Laughter is a gift from God. When we refuse to accept it, it makes Him want to take it back. Like the unicorns.

189. The (G)DTR

god/ love April 29, 2008 • Comments

It is a well documented fact that if a girlfriend/boyfriend ever says, “we need to talk,” what they mean is, “I am about to break up with you.” A good conversation never starts with “we need to talk.” Another bad one that I have mentioned before is, “FYI.” No one ever tells you, “FYI, you are really, really good looking.” or “FYI, your bonus is going to be bigger than we planned this year.” No, instead it’s usually, “FYI, I need those papers on my desk at 7AM tomorrow” or “FYI, I did eat the last donut and it was spectacular.”

Those are easy to understand, but the (G)DTR is much more confusing. Most relationships, Christian or not, have a Define The Relationship conversation. That is by no means a uniquely Christian thing to do. It’s that somewhat awkward talk where you try to determine where you are headed, what you are looking for, etc. But it gets all the more complicated when you bring G into it and create the (G)DTR.

The (G)DTR is more complicated than the standard DTR because now in addition to trying to understand your boyfriend’s needs you’ve brought the Creator of the universe into the mix. Now in addition to saying you don’t like that he is playing so much Grand Theft Auto 4 (came out today, that was wicked topical of me to mention it by the way) you have to factor in what Yahweh wants in the relationship. That’s why I have created this handy guide. It translates the things you most often hear in a (G)DTR and tells you what is really being said. Enjoy:

1. They say: “I need to unpack some things and reassess my boundaries.”

They mean: “I’ve secretly gone to counseling and learned some new words that are going to make your head hurt. I’m breaking up with you.”

2. They say: “I feel that I need to spend more time with God.”

They mean: “I feel that I need to spend more time with God and less time with you. I’m breaking up with you.”

3. They say: “I think God is calling me into missions.”

They mean: “The first place God wants me to visit is a land called ‘somwhere you are not.’ I’m leaving tonight. I’m breaking up with you.”

4. They say: “I think God has gifted me with a life of celibacy.”

They mean: “I’ve just dropped the equivalent of a dating atomic bomb. Good luck with all that. I’m breaking up with you.”

5. They say: “I feel like we’ve grown apart.”

They mean: “I represent the word ‘grown,’ you represent, ‘apart,’ as in your falling apart. I’m breaking up with you.”

Wow, those all came out kind of dark and like something the band “the Cure” would have written. I think a (G)DTR can go really well. It can be the start of something really good and I would have written about that except my experience at Samford University was more like one of the five conversations above. And my wife and I are probably going to write a book together titled, “Love in a time of sarcasm.” We’re both going to wear matching cream sweaters and we’ll probably rent a Golden Retriever to sit at our feet when they take the photo by a babbling brook that is saying, “babble, babble, love, love, babble, babble.” So I don’t want to give away too much of the book by writing about all the cool stuff that can flow out of a good (G)DTR.

188. Judging someone’s faith based on their Bible underlining.

Bible April 29, 2008 • Comments

I have a friend that only writes with pencil in his Bible because there’s a verse in Revelation that says something about not adding anything to the Bible. He feels that taking notes in it violates that. He is silly and aware of it. But for many of us, seeing how someone writes in their Bible is a fantastic way to jump to some delightful conclusions. Here’s how I analyze the people around me at church:

Straight black ink
This guy or girl doesn’t play around. Other people might be dancing across the page with colors that would make Rainbow Brite blush but not them. They have a black pen and a furrowed brow and if they want to underline the book of Luke, they’re going to.

Colors, so many colors
This person makes the straight black ink person cringe. At church they typically have one of those Bible covers that look like their Bible is going to assault Mount Everest after church. Zippers and pockets everywhere. Out of one of them they pull a handful of colored pencils. Red for Jesus. Black for God. Yellow for verses that make me happy. Extra points if they have an individual color assigned to each disciple. “John, you are Cornflower Blue. Peter, you can be Magenta. Mark, I think you feel like Periwinkle.” La, la, la.

Sir Noteington
This guy is the most interesting because he writes in the margin. So in addition to just underlining verses, he’s adding his own color commentary. “Ohh, good point! Need to remember that tomorrow at work!” I like this approach because you can tell a lot about a person from what verses they focus on. For instance, if he’s written a bunch of notes around James 5:16, which tells you to confess one to another, please know that during the meet and greet portion of the service, his answer to the question, “how are you today?” is going to be 17-minutes long.

