<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947</id><updated>2011-08-05T11:04:43.786-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Perfect Ruin</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>16</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-8544376014031957439</id><published>2010-11-05T05:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-05T05:51:16.451-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What God endures</title><content type='html'>I've had a few conversations recently about what Christian persecution looks like in America today.  Most people I've talked to are convinced that they live in a country free of persecution.  I disagree.  I think we live in a country where it is easy to think you are a Christian without living like one.  This might sound judgmental, but believe me when I say that I am as guilty as anyone when it comes to saying your a Christian, but not being willing to live like one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the most part, it is true that declaring faith in the Lord Jesus will not result in physical abuse, but it will surely result in social and professional abuse.  What happens to students in the cafeteria who associate themselves with Jesus and stand up for a kid that is getting picked on?  They will join the kid who is getting picked on.  What happens to the business leader who refuses to take advantage of another person's weakness in order to make more money?  He will be fired, or at least ignored and disrespected by his coworkers.  The point is, when we really live out of love, and die to the American ideals of image and success, there are serious consequences.  It will impact the way your friends and family see you.  It will impact how much money you make.  It will impact your reputation.  Can you accept this?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am reminded today that while I focus a lot on what I might endure by being associated with Jesus Christ, God endures far worse for being associated with me and with other Christians.  Christians are sinners, so God's reputation is tarnished when people look at my life, or your life, and know that I represent Jesus Christ.  God is associated with sexual immorality, violence, anger, and greed.  He is associated with people (like me) who shout at people from their cars when they get frustrated.  He is associated with people who cheat on their husbands and wives.  He is associated with people who say they are disciples of Jesus and struggle with addictions to pornography and alcohol and cocaine.  We hurt God's reputation.  Despite all this, one of the clear messages of the New Testament is that in Christ, God has forever identified himself with sinful people, and He loves us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next time you are thinking about what it will cost you to live out your faith in Jesus Christ, remember what it costs God to love you.  He suffered the death of His son and more.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-8544376014031957439?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/8544376014031957439/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=8544376014031957439' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/8544376014031957439'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/8544376014031957439'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2010/11/what-god-endures.html' title='What God endures'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-2811771034539436376</id><published>2010-08-24T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T11:15:22.099-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Old Testament vs New Testament?</title><content type='html'>If you're like me, and you try and read your Bible regularly, you probably spend most of your time reading the New Testament.  Why wouldn't you?  That's where the life of Jesus is recorded in the four Gospels.  That's where the Christian life is spelled out.  Well, I believe that the Bible is a story.  It is a true story!  That means that the beginning is just as important as the end, and if you don't understand the first part of the story, you won't be able to make sense of everything God gives us in the second part.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been spending some time this summer trying to get to know some of the early parts of the story.  Some of it has been fun.  I read Exodus and was again amazed at the power of our God as he sent plagues on Egypt and led His people through the Red Sea (Don't mess with our God).  Some of it has been tedious.  I read about all the different ways a person was considered to be "unclean," and the seven day process you had to go though to be made clean again.  I read chapter after chapter about how they were to make the clothing that the priests would wear inside the temple.  I read about who was supposed to carry what part of the temple when the people of Israel moved to a different location.  A lot of the Old Testament can be difficult to get through.  It is a lot of rules and regulations, and it is very very detailed! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning, I realized that I can relate to people in the Old Testament much better than I can to many people in the New Testament.  I am reading in Numbers, and a pattern is emerging.  God is with His people.  LITERALLY.  He stays over them as a cloud during the day and as fire during the night.  His presence dwells in the tent of meeting.  He speaks to Moses all the time.  Again and again, however, the people become frustrated with God.  He promised to bring them into a great land, and they want to get there.  They keep complaining that God should have just let them stay as slaves in Egypt, because they are so tired of wandering in the wilderness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That is me.  I am so worried about where I am going in life.  I really want God to go ahead and take me there.  I'm reminded that the point of life is to live joyfully in God's presence.  He is so gracious and good to us that He gives us Himself, in Christ, but the power of the Holy Spirit.  I'm trying to wrap my head around the truth that "The Spirit of God dwells within us (Romans 8:9)."  If that is true, than "getting somewhere" in life is not the point.  