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SMEBY RUNNING VIDEO

SMEBY MOVIE

Thank you!

You have no idea how much I love you

You have no idea how much I love you, though at times I do believe you catch glimpses of it. Those are the times of peace that you encounter--it's kind of a peace that blows you away, right? You dont have to work very hard to feel my love--it's always present. If I could give you a little advice, I'd say, Man, I'm so proud of you. I made you very special. I believe you know that, and I love how you live your life always looking for ways to bring love and joy to other people. That's awesome! You are doing so much really great stuff and being used so well, that it's hard to think you'd be better off somewhere else.

Even still, I want to empower you to go after what you desire deep down, and trust that I'm with you. Really dig in and go after your dreams. I'm not going to be a genie in a bottle for you, but I'm with you. Cheering you on.

I love to see you happy and while I want you to know that TRUE happiness is only going to be found by resting in my love & peace, there are great joys to experience in this world so GO FOR IT! But, be patient and don't let your place in the journey ever get you down, or make you feel like there's something wrong with you or your abilities. Step back and see it as a beautiful, valuable story that's being written--it's not about you getting everything you want, or it's not about you being perfect, or amazing, or even great. It's about taking the next step in the direction that you hear me whisper. You HAVE been doing that really well--but I sense discouragement when you focus too much on the FUTURE. The problem with being ambitious is that you continually run the risk of not being present. That's why you have to work extra hard to stay present and see all that I'm giving you today, and all that you have --you truly have all you need for your deepest joy TODAY!

You are tempted to believe that what you have isn't enough--that somehow it's old, or no longer valuable, that it's time for something new to keep you juiced up -- this isnt true. New is exciting, but there's great peace in laying into, or sinking deeper into what you have today--that's where you can best feel my love. Your conceptions of what will be nice to have in the future will never match up with reality. Your quest for new only keeps you on the treadmill of discontent.

I made you a beautiful person though you are still prone to sin and its consequences--this is the area where you need to trust me the most. Trust me that I'm taking care of you and will continue to. You will be tempted to look to other people to take care of you--that's very natural. But trust me--I've got you and I'm not letting go. You have some amazing people in your life who love you very much. You have a choice to love them and let them love you. Don't feel that you have to communicate more of struggle then what is really happening, just to get their compassion. They love you already--be honest, but don't manipulate their love by manufacturing struggle.

TRUST ME. TRUST MY LOVE FOR YOU. DON'T FOCUS ON YOUR STRUGGLE SO MUCH--though it's hard, it does nobody any good! Feeling that your struggle is so difficult will hinder you from true compassion for others that I desire for you.

You are smart, creative, a great problem solver, a lover, a great friend, a deep soul, you inspire people, you bring great joy to others. You are a great success--what more could you want!

The Beauty of Being Part of A Grand Story

Great sporting events draw you in with the fact that someone is going to win and someone is going to lose, and no one really knows for sure which team will emerge victorious. It's a bit of an ancient battle scene re-inacted for a commercial audience. Heroes, underdogs and even tragic losers emerge out of the story, giving everyone someone to cheer, criticize, or sympathize. There's nothing like losing yourself in a great game, especially for us guys.

I believe that we all long to be a part of a bigger story. Probably because most times it feels like our lives are overwhelmingly mundane and ordinary. We find great movies, books, or sporting events in which to lose ourselves. Still, we don't so much lose ourselves, as we allow ourselves to be swept up into the grander story that these things offer.

Samson Society has allowed me to be a part of a bigger story than just my own. Sure my life has been intertwined with a few dozen other men, but instead of losing myself in their midst, I feel like I'm finding myself. I'm finding out who I am by hearing myself tell my own story. I'm finding out who I am by hearing my own story told by other men. I'm surrounded by guys who I am cheering on, and who I know are cheering me on, as well. We're becoming a well-oiled team.

One of the most effective ways that we have found to establish a team bond, or connection, is through the use of descriptive words and imagery. That's why sporting teams have mascots, you know, as an effort to bring imagery into the story. So it's not just everyday guys out their on the field, it's Warriors and Titans, strongmen with overwhelming mythological connotations. For us, simply the name of our group conjures up imagery of the strong man Samson shackled between the two pillars in the temple. We're strong men with weaknesses! We're Samsons! Hooray!

