him a bigger man) -- as much as he's concerned with having great friends.  He seems to hope for ongoing support from his Ohio friends and family, even as he transitions to Miami for the next few years.  And with transportation and telecommunication as efficient and effortless as it is today, ties to "home" are defined in much different ways than ever before; he can still be every bit as much of an Ohioan as he's always been -- it's just that he doesn't always have to be in Ohio to do it.  I'm sure that the championships are still important to LeBron James -- but he wants to have someone with whom he can share that glory.  The teammates are not something to detract from himself, from his spotlight, but rather something to make the experience all the more sweet.  Like a lot of young people today, it seems to me that he cares about where he's going only secondarily, after he's figured out who he's going with.

Maybe this is total psycho-babble.  I don't really know.  A lot of my speculation comes from the news stories reporting that James, Wade, and Bosh have all been close friends since their time playing together on the USA basketball team during the 2008 Olympics.  But again, I can't really claim to have any particular insight into LeBron James' way of thinking.  Yet the more I process his recent career decision, the more I can see my own values at play.  After being away from Ohio for a number of years, myself -- I've had to come to terms with the fact that I can be both an Amsterdammer and an Ohioan.  It doesn't have to be one or the other.  I didn't leave Ohio because I was disloyal or embittered; on the contrary, I love it there!  But I didn't have to keep my feet planted eternally on Ohio soil in order to maintain my cultural identity.  Furthermore, as I think about the future -- I realize that my goals in life are a lot less about what I accomplish than they are about who I get to accomplish them with.  If I were ever to move away from Amsterdam, for instance, I would hope that it wouldn't be for some amazing job opportunity or to live in some amazing city -- but rather that it would be to team up with some amazing people to "make history" together.  In my case, of course, it would probably be to make disciples instead of win NBA championships; but when you really break it down, my values are not so much different from those that LeBron James has exhibited this summer.

As for our personal basketball loyalties, Elliot and I have basically decided that we're going to have to cheer for both the Cleveland Cavaliers and for LeBron James, now that their paths have diverged.  If it comes down to a head-to-head match-up, we'll probably go for the Cavs (we do, after all, have our Ohio identity to maintain!).  But I don't see myself remaining embittered with LeBron James for making the decision he did.  If he ends up winning championships, I say good for him.  We'll still have to wait until next season to see how things really feel, in the midst of the action.  But for now, I'm saying that I can at least see where LeBron James might be coming from...

Coming back is not the same as staying.

The eastern half of Richland County is full of forests, fields, and folklore -- with each of the area's legacies, legends, myths, and ghost stories connected to various bends in the road and other distinctive landmarks throughout the region.  This story below is the second in a series of attempts to write down some of the folklore from this Rich Land of Stories...

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Everyone in the eastern half of Richland County agrees that Geisinger Road can be treacherous terrain to travel, especially the easternmost stretch, where the road bends right as it approaches the bridge over the Brokensword Creek.  It's an absolutely beautiful stretch of countryside, where gold-finches flit and flutter across the road, the grasses grow tall along the way, and large red barns overlook lazy rows of corn on every side with their view broken only by randomly scattered stands of maple and oak.  It's enchanting to drive along this bypass of some of Ohio State Route 96's sharper bends; but it is not a road to be casually traversed.  Numerous accidents resulting in numerous fatalities have taken place in the area over the years.  In fact, even as our family has been visiting the area this summer -- just a little over a month ago -- there was a story in the Shelby Daily Globe reporting the death of another young man, in a pick-up truck, who had lost control of his vehicle out on Geisinger Road, not far from the landmark that area residents have come to call the Crying Bridge.

Everyone agrees that Geisinger Road can be treacherous terrain to travel.  But not everyone agrees on the specifics of the stories surrounding the Crying Bridge -- or that there are any stories to be told at all.

Generally speaking, the stories say that if you visit the Crying Bridge at night -- when the Milky Way stretches out overhead, the lightning bugs flash in the deep dark places where the trees crowd together, and the crickets sing softly on every side -- and if you stand there in complete silence (with not even the idling of an automotive engine), you can hear the sound of a woman crying.  They say that it's the sound of a ghost, crying for her baby who was killed at the creek.  But that's about as far as the stories agree.

