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.

no touching...unless you're taking a picture

I understand the need to control personal contact between raging teenage boys and teenage girls. I did my time as a youth pastor, and one couple trying to hang on each other during service was one couple too many. What makes me laugh, though, is the inconsistency most religious institutions have on this issue. I learned in youth group and at camp that it's good for a man not to touch a woman, which directly translated meant that if I held my girlfriend's hand, I was sinning.

I got a good talking to for holding Sarah's hand when we were dating more than one time at church. Neither my parents nor Sarah's parents cared, so we didn't really care, either. Oh, but there were people that did care. WOL camp is awesome, but they're funny about PC (as they likes to calls it), too. They were tougher than our youth leaders. If we had been caught holding hands there, we would have had to go home at our own expense. Of course, we probably would have traveled together and held hands the whole way, so it would have been a real problem.

There was an exception to the no PC rule in both locations: picture time! I took Sarah to May Banquet (our alternative to prom, because as good a good Baptist, I didn't dance, nor did I even attend the unholy event), and taking pictures with your date was always encouraged. What was the standard picture? Well, of course, we stood right next to each other, with our arms around each other, a little more precarious than holding hands, I'd say. The same thing happened at camp. You could put your arm around a girl, so long as it was for a picture. I think Sarah and I went through 3 rolls of film that week, because there are lots of pictures of us hugging and what not, but it was okay. A sin captured by a camera really isn't a sin, in case you were wondering. I wonder if this justifies everyone in the porn business. Perhaps they normally wouldn't do such things, but cameras were present, and they knew it gave them a pass. Maybe they don't think that, but you see where such a thought process could take you if you are bored and blogging about it and reminiscing about funny things from long ago.

And now I will tell on my wife with this side note: Sarah definitely could have gotten us kicked out. They did some silly date banquet at the end of the week, and you could bring your special somebody. I took Sarah. She said she wished she could give me a kiss - and who could blame her - and I said, "No, you don't. If you wanted to kiss me, you would." And she did! Right in the middle of the dining hall at No PC island, she kissed me right on the face, and since nobody was taking a picture, I'm pretty sure it was bad of her. I don't know how no one saw it. I'm sure someone did and secretly fist pumped at their table, proud of our getting away with such a thing.

a Binford God

I really like the show Home Improvement, starring Tim Allen. Was it cheesy? Yes. Was the acting shoddy? Sure was. Was it at all believable? I don't think so. But still, it captivated me when I was a kid, and it has me again on Nick at Nite. I think part of the allure for me, both then and now, is that it takes place in Michigan. Tim wears sweatshirts in every episode of different colleges and universities from around the state of Michigan or of Detroit sports teams. The family goes on scene to real locations in Michigan, including Traverse City, where my wife saw them shooting scenes on the sand dunes as a child. It made her day, since she (along with every other girl back then) had a crush on Jonathan Taylor Thomas. Of course, I also liked the disasters caused by Tim Taylor.

I was watching the show the other day, and Tim did one of his typical stupid things while on Tool Time. I laughed a little, but then I was a little annoyed. I was annoyed at the idea that someone could screw up that many times at work and keep his job. If Binford were a real company and Tim a real employee, wouldn't they fire him after so many mistakes? No, they just keep letting him do his thing, screwing up along the way at their expense. I know, it's just a TV show, but I was tired and cranky, and it annoyed me. And then it happened. I realized something about me, and probably a lot of pastors: I screw up all the time. I sin every day. There's a good way to do life (reference the Bible if you need help with that), but I sometimes come up with a better way - my way - and I end up failing miserably and probably embarrassing God. I work for God, and I don't follow His instructions, but He still keeps me in His employ. I'm a lot like Tim Taylor and He's a lot like Binford.

that's what I was thinking

I've heard it said that a couple starts to look alike after being married for so many years. For the most part, I agree with that, but it's not always true. I do have friends that are married and look like each other, but the majority of them have kids. The kid is the link, because he/she looks like both of them. I do not see this happening with Sarah and me, though. We're too different. She's really thin, I'm really not; she's yellowy (I didn't know yellowy was a real word, but it's not underlined!), I have a pinkish hue; she has a smooth, pretty face, I have a scraggly, hairy face; she has brown, slanted eyes, I have blue, round eyes; she's really short...well, we've both got that. There are too many differences for us to start looking alike, but you can rest easy knowing that we are becoming more and more similar nonetheless.