The journey is the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;God, forgive my anxious heart and show me the wonder of Your presence.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-2811771034539436376?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/2811771034539436376/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=2811771034539436376' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/2811771034539436376'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/2811771034539436376'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2010/08/old-testament-vs-new-testament.html' title='Old Testament vs New Testament?'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-5922582137613104806</id><published>2010-08-05T06:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-05T06:53:02.343-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am a fisherman!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/TFrBSPZTyVI/AAAAAAAAAC0/elSg8EhZjtc/s1600/fly-fishing-copia-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 218px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/TFrBSPZTyVI/AAAAAAAAAC0/elSg8EhZjtc/s320/fly-fishing-copia-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5501922413900974418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is official folks:  I am a fisherman.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have probably fished a grand total of about 6 times in my life (average of about once every 4 years).  Most of those times were on the lake at Camp High Rocks where I spent most of my summers growing up.  Before last weekend, I had never "gone fishin.'"  This past weekend, a buddy of mine invited me to go fly-fishing.  I've always thought that would be cool, so we loaded up and headed to beautiful downtown Waynesboro, VA, where you can wade right into the Meachem Creek.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few things about fly-fishing:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The philosophy of fly-fishing has to do with imitation.  You try and imitate the look and behavior of flies and other insects on the surface of the water.  It is actually a very sophisticated technique.  You swing the rod back and forth in an arc (from 10:00 to 2:00) so that the "fly" is flying around right above the water, and then you let it settle onto the water.  Presumable, a trout or bass or some other delicious fish looks up and says, "I need to eat that fly," and then you've got him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been really excited about something, and then out try it and feel like a total idiot, because you don't really know what the heck you are doing?  That is me and fishing.  I swung my rod (Joe Dewey's spare rod), but I apparently made my "fly" look less like an actual fly and more like a miniature F18 fighter jet making high speed bombing runs.  I did not catch any fish.  I did, however, break the tip off my friend's rod when I was walking through the trees trying to get to the water, so I definitely accomplished something...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, so a couple of days later, Maggie and I headed up to Madison to do dinner with a bunch of her family on the farm.  They live in a beautiful spot and there is a pond on the property.  Uncle Chug brought a couple of fishing rods and I ended up down by the pond with him and my youngest brother-in law Conner.  No fly-fishing this time, just casting out a hook with a wriggling worm on the end into the middle of the pond.  I actually caught 2 FISH!!  One was about 4 inches long, and I also caught a big one that was about 4 1/2 inches long.  Pretty crazy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this point, I have fished twice in two days and have now caught a couple of "enormous" fish.  I am feeling pretty good about myself and am visualizing a picture of me on the cover of Outdoor Sportsman magazine.  I slowly sauntered back to Uncle Chug's tackle box to put my hook back, when my dog--She is having the time of her life running around the farm--galloped up and jumped up at the grass hanging from my fishing hook.  The hook caught her right underneath the upper lip and lodged securely in her gums. I freaked out, realizing that now I have fished twice and broke a rod and snared the non-human that I love the most.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent the next half-hour trying to wrestle the dog to the ground so I could dry and dislodge the hook, but she was so freaked out, that I couldn't get a hold on it.  Eventually, Maggie's mom got a hold of the family vet, and we left (missing dessert :( ! ) to take Sadie for minor emergency surgery.  She had to be sedated and the hook cut out.  That was the worst part.  It was devestating watching my puppy dog unconscious on a table, with blood running out of her mouth from where the vet was trying to get the hook out.  Luckily, everyone survived, and I even got to eat Apple pie when we got back to the farm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny how emotions can change so quickly.  After catching a couple of fish I was feeling awesome.  There is something for a man about catching a fish where he feels like he is in his right place of dominion over nature.  When Sadie got hooked, my feelings did a complete 180.  I felt angry and scared and guilty.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, get out there and Carpe the Diem!!  Get outside and have an adventure.  I think I am remembering that I love the outdoors.  But, don't forget that, if you are a human like me, you are a complete mess, and you probably won't be able to do anything quite right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-5922582137613104806?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/5922582137613104806/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=5922582137613104806' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/5922582137613104806'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/5922582137613104806'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-am-fisherman.html' title='I am a fisherman!'