ten years...where have you gone?

I'm totally stealing this idea from Marni. It seemed like a great idea to look back over the trials, victories, fun, and misery ten years can bring. Let's review, shall we?

First, here's a picture of me from 2000, for your viewing pleasure, of course.



Contrast that to this, a very recent picture of me, Sarah, and Jakob.



2000:

In February, I started dating my first girlfriend. In December, I asked her to marry me. To this day, she claims she said yes. Whether she did or not is inconsequential, because she took the ring and married me the next year.

In May, I graduated from high school. I don't miss high school at all. I haven't missed it for a single day since graduating.

In September, my sister Lisa married a pretty fantastic guy named Mike. Best moment of the day? My nephew, Matthew (6 at the time; he's 16 now), refused to call Mike anything other than Mike leading up to the wedding. After the wedding, he ran up to Mike and said, "I love you, Daddy."

As mentioned, I got engaged in December, at the age of 18 years and 10 months. Sarah was much younger, at 18 years and 9 months.

2001:

In February, I was promoted at Bank One. Being promoted after such a short time and at a very young age caused me to reconsider going into ministry, but only for about a week. I saw dollar signs when I thought about staying at the bank and pursuing higher positions there, but alas, God wouldn't have it.

In August, I married Sarah, who is very beautiful, and happens to be Korean. Thus starts 8+ years of people wondering if she's a mail order bride. She's not, although I can see where you're coming from if you're thinking that.

In September, we bought our very first car together. It was a brand new 2001 VW Jetta. It was also our first step on the slippery slope of financial stupidity.

In October, our family was blessed with Madison, Steve's daughter, Cedric's little sister, and my first niece.

2002:

In March, Nathaniel, Lisa's 2nd son, joins the family. He's the most tenderhearted of the family. Actually, he's the only tenderhearted one in the family. The rest of us are cold hearted and mean.

In July, life changes rapidly. Sarah was paralyzed in a car accident. The doctors say she'll never sit up in bed again. That's not the news you want to hear, especially when you're only 20.

God is bigger than the Boogey Man, and as luck would have it, paralysis, as well. After just a short time, Sarah begins regaining feeling and movement in her legs. The right leg has always been ahead of the left in recovery. She took her first steps since the accident on September 16.

In October, my brother Dan married Katey. I got to be the best man. This started the eating at Chili's and watching Zoolander with Dan and Katey every Sunday phase of life.

2003:

In January, Sarah ditched her wheelchair for a walker. She wasn't cool enough to put tennis balls on the bottom, though. She did, however, leave a really cool trail in the snow every time she went to the car. Oh, and she also started driving again.

She ended up forsaking her walker for crutches, and then one crutch was eventually left to rust in the trunk. Clyde the crutch became her sole walking companion.

In July, I heard God's calling to move to Ninevah...I mean Florida, to attend Bible college. We wouldn't go till the next year, though.

In August, I began my youth pastor internship at HBC with Jimmy. He likes University of Tennessee and Peyton Manning. He likes them a lot. And he's still bitter about Charles Woodson winning the Heisman trophy.

2004-2008 [the Ninevah years]

In July of 2004, a week after we moved to Florida, our 2nd beautiful niece, Elizabeth, was born.

In June of 2006, Sarah's sister, Jenny, married Rob. Another Republican son-in-law for Sarah's parents. :)

The rest of these years blend together into one big pile of...awesome? Here's what I learned:

Working full time (plus over time) and going to college full time is very stressful and hard on a marriage, but not as stressful as putting in the same number of hours every week at a church for an unappreciative boss.

I never once questioned my faith, but I did question my calling. I realized that I was called to be a pastor, but I was not called to be a Baptist pastor. I'm a better fit in the non-denominational world. Deep down, I'm still kind of a closet Baptist with some really Baptist tendencies. And yet, I'm so different.

In May of 2008, I did a very hard thing. I left my first youth pastor job. I don't miss the church, and I never expected to, but leaving our teenagers was hard. In the end, I chose my family over other families. On May 31, we packed up and moved from Florida to Ohio.

So in June of 2008, I entered the non-denominational world at New Hope Community Church. It was quite a relief from what I had been used to. Children's ministry over multiple campuses, however, was not a relief. It was hard. And I loved it.

In November, Sarah's parents were blessed with their first grandchild: RJ Volz. He is Rob and Jenny's boy. Jenny is Sarah's aforementioned sister.

In December, Sarah became with child.

2009:

In January, I learned that I might be laid off from New Hope. The next week, we found out that Sarah was pregnant with Jakob. The week after that, I learned that my job was safe (for now; or was it for then? Either way, it was temporary).

In March, we made a round trip to South Carolina to a church conference, but more importantly, to see our best friends from Florida: Chadwick and Sarah. It was a surprise to my Sarah, and I was so excited to surprise her that I got my very first speeding ticket when we were almost there.

This trip was followed the next week with a round trip to KKK country in Arkansas. Both trips were made by car, and both were made with Charles and Mikey. I haven't enjoyed that car since those 2 weeks, but I still like Charles and Mikey. I also learned that I like Patrick, who likes to strike up dangerous conversations with drunk men in Klan country.

In May, we learned that Jakob was a boy. We had called him Smiffner until we found out if he would be a Jakob Israel or an Eva Sue. Given his gender, we went with Jakob Israel.

In July, I was laid off for real. If you don't know, laid off is a really cushy term for fired in the church world. It's not like in the secular world, where you get unemployment benefits and the possibility of being brought back on. Fortunately, New Hope covered us for a total of 12 weeks, which meant we never went a week without pay. God bless America!

After many interviews and meetings, I was offered my current position at Kalamazoo Community Church, on Friday, September 4.

On Thursday, September 10, we were blessed with the birth of Jakob Israel Selph. He was 7 lb 14 oz, and was 20 1/2 in long. He's much bigger now, and if it's even possible, I think he might be cuter, too.

On Wednesday, September 16, we moved from Loudonville, OH, to Kalamazoo, MI. I didn't start for three more weeks, which meant I got to spend all day every day with Jakob and Sarah for the 1st three weeks of his precious life.

October/November/December - first Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas with our beautiful baby. Being his dad is the coolest thing.

Life has changed a lot since 2000. Ten years is a long time, even though it has flown by. Life is different. Life is good. I'm sure I missed stuff. Sitting down and remembering all the major events of our life for the last ten years isn't easy. But I did it, and in less than an hour. I think I'll go find some caffeine now.

Happy New Year.

our 1st Christmas with Jakob

This was by far the best Christmas ever, and not just because traveling to Grand Rapids only took us 45 minutes, as opposed to 5-24 (depending on where we lived and what weather was like). Jakob makes life better in general. It's really fun buying him presents, and opening presents from others for him, and starting our own traditions with him. This year, from me, he got his very first pair of shoes. I bought him Chucks, to match the ones I also got myself. Sarah got him a very cool duck toy that makes him laugh. It goes on his car seat.

This is him laughing at his new toy:

Jakob's Christmas present making him laugh from Jeff Selph on Vimeo.

He also got a baby's first Christmas ornament and a Christmas tree from both of us.

Here are the traditions we've started and think we'll continue with him throughout his life:

1. He gets three presents from us: one from me, one from Sarah, and an ornament from both of us. He'll get a fourth present later, from Santa Claus. We don't intend to teach him that Santa is real, but since he's my son, and would very likely enjoy telling other kids the truth about Santa, we'll be bribing him to keep his mouth shut. So long as he doesn't blow it for anyone else's kids, he gets a present from "Santa."
2. He gets his very own Christmas tree, which goes in his bedroom. The ornaments we get him will go on his tree. He'll also get to pick out one ornament per year that he thinks is really cool to put on his tree.
3. We got up on Christmas morning, watched a Christmas movie, and read him the Christmas story. This year, we read from the Jesus Storybook Bible. Here's the video of that:

Jakob's 1st time hearing the Christmas story from Jeff Selph on Vimeo.

is your relationship primal?

Mark Batterson has written some great books. I had the opportunity to review his last release, Chasing the Wild Goose, last year, and really enjoyed it. So when I was offered the chance to review his newest release, Primal, I jumped at the chance. And once again, Mark Batterson does not disappoint.

Primal looks at Christianity from a more simplistic viewpoint. Mark walks you through the most basic premise of faith - love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your mind and, and all your strength - and he works out what that looks like in one's life. He breaks the book into these four sections and teaches you practically how to live these words. If you are interested in silencing the noise and ridding yourself of the distractions that will keep you from really focusing on Christ, I suggest you read this book. It takes you back to what ancient Christianity looked like - Christianity of old - Jesus' brand of Christianity.

When the music fades, and all is stripped away, and I simply come...I'll be bringing a primal form of worship to my King.

For more from Mark Batterson, check out his blog HERE.

If you are interested in the book, you can purchase it HERE.

what do you stand for?

Do you stand for anything, or do you only stand against things? Are there principles you refuse to yield, or are there simply principles you refuse to concede to? Do the people you associate with on a daily basis know the right answers to these questions?

