<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138</id><updated>2011-07-28T17:21:46.442-07:00</updated><category term='Myers Briggs ENTP'/><category term='Banff'/><title type='text'>Everything Kenneth</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>23</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-8402321104182235385</id><published>2008-11-24T18:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T18:36:24.790-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Fort Collins</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;I don't know if anyone even reads this thing anymore. It's been a long time since I've posted anything so I think it's time for an update. Especially since I moved to Fort Collins Nov. 11. Since them I've been having a great time meeting new folks and discovering some of the cool new things Fort Collins has to offer. So here's the Fort Collins Top 10 things Kenny has discovered since moving in no particular order:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;10. I live in a cold house. 3 dudes living in a large house don't really have the desire to shell out the bucks for the extra degrees. Ladies be warned, wear a sweater if you come visit in the winter.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;9. The box has a spot in the garage with a garage door opener and remote. This is a big adjustment for our relationship. In many ways I think it's similar to an old folks home for my car. I mean, after 20 years on the road, she deserves a nice warm, dry spot to fade away.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;8. We have a 16 ft. Shuffleboard table, pool table, ping pong table, and fuse ball table. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;7. I have cable TV for the first time in my life. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;6. I can see Long's Peak on my drive to work.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;5. Micro-brews are really cool here. Sorry PBR.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;4. My previous roommate did not clean the bathroom for over a year. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;3. No one who lives here is actually from Colorado. Well, at least a lot of the folks my age that I've met.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;2. Biking is cool. Like really, really cool. I've never been in a town with more bike lanes. It's really pretty sweet.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;1. I don't have to sort my recycling.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-8402321104182235385?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/8402321104182235385/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=8402321104182235385&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/8402321104182235385'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/8402321104182235385'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/11/fort-collins.html' title='Fort Collins'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-5919602759984655175</id><published>2008-06-18T15:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T15:12:26.213-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Images of Excess</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A fascinating little video I saw on the internet today that brings up all kinds of questions and some compelling images.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;!--cut and paste--&gt;&lt;object classid="clsid:d27cdb6e-ae6d-11cf-96b8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=8,0,0,0" id="VE_Player" align="middle" height="285" width="432"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://static.videoegg.com/ted2/flash/loader.swf"&gt;&lt;param name="FlashVars" value="bgColor=FFFFFF&amp;amp;file=http://static.videoegg.com/ted/movies/ChrisJordan_2008_high.flv&amp;amp;autoPlay=false&amp;amp;fullscreenURL=http://static.videoegg.com/ted/flash/fullscreen.html&amp;amp;forcePlay=false&amp;amp;logo=&amp;amp;allowFullscreen=true"&gt;&lt;param name="quality" value="high"&gt;&lt;param name="allowScriptAccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="scale" value="noscale"&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="window"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://static.videoegg.com/ted2/flash/loader.swf" flashvars="bgColor=FFFFFF&amp;amp;file=http://static.videoegg.com/ted/movies/ChrisJordan_2008_high.flv&amp;amp;autoPlay=false&amp;amp;fullscreenURL=http://static.videoegg.com/ted/flash/fullscreen.html&amp;amp;forcePlay=false&amp;amp;logo=&amp;amp;allowFullscreen=true" quality="high" allowscriptaccess="always" bgcolor="#FFFFFF" scale="noscale" wmode="window" name="VE_Player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" align="middle" height="285" width="432"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-5919602759984655175?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/5919602759984655175/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=5919602759984655175&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/5919602759984655175'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/5919602759984655175'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/06/images-of-excess.html' title='Images of Excess'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-5293616509670169281</id><published>2008-06-18T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-18T10:57:26.275-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Story of a String</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;So I received this little jewel from a friend in email form this morning beside the warm glow of my computer screen. Enjoy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"I'm eating cherries.  Everytime I eat cherries, I think of you and your accident along a highway somewhere in Washington state.  I've told your story various times.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="font-family: trebuchet ms; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:85%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family: trebuchet ms;"&gt;Most recently, I told it go a group of people at work.  We had just had a conversation about nipple piercing.  One of my coworkers just had this done.  Another one of my coworkers has a friend who had his nipple pierced, and afterward there was a little white thing coming out of the nipple.  It was bothering him for a while so he decided to pull it off.  But when he pulled on it, more came out, and more and more, until soon he had a 5" white stringy thing dangling from his nipple.  So he decided to do what any logical person with a white string hanging from their nipple might do (why didn't he decide to go to the doctor at this point, we'll never know).  He cut it off.  When cut the little white string, which was apparently a nerve, he lost all bowel and bladder function instantaneously.  In other words, he shit his pants.  The good news is that it was a temporary problem, and rumor has it he doesn't need to wear diapers today."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-5293616509670169281?