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/TFrBSPZTyVI/AAAAAAAAAC0/elSg8EhZjtc/s72-c/fly-fishing-copia-1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-3212728144994910958</id><published>2010-07-20T13:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-20T13:22:26.603-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How your brain works</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/TEYDZ7DGypI/AAAAAAAAACk/SEgFDgSpyc0/s1600/left-brain-right-brain.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: right; margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; cursor: pointer; width: 302px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/TEYDZ7DGypI/AAAAAAAAACk/SEgFDgSpyc0/s320/left-brain-right-brain.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496084139134601874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, first, I apologize to all of my many faithful readers for not posting a new blog in over 16 months.  That is Busch league.  My bad.  I'm actually going to try and write more, and hopefully blog once a week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been thinking this summer about how my brain works.  I don't understand exactly how this happens, but our brains have two sides.  The left-side is used for analytical, logical, and linear thinking.  The right side is used for random, instinctive, and creative thinking.  I would say that I am a right-brain sort of guy, but lately, I have given in to the other side of my brain.  I have  focused on getting things done, accomplishing tasks, and checking off boxes on my to-do list.  NO MORE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here and now I make a pledge to exercise the right side of my brain.  Part of my plan is to write more.  Believe it or not, I was a creative writing major in college.  I loved writing poetry and short fiction, but I haven't written anything like that in years.  I'm going to try to write some every week, including this blog.  If you read, however, don't expect Shakespeare. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also planning on taking a pottery class in the fall, so look out world:  here comes the right side of my brain!  Have you used yours lately?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-3212728144994910958?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/3212728144994910958/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=3212728144994910958' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/3212728144994910958'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/3212728144994910958'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2010/07/how-your-brain-works.html' title='How your brain works'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/TEYDZ7DGypI/AAAAAAAAACk/SEgFDgSpyc0/s72-c/left-brain-right-brain.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-485969970133261819</id><published>2009-02-03T07:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-03T07:44:54.214-08:00</updated><title type='text'>WIRED this Sunday!! a poetic celebration</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SYhmZebu_5I/AAAAAAAAABw/sQGnSNvHS-A/s1600-h/wiredguy_final.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SYhmZebu_5I/AAAAAAAAABw/sQGnSNvHS-A/s400/wiredguy_final.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5298597549453541266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WIRED goes Crazy&lt;br /&gt;Joyful sounds ring out all night&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, come&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-485969970133261819?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/485969970133261819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=485969970133261819' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/485969970133261819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/485969970133261819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2009/02/wired-this-sunday-poetic-celebration.html' title='WIRED this Sunday!! a poetic celebration'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SYhmZebu_5I/AAAAAAAAABw/sQGnSNvHS-A/s72-c/wiredguy_final.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-4509618964315881834</id><published>2009-01-26T10:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-01-26T10:50:19.034-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mouth Sores... and the Resurrection</title><content type='html'>Do you ever feel like you are living mouth sore to mouth sore?  Man, I do!  It seems like I'll bite my lip while I'm eating Mexican food, or something, and I'll keep biting the same spot, since it is swollen and painful.  When it finally starts to heal, I get another one in a different location.  I know what you are thinking, but I actually have a pretty good attitude about the whole thing.  It makes me long for my perfect flawless Resurrection body.  It's cool to think about the little stuff that makes us hope in Jesus, and what He is going to do when He comes back!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-4509618964315881834?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/4509618964315881834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=4509618964315881834' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/4509618964315881834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/4509618964315881834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2009/01/mouth-sores-and-resurrection.html' title='Mouth Sores... and the Resurrection'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-5737525836715209295</id><published>2008-11-14T07:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T07:33:09.209-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Test Drive</title><content type='html'>OK, so I have this great friend named Tripp Purks.  He sent me an email on Tuesday about this promo fundraiser &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SR2WRACAWjI/AAAAAAAAABo/-rPhCG0Gmw8/s1600-h/images-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 85px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SR2WRACAWjI/AAAAAAAAABo/-rPhCG0Gmw8/s320/images-2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268532357903702578" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;that BMW does to raise money and awareness for breast cancer and to promote their cars.  You get to drive any BMW model you want and they donate one dollar for each mile you drive.  We arrived at 9am on Thursday, signed the "you break it you buy it" form, and settled into a brand-new BMW 328ci.  