I hope that people that know me are more familiar with what I am for than what I am against. I think that if I'm doing things right, I will be too busy doing the things I am called to do to spend a lot of time complaining about the things I disapprove of.

bad things happen to good people

Do good wives obey? from Jeff Selph on Vimeo.

Sunday night, we wrapped up our mythbusters series. I'd say we did so in fantastic fashion, since Sarah taught. I had never seen her teach before. That's kind of sad, I guess, but having her teach the whole group would have never been allowed at my first youth pastor stop. I had no idea what I was missing out on, because she has always told me that she's not really a teacher. I believe she has underestimated herself. The whole room was quiet, and she had everyone's complete attention. I have yet to be so interesting.

Sarah was teaching on the myth that bad things happen to people as a result of God punishing them. This idea could not be founded by Scripture at all. It's man's common sense that perpetrates this theory. It doesn't line up with Scripture, though. Sarah gave her testimony to the students. She went more into detail about the accident, the injuries, and her feelings that she has ever publically done so before. She quoted a passage from Our Daily Bread, which said, "Our impairments, our disabilities, our handicaps, our not accidents - they are God designed...God's way of dealing with what we call limitations is not to remove them, but to endow them with strength and use them for good."

She talked about John 9:1-3, where Jesus explains that sometimes people aren't being punished, but are there so that God could be glorified. I taped it, but I'm not allowed to share it. Getting her to teach is one thing. Getting her to agree to let me post it on the internet is a separate issue. Sorry. You'll have to take my word for it. She was awesome.

For small group, we looked at Job's life. God very positively describes him in Job 1:1. Was he afflicted as a punishment? Nope, he was an innocent bystander. God wanted glory through him, and Job came through for Him.

I was very proud of Sarah on Sunday night. She did so good. I look forward to her teachign again.

who does God hate?

I was going to talk about this topic this past Sunday, but we ended up working on something else entirely. There are people who simultaneously call themselves Christians, while hating on every person that doesn't reach their own standard of holiness. The sad thing is that I was able to do a lot of research on this topic really quickly, because there are a lot of examples out there on the internet of "Christians" spreading the good news of God's alleged hatred. Here are just a few examples of people that God supposedly hates:

• Jews
• homosexuals
• American soldiers
• Gamblers
• People who listen to the music from the musical Rent
• hybrid cars (yes, hybrid cars is on the list of people groups hated by God at a nifty little website that breaks it all down for us)
• Sports nuts

The list could go on. In fact, the list did go on for 4 full pages when I printed it out. Now, the way I had been working the Mythbusters series had been to show the myth that many Christians believe, show the verse that is used out of context, and then teach the truth behind the passage. Unfortunately, I can't find any verses about God hating Jews, homosexuals, American Soldiers, gamblers, Rent listeners, hybrid cars, or sports nuts. In fact, I can't find a single verse about how God hates non-believers. I did find a passage in Proverbs 6 that talks about things God hates that could be possessed by non-believers, but Christians are also guilty of possessing lying tongues, proud looks, murderous hands, and a wicked heart. God does seem to take some serious beef with believers who misrepresent His Truth (false witnesses) and believers who stirs up contention among other Christian brothers. Oddly, it's the guys with the hate signs that are prolific at this. I wonder what they make of those verses?

Here's what I do know. God doesn't hate sinners. I challenge anyone to show me a verse in the Bible that says otherwise. I know, I know. Anyone that dies without Christ goes to Hell. That must prove God's hatred of sinners, right? Wrong. It proves that God is holy, and He cannot allow something that has not been cleansed in His presence. Here are some verses that talks about how God feels about sinners.

John 3:16: "For God so LOVED the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."

Romans 5:8: "But God demonstrates his own LOVE for us in this: WHILE WE WERE STILL SINNERS, Christ died for us."

1 John 4:10: "This is LOVE: not that we loved God, but that HE LOVED US and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins."

And what does He call us to do? Love. Not hold signs. Not hate. Not appoint ourselves Judge, jury, and executioner.

1 John 4:8: "Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love."

Shoot, that verse could ruin some people's idea of fun. I guess they'll have to take up loving people instead of hating them.

I'm not thankful, but I am thankful

Today is Thanksgiving, and people traditionally talk about the things they are thankful for on this day each year. This year I've noticed on the interwebs that saying one thing you are thankful for each day on Facebook and Twitter is trending. I have withheld from this practice, not because I am not thankful, but because to do so would mean for me to have an attention span that lasted 26 days. 26 minutes would be pushing it. Instead, I write this post all at once.

To be quite honest, I'm not thankful for everything I experience in life, but not being thankful for one thing should cause me to be thankful for it's counterpart. Here's an abridged list of things I'm not thankful for, followed by the thing I am thankful for on the flip side.

• I am not thankful for people who drive slowly in the left lane on the highway (if you didn't know, going 5 mph over in the left lane is considered slow)
• I am thankful for the average speed in the left lane being 10-15 over in Michigan.

• I am not thankful for times when my wife is sad, depressed, angry, or any combination of the three.
• I am thankful that I have her, that she is there for me when I feel any of those ways, and that I get to be there for her when she is. I'm also thankful that I no longer tend to make her feel that way. Maybe I'm growing up or learning to be less selfish!
  

• I am not thankful for pain and struggles.
• I am thankful for what God does with that in my life.

• I am not thankful for poopy diapers or the cost of clean diapers.
• I am thankful for that beautiful son of mine that causes us to buy diapers and then fills them up.
  

• I am not thankful for having to go back to the store, because the item I bought was incomplete or broken.
• I am thankful that I have the money to buy faulty products and the gas to go back and forth.
  

• I am not thankful for shirts and pants that don't fit anymore.
• I am thankful that I've apparently always had more than enough food to eat.
  

• I'm not thankful for living far away from members of my family.
• I am thankful that despite the times I've been away, as well as now with Steve and Dan being away, my family has maintained about the best relationships of any family I know.
  

• I am not thankful for that guy on E Main that always walks out in front of my car (and others), yelling and pointing like he wants to fist fight my car.
• I am thankful that I've been able to avoid accidentally hitting him with my car. I'm also thankful that my parents taught me not to play in the street.

• I am not thankful for pan handling.
• I am thankful that I have a job and no need to pan handle.
  

• I am not thankful for Pharisees.
• I am thankful that Jesus taught us to ignore people who add requirements to His love, which happens to be free.
  

• I am not thankful for green gummy bears (they bring down the whole bag).
• I am thankful for gummy bears in general.
  

• I am not thankful for country music.
• Seriously, I'm not thankful for country music.
  

• I am not thankful for anti-Semites.
• I am thankful that Jesus is a Jew. That makes the score Jews: 1; anti-Semites: 0.
  

There are probably other things but seriously, I didn't want this post to be 8 pages long. Those are just some highlights.

thankful.

Jeff's gonna totally kill me for this post.

he knows he's good to me, but it's not something he brags himself on. because he's just doing what God commanded him to do. to love his wife as He loves the church. one shouldn't brag about something he does, that he's commanded to do.

so i'll brag on him.

Jeff and Jakob are 2 of the best things that have ever happened to me. Jeff and i have been together for about 10 years now. it hasn't been easy. God seems to test us every year. whether it's financially, difficulties in our marriage (which is an issue for every couple, but which really hasn't been an issue for us since our first 10ish months of marriage:), hellish work schedules, or the big one, the accident in 2002. through it all, Jeff's been faithful, encouraging, understanding, supportive and loving to me.

never has he made me feel that any of our difficulties/disagreements were my fault. (unless they were:) and even then, he would not outright blame me.)
never has he been unfaithful to me. in fact, he goes out of his way to see he never is.
never has he made me feel unimportant.
never has he discounted my feelings (that sounds way sappier than i care for). when i'm upset, he'll give me space, and when i'm ready for him, he'll console and assuage me like no one else.
never has he left my side. he stayed with me every night at the hospital after the accident (except one night when they made him leave). he kicked a nurse out of my room that he felt was harsh and mean to me. he came to all my doctors appointments. he came to all the therapy sessions he could. and once he had to go back to work, he spent all of his lunches being my nurse when i couldn't do much for myself.
never has he thought less of me or made me feel like less of a person (said if the accident would have happened before we'd been married, he'da carried me down the aisle).
never has he gone a day without saying "i love you" to me at least 5 times.

no person has loved me like he does. and i'm so grateful and thankful and lucky beyond belief that he is Jakob's father. Jeff is the only person i trust to raise Jakob to be a Godly, faithful, loving, caring man. (he'll also let him be a mama's boy because he knows how much i need Jakob to love me as he [Jeff] does:)

so, thank you, Jeff. you are my everything. there is no one like you. i could never explain how much i love you or how much you mean to me or how blessed i am to have you. you are my best friend, and the person i can tell anything to. you make it easy for me to love you. and that's as it should be.

so for anyone who thinks it's crazy that he's this good to me, or that sometimes he doesn't need to do all that he does and support me the way he does.... shutup. don't take this from him. just pray that your daughters and nieces and sisters can be blessed enough to be married to someone who will love her like Christ.