Also, these fellow Samson-ites aren't just friends, they are my "Band of Brothers." It's like we're admitting we're in a battle together. No longer are we fighting alone, but we're traipsing through the muck and mire with guys by our side. Guys who are strong and weak, scared and brave, wild and wise. It's no longer "every man for himself" that they world seems to offer. It's like we're experiencing what it's like to be on a team, where each of the players offer their own personal value through their unique story and spirit. I can't imagine Samson without Joe Shore or Glenn McClure, Scott Dente or Jack Wallin. I can't imagine Samson without a bunch of guys. You know who I can imagine Samson without? When I get impatient and judgmental, I can imagine Samson without the guys who don't bring their full weight. You know, the guys who speak in the third person and use a lot of generalities? Most of those guys don't stick around too long. But some do. They stick it out and find their way into themselves, and into the lives of other guys. They join the team.

We're also "Pirate Monks." I am at one time a Pirate, and at another a Monk, and most times, a stunningly absurd combination of the two. But it makes sense. The imagery we use helps puts a larger story into view, when we didn't even have words to describe it in the first place. It helps us feel like we're a part of something that's bigger than ourselves, something that requires us to be brave and strong and mighty. Something that requires us to stick together in order to achieve victory.

Thankfully, we all know how this story is going to end. But in the meantime, us Samson guys are going to hang on tight to the fact that we're onto something significant. We don't have to worry about winning or losing, but we do have to focus on learning how to fall better, how to get back up quicker, and how not to let our setbacks define us. And that sometimes victory looks a lot like one guy who chooses to keep coming back, and start sharing from the heart, leaving behind pretense and posturing, taking small steps to join the Samson team. When someone does that, we all celebrate with an upturned mug, a Pirate-like "Aaarrrhhhhh" and a sometimes loud, but most times softly delivered, "Thank you Jesus!"

Is anybody out there?

Something that I find oddly common with my artistic friends is that you kind of always wonder if anyone is reading, or listening, or even caring about what you've created. Then every so often, the skies open up, a dove descends, and you get a little message that makes your day. Like this one...

Dear Mark: I was listening to your "I Don't Have To" song this morning in my car and thinking about this guy I like who's name is XXXXX. Even though he'll never know how much I like him because I'll never say it or show him because I'm afaird of his rejection. But I love him that's all that matters. So thanks for making that song.

I'm glad I made it too!! Thanks for making my day!

Being on TV.

Ok. So I had my TEN seconds of fame this week on nationally-broadcast television. Who knows how many hundreds of people watched, but that's more than normally see me on a good day. How did it feel? You know that place inside your soul that cries out that there's just gotta be more to this life than just the day to day, more than just the getting by? That place felt rubbed and nurtured. Like a big hug from arms unseen.

Just kidding. It didn't feel like much at all, actually. The best part of it all was how my friends and family responded to it. Everyone was so supportive and loving, it's been amazing.

But, no worries. No chance for big heads or arrogance here. My TV appearance Monday night was bookmarked by large packages of dog poo on the living room carpet both Monday and Tuesday mornings. And I've had the flu all week, myself. Not much room for feeling amazing.

Kirby Puckett was the Twins.

I lost one of my heroes yesterday. He was only days away from his 46th birthday...and just a couple of months away from being re-married. I loved that Kirby represented the Underdog in appearance and Superstar in reality, both with such a huge smile. I will never forget the '87 & '91 World Series the Twins won, and I'll never forget the spark that Kirby brought to the team, to the Metrodome, to the whole state and to the whole country. Heck, I named my dog after him...because of the spark that he brought to me. The spark that says "You can do it, you can make it! You can be a champion! But more important than winning, it's the joy and love in your heart and compassion for other people that really matter in life." A message so similar in nature to what my amazing Grandma Bob used to shower me with.

Ironically, during the '91 Series Grandma Bob was in the hospital for some heart problems. She was a big Kirby fan. She had a heart-attack during the Series' day off, only to recover in time to cheer for Kirby and the Twins. She'd watch the games from her hospital bed, Homer-Hanky in hand. Yes, she did get to watch his team pull it out in the end. But, immediately after the Twins won the title, she hung up her Hanky, and said good-bye to us.