Some say that the sounds of the Crying Bridge are a ghostly reminder of an Amish woman, whose family was traveling by horse and buggy at dusk, along Geisinger Road, when an oncoming automobile rounded the bend leading up to the bridge too quickly and crashed into the buggy.  The horse, the husband, and both of the little girls who were riding in the buggy were killed instantly.  The woman of the family, however, was completely unscathed by the accident.  When the driver of the car regained consciousness, he found the Amish woman sitting at the edge of the bridge with the heads of her two little girls in her lap.  The remains of the buggy were scattered around them like matchsticks, but the Amish woman just stroked the blood-soaked hair of her girls and sobbed, as she looked out over the water.  When the authorities arrived at the scene of the accident, the driver of the car blurted the story from start to finish.  But when they started looking for the Amish woman, she was nowhere to be found.  The scene of the accident was blocked off, the victims were identified, and the Amish community eventually laid them to rest, but nothing was ever seen of the Amish woman again.  Only at night, at the Crying Bridge, standing in complete silence, can she be heard again, eternally crying for her babies.

Others say that the sounds of the Crying Bridge go back much further than that, though.  These people talk of the very earliest days of Ohio's settlement, when the white people first pushed into Indian country.  One day, when some of the whites' horses had been stolen, they set off on a killing rampage -- riding from Indian village to Indian village and slaughtering men, women, children, and animals.  Thus one tribe found refuge in a hollow of the creek and hid out as the whites ransacked their village.  Frustrated by the escape of the "savages," the whites swept across the countryside in search of the escapees, roughly following the path of the creek with their long guns poised for action.  When they approached the bend in the creek where the Indians were actually hiding, one papoose -- just a few months old -- started fussing, threatening to betray their position.  The squaw tried to hush her child, but he could not be placated.  As the whites drew closer, the baby started wailing even louder -- at which point the mother was forced to clutch the baby so close to her that he was suffocated to death.  The squaw's sacrifice saved the tribe for that day, but the loss of her child was so bitter that she sobbed uncontrollably for days after the whites had moved on.  She rooted herself on the spot where her baby had been killed -- roughly the spot where Geisinger Road passes over the Brokensword Creek today -- and eventually, they say, her tears watered and cultivated the growth of a weeping willow tree which hung over the water.  Legend has it that the squaw died shortly after the death of her baby, and that her spirit settled within the willow tree.  And even today, the willow tree hangs over the creek, weeping the Indian woman's tears every night.

Beyond the stories of the Amish woman and the Indian woman, there are still other vague rumors about Indians, or early settlers, or Amish folks, or even teenagers on their way to a football game (the last one being surprisingly similar to the mythology surrounding the Olivesburg Fork).  But in any event, the stories all speak to the dangers of Geisinger Road -- warning any people passing that way to be careful.  It's difficult to know exactly which story should be affixed to the Crying Bridge.  But if you visit the bridge at night, in complete silence, and listen for the sound of a woman crying, maybe you'll be able to decide for yourself.

Down to our last week in Ohio... We're definitely trying to make the most of it.

You can find a few more images in our Family Pictures section.

The eastern half of Richland County is full of forests, fields, and folklore -- with each of the area's legacies, legends, myths, and ghost stories connected to various bends in the road and other distinctive landmarks throughout the region.  This story below is the first in a series of attempts to write down some of the folklore from this Rich Land of Stories... 

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Olivesburg is one of those towns that's so small that it doesn't even warrant a speed bump.  Ohio State Route 96 barrels through the settlement with just a mild reduction to the speed limit -- from 55 miles per hour, to 45 miles per hour -- although most motorists ignore even that.  Being as such, it only takes about five seconds to breeze past the dozen houses that make up Olivesburg.  And all things being equal, it's a pretty forgettable town.

But something happened on a dark spring night, many years ago, which made Olivesburg such that it can never again be forgotten.