the Shema - it's not just for the Jews

Figuring out what parts of the Old Testament are to be followed today and what parts are not can be tricky. I am not going to try to explain to you how you can do that today. Fortunately for you, I only want to talk about one specific part of the Old Testament, and tell you why I think it's so important. It's called the Shema, and it is a very good summary of our intentions in raising Jakob. We were asked by the baby dedication coordinator for verses that best illustrate our desire to raise Jakob in a Godly fashion, and we gave her the Shema. For the goys that read my blog, the Shema is Deuteronomy 6:4-9. I know it's confusing, because it starts out, "Hear, oh Israel..." I happen to know that not all believers are part of Israel. By the way, did you know that even Michael Jackson was a fan of the Shema? Yup, it's true. A lot of people think he wsa saying "sham on," as a variation of "c'mon," but really, he was saying "Shema!" Okay, maybe not. So does this passage apply? Let's break it down (Shema!).

v. 4 Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one.
Hey, Gentile believers, your God is one, too. Jesus says so in Matthew 23:9. And, just to clear matters up, He and His Father are one, as He points out in John 10:30.

v. 5 Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength.
Jesus reiterates this point in Mark 12:30. I guess you've still got to do that.

v. 6 These commandments that I give you today are to be upon your hearts
Jesus is still talking about having and keeping His commandments in John 14:21.

v. 7 Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up.
Ephesians 6:4 might be the most misquoted verse by Christian children, especially those in trouble with their parents, who happen to believe in paddling. However, this verse is reaffirming the need to raise your kids with an understanding of what God expects from them, not warning you against punishing your child.

v. 8 Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads.
Now this is a tricky part. We don't run around wearing phylacteries, so does that mean that we do not need this verse? Nope. Hands are representative of action, and our foreheads are representative of thinking. Do we still need to think and do with the ways of God in mind? Philippians 4:8 covers thinking (which is always good to do before doing anything), and the next verse, Philippians 4:9, covers the doing.

v. 9 Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates.
Okay, so the New Testament doesn't say anything about writing God's laws on your house. I'll concede this point, but it does have a lot to say about what goes on in the house, especially regarding your own family. Ephesians 5 and 6 talk a lot about that.

And that settles that. Yes? Thank you. So, without any further ado (not that you knew it was coming), here is Jakob's baby dedication.

Jakob's baby dedication from Jeff Selph on Vimeo.

super chump

Yelling at people on the side of the road is a great idea, in theory, but it doesn't always work out as well as you had hoped. It may work out for a little bit, but eventually you're going to run into a Super Chump. Super Chump wants to kill you, and goes out of his way to try to do just that. This happened to me and a friend of mine. Obviously, he was unsuccessful in his attempt to kill us, but he gave it a good go.

It all started innocently enough. One day after high school, Dan and I were heading to our employer to pick up our paychecks. Standing on the road on our way was a guy hitch hiking. I saw him up ahead, put down my window, and yelled to him, "GET A CAR, CHUMP!" He switched fingers momentarily. On the way back by, we yelled at him again, but we shortened it to just a strong, "CHUMP!" I thought this was hilarious, so I shared it with my friend, who I went selling ads for journalism class with. We decided that it would be good to implement "chumping" on a grand scale. And we did, and it was fun, and nobody got hurt. We had rules for chumping, too: You couldn't chump someone that was on the job, women were out of the question, anyone walking a child was off limits, the elderly were a medical risk with their old hearts, and then the last rule (added after the following story): no chumping anyone that looks like they just might have a car close by.

Charley and I were out "selling ads," when we drove by a church parking lot. We thought that there would no safer chumping experience than getting someone in a church parking lot during the week. Right? Wrong. We drove by, chumped the guy, and kept right on going. We didn't get far down the road when this guy flies up on our tail. It's the one we just chumped. He's yelling and waving his hands with varying numbers of fingers at a given time. Charley punches it, and his Honda Accord laughed at him. We make a few turns, hoping he'll give up and go back to whatever holy calling he had at the church, but he didn't. He went so far as to ram the the back of the car while we were going 45 MPH.

We decided that we needed to go somewhere very public with lots of people, so we went to Meijer. This did not deter him. He stayed on our tail. He even cornered us, and forced Charley to stop the car. He got out of his car, proclaiming his intention to expletively kick our expletives, while we shrieked our apologies to him through the window. He turned to get something from his car, and Charley took off again. After many more roads, twists, and turns, we ended up on the busiest street in that part of town. It was a four lane road, so he was able to pull up next to us, and he did. He yelled some more encouragement our way, threw something at the car, and sped off. The nightmare was over, but the legend of Super Chump would live on forever.

This might deter some people from ever chumping again, but it didn't stop us. We were stupid. I was stupid. I don't recommend it. This is just another example of me being stupid.

I wish I had a better life verse

What's with the life verse? What does it mean to you when a verse is your life verse? Does that verse sum up your life or your aspirations or your ideals? What does it do? The two I've heard most often are "be ye holy, for I AM holy," and, "For God's so loved the world..." I'm not sure what it means to have either of these as your life verse. I can't say that I am holy, so that verse is out, and I don't love the world like God does, so I don't really want to claim that as mine, either.

I guess I've often claimed 2 Corinthians 4:8-9 as my life verses, because I felt like trouble was inevitable, and I want to be solid like Paul as I go through it. The funny thing is that I claimed these verses when I was in junior high, when my greatest concern was girls not liking me because of my pint size. Anyway, ask anyone that knows me well (like Tom; he can tell you for sure), and they will tell you that when trouble comes, I am distressed. If I don't understand where things are going, I do despair. At least I'm not forsaken or destroyed, because keeping me from that would be God's department. At least He doesn't flip out like me.

I realize that my life verse right now, and what I want it to be are completely different. Right now, my life verse is probably Mark 9:24, at least the second part: "I do believe. Help me overcome my unbelief." I toe the line between belief and unbelief so many times, and I think that keeps me from being able to say my life verse is what I want it to be. I hope that I get to a point in my life where 1 Corinthians 11:1 can be the verse that best describes my life: "Follow me, as I also follow Christ." Paul said it. I hope I can, too, especially to Jakob.

lukewarm is better than cold

Mythbusters - elderly like help from Jeff Selph on Vimeo.

Yes, lukewarm is better than cold Christianity, based on the misuse of cold and lukewarm in many churches. I grew up being taught that according to Revelation 3:16, God would prefer for you to be completely rebellious to Him than be a "lukewarm Christian." The implication is that God would rather have you "quit faking it," by going to church on the weekend but living the life of a sinner throughout the week. I guess a Holy God would want you to live in utter debauchery than to try, but not hard enough, and continue missing the mark. That's pretty much what this teaching boils down to. Here's where I got confused as a kid, though: the will of God for you is holiness (1 Thessalonians 4:3). Unless He doesn't understand His own will, these teaching is ridiculous. Unless He contradicts Himself, this doesn't work.

God, through John, was making reference to the water system of Laodicea, Hierapolis, and Colossae. Hierapolis had hot springs, used for medicinal purposes; Colossae had cold springs, which were refreshing; Laodicea had tepid, lukewarm water that was good for nothing. That's the lukewarm that nauseates God. God doesn't want you to be useless. He wants you to reach sin sick world with Jesus Christ, and He wants you to be a source of refreshment to weary people in the world (which, by the way, we as Christians have been traditionally horrible at). When God said He preferred for you to be cold, He didn't mean rebellious or carnal. So don't quit trying to please God, because you know you will fail. He wouldn't prefer that at all.

And that is pretty much sums up week 2 of the mythbusters series in REACH Student Ministries.

who's arm will you write on?

I am happy to introduce my guest blogger today. She is my wife and my best friend. Here name is Sarah. We've been married for just over 8 years. I asked her to write today, because today is To Write Love on Her Arms Day, and she understands why this day is so important. So without any further jibba jabba on my part, I introduce my beautiful wife's blog post:



**I wanted to add this note, for anyone who thinks this couldn't possibly be a problem with people in their family. My wife was raised in a good, Christian home, with parents, grandparents, and an Aunt Sue that loved her. This isn't a problem just for the unsaved, the broken homes, and the unloved. Welcome to a fallen world. Enjoy your stay.**
____________________

wiktionary defines depression as a state of mind producing serious, long-term lowering of enjoyment of life, or a period of unhappiness or low morale which lasts longer than several weeks and may include ideation of self-inflicted [hey, that's the name of this blog!] injury or suicide.
it's actually harder than it sounds.
when i was a junior in high school, i was depressed. so i can tell you that it's not just a made up condition that sad people use as a cop out.
i can't tell you what triggered it, but i can tell you that God saved me from it. some people use anti-depressants, some people just don't ever get over it. in my case, i'm not depressed anymore, but the devil knows it's an easy in with me, and he still tempts me with it. boo on him, though, God's given me victory over it.
it was the hardest thing i've ever been through. harder than temporarily losing the lower half of my body in our car accident, because when i was depressed, i was not walking with God. every symptom you hear on those anti-depressant commercials is true. i had a lack of interest in people, in school, and i had a hard time concentrating at school and at work. i had a total feeling of loneliness and hopelessness. i had no hope for the future, and i felt like the only relief i could get was death - suicide was something that i had seriously contemplated, and almost attempted. any consolation from my friends or family was futile, because to a depressed person, it just doesn't matter. not because i didn't appreciate it, but because depression is an all-encompassing state of mind. a friend of mine anonymously reported me to our school counselor because she noticed i was different and distant, and she was concerned. depressed people also don't like to talk about their depression. my counselor asked me how i felt, if i wanted to die.... i, of course, was not up for discussing it. i told her that i did want to die, but i did not tell her why because i did not know why. i just knew i was sad when i woke up in the morning, sad throughout the day, sad when i'd cry myself to sleep every night.
a friend asked me how i got over the depression. and i honestly don't remember. at one point between my junior and senior year, i decided to walk with God again. of course, it wasn't something that happened overnight, but God seamlessly brought me out of my depression and healed my heart.
i do still struggle with depression sometimes. sometimes i feel sad without knowing why. but unlike before, it doesn't last.
happy To Write Love On Her Arms Day. a huge thanks to this organization for helping people through their depression, addiction and self-injury.
_______________________-

I just wish I knew her back then and could have had a part in writing love on her arm. Who do you know that needs this? Will you write it?

judge away

mythbusters: pop rocks & pop from Jeff Selph on Vimeo.

I think I'm really excited about what I'll be teaching on in youth group, because I know that for years I believed some pretty ridiculous stuff about the Bible. I've spent the last several years thinking about a lot of things I was taught. I didn't just start this mission after I became "willingly disenfranchised" - as my brother Dan calls me - from the traditional church. Part of my disillusion came from not agreeing with a lot of things I had heard over the years. I should probably quickly clear something up. I actually believe almost everything I've been taught, but much of what I disagree with seems to be a pretty big deal to a lot of people I know. Here's a quick example: I do not believe that consuming alcohol is a sin. I do believe, as the Bible teaches, that getting drunk is a sin. I believe that Jesus turned water into wine, drank wine, and even had wine at the Passover celebration that we refer to as the Last Supper. I also believe that 2 of those last 3 sentences would cause a big argument with many people that I am close to.

But wait, I'm not teaching on drinking in youth group. No, that would not be wise. I'm teaching on other myths that Christians believe are actually in the Bible. Last night, I taught on the misnomer that you cannot judge me. This silliness is based on Matthew 7:1, which says not to judge, unless you also want to be judged. People take this to mean that we, as Christians, cannot hold each other accountable for doing wrong. That's nonsense. We can't sharpen each other, as Proverbs talks about, without talking right and wrong. The truth is that we are not to sit in the judgment seat. We are not to adjudicate sentencing for wrong doing. We aren't to condemn other people, because we are just as guilty of offending God as they are. We can't fix each other. But by all means, as my Christian brother, if you know that I am doing something wrong, please, please hold me accountable for that, but don't do so by making up a fake name and e-mailing me or leaving me comments under your fake name. Yes, that has happened to me. Weird, huh? Anyway, when someone comes to you concerned, don't drop the infamous, "you can't judge me," on them. Graciously accept the advice, and if they are right, follow it.

One other thing: I'm really excited about making 3 more stupid videos. I really enjoy doing that.

that's not really sports talk

As I drove to work yesterday morning, I listened to sports radio, as I do every morning. The night before, the Yankees had just won the World Series, so most of the talk was about them. I was getting ready to switch to listening to some music when a compelling interview started. I really don't remember what he said at the beginning that drew me in, because he went into a whole discussion that I considered to be not sports related at all. He was explaining that Derek Jeter is a butter face (you do know what a butter face is, don't you?), and that A-Rod is a beautiful man. I thought it was a bit much the first time he uttered the words, but he kept going on and on. He assured us, the listeners, that he was a man and not into men, thus justifying his 3 minute rant on the looks of these guys. This isn't sports talk. How good looking a man is or is not to you is not relevant to the game and how it was played.

Maybe what this sports analyst was guilty of is a lot like what I (and maybe you) are guilty of. Don't we spend a lot of time arguing over personal beliefs and call it talking about God. I'll be honest, I would thoroughly enjoy discussing (<-- the holy word for arguing) with you what I do not agree with doctrinally, practically, and methodically with other Christians. I can do that all day. I have done that all day before. And do you know what I tend to call that? Talking about God. I love talking about God...and how I'm right about Him and you're wrong. It's so fun. And sometimes it creeps into preaching, doesn't it? I don't know how many pastors read this blog, but I bet for every one that does, there is a person who at some point or another has used that platform for making his personal preferences about God, the Bible, holy living, and church practice known. He may have even done so at the expense of another pastor or ministry. I have. And you know what? I bet when I get done talking like that, God just shakes His head and thinks, "that's not really preaching." People's ears may be tickled, they may be amused, and they may have even agreed with me, but that doesn't make it preaching, does it?

Don't do something else and try to pass it off as what you are supposed to be doing.

you're stupid to me

I'm pretty sure that some parents are horrible people, and being horrible people, they tend to be horrible parents. Maybe you think I'm writing about you...maybe I am, but really, I'm not, so settle down. I was just so taken aback by something I heard when I was out the other day that it made me really happy that my parents are as awesome as they are. Please start the flashback dream sequence with the blurry screen and the violin music...

I was at KFC, mostly because I wanted a Detroit Lions/Calvin Johnson cup, when I heard people come in behind me. I heard a woman say, "I'm not stupid," to which a man with a very gruff voice said, "Well, as far as I'm concerned, you are." Not being nosy at all, I waited a full two seconds before turning to see who this conversation was between. I thought it was a husband and wife, because that seems like a normal conversation for spouses to be having. To my surprise, the woman who claimed not to be stupid was standing there with the man with a very gruff voice, who it turns out was her mother. Neither one seemed too effected by the conversation they had just had. After a few moments of awkward silence, they started talking about how much chicken they should order. Apparently this conversation, or one like it, has taken place before - perhaps many times. It's so commonplace that neither really had a reaction to it, at least not outwardly.

::fade back to reality and picture me looking at the camera like Zach Morris::

That really made me appreciate my parents. They built me up to the point of dillusion. I've never had a conversation like that, and I know I never will. And I know that Jakob won't, either. It also made me think of a new application for 1 Corinthians 10:23 (all things are lawful for me, but not all things are expedient). I've always thought that this means that just because I can, doesn't mean I should. I'm taking that a step further now: just because you have reproductive capabilities doesn't mean you should have children.

what is a chumpstain?

Throughout my marriage, I have shocked and awed Sarah with some of the things I say and do in my sleep. For instance, when I was working full time and going to school full time, I was a tired guy. It took me a while to adjust to this fatigue. For the first month of it, I would come home from work at 10:30 PM and crash right away. Once I'm asleep, I do not like being disturbed. Sarah knew this, so I say she took a calculated risk when she decided that working out in the bedroom when I was asleep. She was lifting weights on my side of the room, right next to the bed, and I guess I didn't like it. When she was bent over noisily adjusting the equipment, clanging metal on metal, I half rolled out of bed and kicked her right in the tooshy.

You would think Sarah would have learned her lesson about messing with a sleeping me, but nope, she didn't. One day, while I was crashed on the couch, she decided she wanted to do some laundry. She wanted to do all the whites, including the undershirt I was wearing. She came and nudged me and asked for it. I squirmed and mumbled, and I definitely did not concede. She decided to try to get the shirt off of me herself. This didn't work either. I wriggled more, and more angrily grunted, like Tim Taylor. Finally, I sat up straight pretty quickly and looked right at her. She thought I was annoyed enough to give her the shirt. Nope. After a couple of seconds, I laid down again, only with my head on the other side of the couch. Ever persistent, Sarah walked over to the other side of the couch and continued her pursuit. I didn't take this well at all. In fact, I'm pretty sure I got angry, although I was asleep, so I can't say for sure. After I felt she had gone too far, I sat up again, looked right at her again, and said very caustically, "LAY OFF ME, CHUMPSTAINS!" Then I laid back down and slept like nothing had ever happened. I'm pretty sure that Sarah will never attempt to de-shirt me while I sleep ever again, lest she face the wrath of sleepy time Jeff.

By the way, I'm really not sure what a chumpstain is, but it sounds like a horrible combination of a chump and a stain. I'd never used the phrase before this, but I've been sure to use it often since then.

come out and be separate...while imitating the real thing

I grew up in a typical Christian home. That means we never really celebrated Halloween, although it was not for your typical reasons. My parents seemed okay with someone else buying candy for us instead of paying for it themselves, but my mom is a very paranoid woman. If it could happen, it would...twice. There were some reports of awful people putting razor blades into candy in Detroit a long time ago, and so my trick or treating days were over before they started. Even after we moved to peaceful, religious Grand Rapids, my mom feared and forecasted the worst. We would, however, get to go to the mall every Halloween, eat at the food court, and hit up every store for candy. We got a decent enough take, and my mom did not have to inspect any of it with a black light.