Sarah used to be a little aggravated by the way my mind works. She didn't think my jokes were funny. Now, not only are they funny to her, but she tells the same jokes I do. It's very common for one of us to say something we deem as funny and have the other reply, "That's what I was thinking!" The first time she affirmed one of my strange jokes with that reply, I was shocked. I thought maybe she was on the sauce, but she was, in fact, sober. Over the last several years, my brand of humor has infiltrated her mind and taken over. I have told my brothers something funny, which they thought was hilarious, and I had to quickly tell them, "that's what she said!" Of course, I wasn't being off color, I was letting them know that it was Sarah who said it first. It's a Christmas miracle!

Credit should be given where credit is due. It all started with a man who refused to grow up, despite having a wife and 4 kids. His name is "my dad," and he is the originator of this twisted mentality. So, thanks, Dad! And today happens to be his birthday, so happy birthday, Dad! He's at home right now. Give him a call, especially if you don't know him. He's getting old and you should try to convince him that you went to high school with him. Mess with his head. Here's the number: 616-364-1423. His name is John Selph, and he's 62 today. Keep that in mind when pretending to know him.

happy 40th anniversary!

Can you believe my parents have been married for 40 years? It's hard to believe that Mom could handle Dad's crazy behavior for that long. It gives me hope.

In honor of their big anniversary, we (the Selph children and dad) have made this video for Mom.

Happy anniversary! We love you guys.

Happy 40th Anniversary! from Jeff Selph on Vimeo.

On a side note, today is John Markel and Laura Hummel's 0 anniversary. Congratulations, guys!

who are we trying to impress

You probably can't tell by looking at me now, but I used to be as preppy as they come. To be more honest, I was utterly metrosexual. The reality was that I dressed the way I did, because I wanted to impress girls. Shortly before I met Sarah, I had gone from a ratty t-shirt and jean wearing kid to a walking advertisement for American Eagle. I guess it worked, because she was so totally into me back then. I continued to dress that way for a little while into our marriage, because I thought it was what she wanted. Little did I know then that my wife actually prefers me looking a little more scruffy, messy, and without everything so neatly in place. I was doing what I thought was pleasing to her, but I missed it. She liked me - my personality, my sense of humor, my heart - not the way I dressed.

Question: is God more impressed with me in a suit or me in jeans? Many would say that God likes my shirt and tie, but since He doesn't look at the outward appearance, I tend to doubt it. David's brothers were bigger, stronger, and more kingly looking, but God didn't care. He liked the dirty little kid in raggedy clothes, probably smelling of sheep poo. He was looking at the heart. I have been to church a number of times in a suit, and my heart wasn't always right. In fact, I would venture to say my heart was off the last 5 months of suit-wearing Jeff's church life. My heart ached. I was mistreated, and I was angry about it, but flip doodle, I wore a suit. God was surely impressed, huh? Most of the people in the church liked me, and I'm sure they approved of my nice suits, shirts, and ties. What they did not see is what God saw: my heart. My physical appearance was fine, but my heart was not presentable. How many pastors and church attenders show up every weekend dressed to the nines, trying to impress God with their looks, and find no favor with Him? God's not looking for you to show up with nice suits and dresses on. He's looking at your heart. He didn't save us from jeans and t-shirts unto a life of dress clothes. He saved us from our sin and hell unto a life of righteousness. My heart is so much closer to God today then it was last year at this time. I think God will be much happier with me when I show up at church this Sunday then He was when I showed up in a suit a year ago. Is it because He prefers jeans? No, He looks at the heart. We already covered that. He probably just likes the way my heart is now.

Side note: I do find it mildly humorous how awfully a lot of pastors dress when they "give God their best" by way of suit and tie. My pastor wears some pretty sweet suits, but many pastors do not. If you want to tell me that God wanting my best means wearing a suit and tie, then by all means, trash the suit you got 10 years and 6 inches ago and wear something stylish that fits you right, with a nice looking tie to match, not some dollar store tie that would be better used as a kleenex. If you truly believe that God prefers one type of church attire over another, then don't cheat Him. Go all out.