Stars, circles, rainbows, clovers
I think those are actually the delicious shapes of the marshmallows in Lucky Charms cereal. But every now and then you will meet someone that is like a map designer or cartographer. Instead of notes or underlines, they’re drawing shapes and symbols in their Bible. After a good sermon, their book of Romans looks like a map you’d find in an Indiana Jones movie.

I like drawing in the Bible. I think it’s a cool way to personalize a book that is supposed to be personal. And, if you take notes on a sermon you remember more of it, can reference it later during the week and can catch your minister doing a rerun or “encore presentation” of the message next year.

187. Leaving room for the holy spirit when you dance.

Music April 28, 2008 • Comments

My relationship with dancing is shaky at best. I took tap dancing in high school. Got dumped in a coat closet at a dance once and was not allowed to dance at my wedding. All in all, I would say we’ve had a love/hate relationship for most of my life. But something I will forever love is the idea of “leaving room for the holy spirit.”

This is the phrase that I heard at any Christian event that involved dancing. Now the first thing you’ll want to say is “You had it lucky, we weren’t allowed to even dance.” And that’s true, this post is not a complaint. It’s more of a celebration of a classicly Christian phrase.

And you’d only really hear it when you were slow dancing to songs like “The Lady in Red.” (Which by the way is an awesome awful song.) A youth leader would come over, pull you and your partner away from each other by the shoulders and say, “leave some room for the holy spirit you two.”

I always used to wonder if the holy spirit was cool with that. I mean, maybe when he heard that his first thought was, “Ugh, that kid is sweaty and covered with acne. That girl is nervous and applied her makeup with a firehose. Really? You’re leaving room for me between two hormone drunk seventh graders? No thanks. I’m all set.”

186. You down with O.P.P.? Whoops, I meant G.O.D.

god/ Music/ pop culture April 28, 2008 • Comments

There are three ways to use a secular song in your service at church.

1. Pretend that the songwriter is singing about God and not his girlfriend.
2. Wait for a Christian band to cover it so it becomes socially acceptable.
3. Godify the lyrics so that they feel like a church song.

Number 3 is far and away my favorite method. Unfortunately, a lot of the churches I attend choose to take option 1 so I am often denied the delight of the third path. But that’s why I rely so much on people that read this site.

A girl recently emailed me and said that at her youth group, they used to sing a version of Naughty by Nature’s song, “OPP.” During the 90s, this song was massive. I didn’t love it as much as perhaps the vocal acrobatics of “Color Me Badd,” but it was still really popular. In the song, a young man extols his appreciation for a variety of body parts and romantic relationships in a way that is less than scriptural. He tops off the ballad with a chorus that contains the phrase “You down with O.P.P.?”

I’ll let you figure out what OPP stands for (don’t google it at work), but at my friend’s church they changed the lyrics to “you down with G.O.D.?” Instead of rapping a sexual, testosterone filled jumble of words, they cleaned it up a little and opened up youth group with the song.

That is fantastic. I personally wish someone would do that with Prince’s entire catalog. Just imagine the possibilities:

  • Purple Reign (This would be about God’s majesty.)

  • His (Instead of “Kiss” this song could be about belonging to God)

  • Serving Mother Helper (This really dirty Prince song could instead be about helping your mom around the house.)

  • Raspberry Tankini (Instead of a beret, we could sing a song about proper bathing suits.)

Those are silly, but I promise, the next time you hear any of those songs, in your head you’ll think, “She wore a raspberry tankini, the kind you find at a Christian bookstore.”

185. Good enough for the church (or God’s love letter to artists)

god/ Serious Wednesdays April 28, 2008 • Comments

Like a lot of things on this site, you’ll probably never hear someone deem something, “good enough for the church.” But if you’ve spent any amount of time in the church, chances are you’ve bumped up against this. One of the top worship leaders in the country drove this home for me when he recently said the reason people liked his work was that he was “from the recording industry and had never believed something was good enough for the church.”

