Events of Thanksgiving Day for which I’m Thankful

1. Teaching my crazy family to play Mafia (they were terrible and hilarious – instead of trying to figure out who the Mafia ACTUALLY was, the towns people kept accusing one another, citing personal vendetta reasons that were not at all game-related. Ridiculous!).
2. My daughter, who seems to be learning her social skills from Curious George. Lots of grunting. Lots of risk taking.
3. Noticing that my son’s face lights up with a great big smile when I’m in the room. His eyes follow me around the room wherever I go.
4. Chili Dip
5. Knowing that I’m living the dream because I’ve got the best job in the world: working at a church that loves me and prays for me. Not many people like their jobs; I feel very blessed to get to do what I love most in life.
6. A mother and father-in-law that love blessing other people. Every holiday season, they have people in and out of their house for weeks. I am grateful for their example of hospitality and celebration of life and family.
7. Good books. I’m reading 3 right now: The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant: Against All Things Ending by Stephen Donaldson, Surprised by Hope by NT Wright, and Accompanying Them With Singing by Tom Long.
8. A wife who puts up with my constant insanity, instability, and infatuation with her. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me.
9. Talking archeology, theology, biblical studies, and American History with Michael Fosha.
10. Football

 

Things I could have done without:

1. student loans
2. mustaches
3. male pattern baldness
4. cholesterol
5. green beans
6. calvinism
7. baby poo
8. the cowboys and the lions
9. snuggies
10. making the bed

 

“30 for 30″ #5: The Little Guy Always Wins

My brother Travis and I are always in the mood for a good dog-pile. We’ve been known to dog-pile my dog Jet, sometimes toddlers, and quite often my wife.

The funny thing about my wife is that when she gets dog-piled, she keeps on mouthing…in her own Cassie sort of way. Even when she’s on the bottom of a Fuerst Brother’s Dog-Pile, you can hear her screaming, “THE LITTLE GUY ALWAYS WINS!!!!”

It always makes me laugh because clearly the little guy is losing.

Yet over time I have realized there’s a bit of truth to what she’s saying: the gospels teach us that the little guy does always wins. From the beginning of the New Testament, the message has been that God will overthrow the mighty and uplift the broken, the arrogant cannot stand and the poor in spirit are blessed.

The Little Guy Always Wins slogan was best embodied by Jesus, who taking on the form of a human being, died on a cross under the weight of Roman power, only to resurrect 3 days later and proclaim, “Death has no hold on us! We need not be afraid of the bigger, more powerful guys! The little guys always win!”

It is the Apostle Paul (whose name literally means “the little guy”) who tells us of Jesus’s humility in Philippians 2. I won’t bore you with the Greek grammar, but the point he’s making is that central to God’s character, before the foundations of creation, was the fact that God is humble. The incarnation of Jesus is just the logical and natural manifestation of God’s humility.

“THEREFORE,” says Paul, “HAVE THIS MIND IN YOU!”

It may not look like the little guy is winning when he’s hanging on a Roman cross. But 3 days later, when death could not hold him, the truth became earth shatteringly clear:

THE LITTLE GUY ALWAYS WINS!!!

“30 for 30″ #3: In 20 Years I Won’t Remember I Went to Bed

My college dormitory’s name was Crouch Hall. And it was as dirty as the name might suggest. The showers smelled like foot. A special funk emanated from some unknown origin. J.R. Top, I remember, once commented in an assembly, “I’m from Crouch; it smells like pee.” And I won’t even tell you about the dudes on my wing that used to shave each other’s backs… just know it happened and that it added to the already established persona.

As funky a place as Crouch Hall was, I will never forget how much I grew in the Lord in those halls. We would stay up late debating theology, holding each other accountable, encouraging each other to wage war on sin, and, of course, doing stupid college-guy things like try to crush unopened soda cans on our heads.

One night I remember my friend Brandon Fredman being incredibly tired as we sat in the Crouch foyer late at night. He was yawning and looked like he was about to pass out as we were having our usual theological arguments.

So I said to him, “Hey bro, why don’t you just go to bed?”

Yes, I have braces. If you make fun of me, I'll pick you up and body slam you....and I'll remember it fondly in 20 years.

His reply was something that stuck with me even till this day, “Because in 20 years I won’t remember that I went to bed, but I will remember that I stayed up late hanging out with guys who love talking about God.”

Here, 7 years after college, I know he was exactly right. I cannot think of a single time I went to bed and was responsible. But I think fondly on 4 years of learning from a fantastic group of guys, most of whom are still serving God today (and I attribute part of it at least to those late nights).

There’s no doubt we were probably an arrogant bunch of jerks. There’s no doubt that we thought we knew everything about life and love and predestination. But there’s also no doubt that we loved God and loved each other.

In 20 years you will not remember getting your to-do list done. But you will remember the lives who touched yours and the lives that were touched by you. Take advantage of the time you have to spend with good friends. In 20 years, it will be these times that you remember with much fondness. Good friends really are a sacrament. (Just don’t say that around HLG. They’re Baptist!)

Christian Abernatha, Brandon Fredman, Caleb Chapman, Jesse Hill, Jesse Baedke, and Luke Bray – I love you guys. We may not see each other much anymore, but you are still with me. I am eternally indebted to your friendship. Thanks for being men of God.

Oh, and Brandon….T.F.

Favorite Memory #2: The Phoebus Defiled Illinois (Especially the Cubs)

Well, I guess the I don’t have to worry about the Phoebus being a Cubs fan! That’s right, folks, in the following story I will demonstrate that my daughter has a healthy disdain for all things Cubbies…and probably all things Illinois (sorry to Rachel, Josh, and Brenda).

The small triad knowns as the Fuerst family travelled from Wilmore, Kentucky to Fulton, Missouri early last month. The trip, if you know your geography, took us through the southern part of Indiana (blessed be Larry Bird) and the purtrid, monotonous, wastebasket known as Illinois.

I know, I know, many of your wonder, “What could be worse than driving through Illinois?” Well, I’ve got it – the sucktastic experience of driving through Illinois could only get suckier by travelling through Illinois SLOWER THAN THE EARLIEST AMERICAN SETTLERS! In other words, we encountered a traffic jam. Apparently the blessed State of Illinois decided Memorial Day weekend was the best time to start an interstate rejuvenating program.

So anyway, the Phoebus is quite good at sleeping during these long trips from KY to Missouri, but the stank of Illinois combined with the break-neck pace at which we were travelling through there apparently kept her awake.

She screamed for nearly the entire state…bloody murder, fighting mad, red-faced, OMG we’re gonna be stuck here forever kind of screaming.

All at once, she let out a huge, juicy, wet diaper dandy – AND WE WERE STILL IN THE TRAFFIC JAM!

Luckily we were relatively close to a truck stop. We pulled in there only to find out that the bathrooms were probably dirtier than the Phoebus’s diaper.

So, in good ole hick fashion, the wife and I changed the Phoebus, in 60 degree whether on the trunk of our car. B/c she had defiled her entire outfit (nay, the entire state of Illinois!), we had to strip her down naked. We, no doubt, confirmed what our lisence plate says – We’re from Kentucky!

The stanky mess was so bad it took both of us to clean her up and we’re pretty sure Illinois has not yet recovered.

So, as it turns out, the Phoebus is not a Cubs fan, hates Illinois like I do, and will not stop until she lets the entire state know that it is defiled and worthless.