Sterling Griggs

The artist known as Prince just died. It's all over the news and his music is basically on every station. While not necessarily a fan of Prince - I have never owned nor downloaded any of his music - I do have a deep appreciation for the artist that he was. I'm not ashamed to admit that last night in the car is was jamming to "Little Red Corvette" and "Let's Go Crazy" when it came on the radio. When you hear brilliance, you must stop to appreciate it. Another no-as-famous person died yesterday as well. Chyna, of WWE fame, passed away, leaving behind a legacy for female wrestlers that she pretty much started on her own. Back in the day, I used to watch wrestling when it wasn't the trashy show that it is now. Chyna was just coming on the scene then and, while I didn't always buy the theatrics, I did appreciate the fact that a woman could body slam a man and make him look silly. When someone busts boundaries wide open, you have to stop and admire,...

Compassion. This is a word that is not foreign to any of us. We know what it means, or at least we think we know what it means. The word compassion comes from the Latin word compati which means "to suffer with." This means that if you have compassion on someone, then you are there suffering with them. Not from a distance or by throwing money at a cause, but right there with them. This makes compassion personal, real, difficult at times. As I write this my oldest daughter is in the hospital in Winston-Salem getting treatment for a pretty nasty flare up of Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis (JRA). As I've watched her struggle through pain this weekend, it's been necessary to muster all the compassion that I can for her. Not because I don't care, but rather because I personally don't have JRA and I often don't know how to suffer with her. Yes, I can show sympathy and tell her that I care, but compassion is more than that. It's intensely personal. Simply ...

Several years ago I became the new youth pastor at a church in Yadkinville, NC. In case you've never heard of Yadkinville or you have no idea how to pronounce it, the "d" is silent and the "i" is more like a hard "u", so it's pronounced "Ya-kun-vull" by those who really know who to speak Yadkin-ese, the local dialect there. Anyhow, the students there were all awesome and a little on the country side, which was cool because it challenged me to be a little less "city" and uptight about certain things. Early on in my time of service there, I realized that I had a group of guys that were gifted at talking junk. You know, the kind where you playfully goad other people verbally to engage in physical challenges, all the while strutting like a peacock and "bowing up" to them. If you don't understand, then you have to accept that it's a guy thing and it's just what we do at times. There was one kid in the group...