I think this happens for a number of reasons. Sometimes it is financial. Not everyone has the budget of a mega church. So they’ll ask for the “ministry rate” when it comes to work. But often that means, “we’d like your B- quality work.” Sometimes it’s a matter of resources. If volunteers are tithing their time it’s hard to do a massive musical with just 10% of someone’s commitment. Other times it’s a product of having the right person in the wrong ministry. Like the example I gave of the church that didn’t want to hurt the unskilled guitar player’s feelings so they just kept turning his speaker down lower and lower. Sometimes we misinterpret our gifts and end up serving in a way we’re not supposed to.

Those are all symptoms though and don’t get at the core issue. (Core issue is such a counseling term.) At the heart of it, the reason the church is not known as being a global leader in creativity and excellence is pretty simple. We missed God’s love letter to artists.

I missed it about a dozen times myself. But while doing a two-year walk through of a one year read the whole Bible study plan, I stumbled upon it in Exodus.

There are two parts and both are pretty subtle though I’ve written about them before. The first takes place in Exodus 30 and 31. In 30, God anoints Aaron and consecrates the priests. It’s a big deal, with fragrant spices, sacred oil and a sense of the holy that is almost tangible through the pages. And after it’s over, do you know who God focuses on next? Do you know who comes second? The artists.

I had to read that a few times until I believed. There in the desert, as God establishes His people, as He sets into motion His very heart, the artists fall directly after the priests. Maybe that’s mindblowing only to me, but I find that stunning. Of all the professions, of all the people in the desert, it is the artists He speaks to next. Is there a more beautiful reflection of the importance He places on art and creativity?

We’ve made God military in a lot of our culture. We march in God’s army. We have men’s groups that are based on battle, but He doesn’t focus on the warriors after the priests. He doesn’t say the strength and might are most important after Aaron and the priests. He says creativity is.

Here is what 31:3 says:

“and I have filled him (Bezalel) with the Spirit of God, with skill, ability and knowledge in all kinds of crafts- to make artistic designs for work in gold, silver and bronze, to cut and set stones, to work in wood, and to engage in all kinds of craftsmanship.”

This is not a cold, boring, vanilla God speaking. This is the first and ultimate patron of the arts sounding a gong for anyone that has a scrap of creativity in them. But I said this love letter to artists has two parts.

The second part continues in chapter 36. As they prepare to build the ark, God issues a call to the artists in the desert. Verse 2 says:

“Then Moses summoned Bezalel and Oholiab and every skilled person to whom the Lord had given ability and who was willing to come and do the work.”

That verse punched me in the stomach. If you read it, you realize there were only two conditions to building the ark as an artist. You had to have the skill and you had to be willing. That means that some people refused the call and sat on their hands in the desert instead. They could have built God’s ark, His temple, but instead chose to sit in the desert and waste their talent.

When I prayed about that, I felt like God told me I had the same opportunity to build his temple everyday. I replied, “what are you talking about? You’re crazy.” (He’s big enough for me to say honest things like that.) But then He reminded me that in 1 Corinthians 6:19 it says the body is the temple. He reminded me that every time I use my skills to help someone, I am helping rebuild their temple.

Foof. That’s big. That’s scary. That’s why I am writing today. I’ve sat in the desert for years wasting what meager writing skills I have. I’ve sat in a pile of sand, while the people in my life are broken and hurting, hoping someone will help them rebuild their temple. And I just can’t sit in the desert anymore.

I might never get a book published. This might all be a fad. People might stop reading this site tomorrow and disappear. I might not go on tour to churches and conferences and all that. I want to, I really do, but ultimately it’s not about that. It’s about rebuilding temples. And as long as I keep doing that, as long as I keep reading and responding to God’s love letter to artists, everything else is going to take care of itself.

Link love.

Misc April 27, 2008 • Comments

In the last month, several people have been incredibly cool and kind and have linked their site to mine. Boomama, bigmama and a variety of people that don’t have mama in their name have all shown me some undeserved love.

I want to return the favor, but with more than just a random, unorganized list of sites in a blogroll. Instead, I am going to create a master directory of sites. In addition, I would love to list out the church you go to as well because lots of people ask me for church recommendations.

So if you linked your blog to me, whether in a blogroll or a post, that is awesome. Help me return that awesomeness by putting you in the official Stuff Christians Like Blog List.

Post a comment with the link to your blog, the state or country you are from, where you go to church and I will add you to the master list I am building in my laboratory. OK, I don’t have a laboratory. It’s a living room we put my computer in. (And if you don’t want to put your state or church that’s cool too.)