It was amazing.  I drive a Nissan XTerra, which is a cool car with a small engine:  about 170 horse power.  The 328 has 300hp and is much smaller with a tight sporty suspension.  Needless to say, when you tell it to go... It Goes!!  For the sake of decency I will refrain from telling you how fast I got that thing up to, or how quickly it arrived at that undisclosed speed, but I will tell you that it was incredibly exhilarating.  Now here me when I say that I am not going to buy this car, and I don't even really recommend that anyone else go and buy this car.  All I am saying is that it was really fun to drive.  Tripp was in the passenger seat, messing around with the hi-tech digital display for navigation, music, etc.  We cranked the music on the amazing speakers and rocketed around the back-roads outside of Charlottesville, wishing the rain would go away so we could really push it.  We did a 14-mile lope and parked back in the dealership parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Next, Tripp says, "Is there a Z series available?"  The next thing I know we are squeezing into the doors of a Z4, the top-line BMW sports coupe.  It was amazing.  The speed on that thing was scary.  In most cars, you can tell what the limits of the care are, but in this thing, our emotional and physical limit was reached while the actual performance limits were not even within sight.  Tripp demonstrated driving skills worthy of a participant in the 24-hour Le Mans race in France. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess I don't really have a point other than to say that Driving nice cars is really fun.  I'm also considering getting a rocket-engine booster for the back of my XTerra, so I can have batman-like acceleration.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-5737525836715209295?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/5737525836715209295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=5737525836715209295' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/5737525836715209295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/5737525836715209295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2008/11/test-drive.html' title='Test Drive'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SR2WRACAWjI/AAAAAAAAABo/-rPhCG0Gmw8/s72-c/images-2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-8678040173839294900</id><published>2008-11-10T12:36:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T13:07:36.124-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Office Decorations</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SRicUSzVBLI/AAAAAAAAABg/0auapulIoP0/s1600-h/Photo+10.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SRicUSzVBLI/AAAAAAAAABg/0auapulIoP0/s320/Photo+10.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5267131636668236978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, let me first apologize to all my many many many readers who have wondered where my blogs have gone for the past three weeks.  I am back.  I further Apologize that I don't have a catchy rhyming saying for being back like some recent presidential candidates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is the new news (whoa) in my Life:  Wait a second.  Doesn't "news" by definition mean that it is info that is new?  So what about the term "old news?"  Apparently that is completely meaningless.  It's like saying, "the color purple... that's not really purple but instead is orange."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyways, I digress.  The news in my life is that this morning I finally started decorating my office.  My first day of work was August first, so it has been a while.  I'm trying to calculate how many days I have been working at Trinity Presbyterian Church, but that is beyond my abilities at the present.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As you can see from the picture above, the first thing to go up on my wall was a huge University of Tennessee (Rocky Top!!) flag.  I know what you are thinking.  You are thinking, "Hey Lewis.  Isn't Tennessee really terrible this year?  I Mean aren't they the worst team in the SEC.  I mean, didn't they just loose their homecoming game to Wyoming?"  To those people I have this to say:  SHUT YOUR YAPPER!  You know and I know that we'll be back.  Then we'll say, "The Rocky Top Attack is Back!"  Or something like that.  Maybe, "The Vols have undissolved!"  Or, "Tennessee is the returnee!"  You get the picture.  Back to my office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sort of feels a little more like home now.  I have pictures of my wife, my family and friends, some beautiful places I've been, etc.  It reminds me where I've been.  It also takes my mind off the color of the paint on my office walls.  You probably noticed in the picture that my bright orange flag sort of dissolves into the wall. That's because my walls are painted "papaya."  Like the fruit, only an office color, and not a delicious food.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-8678040173839294900?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/8678040173839294900/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=8678040173839294900' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/8678040173839294900'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/8678040173839294900'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2008/11/office-decorations.html' title='Office Decorations'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SRicUSzVBLI/AAAAAAAAABg/0auapulIoP0/s72-c/Photo+10.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-7174938922547134489</id><published>2008-10-17T09:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T09:35:48.119-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainy Day Reflection</title><content type='html'>I'm sitting in a coffee shop in Lexington, VA right now, two rainy blocks away from the campus of Washington and Lee University, where my wife is presenting and interviewing students who are thinking about going into teaching.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the first coffee shop I tried, I sat next t a family of 5, with loud children, and a college sophomore who was playing loud youtube videos.  