best Christmas-themed videos on YouTube

a merry Christmas Eve eve, and Happy Days of Holiness wishes to all! we are looking forward to escaping our first "white Christmas" in Chicago, trading our boots and snow for flip flops and Phoenix sunshine. weather permitting, of course. as we are excited to share this season with family, friends, and dearly loved ones, i also wanted to share with you some of the Christmas-themed videos on YouTube that make me chuckle, or otherwise entertain me.

i was going to go all cliche and try to dig up twelve videos, but these will do the job. feel free to share more, if you got 'em. have a merry Christmas!


Frosty getting PWN3D - man, what did an inflatable snowman ever do to you, scrooge?

Dominick, the Italian Christmas Donkey - chingidy, ching! eeee-awww, eeee-awww!

Farting Elves from Jib Jab - yeah, i have the maturity of a twelve year old...

Christmas in Hollis - classic Run DMC

"Wizards in Winter" Christmas lights - amazing work. may cause seizures.

All I Want For Christmas Is You - BEST. CHRISTMAS SONG. EVER.

Mark Batterson's "Primal: A Quest for the Lost Soul of Christianity" :: a review

Based on the title of Mark Batterson's latest offering, I was afraid this book would slip into a rugged, chest-pounding reclamation of raw Christianity, akin to McManus' "The Barbarian Way: Unleash the Untamed Faith Within." That's not to say McManus isn't great. I just don't find that such messages resonate very deeply with me. Batterson's new book "Primal," however, is not that kind of book.

The book begins by making the argument that our generation needs a reformation, and builds a compelling case for what that reformation will eventually look like. Batterson suggests that a single person or event will not lead or define this new reformation, perhaps as Martin Luther and the posting of his 95 Theses triggered the last major reformation. Instead, this new reformation will be made up by "a movement of reformers living compassionately, creatively, and courageously for the cause of Christ."

Batterson follows this claim with a thoughtful exploration and reimagination of what it might mean, in the context of our daily lives, to live out the most basic and Greatest Commandment that Jesus gave us: to "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength." Mark 12:30. Batterson then breaks the four primal elements down, as follows...

The heart of Christianity is primal compassion.
The soul of Christianity is primal wonder.
The mind of Christianity is primal curiosity.
And the strength of Christianity is primal energy.

If you are familiar with the story of National Community Church, where Batterson is lead pastor, or regularly read his blog, you will quickly recognize that Batterson writes from exactly who he is. That is to say that "Primal" reads with the authenticity, transparency, and familiarity that make up most of what he puts out there. It is an easy read, but no less challenging. Batterson has an amazing ability to say more by using fewer words, so there were times in reading Primal that I literally had to stop after each sentence to consider the deep and profound truths and implications of what I had just read.

I don't want to drone on and on, so I'm going to wrap up here by suggesting you pick up Mark Batterson's "Primal: A Quest for the Lost Soul of Christianity" and make it your first read of 2010. May it trigger a reformation in you that ripples out across your family, community, and generation. Peace.

About The Author
Mark Batterson is the author of Wild Goose Chase and In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day. He serves as lead pastor of National Community Church in Washington, D.C. One church with nine services in five locations, NCC is focused on reaching emerging generations. Mark has two Masters degrees from Trinity Evangelical Divinity School in Chicago. He and his wife, Lora, live on Capitol Hill with their three children. www.markbatterson.com

I received my review copy of this book from WaterBrook Multnomah Publishing Group

a preview of Primal

i lifted this from Mark Batterson's blog at evotional.com. Batterson is a husband, father, author, and pastor of National Community Church in Washington, DC. his other books include "In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day" and "The Wild Goose Chase." in the coming weeks, i will be getting an advance copy of his latest title "Primal: A Quest for the Lost Soul of Christianity" and posting a review.

in the mean time, Batterson is in the process of posting daily excerpts of the book on his blog. i thought i'd share the first excerpt, so you can kind of get a feel for where he is going with this one, if you're interested.

peace, ya'll. g.
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(copied from http://evotional.com/2009/12/two-thousand-stairs.html)

"Over the next ten days I'm going to share excerpts from Primal: A Quest for the Lost Soul of Christianity. If you want to download a sample chapter, visit www.theprimalmovement.com.

Chapter 1: Two Thousand Stairs

We hopped on a double-decker bus and headed toward the heart of Rome. Lora and I had spent a year planning the trip, but nothing prepares you to stand in the very place where Caesars ruled an empire or gladiators battled to the death. As we walked the Via Sacra, we were stepping on the same two-thousand year-old stones that conquering armies marched on. Of course, I'm guessing they weren't licking gelatos. Our three days in the Eternal City went by far too fast. And I wish we hadn't waited until our fifteenth anniversary to take the trip.

Few places on earth are as historic or romantic as Rome. We thoroughly enjoyed strolling the ancient streets, people-watching in the piazzas, and eating leisurely meals at sidewalk cafes. And like good tourists, we also hit all the must-see travel book destinations. We threw a penny over our shoulders into Trevi Fountain, enjoyed an unplugged concert by an electric guitarist outside the Colosseum one moonlit evening, and took a three-hour tour of St. Peter’s Basilica. And all of the sites lived up to their travel book billing. But one of the unexpected highlights of our trip was an unplanned visit to a rather nondescript church off the beaten path. It wasn’t referenced in our travel guides. And if it hadn’t been right around the corner from our hotel, we would never have discovered it. The Church of San Clemente was named after the fourth pope, who was martyred for his faith. According to legend, anchors were tied around his ankles and he was thrown into the Black Sea.