Update: Don’t let the number of comments scare you off. I will be listing each and every one that is submitted in my master list titled “Blogs, churches and other friends of Stuff Christians Like.” It should be live later this week.

184. That table and chair ministers use on stage.

pastors April 27, 2008 • Comments

Maybe you don’t have this at your church. Maybe the small round table and single chair is something unique to North Point, where I attend. But I can’t help wondering when the standard pulpit evolved into the modern furniture we now find on lots of stages. Have you seen this? It’s a high-legged table and a hip looking chair in most cases. I think about it a lot. Is that bad? Do I have a poor attention span if I wonder about that chair for minutes on end? Does that reflect poorly on me?

Probably, which is why if I really shouldn’t share the 3 things that I think most about the chair and the table:

1. The super salesperson
I have a theory that the salesperson who once sold choir robes lost their job when we stared doing more worship music and rock band kind of services in church. So instead they started selling a single chair and a table to churches across the country.

2. My favorite pair
I slept in a hotel recently and missed my pillow. I wonder if the same thing happens to pastors. Like when Andy Stanley travels to speak at conferences, does he bring his chair and table with him or does he use whatever they’ve got at the conference? And did he name the table, “pinkie” or is that only me and my pillow?

3. The cocky chair
Do you think the chair has developed a bit of an ego at this point? I’m assuming during the rest of the week it’s just a normal, tall chair used around the church. Does it brag about being the special chair? Do they rotate them so that animosity in the chair community does not develop?

What’s next on stage? Maybe ministers will start giving more sermons from the knitted embrace of a hammock? Or they’ll start whittling and smoking corn cob pipes from rocking chairs? Or some Christian author will write a book about being a cowboy and mechanical bulls will get popular. Hard to say, but please know, I’m waiting on the edge of my seat. (That was horrible. Ugh, what a terrible pun. I should have taken that joke off the table. Ugh, even worse. My apologies.)

183. The movie "The Passion of the Christ."

jesus/ movies/ pop culture/ Serious Wednesdays April 27, 2008 • Comments

I had an easier time connecting with God in the movie, “Man on Fire” than I did in “The Passion of the Christ.” That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. I mean the Mel Gibson movie made roughly 786 gazillion dollars and was loved by Christians the world over. Man on Fire is a bloody revenge film with very little God. How can I write that first sentence?

I think that the God element in Man on Fire was a strong undercurrent that caught me off guard. It surprised me and engaged me in an unexpected way. I enjoyed the Passion of the Christ. I thought it was good. But I went in expecting God and faith and Christianity. So when it appeared I was ready for it. And in communication, one of the ways to grab someone is to show instead of tell. Instead of saying, “this character is cool” in a movie, you show the audience tangible ways that exhibit how the character is cool. That way, the audience gets to write their own story instead of just digesting your story. Man on Fire showed me God’s love, the Passion of the Christ told me God’s love. But that still doesn’t really justify thinking Man on Fire is a better picture of Christ than the Passion of the Christ. So let me explain a little, but please know I am about to ruin the end of Man on Fire.

In the film, Denzel Washington plays the role of Creasy, an alcoholic black ops military man in Mexico City serving as a bodyguard for a little girl named Pita. Pita is a blonde sprite of a seven-year-old played by the ubiquitous Dakota Fanning. Throughout the first half of the film we watch as Creasy hits rock bottom, only to find a new reason to live in Pita. Along the way, we see him spend increasing amounts of time in the Bible.

But because this at the core a revenge film, Pita is kidnapped after a piano lesson. Creasy is shot multiple times and the doctors say that without a month of rest, he will die. While Creasy is trapped in bed, Pita is executed by the kidnappers. He is devastated, his world collapsing in scenes of Pita laughing and playing. He leaves the hospital and decides to track down the killers.

In a hinge scene the young mother of Pita asks Creasy what he is going to do. His response is simple, “What I do best, I’m going to kill em. Anyone that was involved, anyone that profited from it, anyone that opens their eyes at me.” This statement serves as the doorway to a veritable house of pain and suffering. The violence is shocking in both its graphicness and its creativity.