I was not alone in my non-celebration of Halloween. I had lots of Christian friends whose parents would not let them partake in the devil's holiday. Dressing like Superman and filling a pillowcase with candy is something only the devil could come up with. So instead, a lot of my friends would go to local churches to have fun at a Harvest Party or a Trunk or Treat. This was the church's idea of doing something counter cultural and shunning worldly practice. It's how they came out from the world and became separate. How was this accomplished? The kids wear costumes, get candy, and party on October 31. That sounds like a really good idea! It's nothing like Halloween at all! Finally, an alternative to the devil's candy gathering practices.

beware of falling walnuts

Fall is that magical time of year when the leaves start changing to vibrant colors (unless you live in Florida), transitioning to brown, and then falling down onto the ground. The changing of the leaves is something that I think most people look forward to. Unfortunately, the changing of the leaves is followed shortly by the raking of the leaves. That's less beautiful and not really enjoyable.

Leaves are not the only things that fall from the trees this time of year. You also have walnuts all over the place. I didn't know they were walnuts when I was a kid, because I'd seen them in stores, and they never looked like tennis balls. I remember when I found out they were walnuts, though. My friend had a walnuts all over their backyard. We played over there all the time. One day, we were playing "kick the can" - a variation of hide and seek - and my brother was "it." He spotted me, I took off, and he gave chase. During this particular round, the can meant for kicking was in the middle of the backyard, where the walnuts were waiting. I jumped the fence and started down the hill, towards the center of the backyard, when my foot came down on a walnut. Consequently, my face came down on a pretty big garden rock. I'm so tough that I wasn't knocked out by the blow, but not so tough that I didn't get right back up, crying, and run home to my mom. I told her what happened, she explained that I needed to be careful about not running around where there were walnuts on the ground, and I went back to play. Everything was good.

That night, however, I had a nightmare. I was asleep, and I became restless. My mom checked on me, to see if I was okay, and in my sleep I gave her a warning that she (and whoever I was talking to in my dream) should heed: "beware of falling walnuts!" I don't remember the dream, but I imagine it was like the Terminator, only the walnuts were killing humans instead of machines.

my little ponies are for tough guys

I think I felt old again last night. One of the guys in our new youth group said to me, "Hey, I just realized that your shirt is G.I. Joe, like the movie." I corrected him and told him that I've had it a while, and I like to consider it a G.I. Joe shirt, like the cartoon and the action figures. His response? "I didn't even know there was a cartoon. When was that?" Thanks, buddy. I'll go home and put on my cardigan and take out my teeth now.

I grew up playing with G.I. Joes. They were the best toys. You might recall that they were also on some pretty awesome undies. You could buy all kinds of vehicles for the action figures, from jeeps to helicopters to boats. They didn't have any horses, though, and everyone knows that soldiers like riding on horses when doing their killing. So my brother Dan and I decided to resolve this issue. We hijacked our sister Lisa's My Little Ponies. The only problem was that their flowing pink or purple hair made our little friends look like the mini Village People. So we gave all of her My Little Ponies haircuts. They looked pretty tough with mohawks. Neon colored mohawks were very common with some pretty rough and tough people in the late 80's and early 90's. Problem solved.

walking barefoot

My dad had a rule that was contradictory to most parents: always wear shoes in the house. It wasn't that he loved having dirt tracked through the house, but he didn't want us stubbing our toes and breaking them or stepping on something that could really hurt us. I'm not sure if it was out of concern for us, or because he didn't want to be bothered with that stuff. He really loves us, compassion is not his strong suit. So if I stepped on something and it cut me or I stubbed my toe pretty good, his first question wasn't, "Are you okay?". He wanted to know why we didn't have our shoes on. That may sound cold to some (probably not anyone that reads my blog, since I scared away all the sensitive people long ago), but it's not like he didn't warn us. Breaking that rule led to our getting hurt. No sense complaining to a guy who knew it would happen; he knew, and so he made a rule.

I think that's how a lot of Christians are. I know I am. I've screwed up a few times here and there, and when I do, it tends to lead to some kind of hurt in my life. Then I take my problem to God and ask Him to kiss my boo-boo and make it all better. That's not how it works, of course. Some times it takes time for those boo-boos to heal, depending on how stupid my stunt was, and I shouldn't get impatient with Him while I wait.

Don't get mad at God when you stub your toe, when you're the one walking around without shoes on.

America's politicians never had a chance

During my Bible reading this morning in Isaiah 33, I was reminded of Capitol Hill. It sounds like most of our politicians might be in trouble some day. I hope verse 15 describes me. I wish it described the people we've elected to represent us. And for my friends on the other side of the political spectrum, worry not: I'm talking about both sides. Anyway, it doesn't sound like there's much of a chance of them living in any rocky fortresses in the future.

15 The one who lives righteously
and speaks rightly,
who refuses gain from extortion,
whose hand never takes a bribe,
who stops his ears from listening to murderous plots
and shuts his eyes to avoid endorsing evil —
16 he will dwell on the heights;
his refuge will be the rocky fortresses,
his food provided, his water assured.

there's no place like home

Have I mentioned how excited I am to be back home? I grew up in Grand Rapids, which isn't Kalamazoo, but it's close enough to feel like home to me. People from either city travel to the other all the time, especially grandparents and prodigal sons.

There are definitely some things that I have missed about living in West Michigan. I miss different things about the different places I've lived. In Florida, I mostly miss a bunch of individuals; in Ohio, I miss more families as a whole. Here's just a quick list of some of the more important things I've missed from home:

• Family
  
• Friends
  
• Cousin's Tasty Chicken
• Fox Sports Detroit
• Street lights
• The S-Curve at high speeds (not with Jakob in the car, of course)
• Good bagels
• And squirrels the size of my dog
  

it won't be easy, but it won't be as hard as some things...

I start my new job tomorrow, and I am pumped! I will be the Director of Youth and Children's Ministry (yes, that is a very long title). I actually interviewed for this job several times. I had a phone interview initially. The second time, I had lunch with the staff, an interview with Brenda, an interview with Dave, and then a Q&A with what felt like 50 people. That wasn't all, though. I came back up for a meeting with the elders, and a bonus interview with Brenda. A huge thanks to Big Ben for traveling with me, since Sarah was not able to make it in her pregnant condition. Finally, the job was offered, and you might guess that I accepted, since I start tomorrow. It was an intensive process, and it seemed like a long one, too, but it didn't really take that long. It took just long enough.

One question I was asked in every meeting/interview was if I thought it was possible for one person to lead both children's and youth ministry. I think it's possible, but it will certainly be difficult, but that's no big deal. My job at New Hope was difficult, and at times frustrating. My job at Baymeadows was more frustrating than difficult, but it was certainly trying. I expect every ministry position I take to be difficult, but people make it bearable. The people I've ministered to in my last two stops have made it worth every bit of frustration I've dealt with, and I expect that the awesome people of Kalamazoo Community will do the same.

Being a pastor is difficult. Few would question that. But there is one thing that is more difficult than being a pastor: having a mustache. It's true. I'm not the only one that feels this way. Check out this video:

I will not play matchmaker

I love my parents, and I'm really glad they found each other and married each other. Even though one is mature, and the other not so much; one is loud, the other quiet; one bold, and the other easily embarrassed, they are perfect for each other. They clearly did well when picking the other for life, and they set a good example for their kids on how to interact with our spouses. So if they were so right when they picked each other, how come they were so horrible at picking matches for their kids? What happened?

I can think of a few girls they would have really liked to see me or Dan dating when we were teenagers (being so close in age, we had to share horrible suggestions from them). I can't list any specifically, because you might know these girls and show them this. I will tell you this, though: there wasn't a single girl that they suggested for me that happened to be on my list of girls I would date.

And so, I have vowed never to try to play matchmaker for Jakob. You apparently lose your ability to know what's once a child enters into the equation. I don't want him having a blog one day where he will write about the ugly girls I tried to fix him up with over the years. I will leave matchmaking to Yente.



I should note that before Dan even met Katey, my parents were really high on her. They suggested that one of us date her (they never cared which one). If they had only suggested this to Dan, they would have been absolutely right. By suggesting the same thing to both us, they can only get half credit, which is more than they ever got.

i hope he loves me more than peanut butter and jelly

You know what I've never liked? Goobers. You know, the pinstriped combination of peanut butter and jelly? Yeah, I definitely have never liked that, but I always wanted it when I was a kid. My mom told me it was nasty, but I wouldn't listen, so she got it to shut me up. I guess I didn't figure out that since I don't like grape jelly, eating peanut butter and grape jelly from the same jar would be awful for me. But I do love me some strawberry jelly/jam/preserves. Take your pick. If it's gelatinous and strawberry flavored, I'm all in. When I was a kid, I seemingly loved peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches more than anything else in the whole world...well, almost anything.

