Who is in control – SHAMU?

Not too long ago, I had the privilege of going to Student Leadership University [SLU] in Orlando, Florida. SLU is a youth camp for student leaders. One of the highlights of the week was going to Sea World.

We got a chance to see dolphins, sharks, turtles, and polar bears, but the true highlight and top attraction of Sea World is SHAMU. It finally came time for the big SHAMU spectacular.

We were all filing into SHAMU Stadium headed for our seats in the splash zone. I think everyone in the park could tell that all of us were stoked to get soaked.

The show began with the trainers coming out riding whales around the pool – but no sign of SHAMU. At that moment, my new goal in life was to become a SHAMU trainer, until the trainers came out of the pool doing what they called the SHAMU dance.

We, being crazy students, joined in with this crazy, lame dance. I guess the dance worked because SHAMU finally made her appearance. As she started to swim out, we all erupted screaming at the top of our lungs SHAMU,...

Chillaxin on the weekend

Saturdays are the best day for a teen like me. It may be the sleeping in until noon or watching ESPN for 4 to 5 hours a day. It’s those days that make the weekend great. Even though they may sometimes cause supreme boredom, the chillaxin is awesome.

But just when I think that no one can touch me, as I sit in my pajamas eating Cocoa Puffs, there is one phrase that can ruin a good Saturday. When my mom says those dreadful words, “TIME TO CLEAN YOUR ROOM,” I begin to complain and put it off for as long as I can, until my mom practically locks me in my room and makes me clean it.

I begin to look around frantically, and I dreadfully realize that if I clean my entire room, I will miss three back-to-back episodes of Sports Center. So, of course, me being the lazy teenager I am, I search to find the easiest way to remove all the gym clothes, shoes, last week’s gym socks, old sandwiches, empty Gatorade bottles and lost Spanish reports from 2005.

As I scan my room for a place to cram all these things, I stop at...

Why Perform for Others?

This summer I decided to tryout for my high school football team. On the first day of practice as we walked down to the practice field, it seemed like all of us were sizing up the competition. There are guys that are six foot five, guys who can run fast and others who have so much endurance they can run five miles and still not be tired.

Even the coaches are sizing up the variety of talent on the field.

Everyone out there had an obsession with winning. For better or worse, in the world of sports it is all about success and performance. But in the game of life, we can’t always go undefeated.

What I am learning in this particular season of my life is that God does not look at our performance. He doesn’t care if I’m the fastest, the strongest, or the tallest; He is interested in my heart and my relationship with Him.

Sometimes I get caught up in the race of pleasing my peers, always trying to perform and get the approval of my “peeps.” Unfortunately, that’s often the way of the world—always about how...

The Ice Pack Attack

It was a lonely and painful day of baby-sitting and the only thing I could think to do with my sister was to watch TV. She was getting bored because, of course, me being a guy, I’m not the best baby-sitter. I just watched ESPN for three hours. My sister, desperate for some fun, decided to play a game called “ice pack attack.” She thought it would be funny to nail me in the face with a frigid, freezing cold ice pack.

In my attempt to protect my big tough brother status, I had to retaliate. I grabbed two ice packs out of the freezer and slung one with all my might at her face and, of course, I hit her. Little did I know what was going to happen next? My sister, in her mad dash for protection, jumped on the couch, which happened to be fairly new. I ran over to the couch, ice pack in hand, and started to pummel the pillow she had over her head. As I continued, I noticed this strange blue Jell-O-like substance all over the couch.

I made a mad dash for some paper towels, and as I‘m tearing open the package, I...