From the outside, the church appeared weather-beaten and time-worn. But the frescoes, statues, and altars on the inside were remarkably well preserved. We quietly explored every nook and cranny of that twelfth-century church. Then we discovered that for five extra euros we could take an underground tour. As with many of the ruins we visited in Rome, there were several layers of history in the same place. The Romans had a habit of building things on top of things. Some emperors, for example, would tear down their predecessor’s palace and build their own palace right on top of it. Such was the case with the Church of San Clemente. The twelfth-century church was built over a fourth-century church. And beneath the fourth-century church were catacombs where second-century Christians secretly worshiped God before the legalization of Christianity by Constantine in 313. 

I’ll never forget my descent down that flight of stairs. The air became damp and we could hear underground springs. We carefully navigated each step as we lost some of our light. And our voices echoed off the low ceiling and narrow walkway. Almost like the wardrobe in The Chronicles of Narnia, that flight of stairs was like a portal to a different time, a different place. It was as if those stairs took us back two thousand years in time. With each step, a layer of history was stripped away until all that was left was Christianity in all of its primal glory. 

As we navigated those claustrophobic catacombs, I was overcome by the fact that I was standing in a place where my spiritual ancestors risked everything, even their lives, to worship God. And I felt a profound mixture of gratitude and conviction. I live in a First World country in the twenty-first century. And I’m grateful for the freedoms and blessings I enjoy because of when and where I live. But when you’re standing in an ancient catacomb, the comforts you enjoy make you uncomfortable. The things you complain about are convicting. And some of the sacrifices you’ve made for the cause of Christ might not even qualify under a second-century definition. 

As I tried to absorb the significance of where I was, I couldn’t help but wonder if our generation has conveniently forgotten how inconvenient it can be to follow in the footsteps of Christ. I couldn’t help but wonder if we have diluted the truths of Christianity and settled for superficialities. I couldn’t help but wonder if we have accepted a form of Christianity that is more educated but less powerful, more civilized but less compassionate, more acceptable but less authentic than that which our spiritual ancestors practiced. 

Over the last two thousand years, Christianity has evolved in lots of ways. We’ve come out of the catacombs and built majestic cathedrals with all the bells and steeples. Theologians have given us creeds and canons. Churches have added pews and pulpits, hymnals and organs, committees and liturgies. And the IRS has given us 501(c)(3) status. And there is nothing inherently wrong with any of those things. But none of those things is primal. And almost like the Roman effect of building things on top of things, I wonder if the accumulated layers of Christian traditions and institutions have unintentionally obscured what lies beneath. 

I’m not suggesting that we categorically dismiss all those evolutions as unbiblical. Most of them are simply abiblical. There isn’t a precedent for them in Scripture, but they don’t contradict biblical principles either. I’m certainly not demonizing postmodern forms of worship. After all, the truth must be reincarnated in every culture in every generation. And I am personally driven by the conviction that there are ways of doing church that no one has thought of yet. But two thousand years of history beg this question: When all of the superficialities are stripped away, what is the primal essence of Christianity? 

In the pages that follow, I want to descend that flight of stairs with you. I want us to go underground. I want us to go back in time. Think of it as a quest for the lost soul of Christianity. And by the time you reach the last page, I hope you will have done more than rediscover Christianity in its most primal form. I hope you will have gone back to the primal faith you once had. Or more accurately, the primal faith that once had you."

let it snow, let it snow, let it snow...

at this very moment, i am sitting on my couch and looking out at the first snow flurries of this Chicago winter. they look so light and playful as they swirl and flutter to the ground. i have no idea how i have lived over 30 years now and have no recollection of ever being out in falling snow before today. i feel like a little kid again. it's like i have this sense of awe and wonder that i am almost too embarrassed to admit. this isn't supposed to be that big of a deal. i mean, i'm an adult, right? it seems so childish to be amazed by something so simple, and by Chicago standards, so common.

i think that's why i like Buddy the Elf. seriously, a great Christmas movie with a main character that unabashedly demonstrates the joy and excitement of seeing and experiencing something for the very first time. what has become boring and mundane to the rest of the world is packed with possibilities for those with fresh eyes. i think it's why i like Jesus, too. once, Jesus told the people following Him that they had to become like children, or they would never enter the kingdom of heaven.

maybe there is a part of this statement that makes me hope that Jesus is giving me a big thumbs up to be childish, in that being amazed by the simple and common things is okay. like, maybe being excited and joyful about snow flurries is alright. maybe, somehow, by seeing and celebrating the simpler things i am drawing closer to what Jesus calls this "kingdom of heaven."

or maybe it is just snowing.

the sun is still shining

i am going to owe Mark Batterson a review of his latest book "Primal" here pretty soon, so i thought i should actually get a few entries in before it arrives.

we went back to Phoenix for our first Thanksgiving since moving to Chicago, and i realized i really enjoy flying. some people have a lot of stress and anxiety when it comes to getting on an airplane and cruising halfway across the country at 500+ mph while 30,000 feet above sea level. i actually find it kind of relaxing. even in the crush of holiday travel, if found the whole experience to be pretty peaceful. maybe it would be different if i had to travel a lot for work, experienced some traumatic brush with death on a flight, or was going to visit people i didn't care for. as it was, none of these were the case.

flight reminds me that the sun is still shining. from the ground, things can look pretty dark and dreary sometimes. but no matter how dark the day, if you jump on an airplane and climb to 30,000 feet, at some point, you'll break through the clouds and see that the sun is still shining. maybe you couldn't see it from where you were at before, and maybe you couldn't feel it at the time, but the sun was still shining. in the dreariest days, and on the coldest nights, the sun was still shining. in the deepest of darkness, when the earth had completely turned its back and dawn seemed half a world away, the sun was still shining.

and it still is...

i don't have any profound, spiritual insight at to why, but for some reason, i find great comfort and peace in knowing that the sun is still shining.