We have a lot of funny sayings for how much we love someone, don't we? I love you so much. So much that what? I don't know, just so much. I also love you to death? Really? That sucks. I love you a million bazillion. I don't know exactly what that means, but I definitely saw it written by a very close guy friend on his wife's wall on facebook, and I secretly make fun of him for it now. If he's reading this, then he surely knows it's him I'm making fun of. I love my wife, too, but not in made up quantities. Anyway, one thing that can be a measure of love is your willingness to die for that person. That's what Jesus said, and He knows love, so I won't argue. When I was a kid, I didn't know that was the ultimate love. I hadn't heard the song about how Jesus said that He loved me this much, spread his arms out and died. But in all fairness, if I had said that to my mom, spread out my arms, and died on her lap, I don't think she would have appreciated my clever understanding of the Gospel or my extreme love for her.

So when I was a kid, I wanted to express my ultimate love for my mom, so I picked the one thing that was greater than everything, and I told her that I loved her more than that. My greatest expression of love as a child was to look my mom in the eye and tell her, "I love you more than peanut butter and jelly." That is cheapened now, I guess, since I love a lot of people more than that sandwich. If I love you more than steak or cheesecake, you're doing really well. I hope when Jakob grows up that he loves me more than peanut butter and jelly, at least until he grows up.

Update: they now have strawberry jelly Goobers. I think I'll buy that next week.

for the love of sarcasm

Happy Yom Kippur and a blessed National Sarcasm Day to you. It's interesting to me that today people are celebrating both holidays. Blessing and cursing all in one day. That sounds like my life. I'll be honest, I've never observed Yom Kippur, but I'm sure I have relatives somewhere celebrating right now. As for National Sarcasm Day, I celebrate that every day. I find sarcasm as natural and as essential as breathing. Without either, I would cease to be me, although one would clearly take a greater toll on me. It'd be a tragedy either way, so I'll keep doing both on a daily basis.

Maybe I've mentioned this on my blog before (I'm too lazy to research), but my delicious brand of sarcasm wasn't necessarily a welcomed entity in the south. Many people took me (and themselves) too seriously at our church down there, and so when I would say something sarcastically (in conversation or while preaching), some people would get offended. Now, had I said "just kidding" at the end of the joke, I would have been off the hook. It's like insulting someone and adding, "bless his/her heart" or "God love 'em," and feeling like you did nothing wrong. To many of them, sarcasm is saying something that's not true and quickly tagging "just kidding" at the end before you had time to process the information. That's not sarcasm. That's telling a joke. I don't tell jokes. I say stupid things that amuse me, and sometimes others, and I let you sort out whether I'm being serious or not. You see, I give people credit for being intelligent individuals - no doubt a stretch for some - and I believe that using your brain, you can deduce whether or not I'm being serious. So I may be joking, but I will never tell you that I'm just kidding as a form of explanation to you. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt. So, please, for the love of sarcasm, stop saying just kidding every time you say something that's supposed to be a joke. Give it a try. It will make you feel better.

Happy Sarcasm Day. It's my favorite holiday of the year. Just kidding.

i'm glad he looks like me

I like to think I have a good sense of humor. Sure, it's abstract, but it's still pretty good. Still, there are some things that do not make me laugh. For instance, I will not laugh at things I've heard a hundred times - well, there are some words that will make me smirk till the day I die - like when someone makes a joke about my last name. It's old and very unoriginal.

There is one very unoriginal joke that I do not understand. Since Jakob has joined us, I've only been the subject of this joke a couple of times, but it annoyed the crap out me - so much so that it has inspired a blog post. I was worried I would be asked this question in jest a lot, since I didn't expect Jakob to look anything like me. I was so excited when I realized that he does, and not just because it should stop asinine questions. You see, I don't think it's funny when someone says to a dad (especially me), "So are you sure he/she's yours?" What kind of joke is that? The punch line to that joke is, "your wife's a whore." If you came up to me and said, "hey, Jeff, your wife's a whore. Haha, just kidding," I would forgive you only after assaulting and battering you. I think most husbands feel the same way. So why is it okay to make the same joke worded a different way? The answer is easy: it's not.

We'll deal with what looking like me means for him when he gets older later in life. For now, I'm glad he looks like me, if for nothing else, so no one can ask me that question without revealing how dense they are.

what is love? baby don't hurt me.

I'm going to do my best to tell you how I feel about Jakob. I've had a full day to process it, and I think I can explain it. Here's my best shot.

I've never met anyone as incredible as my wife. I have loved her more than I've loved anyone else ever. She has been on a level all by herself as far as my love goes. I love her way more than anyone else, including everyone else in my family. That's not a knock on my family, either, because I love them way more than I love you. And that doesn't necessarily reflect poorly on you, because if like me enough to read my blog, chances are I love you way more than I love the Golden Girls. But I digress. So Sarah is on a much higher level as far as my love is concerned, and no one has ever been on her level before, but when I saw Jakob for the 1st time, I realized that she now had company. Yes, it's a different kind of love, but it's there, it's real, and it's as deep as my love for his mommy. I would die for him, and I'd kill for him.

Maybe that sounds scatter brained, but it's the best I've got. Welcome Jakob. I love you.

viva revolution (finally)

This was my last attempt at preaching at New Hope. It was a bittersweet time that took place 3 weeks ago. My DVD ripper wasn't working, so I had to get my good friend/mentor/boss TOM to take care of that for me. I always like preaching, and I love the people of New Hope, but it was my time to say good-bye to many. Others will get our good-bye within the next week, as we'll be moving to Kalamazoo to work at this cool CHURCH. We're excited about that, but we'll miss our friends and church family here.

And, for the record, the great joke about sacrifice came from THIS GUY when we had lunch a couple weeks after the layoff. Taco Bell inspires brilliant thoughts.

Hope you enjoy the message. Actually, I don't care if you do or not. At least enjoy the intro video with the sweet sounds of the Orange County Supertones in the background. Stunt it.

Oh, and we'll be parents tomorrow. How awesome is that?

Viva Revolution from Jeff Selph on Vimeo.

an odd job history

My dad used to recruit and place people for jobs, back when there were jobs in West Michigan to fill. He taught me a lot about the pursuit of a job, how to act in interviews (even though his advice made me come off as arrogant - thanks, Dad), and how to go about following up. One of the things he told me as a teenager, and every time I've sought new employment since, is that you never get the first job you apply for, so make sure you apply for a lot. It seems like a logical piece of advice, especially in today's economy. It hasn't turned out to be the case for me yet, but it still sounds like good advice.

Sometimes I get annoyed about my church job history, especially when I consider that I have stayed at just about every secular job as long as I've been at my church jobs combined. And it's not like I'm looking to jump around, either. I have actually taken every job with the aspiration of being there a long time and really making a huge impact, but it hasn't happened that way. But then I look at how each job came about, and I realize that it's been all God's doing. Did you know that I never applied for my job at Baymeadows? I just told the pastor that I'd like to be the youth pastor when they hired someone to replace Phillip, and that's what happened. I also never applied at New Hope. I was at my wit's end at Baymeadows, and I sent Charles an e-mail, asking him to pray for my situation as I was going to look somewhere else. Next thing you know, I'm the children's pastor at New Hope.

Now, I did apply at Kalamazoo Community, but it was the first job I applied at. And, once I was certain that God (and I) still wanted me to be a youth and/or children's pastor for a while, it stood alone at the top of my list of churches I'd like to work at. So if I had only applied for one job, and it was a job I really wanted, I would be in the exact same position I am now: hired by KCC. We know it was all God, too. Seriously, when I was told I had 8 weeks of pay before NH cut me off, I thought this was going to be impossible. I felt a little better when I was told it was closer to 12 weeks, but I was still a little nervous (and by a little nervous, I mean I hardly slept). But God took care of it. He already knew where He wanted us.

We are really excited about going back to Michigan. Yes, we will miss a lot of our friends in Ohio, but there's just something about going home. I've wanted to go home for 5 years. And God knew that when we had a child, we wanted to raise him in Michigan (I only told Him every day, just in case), and now we will be. We've also prayed that when we had a child that Sarah would be able to be a stay at home mom, and now that's feasible, too. So God is giving us many things we've asked for over the last 5 years all at once, even if it wasn't exactly the timing we had in mind. God's just that cool. And that's why we like Him - after all, we only love Him, because He loved us first.

just one of the girls

I noticed something strange when I took our car to Pep Boys for an oil change: all but one of the magazines seemed out of place. They had Women's Health, People, Home and Garden, etc, and then one lonely car magazine. I wondered to myself, "Why would they have a bunch of ladies magazines at a car place?" Then it occurred to me. There are probably a higher percentage of women that bring their cars in for oil changes than men. In fact, based on the magazines, they must estimate that 95% of their clientele will be women. I guess I'm just another one of the ladies, unable (or at least unwilling) to change the oil in the car.