I was trying to work on a sunday school lesson, and have come to this conclusion.  People who play loud music or videos on their laptops in public work areas should have their toenails ripped off.  OK so maybe that's a little harsh, but let's be real, she was way out of line.  Now, I have moved to the Daily Grind, which has inferior coffee, but a much quieter atmosphere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although I started my time studying Exodus 1-4, I have started thinking a lot about community, a major topic in my house right now.  Maggie nd I are relizing that marriage cannot be a replacement for authentic community and fellowship.  I know I know... duh.  For obvious reasons, I guess, as newly weds, we have neglected to reach out to our closest friends to walk through this time with us.  It's as if we think that we can do it on our own or something.  Marriage has been a truly sweet thing for us, but the truth is that we don't really have any idea what we are doing.  I think I need my friends to know my heart now more than ever.  A lot is at stake.  Here's my point.  If you know someone who get's married, don't let this thought happen:  "Oh well.  We won't see thosw two for six months, so I'm not gonna bother them.  After all, they are newly weds, and they just want to be with eachother."  Even if that is what they want, I am telling you that it is not what they need.  They need their friends to gather around them in prayer, and to challenge them more than ever.  Love your friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll drink some Apple Cider...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-7174938922547134489?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/7174938922547134489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=7174938922547134489' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/7174938922547134489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/7174938922547134489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2008/10/rainy-day-reflection.html' title='Rainy Day Reflection'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-4730607639534822637</id><published>2008-09-30T11:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T12:02:52.706-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Haikus about Dan Marotta</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SOJ3qmJRtCI/AAAAAAAAABY/LeOnIkPPFcg/s1600-h/s735176836_111222_7121.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SOJ3qmJRtCI/AAAAAAAAABY/LeOnIkPPFcg/s320/s735176836_111222_7121.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251891689145087010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Banana pudding&lt;br /&gt;Dan should use it as hair gel&lt;br /&gt;He won't look sixteen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To spell  Marotta&lt;br /&gt;Like Climbing Mount Everest&lt;br /&gt;Strenuous training&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--------------&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cool Chaco footwear&lt;br /&gt;Dan crosses mighty rivers&lt;br /&gt;Comfy and no slip&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-4730607639534822637?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/4730607639534822637/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=4730607639534822637' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/4730607639534822637'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/4730607639534822637'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2008/09/haikus-about-dan-marotta.html' title='Haikus about Dan Marotta'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SOJ3qmJRtCI/AAAAAAAAABY/LeOnIkPPFcg/s72-c/s735176836_111222_7121.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-4705266473980906875</id><published>2008-09-11T10:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T12:52:00.345-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Prayer in Iraq</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SMl2qTcaUhI/AAAAAAAAABI/cSzXIGeKiSs/s1600-h/_38950525_atprayer203.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SMl2qTcaUhI/AAAAAAAAABI/cSzXIGeKiSs/s320/_38950525_atprayer203.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5244853710195675666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched a show last night called "God's Soldier."  It was about an Army chaplain in a battalion stationed in a very dangerous part of Northern Iraq.  It was the most fascinating thing I have seen in a long time.  This is a guy who's full time job, as a soldier, is to counsel, befriend, comfort, and lead in worship soldiers who are patrolling Iraqi towns and villages where insurgents are hiding.  He talks to soldiers about their relationships with their wives back home.  He talks to them about faith and teaches them from the Bible and services in his tent, and at various military outposts.  One of the things he encounters is questions about God and war.  One question is, "how does God allow war to happen?"  The other big one is, "If I am a Christian, is it OK for me to shoot and kill the enemy?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The second question is evidently on the minds of many soldiers, which is great comfort to me.  It is encouraging to know that American soldiers are trying to follow a moral code for war.  The Bible talks about a time for everything, including War.  Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8 :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"&gt; There is                an appointed time for everything. And there is a time for every                event under heavenC&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;sup&gt;                 2&lt;/sup&gt; A time to give birth, and a time to                 die; A time to plant, and a time to uproot what is planted.&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;sup&gt;3&lt;/sup&gt; A time to kill, and a time to heal; A time to tear                 down, and a time to build up.&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;sup&gt;4&lt;/sup&gt; A time to weep, and a time to laugh; A time to                 mourn, and a time to dance.&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;sup&gt;5&lt;/sup&gt; A time to throw stones, and a time to gather                 stones; A time to embrace, and a time to shun embracing.