At this point, my initial idea that I saw the love of Christ in this movie seems impossible. We do not serve a God that would torture a man with a cigarette lighter or plant a plastic explosive inside another kidnapper. Our God is not cruel. I think that’s worthy of argument though, at least from an Old Testament point of view. Would the Egyptian mothers that woke to find their first born children dead in their beds agree that God can not be cruel? Would the residents of Sodom, with flesh ripped apart by sulfur falling from the sky agree that God is not violent? I’m not saying these things were not justified. I just think that maybe we make too light of the fury and might of God.

After cutting a swath of death through Mexico City, Creasy finds the pregnant wife and brother of the villain, simply referred to as “The Voice.” The Voice asks him on the phone, “How much do you want?” Creasy responds by saying “Your brother wants to speak to you, hold on” at which point he shoots off all the fingers of the brother’s hand with a shotgun. “I’m going to take your family apart piece by piece. You understand me? Piece by piece. I don’t want your money. You understand me? I want you!” It’s numbing really, the brother tied up to a pole with a bloody stump of a hand, the pregnant wife wailing. But that’s when grace first makes an appearance. The Voice calls back and says “I will give you a life for a life. I will give you her life for your life.”

The camera spins on a confused Creasy as he struggles with the idea that Pita is alive. Suddenly the violence, the rage, the wrath of Creasy sinks out of his face. In the final scene, Creasy, Pita’s mother and the kidnapper’s brother drive to an abandoned bridge in the middle of the Mexican countryside. With a bullet ridden body and a weariness that is almost three dimensional, Creasy walks up the bridge. When the kidnappers see him waiting there, they pull a hooded Pita out of the car. They remove her dirty blindfold and with eyes not accustomed to light, she squints toward the bridge. With the sound of a child witnessing an unlocked gate in hell, she screams “Creasy” and runs to the bridge. Creasy, unable to run from all the pain, waits. She jumps into his arms, and with hands dotted with blood and scars he cradles her. This is what follows:

Creasy: “Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you?”
Pita: Shakes her head no.
Creasy: Laughing and smiling in relief, “Hi.” More laughter. “Alright your mother is waiting for you; she’s right down at the end of the bridge. OK, you go home.”
Pita: “OK. Where are you going?”
Creasy: “I’m going home too.”

Pita runs to the arms of her mother. A red laser scope lands on Creasy’s heart, which he covers with a hand that is dotted in scars. He throws up his hands and walks slowly to the kidnappers. He stumbles to his knees as they drag him into a car. Pita cries watching Creasy surrender to certain death. Creasy closes his eyes in the car and dies.

I missed it the first ten times I saw the movie. Missed that I’m Pita. I’ve lived most of my life under the stairs in a dark, dirty cage. But unlike Pita, this is the place I deserve. For although she did not ask to be kidnapped or receive this experience as a consequence of her actions, I did. If this were the story of my life, justice would have already been served. The prisoner’s life is the life I deserve. But God is like Creasy. In Isaiah 30:18 it says “he rises to show you compassion.”

The new life that Creasy finds when he meets Pita is but a glimpse at how God delights in us. And it is this love, this adoration that drives him to rescue us. But is he violent? Is there anything he wouldn’t do to rescue me and rescue you? I don’t think so. To the violence question we need only look to verses like Numbers 24:8 in which the Israelites, God’s people, are said to “devour hostile nations and break their bones in pieces.” That was describing work and battles that the Lord had blessed.

Is that any less graphic than anything that happens in “Man on Fire?” God’s love has no limits. If violence is what it would take to rescue me, I have little doubt that he would be violent. That he would remove an entire planet in a flood to save the righteous family of Noah. And even though he is blessed with the ability to open the core of the earth with his fury, it is love and ultimate surrender that shows us the true depth of his heart. In the movie, Creasy could have easily continued killing the kidnapper’s family. The brother could have been tortured, the pregnant wife and unborn child murdered. But it wasn’t about revenge, it was about rescue. And when Pita was discovered to be alive, he stopped everything. He surrendered and walked willingly into a certain death.

In his last moments, before the cross, the undeniable power of Christ is revealed one more time as he heals one of the Roman guard’s ears. And yet he denies it. He surrenders. That’s how I felt about the last scene in Man on Fire. Creasy had just blown off all the fingers of the brother. He had the pregnant wife and a shotgun and a mouth full of loud, angry words. But the second he knew Pita was alive, he surrendered.