I hope this means that Grandma Bob and Kirby Puckett, two of my heroes, finally get a chance to meet.

Let's not have sex.

(scene takes place in bed)

1: This is crazy, but can we not have sex?
2: What do you mean?
1: I mean, can we just lie here and not have to get all animal, just to feel like we really amount to something?
2: You mean, just lie here?
1: That sounds awesome.
2: You're kidding me. You bought me all those drinks tonight so you can cuddle?
1: I actually just want to find someone who won't leave. If we have sex, you'll leave. And then the next time I see you, you'll have told all your friends (secretly, of course!) that we had sex and you'll be all weird to me. Either you'll ignore me, or you'll be all nice and want to come over, and you'll expect sex again. It's setting a precedent.
2: A what?
(silence)
2: So you just want me to like you? As a person?
1: I'd love it if you could just listen to me when I talk, but without needing me to say anything. That you could see that you have great value in this relationship. That I need you to be strong and interesting and engaging and proactive. I need you to have a life that's awesome without me...something that I can find joy in while I'm pursuing you. That it's not all about you being captured and playing dead like every other person I've dated.
(pause)
1: I need you in ways you've never imagined. But you've got to find out in yourself what value you bring to this relationship. That's the part of you that I need the most.

My First Reality Show Experience

I was assured by my agent that "it wasn't a reality show." Still, I went with low expectations and a not-so-deep-down desire to be picked. This past Monday I was part of the taping of a show for the cable channel AMC, you know, American Movie Classics? And by "classics" they mean Porky's, Risky Business, and The River Wild. Needless to say, they have a program called "Date Night" which is kind of like "Dinner & a Movie" on another channel. This program surrounds the showing of a particular movie and its requisite commercial breaks. There were eight of us guys and one "lovely" lady (she looked a lot like Cher). Throughout the course of the day, we would be interviewed and scrutinized until she was certain she had picked the best guy for her to date. At least that's the premise.

The first half of the day, us guys spent individual time in front of the camera being asked by the director about our favorite movies (Shawshank Redemption, Rudy, Chariots of Fire, Garden State), favorite comedy (Ferris Bueller's Day Off), hottest Actor or Actress (Phillip Seymour Hoffman & Felicity Hoffman), What a person's favorite movie says about them (Whether or not they are a thinking person), etc.

They also made us do an impression, something that I'm pretty horrible at. Because our "date movie" is the charming and romantic psychological thriller Silence of the Lambs I had to try to do Hannibal saying, "I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice Chi-an-ti." Then they asked me to do that lip-quivering-sucking-mmmthatwastastey thing. I didn't do so hot. I'm certain they will edit me to look like a baffoon. But as long as it's not a "reality show," I can fall back on the "I was just acting like a baffoon" plea. Right?

The second half was spent with each of us hanging out on a red couch with the lady d'jour. We had (hopefully) funny, engaging, flirty conversation about different parts of the movie. We talked about sewing machines (No, I don't have one), lotion ("It rubs the lotion on its skin"), and "quid pro quo." It was delightful and surprisingly natural. I might have made a new friend in this semi-Cher-like lady.

While the other guys were in the studio the rest of us sat in around and ate snack food, like mini-quiches and slim jims. They were actually pretty cool guys, and we bonded pretty quickly since we were all pretty uncertain what the heck we had gotten ourselves into. One guy even told the story of his (and his wife's) recent experience on the Dr. Phil show. They got royally scammed into thinking they were going to be helped, and instead they were made fun of. Pretty sad. I hope that's not what happens to me with this "Date Night" deal.

At the end of the night, the producer came into our little holding area and announced that they (not the Cher-girl) had picked the one guy to come back in as the "winner." It was Gary, he always wins stuff and get the cool jobs. He's actually in the running to be on "Deal, No Deal." I'm happy for him, mostly, and probably would've based my self-worth too highly on the fact that some New York producer & director deemed me "most desirable."

Besides, the prize Gary won is a pair of movie tickets. And, here's the clincher. Ms. Right already has a Mr. Right. Yep, she's married, and even has a couple of kids. That's a little too much reality for me.