&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;sup&gt;6&lt;/sup&gt; A time to search, and a time to give up as lost; A                 time to keep, and a time to throw away.&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;sup&gt;7&lt;/sup&gt; A time to tear apart, and a time to sew together; A                 time to be silent, and a time to speak.&lt;br /&gt;              &lt;sup&gt;8&lt;/sup&gt; A time to love, and a time to hate; A time for war,                 and a time for peace.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Chaplain used this verse, in a sermon, to encourage Soldiers that, if they are fighting the enemy, it is their duty to fight and to kill.  This war is a time like in the verse above.  It is a time for war.  Overall, the show was incredibly uplifting.  This chaplain is leading soldiers in prayer, even as they see their friends killed every day.  He seemed like a very Godly man and a blessing to the soldiers around him.  Here is my question:  Who's call are they following, God's, or Americas, and can we assume they are the same?  I think it is very important to differentiate between God and America in situations like this.  America is a great nation, but it is not God's nation.  America is proud to be a democracy, so it is the people's nation.  We must remember that Israel was a theocracy, the nation of God.  We cannot act like living in America is the same as living in God's nation.  I am very very thankful to have a president who prays, but the truth is that America's direction and leadership does not equal God's direction and leadership.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope I don't sound too cynical here.  If you hear about this show, "God's Soldier," please check it out.  My best guess is that God loves that chaplains are speaking the Word of God to those Americans who have been entrusted with the deadly responsibility of fighting wars.  I'm reminded to pray for our soldiers and their hearts as they encounter death, destruction, and hatred in a way I never have.  I also now pray for the men and women whose job it is to try and morally and spiritually guide our friends, brothers and sisters, and sons and daughters, fighting around the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-4705266473980906875?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/4705266473980906875/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=4705266473980906875' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/4705266473980906875'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/4705266473980906875'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2008/09/prayer-in-iraq.html' title='Prayer in Iraq'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SMl2qTcaUhI/AAAAAAAAABI/cSzXIGeKiSs/s72-c/_38950525_atprayer203.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-6388900739198793879</id><published>2008-09-02T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T14:31:58.650-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Space Travel</title><content type='html'>Let's be honest.  We've all thought about it.  Whether or not you watched the broadcasts from the Apollo missions or were fascinated by sci-movies like Space Camp (A classic film about a group of campers who are accidentally launched into space during a visit to the space shuttle)  Everyone has gone to bed dreaming about the elusive sensation of floating in zero gravity.  The problem is, unless you are one of the best pilots in the world, have perfect vision, a perfect body, and graduated from Harvard with an engineering degree, you have no chance of ever becoming an astronaut.  That was then... This is Now!  I present, Virgin Galactic Airways:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SL2bWhSUEeI/AAAAAAAAABA/ayacwAcbsHU/s1600-h/spaceshiptwo-virgin-galactic.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SL2bWhSUEeI/AAAAAAAAABA/ayacwAcbsHU/s320/spaceshiptwo-virgin-galactic.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5241516352523735522" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Founded by British Billionaire Richard Bransen, Virgin Galactic is the first ever commercial space travel company.  All it takes is a dream, some free time, and $200,000.  As early as 2009, passengers will enjoy an exciting ride, and about 2 hours of zero-G time in space.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So What...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So What?!  Are you kidding me?  This is spectacular, a dream come true for those of us who have been dreaming of somersaulting across the cabin with a view of the Earth outside the window.  I have compiled a list of things I think would be funny to play with in a zero-gravity environment:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. a yo yo&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. a 400lb dumbell (i want video of me doing bicep curls with it so I can impress my wife&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  a squeeze bottle of coca-cola, so i can give someone a drink from across the room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. a frisbee.  Think of the distance you could achieve if there was enough room&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. break dancing.  Just think of the move you could do in zero-g&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-6388900739198793879?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/6388900739198793879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=6388900739198793879' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/6388900739198793879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/6388900739198793879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2008/09/space-travel.html' title='Space Travel'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SL2bWhSUEeI/AAAAAAAAABA/ayacwAcbsHU/s72-c/spaceshiptwo-virgin-galactic.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-7801443978349361642</id><published>2008-08-25T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-25T11:51:16.012-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Better than Breakfast</title><content type='html'>"What goes together with Sunday morning church better than a pancake the size of North Dakota? Nothing, that's what."