In all fairness and to my credit, I have changed the oil in my car one time. But, not to my credit, I didn't like getting my hands all dirty. So yeah, I'm just one of the girls. Quickly, someone pamper me.

knowing is only supposed to be half the battle

I grew up a huge fan of G.I. Joe. I wouldn't call myself an expert on all things G.I. Joe, though. I might have before I went to see the movie, which I thought was great. I learned after the movie, while waiting for Sarah to use the restroom, that the movie was apparently no good, because it didn't line up with the comics that were written well after the show aired. I know that this kid knew what he was talking about, because although he wasn't alive when the original cartoon aired and may never have seen it, he had a jacket on with the Cobra logo on the back. So if he says that anyone that liked that movie just doesn't know anything about G.I. Joe, I have take him seriously. Basically, my G.I. Joe experience was limited to watching the cartoon, creating war horses out of my sister's My Little Ponies for my action figures to ride, and pretending to be Snake Eyes by putting on sunglasses and swinging a stick around like a sword. Oh, and learning that knowing was half the battle.

Sometimes I feel like knowing is all the battle for me, though. You would think after all these awesome Public Service Announcements that were made that I would know better, but I don't seem to. I always want to know what's next, and I want to know right away. I don't have peace many times, because I'm too worried about what's going to happen next. I just need to know, and once I do, I can do whatever it is. Knowing is the battle. I'm there now. I don't know what's going to happen next, and it freaks me out a little. I know that God knows what we need, and He knows when we need it, but I keep laying in bed reminding Him. A lot of times, when I pray about it, I end up apologizing for telling God what He already knows. I end up with peace by the end of every time I pray, but I go back to worrying at some point during the day. Maybe letting me be antsy is God's way of making me pray more, because I know I don't do it often enough.

Every time I pray lately, I feel like God puts two Scriptures on my heart. I already alluded to one: when teaching His disciples about prayer, Jesus said in Matthew 6:7 that God knows what we need before we even ask Him. The end of Matthew 6 is the other thing I feel God is pressing on me. I'm worrying about something that I cannot control, because it is controlled by God. I need to stop worrying, because it isn't doing me any good and it never will. If worrying worked, I would start worrying about adding a cubit to my height.

So hopefully I'll know soon where we are headed, and knowing will only be half the battle. In fact, we will know very shortly about the church we're hoping for most, so if you would continue praying about that, we would appreciate it. And, please, for the last time, please do not hide in old refrigerators! Learn a lesson from Cherie beginning HERE and finish it up HERE.

who's your roy orbison?

My dad and I are very much alike, but we are also so different. Maybe the fact that there's almost 35 years between us has something to do with that. It occurred to me the other day that Jakob will view some of my likes the same way I view some of my dad's likes: he'll agree with some, he'll be indifferent about others, but possibly he'll see some of my likes as lame.
I grew up watching movies with Stallone, Schwarzneggar, and Chuck Norris. I watch similar movies today, but I have a higher standard for the acting at this point. So I agree with my dad's liking of action movies like this.

My favorite athletes of all time are guys like Steve Yzerman, Barry Sanders, and Bill Laimbeer. My dad likes Dave Bing, Dave Debuccher (sp? sounds like Da' Butcher). These names mean little to me, other than I know my dad really likes the guys. I'm indifferent about them. I realized that as great as my favorite athletes are, Jakob will think, "I'm sure they were good, but they wouldn't be able to compete with (insert his favorites or the most dominate players in 15 years). He probably won't care much about them.

What breaks my heart is that Jakob will one day view the music I love the way I viewed Roy Orbison growing up: lame. My dad loves the guy. He would sing along with him (as best as a tone deaf, monotone guy could) in the car, and Dan and I would make fun of the songs when talking to our friends. One day, Jakob will get together with one of his friends or cousins and make fun of the Supertones, because they are my Roy Orbison. They're outdated, out of style, and always on in my car, because I love them. Oh, Jakob, why would you make fun of the Supertones? Why do you have to break your dad's heart?

Who's your Roy Orbison? What do you think your kids will make fun of you for when they get older (or what are they making fun of you for now)?

happy anniversary, Sarah!

I still love Sarah just the same as I did when I married her eight years ago, and yet I love her differently. I say I love her more now, but when I think about it, you probably can't quantify love. You love or you don't. So I don't really love her more than I used to, it's just been proven. I know more about her, and so I love more things about her.

If you asked me what I loved most about her over the years, my answers would probably have varied. I know that the way she treated me had a pretty long reign as the number one reason, but it's been replaced (and not just because she beats me up now, either). I laid in bed next to her last night, reading as she slept, and it occurred to me that things had changed. I now love her, above all other reasons, because she is who I want to raise Jakob. They say having a kid changes a person, but I hope it doesn't in her case. Jakob would be just fine having a mom exactly like Sarah already is.

Here's a run down of our anniversary plans:

• Cheesecake in bed. It's like breakfast in bed, only less healthy and more delicious.
• Baby appointment
• 3 hour drive to Lansing, which will probably take us 5 hours.
• Dinner at Sarah's favorite restaurant: P.F. Chang's, which she knows nothing about right now. She'll know when we get there.
  
• 2 more hours to Grand Rapids, which could be 3 or 4 depending on how much water she has at dinner
  
• Pass out quickly from exhaustion upon arrival

In case you didn't know, I'm really happy about being married to Sarah. She's the best around (nothing's gonna ever keep her down)...and I love her.

Happy anniversary, Sarah. And happy birthday, Grandpa! And happy birthday tomorrow, Jeff!

top 10 reasons why I'm glad we're having a son

When we first learned that Sarah was pregnant, I was hoping that we'd have a little girl. Come to think of it, though, I only had two reasons I wanted a little girl: one, she would probably be a daddy's girl; and, two, she would probably look a lot like Sarah who was a cute baby, little girl, teenager, and adult. Now that I've known for a while that we are having a son, I've had time to think of all the great reasons a dad would want a son. Here are my top 10. I'm not sure they're in proper order. To be honest, all of these reasons are great, and they could be in any order.





10. Being boyish is acceptable. No one says, "you know, your son's kind of a tomboy."

9. I'll never have to sit with him while he cries about the weird cramps and bleeding he's
experiencing.

8. I won't have to worry about boys. I was a boy, and I know what they are thinking.

7. The bride's family pays for the wedding. My son will not be a bride.

6. I can walk around the house in my underwear forever!

5. I'll never worry about him leaving the house dressed one way, and then changing into
something skankier when he's out the door.

4. Hannah Montana (or whoever takes her mantle) will never be watched in my home.

3. There's a very good chance that he'll be just like me.

2. He'll cause so much trouble for Sarah that I'll be under the radar and get away with more.

1. I won't have to go shopping for make-up, girls underwear, pads, dresses, etc.

i like healthy food {sort of}

I do not like to eat healthy. I like some healthy foods, but not as much as I like them after they've been corrupted. We take healthy food and pervert it: adding sugar to already sweet strawberries, deep frying all kinds of vegetables, adding bacon to green beans, covering salads with ridiculous amounts of cheese and dressing, etc. I do not fit into Southern culture too well, but this one area I seem to agree with them. I think the prevailing culinary theory in the South is, "If we fry it, it will taste better." Oh, and if you aren't going to fry it, you should at least add bacon to it. I'd never even heard of one of my favorite healthy foods before moving to Florida: corn nuggets. What's a corn nugget? I'm pretty sure it's cream corn, dipped in batter, and deep fried. Add ranch dressing to it, and you not only have a cholesterol bomb on your plate, you'll have a smile on your face, too. But hey, my mom only said to make sure I eat my vegetables; she didn't say how.

Now, I'm not an organic food guy. It's pretty expensive, and I'm pretty sure it's mostly hype. For instance, did you know that you can buy organic milk? Where does the milk I buy come from? I thought it was organic, too, because it came from a cow. I guess those cows aren't good enough. I just can't see spending more money on things like that, but some people can and do. They think that food is contaminated when it is not grown naturally, as they say. I don't tend to agree with them, but I will give those people one thing: they made the coolest propaganda video ever. Check it out:

stupid girl.

You probably don't know this about Sarah, but she's got quite a temper. She suffered from road rage in Florida on a regular basis. Now, I know what you're thinking. "He's doing a post about his wife called stupid girl? He shouldn't call her that." Some of you sprinkled some expletives and other descriptive words in that thought, that's probably the core of your thoughts. Don't worry, though, I'm not calling her stupid girl. We'll get there. We're talking about her temper. It's really odd, because she's normally so quiet, and unless you've seen it, you would never see it coming. If you take her temper and add it to her germ freakiness, you end up with a really scared girl in a laundry room expecting to catch a beating from a little Korean girl.

Our first home was a little studio apartment in Wyoming, MI. We lived downstairs, right across from the laundry room. Sarah would commonly put laundry in, and then come back to our apartment to do dinner. There's no reason to hang out in there when you live right across the hall. Of course, we didn't know laundry room etiquette, which says that if someone is waiting for that washing machine, and you don't take your laundry within thirty seconds of cycle completion, they are within their rights to put your clean laundry on top of the dirty public washing machines. Enter Stupid Girl. Sarah would still refer to this girl as this if she was reminded of her today, and after reading my blog, she will be.