"Date Night" will air March 27th, 7pm Central on AMC.

That my-laundry-never-gets-dirty smell.

I’ve always been someone who goes after what they want. And the fact that I am generally successful at it, has made me into a fairly self-confident, ambitious, go-getter. I can do anything. I can win in any situation. I can convince anyone that they should go this way, rather than that. I can win the hearts of one, or many. Any sign of a situation gone uncontrolled, or a person left unconvinced, tends to keep me up at night. Restless hours scheming and planning how to sway, or better yet, inspire, the antagonist in the scene to come over to my side.

I look back fondly on hearts that I’ve won over. Hearts that were hard at first, but over time realized the value of my friendship. Another notch in my logbook of life-long acquaintances. Goals I set that appeared insurmountable, disappearing in the smoke of my charm and smooth-talking.

To a certain extent, I do feel lucky for this ability. Even more thankful am I for my ability to keep it all apparently above-board. No one questioning my ability to make things, or people, happen. No one to stare me in the eyes and second guess my motives. No one but me.

But I do find it easy enough to ignore myself, as well as the next person does. So I continue on—conquering, winning, achieving, amazing, and inspiring.

There have been a handful of people who have kept me humble. People who taunt me with their own kind of charm. People who come right up to the edge of being conquerable, and then slip away... only to tease me again with their near-approachability. These are usually people who are admired by many around them. Admired for their charisma...for their ability to get things done...for their way of appearing like they have every square peg put firmly into the square hole, and every round peg nestled gently into its round hole.

I guess that might be how people view me. I mean, I hope that’s how people view me.

So, as much as I admire these people, they throw me for a loop. I’d love to be able to just grab a hold of their coat-tails and ride them into a warm feeling of self-worth and security. But those coat-tails are always just out of my grasp. I keep reaching... and they keep walking away. They keep on not returning my phone calls. They keep on staying busy talking to everybody else, making sure that they all feel good about themselves. Winning the next award, saving the next world... They’re always just around the next corner. Leaving behind their smell...that confident, my-laundry-never-gets-dirty smell.

But, I keep on. Thinking that one day, I might just attain that same sort of invincibility.

I'm On My Way.

If you're anything like me, sometimes you feel like there's nothing happening in your life...and perhaps nothing ever will. The dreams that you've been holding onto are slipping through your fingers. The hopes of some kind of breakthrough professionally or relationally are gradually drifting out to sea, leaving a tangleweed of cynicism behind for you to trudge through.

Then I had this crazy thought this morning, reading a killer book called "The Dream Giver" by Bruce Wilkinson. He dares to suppose that this time we're spending in what he calls The Waste Land, where we feel like nothing's happening and probably never will, is actually a very purpose-filled time. That it's a time where we are being turned into the people that will actually be capable of carrying out the dreams and hopes we're holding onto.

It's funny how everyone who enters into the military knows they have to go through the horrid, near-torture of boot-camp. But they do it because they know that it is going to prepare them for what's to come. The pain, struggle and conflict during this brief time holds great purpose for them and their greater mission.

I believe this time now, for us, is a building, growing, boot-camp, of sorts. My beliefs tell me that everything happens for a purpose, and even for a good reason. Believing that allows wherever I'm at right now to be a place of great importance.

Weird analogy: Don't you hate taking your car into the shop for repairs!? It's horribly inconvenient. Try to imagine being the car, for just a minute. My car has been built to drive fast. To take the curves and bumps like a champ, handling the roads like a dream, taking me wherever I want to go, and making it a great experience, which it does most of the time! But when I have to take it in the shop because something's not working exactly right, do you think the car complains about how it's not out on the road doing what it was created to do? I don't think so! I can only imagine the relief it must feel getting everything back in working order, even if it means waiting around a stinky repair shop for a day or so. Thanks for bearing with me on that analogy.

You and I were created for something great, and with the help of God and the people who love us, I believe we can set our sights on going after a big, hairy, audacious goal. And hopefully along the way we can remind each other of the benefit of the quiet times, the times when we are being tweaked and tuned, punched and pummelled, making us stronger and better prepared for the roads ahead of us. That makes each mile of the journey that much more meaningful, I believe.