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Dan Marotta&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK, I have a few thoughts to share about the above quoted question by my co-worker Dan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually can think of something that goes better with Sunday morning church than a state-sized pancake (if your gonna pick a state, at least pick Louisiana.  It looks like an "L," like my name!).  Only one thing, in fact, is much much more awesome than an enormous pancake.  I'm sure you know what it is.  It's so obvious.  That's right folks: Fighter Jets!!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SLL9XnFXQEI/AAAAAAAAAAw/saQVRWJBepE/s1600-h/f-22-19990601-f-0000l-001.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SLL9XnFXQEI/AAAAAAAAAAw/saQVRWJBepE/s320/f-22-19990601-f-0000l-001.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5238527898655604802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I realize I am a boy and am writing from a boy's point of view, but I am confident that after reading this, anyone will be convinced that Fighter Jets are the coolest things in the world.  Nothing fulfills the manly desires for speed, power, and stealthy maneuverability better than the F-22 Raptor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cooking a pancake is pretty fast.  Let's say an average pancake takes 3 minutes to cook.  Now, let's compare that to the F-22 Raptor.  The F-22 can fly at 1,500 mph.  At that speed, it could fly over the entire state of North Dakota in slightly over 13 minutes, about the time it takes to cook 4 pancakes.  So as far as speed goes, Fighter Jets clearly dominate pancakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's move to power. F-22, with 2 jet engines punching out 35,000 pounds of thrust each, can lift around 40,000 lbs of weight in addition to it's own weight.  The tensile strength of the average pancake is probably around 2 lbs.  That means, if you attached 2 pounds of weight to a pancake and held up the other end, it would stay together.  Not much of a comparison, is it?  Incidentally, it would only take around 2,500 F-22s to lift every resident of North Dakota off the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I've proved my point.  It doesn't seem necessary to go into how much more stealthy and maneuverable Fighter Jets are than pancakes the size of any of the great States of this country.  I am confident that with the proper training, laser-eye surgery, and a presidential endorsement, I might one day become a fighter pilot.  Until that day, I'll be down stairs on Sunday mornings gaping in awe as Dan Marotta flips enormous pancakes up in the air, and onto the plates of smiling children.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-7801443978349361642?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/7801443978349361642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=7801443978349361642' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/7801443978349361642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/7801443978349361642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2008/08/better-than-breakfast.html' title='Better than Breakfast'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SLL9XnFXQEI/AAAAAAAAAAw/saQVRWJBepE/s72-c/f-22-19990601-f-0000l-001.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-4817110760078459524</id><published>2008-08-18T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T13:18:51.142-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Top 10 Things I Don't Know</title><content type='html'>1&lt;span style="font-size:130%;"&gt;.  How to spell Dan "Marotta's" name.   In my head I now say, Mare-Otta.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2.  What actually happened with the Dinosaurs.  Were they real?  If so, what happened to them?  Why doesn't the Bible mention them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3.  Why some people have back hair and others do not (I totally don't...  cough cough).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4.  The secret recipe to the Coca-Cola formula.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5.  How Michael Phelps is able to completely dominate with such ease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6.  If I prefer crunchy or creamy peanut butter.  It really seems like a game-time decision to me&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7.  What super-power I would choose if I could pick.  I tend towards flying... let's be real, that would be incredible, but I think teleporting would actually be more useful...  Did you see X-Men 2... Night Crawler was out of control.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8.   If I will ever have an afro again - Greg Thompson says yes, but my wife is not too sure about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9.   What actor would play me in a movie about my life... if Brad Pitt was unable to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10.   OK, if you know Ben or Kyle Hammill, they do this noise with their fingers that is unbelievable.  I know what you're thinking, and it's not the finger snap thing, this is something totally new.  How the heck do they do that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-4817110760078459524?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/4817110760078459524/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=4817110760078459524' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/4817110760078459524'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/4817110760078459524'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2008/08/top-10-things-i-dont-know.html' title='Top 10 Things I Don&apos;t Know'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-2207311445681966909</id><published>2008-08-15T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-18T06:53:41.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'>FEAR</title><content type='html'>One of the things adults think about the kids is that although they seem to be cool and confident, they are actually insecure about basically everything.  Insecure about what they wear, what their bodies look like, how smart they are, how athletic they are, who their friends are, what kind of music they like... basically everything.  