It was early May.  The spring had been a rainy one, so the rivers and streams were swift and swollen, but on this particular weekend the weather was bright and clear.  Lilacs bloomed by the roadside, with their sweet purple smells hanging heavy over the land.  The robins and cardinals chirruped cheerfully from the trees.  And the students of Crestview High School were on their way to prom.  The boys wore tuxedoes and musky cologne.  The girls wore long, billowing, satinny dresses along with perfume that made the smell of the lilacs seem dull.  The parents took pictures as the boys offered floral corsages to their dates and the couples posed by the family fireplaces.  And then the high schoolers were off to dinner:  "fancy" places like the Red Lobster in Mansfield and the SkyWay East in Madison Township.  Along the way, they laughed and reveled in their youth and vitality.  And then they drove from their restaurants -- scattered across Richland County and Ashland County -- to convene at the Crestview High School Gynasium for the night of their lives.

The prom went off without any problems bigger than a few kids getting busted for smoking in the bathroom, or vomiting all over the dance floor.  But after the party in the gymnasium started disbanding, one particular car full of high-schoolers left the parking lot, driving east on 96 towards Ashland for some after-prom activities, never to be seen again.  The driver of the car was a senior who had borrowed his family's Ford for the evening, and his date had been one of the nominees for prom queen that evening.  Another couple was in the back-seat.  But as they approached Olivesburg, at the place where State Route 603 intersects with State Route 96 at a 20-degree angle -- the Olivesburg Fork -- something happened that caused the car to spin out of control, into the wooded area on the far side of the intersection, and tumbling down the ravine.  Some say that there had been an Amish boy traveling by horse-and-buggy, returning to his family's farm after courting a girl down the road.  Others say that there was a near-miss with another car westbound on 96, which had drifted slightly left of center.  Still others say that the driver had just tipped back a few too many glasses of punch that had been spiked at the prom.  But in any event, the vehicle crashed into the bottom of the ravine at a high speed, the car crumpled like a paper bag, coming to rest upside-down in the creek that filled the bottom of the ravine.  Nobody actually saw it happen, as far as anyone could tell, but some of the folks in Olivesburg heard the noise and came out to investigate, only to find that all four teenagers were dead at the scene.

It was a tragic end to the school year, and the families mourned their losses for years afterwards.  But when many of the local high-schoolers visited the scene of the accident to lay flowers in memory of their friends, multiple ghost sightings were reported.  Even today, area teens will go to the site at night.  And when passing vehicles cast their headlights into the woods on the Ashland side of the Olivesburg Fork, people swear they can see the silhouettes of four young people -- two women and two men -- walking up the hill towards the road, on their way back from prom.

It's been a busy week -- with Marci's brother's family coming to Ohio for a visit, followed immediately by me taking a trip out to South Dakota -- so blogging has taken a back-seat.  The stories from Richland County are still percolating in my head, and I'm still very hopeful about writing them out in the days to come.  But for now, I've been focusing any blogging energies that remain within me to keep up with my Proverbs 365 project.

Today's entry feels to be particularly timely to me, though, so I thought I'd reference it here.  It's titled P221 - Land Issues, and it explores one of the trickier issues of North American history:  the conflict between the Native American populations and the white settlers who forged their way across the continent over the last 500 years.  The discussion is all based on Proverbs 2:21-22, where it says, "For the upright will live in the land, and the blameless will remain in it; but the wicked will be cut off from the land, and the unfaithful will be torn from it."  As you can see from the illustration on the right, it's a passage that can feel a bit provocative -- particularly when juxtaposed with American history.

And I have to admit:  I'm genuinely confused and conflicted about how American history is supposed to be interpreted -- or, more accurately, how we're supposed to deal with the aftermath of history.  Significant problems remain in the Native American community, which is still fairly prevalent in South Dakota (from which I'm writing this).  The local newspapers from this weekend have carried several stories detailing the complexities of land claims, issues of national sovereignty, and basic problems of poverty and substance abuse among the Native Americans in the area.  In addition to this, I've been reading a biography of Andrew Jackson, the 7th President of the United States of America, who developed something of a reputation for himself as an Indian killer and developed some significant policies during his presidency which led to the issues we are dealing with today.  And even further, Elliot has been reading a book from the library about Tecumseh, a Shawnee chief from the area which is now called Ohio -- which challenges some of the standard ways that American history has been interpreted (particularly regarding who's the "Good Guys" and who's the "Bad Guys")...

Suffice to say, it's an interesting issue to consider, especially in light of Proverbs 2:21-22.  I'd be curious to hear if anyone else out there has any particular thoughts to add to the mix.  So please, take a minute to read P221 - Land Issues, and let me know what you think...