Sarah went across the hall to switch over our laundry within two minutes of it being done, and there was all of our clean laundry on top of the machines. I was in the apartment, and I knew within seconds that something had gone wrong across the hall. I quickly came over, and my seething wife was lacing into the offender that had touched her clean laundry with her dirty hands and put it on the dirty washing machines, and it wasn't your normal neighborly banter. I had to coax her across the hall, promising that I would take care of it. The girl was so scared that she offered $2.50 to let us wash both loads again, and I told Sarah I would take it. I went back across the hall, and the girl is shaking scared. I'm pretty sure she thought Sarah was going to jump her, and I can't say with all certainty that she wouldn't have. I apologized and explained to her why she shouldn't have moved our laundry and how sensitive my wife was about germs, and that the machines weren't remotely clean on the outside. I thought we had settled things well. Everyone was calm...in that room.

I went back to our apartment, and Sarah was pacing the small kitchen. She was not feeling any better. I was pretty sure we agreed, though, that it was over. I thought it was safe to leave her unattended, so I used the restroom. I heard the door open and shut while I was in there, and then I heard my quiet wife being not quiet at all again. I walked back across the hall to a similar scene: rabid Sarah? Check. Shaking girl? Check. Our laundry still sitting on dirty machines? Check. A new variable was added: tears. Stupid Girl was crying almost as violently as Sarah was talking. I had to get my wife out of there again, apologize again, and this time I had to stand awkwardly in the door while the girl settled down. I wouldn't normally comfort a crying woman that wasn't my wife, but since my wife made her cry, I felt obligated. It was tremendously not awesome.

This was a long time ago. Sarah would never do that again. She has her own washer and dryer, so I can say that with all certainty. Plus, we're much older and a little mellower. But this will always be one of my favorite Sarah stories. Basically, here are my favorite stories about her: one, she married me; two, Stupid Girl; three, everything else.

i have to be me.

At the end of my senior year, my graduating class at church was given the opportunity to decorate a tile to be hung in the youth room. They finally took down those tiles a few months ago (nine years later), after none of the other classes did this. Mine wasn't up as long as everyone else's, though. My tile stayed up for one week. I was frustrated by some things back then. I didn't like other people trying to force me into a mold that I did not fit in. I think I still don't. So, since I really liked Christian rock, and I got tired of people telling me that I shouldn't, I made my tile for them. I drew a star and wrote the names of different bands I really liked. I wrote something about following your own star to Christ, and then finished with "You be you, and I'll be me." I started working in junior high a week after the tile was hung, and that was not a good example, so my tile was pulled down. I almost felt triumphant.

To be honest, I have not changed that much. I still have the same position on this, but I have learned how to say it in a more acceptable way. I am me, and I cannot be anyone else. I have to be who God made me to be, or I will end up frustrated like I have in the past. I am keeping this in mind while looking for a church to serve in. I refuse to get so desperate that I will end up in a church that expects me to be anyone other than me. It was bad for me, it was bad for my marriage, and it was probably bad for the teenagers I was serving the last time. I make a lot of mistakes, but I'm not going to make that one twice.

So who am I? We don't really have time for that, but you're welcome to go back and read all the blog posts I've written in the past. By the end, you'll be sick of me, but you'll also know me quite well.

advice I didn't take

I've been given a lot of good advice over the years. The funny thing about good advice is that it is rarely unsolicited. People like to give advice freely, especially when you are not at all interested in what they have to say. My dad does not call me and start throwing advice at me, hoping something will stick. I call him, he listens, and then he offers advice. It's interesting how listening to a situation can give you an inside track on offering advice worth taking. I don't want to talk about advice I felt was worth taking, though. I want to talk about advice I didn't take, and what happened as a result.

1. Don't get married so young. You'll be divorced within five years.
Now, I'm not the best with numbers, but I'm pretty sure eight is greater than five, and the fact that Sarah and I are best friends and still quite in love means there will be even more years added.

2. Don't jump on the bed. You'll get hurt.
Well, I have a scar in the middle of my forehead that proves that this was, in fact, sound advice.

3. Don't transfer from out of our school. You'll have a hard time getting a job with that other school on your resume.
So far, two churches seemed to disagree.

4. (from the doctor at the rehab hospital Sarah was in) You shouldn't help your wife with everything when she gets home. You'll view her as a patient and won't be able to love her the same ever again.
He was kind of right. I love her more now. We grew even closer during that time of our marriage.

5. Be careful not to drink too much pop. You'll gain weight.
Well...

What's some advice you didn't take?

it's been a year

So we've been in Ohio for just over a year now. We actually showed up on Sunday, June 1, in our lame matching West Virginia t-shirts. A lot has changed, but a lot has stayed the same over the last year. Let's review, shall we? We shall.

Big Changes:

• Sarah's pregnant. Since she is not an elephant, we can safely say that she got pregnant after moving here.
• We like church more now.
• We both have tattoos. Those are permanent, so I consider them pretty big changes.
• I like people more now and am less judgmental (I think). Sarah still doesn't like people, including you. She wishes you'd stop reading this and go punch yourself in the face.
  
• We play cornhole now and like it. I'm pretty good, but Sarah is not. And we know what cornhole means.
• We have a lot less money, but more of God, so we're pretty good here.
• I've gone from never wanting to be a lead pastor to knowing that I will be one at some point. That's a weird one for me.
  

Not everything changes, though. Here are some things that have not and probably will never change:

• We still love each other a good deal.
• We still hang out with teenagers. We miss our kids from Florida, and we make up for it by hanging out with other teenagers. Only now, it's not our job. We volunteer.
• We have maintained good hygiene.
  
• Our animals are obnoxious.
• I'm still chubby, and despite being pregnant, Sarah still is not.
• We love Michigan and all Detroit sports, and of course, we still hate the Gators, Seminoles, and Jaguars.
  
• And, of course, we love God. He's pretty much awesome.
  

who likes bad music?

Either a lot of Christians do, or a lot of pastors think their people do. I have a lot of bad southern gospel group related memories. I don't like southern gospel to begin with, mostly because I don't like country music. I don't care if it's in a shiny new Bible cover. It's still country to me, and I don't like it. So imagine how I feel when an untalented southern gospel group would show up to the church I was attending?

Of course, not all bad memories are bad memories. Some groups were so awful that they became iconic to me and probably to other people in the church. I remember one group of very obese men from when I was in high school. Their keyboard player reminded me of the GORILLA from Show Biz Pizza. It was not enjoyable until my youth pastor asked if anyone knew who what a joint heir was, and my friend answered, "yeah, it's a fat guy in a suit that doesn't sing really well." I now relish the memory. You might have guessed they were called the Joint Heirs. Good deduction skills!

The pinnacle of bad music is the guy that gets up there and sings all the part himself. He's laid down some hot tracks of himself singing the different parts, and he sings along with himself. If you've never experienced this, you probably doubt this mythical beast exists, but I promise you, he does. One of these guys came to my last church, in Florida, and it was bad. I was sitting there on the 2nd row, thoroughly not enjoying myself, when he decided it was time to ask who wanted him back at their church. I think a few hands went up. I don't remember. What I do remember was him saying, "Come on, show your pastor you want me to come back by raising your hands." Perhaps a few more hands went up, but mine didn't. I had both arms outstretched on the back of the pew. He made eye contact me, and his eyes seemed to beg me to raise my hand. Surely you're enjoying this, right? I kept my arms where the were and my eyes locked on his eyes. After a couple of seconds of eye contact, I shook my head no. No sir, I don't ever want to hear your music again. If fact, if you could pack up now and not finish out your set, I would be greatly indebted to you.

Had he not made pleading eye contact with me, giving me the opportunity to tell him no, this would have just gone down as another bad memory. Instead, this is a great memory for me. I was proud of standing up for my ears and everyone else's for that matter.

crazy proud

I like when crazy is used as an adverb. It's like bad in the late 80's, stupid in the late 90's, or wicked in the northeast. You really don't want to be described as a crazy, wicked cat lady with bad breath and a stupid haircut. When you string the words together like that, you get the point that they're not complimentary words when used in their normal setting. However, if you use them properly, they can become better than their antitheses. They called the championship Pistons the Bad Boys, but since Michael Jackson turned that word around, it was actually quite a compliment. So you're good, huh? Well, can you tell me once again who's bad? That's right, I am. See how much cooler that sounds? Yes, I know, it's mind blowing.

Now, I know Father's Day was two days ago, but I was busy and/or lazy this weekend, and I didn't get a chance to write about it. So here's the thing with my dad: he's kind of crazy, but he's the kind of crazy that makes me proud. You may think that some of the stuff he does is crazy, and I admit that from an outsider's view, it may look that way. What I know, though, is that everything he did that seemed crazy to you (like physically imposing himself to protect us or fire breathing intimidation in yo' face) was done out of extreme love for his kids. One thing that a handful of people have learned over the years is that you don't mess with John Selph's family. It does not turn out well for you. And you can say that I am crazy proud of him. You may just be proud of your dad, but I'm crazy proud of mine. I'm not necessarily crazy, but my dad brings so much pride that I almost go there. That's what makes the word crazy turn good.

In just under three months, Jakob will be born, and I hope that I'm a crazy good dad just like mine is.