I want to be one of those people who can focus on what I'm turning into, rather than focusing on how I might feel like I'm being held back right now. The best is yet to come, and I'm on my way.

Little Things

I'm on a journey toward my dreams. And, as you can imagine, it's not always the easiest thing in the world. After I muster up enough courage to take a step forward, I'll stop and look around. I just want to see if I took the right step, or if it was a bad one. Sometimes I can't tell by myself. I have to look to other people for the objectivity I lack. One can have too many "yes men" in their life. Seriously, you really can't make room for one, except for your mother, perhaps.

Then I find myself waiting for glimpses of hope. Something that happens that tells me things are all going to work out. I've been raised to look for the big signs of affirmation (the applause, the money, the success) as proof that I'm on the right track. My eyes are learning that that kind of long-term, mostly superficial vision is merely a distraction, that really I shouldn't look so far ahead. That perhaps those big doses of encouragement are overrated.

I'm beginning to believe that the best things in life are found in the little things...the things that I might miss if I'm not looking. It's the tiny turns and twists in the road that take us to the new places...seldom new Interstates that we come across. Beauty is found in the nuance of the present. I keep praying, "God help me to see how you want to surprise me today." And he usually answers with something beautiful and meaningful...and small.

Dialogue with Dad.

DAD: Did you hear anything about that TV show "The Book of Daniel"? [He then included Don Wildmon's report on how the show descecrated everything about faith and Jesus.}

ME: Hey dad - I actually did watch this show. It was a two hour pilot of a new series they're trying out. I don't think it's going to make it...it wasn't very good. There were some good moments that touched on the reality of life as a Christian, that weren't very pretty. But my Christian life, and those around me, isn't very pretty either. It kind of makes me sad that people like Don Wildmon spend so much time pointing out how horrible everything is. Perhaps we can focus on good stuff...and find the redeeming elements of things in culture...inspiring people to be more positive and faith-infused themselves, rather than weary of the culture and on the defense against all the media and arts.

Phew...just a thought. What do you think?

DAD: Well, it's like politics. If we didn't have two far-reaching basic differences, there wouldn't be need for organized religion or a risen Savior. Satan would have a field day with all of us. Praise God we can share our opinions without government imprisonment. Let's keep it that way. We have educational and media systems which worship the differences in people and forget about the basic beliefs of our founding fathers. Unfortunately, "good" truth doesn't sell TV ads or newspapers. Wildmon keeps us focused on these basic beliefs, the strength and backbone of the USA. There is still room for constructive differences of opinion.

I am concerned about your comment "...my Christian life and those around me isn't very pretty" What are you trying to tell me?

ME: Hey pop - hope you're doing great this morning. thanks again for the continued dialogue...and for asking questions like this one, re: "...my Christian life and those around me isn't very pretty" What are you trying to tell me?

Here goes. I grew up thinking that the Christian life was about being pretty...about having a firm handshake and a big smile...and performing well for the crowds. I didn't know anything about brokenness. Part of that's age, part of that is church influence. But I'm surrounded by guys who are mostly broken, but are holding onto hope that Christ is a good, loving, compassionate Savior. Someone who is working on us, more than we can work on ourselves. In the meantime, we struggle. We deal with crap. It's not very pretty. Many people drink too much, smoke too much, too addicted to porn or other sexual things outside of their marriages, drugs, anger, separation from spouse and family, ego, eny, pride, jealousy, selfish ambition...i could go on, unfortunately.

That's what I was referring to. There's nothing pretty about living in honest community with other people. But there's a beauty to it that transcends it all...a beauty that feels like grace and love, something that comes from outside of ourselves.

Ok...your turn. Any thoughts? Love you....

DAD: Hi Mark- Thanks for sharing. You've decided to involve yourself in an area most people try to avoid...honesty with self, non-judgmental behavior of fellow believers, willingness to sacrifice time, talent, resources to help others, etc., etc.. I admire your position and wish I had 1/8th the compassion you demonstrate to the guys who are hurting.