Most adults are convinced they most of the things kids do is motivated by these insecurities.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the reasons adults know this, is that once, long ago when ice covered vast parts of North America, they were a teenager themselves.  I'm 23 years old and married with a steady job.  By all definitions, I'm practically as adult as they come (break while I vomit).  Guess what motivated me when I was in middle school and high school...  Surprise surprise, it was my own armada of steadily attacking insecurities.  I cared a lot about how my arms looked in my football jersey on Fridays.  I cared a lot that Jessica Zulick flirted with me in math class.  I was too afraid to dance to anything but a slow song at middle-school dances, and then when a slow song came on, I was terrified to actually ask a girl to dance.  In fact, I would have rather dived into a swimming pool filled with shards of broke glass than risk being rejected by one of the 3 girls I thought might really say yes to me.  Until I hit a growth spurt in 7th grade, I was a chubby kid, and I HATED that.  I thought about the fact that I was heavy every single day.  Here's my question:  When are you supposed to grow out of that?  Is that what being a "grown-up" means?  I don't think so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids also think a lot of different things about "grown-ups."  They mostly have these thoughts in reference to their parents.  They may think their parents are stupid and uncool and clueless and embarrassing, but they generally believe that their parents are pretty capable at living life, and that they pretty much know what to do about stuff.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to make a confession on behalf of the "grown-ups."  If we're honest, we are still living in light of our insecurities.  We just don't call them that anymore.  We call it fear.  So I just took over as a Middle School Ministry Director.  I'm afraid.  I'm afraid that the ideas I have won't work.  I'm afraid that students won't care what I have to say and won't want to hang out with me.  I'm afraid of the opinions other people have about how good of a job I'm doing.  I know that if I let myself, everything I did in my job would be motivated by these fears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think one of my problems is that I think about things in terms of myself, as opposed to the Truth:  I am living in the Kingdom of God, and the king, Jesus Christ is &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;for&lt;/span&gt; me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I read Romans 8 this morning.  It is a powerful and rich chapter.  One line stood out to me as I thought about how to deal with the fears I have. "If God is for us, who can be against?" (Rom 8 :31).  I wonder what my life would look like if I believed that all the time.  It means that the one person who's opinion matters is completely behind me.  It means that my acceptance is NOT BASED ON HOW GOOD I AM, or how good of a job I do. It is based on the Truth that The Lord Almighty, the one who breathes the stars into existence, has adopted me as a son, and loves me because I am his (also from Romans 8.  check out verses 14-17).  That is crazy to me.  It makes no sense.   It is the wonderful news that frees me from my fears.  I really believe this:  Nothing else but Jesus can accomplish this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-2207311445681966909?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/2207311445681966909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=2207311445681966909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/2207311445681966909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/2207311445681966909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2008/08/fear.html' title='FEAR'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-878018689857105947.post-1320726939959284572</id><published>2008-08-14T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-14T14:16:42.323-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is Crazy</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;So, Life is pretty crazy.  I've been married for about a month to a beautiful woman named Maggie, I just started a new job as the Middle School Director at Trinity Pres Church in C'ville, and I have a crazy-itchy mosquito bite behind my left knee.  I had a friend named Andre who called them "moquitos."  I think that's hilarious, but sometimes people think I'm a little childish...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;Today, we had a Salsa party in my office at church.  It was a little confusing, because some people brought salsa and chips, and others came in to salsa dance.  The truth is, the party was intentionally a double-salsa themed party.  I recruited my friend Ellen to make Guacamole, and had my Afro-Cuban Allstars CD playing when people arrived.  Katie P generously used my white board to make a "welcome to the salsa party" sign.  Mark Hutton did not come to the Salsa Party, so it will be my goal to get him in hear next week... yes, it is a new weekly tradition.  Bring your friends.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"&gt;One final note.  Many of you who read this may also read Dan Moratta's Blog.  Let's just all be honest about where the real party is.  That's all I'm saying...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/878018689857105947-1320726939959284572?l=perfectruin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/feeds/1320726939959284572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=878018689857105947&amp;postID=1320726939959284572' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/1320726939959284572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/878018689857105947/posts/default/1320726939959284572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://perfectruin.blogspot.com/2008/08/life-is-crazy.html' title='Life is Crazy'/><author><name>Lewis Lovett</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/05626928930788876558</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_uLfOcD7nkqw/SKWCGnoyXII/AAAAAAAAAAY/zbhbkrRZKJk/S220/P1010098.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