I’ve written about it before because the scene really shook me. It made me realize, this is the Christ I serve. Powerful, fearful, able to heal the sick and blind, capable of walking on water itself. But willing to give it all up upon realizing I am found. Willing to pay the ransom with his own life. Willing to free me from a prison I created. And whether he’s crucified on a cross or forced to walk across a bridge in Mexico, he’s willing to do it all over again for me. And for you.

p.s. I liked Passion. I thought it was a well done movie. The most powerful scene to me was when Gibson showed the boy Jesus and the man Jesus stumble to the ground. My one criticism is that it felt really full. I like movies that leave me room to climb in and Passion felt bursting at the seams so it was hard for me to engage with it in some scenes.

182. Saying "pot blessings" instead of "pot lucks."

stuff christians say April 27, 2008 • Comments

Once on the Simpsons, Maude Flanders told Homer, “Neddy doesn’t believe in life insurance, he considers it a form of gambling.”

Granted, despite sleeping with that lady on one episode, Ned Flanders was designed to be an amplified personification of Christianity. His moves were big and loud. If you went to his house you played Bible board games and ate “unflavored” ice treat instead of ice cream. His version of faith was bright and shiny and exaggerated. I thought it was fake until recently.

In response to a Pot Luck post I wrote lots of people started emailing me. They told me that in their church, they were not allowed to say the phrase, “Pot Luck.” It’s too worldly, too much like coincidence, too much like gambling. So instead they say, “Pot Blessings.” And some people say, “Pot Providence.”

I heart that. Hearing about that made me really eager to find other examples. I instantly wanted to add a glossary to the back of my book that was titled simply, “Christian Translator.” Baking some devil’s food cake but feel like that sounds too demonic? Call it “Angel pie.” Daughter lost a tooth and excited about the tooth fairy? Call it the “tooth angel.”

It’s a weird thing to be fixated on, but there it is. I’m in love with the idea of having the world’s most comprehensive list of Christian words. Let’s do it, you and I. Let’s change this crazy world.

181. Preaching an 87-week long sermon series on a single book in the Bible.

Bible April 26, 2008 • Comments

The other day, I watched “The Chronicles of Riddick.” Have you ever seen this movie? Vin Diesel is in it. If you haven’t, it’s pretty easy to describe. Just imagine that the biggest jock from your high school was given $50 million to produce a movie in which he was the star. He would wear googles, super tight tank tops and body oil to illuminate his every muscle. And then they’d give him horribly cheesy, “look how cool I am” lines like, “It’s an animal thing, you wouldn’t understand.”

Honestly, I think that Vin probably wanted all the bad guys to be wearing mirror suits so that he could see his own reflection while he fought them. It’s such a crazy ego parade I can barely believe it. And that’s how I sometimes feel when ministers launch 87-week sermon series on a single book in the Bible.

I get that you really like Romans. I think that’s cool. I think it’s interesting and insightful when someone dedicates their life to the study of a single book. I think we as readers and members of churches can really benefit from that. But when a minister starts a series by focusing on the first two words in say Acts, I know I’m in trouble. Really, a whole sermon on the phrase, Dear Brothers?

One of my favorite things about great comedians is that they often retire their material. They do this because they know that if they keep using the same jokes over and over again they’ll never write new material. They’ll grow soft and lose that creative edge that comes with striking out into new territory. Seinfeld for instance did a documentary in which he laid all his old jokes in a coffin and had a funeral for them. I think more ministers should do that. I think that once a year, a minister should tell his staff, “Hey, just wanted you to know that despite my deep affection for that “frog in the slowly boiling hot water” analogy and chapter 2 of Exodus, I am going to retire them. I’m starting fresh. Thanks for your support.”

Maybe every year is too much. Maybe every few years is better, because sometimes I think you find something new the second time you preach a message. It’s not a hard and fast rule, just a suggestion.

Update:
I think there are some good comments coming in for this one. By no means was I trying to say that the sermon had to be hip like a comedian. The one thing I think I left out was that although Jesus preached a consistent message of love, hope and truth, he never did the 87 week approach. He constantly was telling very short, very powerful, stand alone parables and ideas. There was never a part 12 of his messages, which meant that anyone on any given day could jump into what he was preaching and engage with it. His teachings had a beginning, a middle and an end. You can certainly argue the other side, but if you go the 87 route, visitors run the risk of coming in at week 42 and feeling lost.