There will always be opportunity for those who reach out to "the hurting" and disenfranchised. The "church" usually is a grouping of geese-like clones of each other, seeking comfort and purpose without having to pay a price for that. Therefore, "the comfortable pew," [is filled by] the self-satisfied, blinded-by-the-beauty-of-it-all "successful folks" who sail through life without confrontation for their sinful thoughts and behaviors. I am guilty as charged.

You are an amazing source of encouragement and hope for many folks--including your pop.

Loveyamore,
: ) pop

That's How You Show It?

So you want me?
And that's how you show it?
You're gonna have to do better than that
If you want all of me
My heart doesn't come so cheap
No, this love ain't so free
Not up for just a one night thing
But a full-time affair
What I want is a little bit more
Than you just being there
If you got it in you
Only you can say
But you better let me know
In a little different way

How Much Are You Worth?

At times I feel like I'm in elementary school, waiting on the playground for someone to pick me to play for their kickball team. For someone to say, "Hey you, there. We need you for our team!" Someone please pick me, I seem to cry out, in a variety of now semi-grown-up ways.

WORTH is something that me and my friends talk about alot. But it's not about money or stuff that you own. It's about how valuable you are to the world. To be honest, I tend to choose friends that I perceive to be valuable. You know, people that bring value to your life. As opposed to people that devalue your life, by treating you like crap. It seems like it's pretty easy to tell when people don't see your own personal value. Although, at the core of it, it's probably not about you at all. It's more about them not being able to see their true value that's hindering them from fully loving you.

At times, I feel like I'm primping myself to get ready for the flea market. Not to go buy anything, but to put myself up for sale. I position myself just right on the folding table and watch the people walk by. "Free Samples!" I exclaim to certain strangers.

If I'm constantly looking for other people to determine my value (or the value of my art!), I'm only setting myself up for disappointment. The key for me seems to be found in taking time to meditate on how loved I am by God and the people around me who know me completely. I can take my question of value to them. But when I take that question outside of that small circle, I will certainly go crazy.

With my small band of brothers, we know that we have to constantly remind each other of our worth and value...it's so easy to devalue ourselves...and easy to assume that other people don't ever forget their value.

The Ceremony

All together there were only twelve. But two of them were special. Sally knew that she was one of the special ones, mostly because of her braids. She didn't realize that her braids were going to be what would get her in the most trouble.

Carmen would never have imagined herself to be one of the special ones. Mostly because of her teeth and bad acne.

Nobody liked Amanda. She thought she was better than everyone. Just because she was three inches taller than the other girls.

When it was time for the winners to be chosen, Sally stayed in her cabin. Amanda was up front and center.

The candles were burning and all the girls were sweating. It smelled like someone just cooked pancakes.

The Space Between

It was not so much that she had a fear of dying, she was actually afraid of the space between the time when you know you are going to die and when it actually happens. The consciousness of approaching death was making her knees feel like they were going to give out as she stood on the upper reaches of the church steeple. This was unlike any other church steeple Keri had ever seen. The top of Vor Frelsers Kirke, or Church of our Savior, was completed in 1696 by a man who desired to have the steeple able to be climbed by anyone who wanted to have one of the most spectacular views of Copenhagen. Rumor has it that the man finished wrapping the tiny steps up to the top and realized he had actually incorrectly constructed the stairway, wrapping it counter-clockwise up the steeple instead of the assigned clockwise manner, and jumped from the heights in a fit of desperation.

Keri could not stop thinking about how simple it would be jump from where she was at, the small protective wall barely reached over her knees. The group of friends she was with did not help; they were all pushing to get up as high as they possibly could, even though there was only space for one person to be where Keri stood. A gusty breeze made her hair blow in front of her eyes. As she reached for her hair, cautiously positioning it behind her ears, she pictured the architect jumping from where she stood and imagined the wind carrying him a bit to the left, probably landing near the sidewalk below. Some innocent passerby would most likely have had their day ruined by being in that place at that wrong time.

She certainly didn’t want to jump; she just felt how easy it would be to accidentally be nudged over the side. It was this feeling that Keri decided she wanted to avoid at all costs the entire rest of her life. She began thinking that humans are constantly moving through the space between life and death, even if they are mostly unaware of how that space is shrinking every day. That trip up the steeple was what it took for Keri to decide she had to begin taking control of her space.