Technologically Challenged Dad

One of the best reasons to have children is that they can help you navigate life’s ever-changing technology when you’ve reached the point of befuddlement.

My sons and wife gave me the entire original Twilight Zone TV series — all five years’ worth — as a DVD pack Christmas present. I had an earlier eclectic DVD set of a handful of episodes. I probably would have tried to sell that at a local entertainment store and received a few bucks. My oldest son, Josh, suggested he sell it for me on the Internet to get a better price. Sure enough, it drew a $28 bid.

Youngest son Zach has recorded music from cassette tapes onto CDs for me; I don’t know how he did it, but more power to him.

Middle son Jesse suggested scanning papers that I would have had to drive into the city to fax otherwise.

Technology and young sons are a wonderful combination. Hey, boys, somebody needs to teach me how to put together a PowerPoint presentation for seminary.

Hacked Identity

I think Facebook is the greatest invention of the 21st century. It’s an especially useful tool for journalists trying to track down sources.

But imagine my surprise recently when I looked at my Facebook page to find that someone had hacked my account and posted a crude video purportedly from me onto the wall of my 225 friends. There, beside my highlighted name and my smiling picture, was a video of a baby on a toilet seat, complete with a vulgar LMAO tagline. An accompanying text told my friends: “HAHA you have to watch this baby is so cute and funny be ready to laugh.”

Of course some people knew it wasn’t me because even in social networking I won’t write a run-on sentence without punctuation. All I learned is that someone in Arlington Heights, Ill., accessed my account and for whatever reason posted the offending message in my name. I erased it from my wall immediately and put up another post explaining that I really didn’t write such a message.

Not until a week later did I comprehend that I have to go onto the Facebook accounts of all 225 friends and individually remove the post as well for it to disappear from the pages of all my friends. Some of the savvy younger types already had removed it. Seven days later I embarrassingly found my coarse content still on the pages of ministry leaders, relatives and dear elderly women.

The whole experience mortified me. I’ve changed my password to something I can’t even remember in hopes that it won’t happen again. I trust most friends know me better than to think I find such rude imagery funny. Of course it could have been worse. At least I don’t have 5,000 Facebook friends.

Living Above the Fray

I’ve been privileged to know a handful of people in my life who exude optimism every time I come into contact with them. They are always upbeat, always positive, always grateful.

Bill Jeynes is one of those people. He is a professor, scholar and evangelist. He keeps such a busy schedule preaching, researching and teaching that onlookers would think he must be exhausted and overwhelmed. Yet the more he does, the more energized Bill seems to be.

That’s because Bill is a man of prayer. Not just before meals times or at church. A cynic might say, sure, he’s got it made. But Bill has spent years in school to get multiple degrees, not to earn more money, but to have a broader scope to advance the gospel.

Skeptics also might say Bill has had it easy. But that’s not the case, either. Bill was essentially abandoned by his father and, at age 8, left in the care of his mentally unstable, atheistic mother. From that time on he pretty much had to fend for himself. As a teenager, Bill contemplated killing himself — until he encountered God in a dramatic way. He’s never been the same since.

For more than three decades, Bill has been making a difference in bettering the lives of people throughout the globe. He is a role model to me, a sometimes-cynical journalist who too easily gets a warped view of society and Christians. I hope to escape the mundane, live above the fray and be a blessing to others as Bill is.

Empty Nest Redux

In the span of two weeks, our home has gone from two boarders to none. Once again, my wife and I are empty nesters. Although we didn’t see our two live-in sons all that much, having them gone makes for a much different atmosphere.

I doubt if moving back home will be an option for either of the departed offspring anymore. After three return bouts, 26-year-old Jesse is married and living in Wisconsin with his wife. Zach also has flown the coop again after a seven-month stretch in his old bedroom. We invited Zach back to save money during his senior year of college, but after two years of living on his own, trying to mesh with old fogies didn’t set too well with him. He’s back to apartment living.

So, now it’s just my wife and me, with the aging dog and even more ancient bird. I’m looking forward to devoting myself more to my mate of 32½ years.

We spent the other night filling up the empty bedroom that Zach had vacated. Within a couple of hours, we had hauled furniture, videos, records, books, games, paint cans, suitcases and wrapping paper into the room. These items had been stuffed into closets, the garage and elsewhere.

We enjoy having the less-cluttered house to ourselves, but our guest suite is always open to treasured friends and family who visit from out of town

School Days

Monday night I went to school. It marked the first time I’ve sat in a classroom since taking a course at Wheaton College 15 years ago. And it’s been 30 years since I’ve been a student pursing a degree.

Now I’m enrolled in the master’s in counseling program at Assemblies of God Theological Seminary. Much has changed since my undergrad days. For starters, most of the students — 17 out of 24 — are women. While I’m older than nearly everybody else in the classroom, including the professor, it’s clear that many seminary students aren’t just fresh out of college.

The course, “Addictive Behaviors in Family Systems,” isn’t as intimidating as it looks on paper. Professor Mark Bradford is easygoing and affable. He genuinely enjoys the give and take discussion with students. It’s definitely a different, and better, atmosphere than the droning lectures I remember from my college days.

Most of my classmates already knew each other and seem to be full-time students, rather than taking a course a semester as I’m doing. I learned a lot in the first night. This class will be challenging, including the 75 pages to read before the next session. School will leave less time for blogging. Maybe that’s all part of learning about addiction.