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/5293616509670169281/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=5293616509670169281&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/5293616509670169281'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/5293616509670169281'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/06/story-of-string.html' title='The Story of a String'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-4799882157791833453</id><published>2008-06-09T10:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-09T10:51:45.035-07:00</updated><title type='text'>SF Payette Boatercross</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style=";font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;So I entered my first kayaking competition ever. It was a lot of fun and it was really good to challenge myself by doing it. Basically, it was a race down Staircase Rapid on the South Fork of the Payette River. A class IV section of whitewater. Here's how it worked. 4 boaters raced at the same time down the rapid and the top two of each heat advanced to the next round. My goals going in were 1) Not to swim out of any holes and 2) To make it to the second round. Well, I guess I was 1 for 2 because although I didn't swim out of any holes and I didn't make it to the second round. Can't wait to do something like this again.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://picasaweb.google.com/kennethlayton/PayetteRiverFestival/photo#5207783686553329570"&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/kennethlayton/SEXDq8AV36I/AAAAAAAABss/J57OK6_YPhI/s800/DSC_1816.JPG" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://picasaweb.google.com/kennethlayton/PayetteRiverFestival/photo#5207782873502741762"&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh6.ggpht.com/kennethlayton/SEXC7nJ-dQI/AAAAAAAABrk/sT2h6toIomI/s800/DSC_1803.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://picasaweb.google.com/kennethlayton/PayetteRiverFestival/photo#5207781349428213618"&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh3.ggpht.com/kennethlayton/SEXBi5iSt3I/AAAAAAAABpI/0S_M-31wmQc/s800/DSC_1672.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-4799882157791833453?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/4799882157791833453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=4799882157791833453&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/4799882157791833453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/4799882157791833453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/06/sf-payette-boatercross.html' title='SF Payette Boatercross'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://lh6.ggpht.com/kennethlayton/SEXDq8AV36I/AAAAAAAABss/J57OK6_YPhI/s72-c/DSC_1816.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-5777449255730632164</id><published>2008-03-31T14:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T14:40:19.626-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Art</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R_FTxC9gAhI/AAAAAAAABkU/i-3fF6eJEUc/s1600-h/art.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R_FTxC9gAhI/AAAAAAAABkU/i-3fF6eJEUc/s400/art.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184016748153668114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I made a piece of art just because I wanted to and I surprised myself by actually liking it when I was done. So here it is. Maybe I'll write about the inspiration for it another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...the last art class I took was in junior high...I put this together because I found myself wanting to make something and I was thinking a lot about art at the time. Those of you who know me, probably won't be surprised by this impulsive need I have to create something. Sometimes anything. This week I've been making bread. (It's really good by the way)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I made this piece of art as a representation of some of the places my mind and heart have been this past year. I've found myself trying to order all the questions I sometimes have and all of the possible answers floating out there into a nice, neat orderly place. It's been exhausting. And I've been missing one very important part in the equation. It's not up to me to figure out all the right answers all at once, all right now, all before I continue to take steps of faith in my life. Before I continue to love God and others. Instead, I believe it's up to me to continue to walk in faith, trusting what I still know, and holding the questions I have before God with an open hand, and accepting that his love for me is much greater than any of the questions I might have on any given day. I guess I say that, because when I stepped back, I realized all along  I haven't been questioning that God loves me. And I realized, that if I wasn't questioning that, there was no point in using a lot of my secondary questions as excuses to be, in general, a pretty self-consumed and not very fun person to be around.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-5777449255730632164?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/5777449255730632164/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=5777449255730632164&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/5777449255730632164'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/5777449255730632164'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/03/art.html' title='Art'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R_FTxC9gAhI/AAAAAAAABkU/i-3fF6eJEUc/s72-c/art.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-8898887667280527057</id><published>2008-03-17T12:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-17T12:35:31.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Musical Promiscuity</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;A good friend of mine and I were talking a bit recently about break-ups and some of the reason's they suck and some of the things you learn. We both agreed that one of the worst things about a good break-up is the tainting of all the good music that you've enjoyed together. I mean really, our youth pastors should have let us in on the devastating effects of giving too many good songs away to spurious romances during all those abstinence talks we got growing up. Maybe musical and sexual abstinence aren't totally on the same level, but for real, can you imagine getting married and having no truly great songs left to share!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-8898887667280527057?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/8898887667280527057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=8898887667280527057&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/8898887667280527057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/8898887667280527057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/03/musical-promiscuity.html' title='Musical Promiscuity'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-7299381407967401563</id><published>2008-02-27T11:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T12:05:35.835-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I want to come back...</title><content type='html'>So a friend of mine recently turned me on to a blog and radio talk show dude named Steve Brown.  You may already know of him, but I didn't.  So check him out if you want at &lt;a href="http://stevebrownetc.com"&gt;here.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a quote from his website that might get you interested.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I just can’t go there and be faithful to what I believe, experience and see in almost everyone. People who go down the path of obsessive obedience and faithfulness almost always hit a wall and go through horrible disappointment, darkness and pain. Once they’ve been there and failed…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;…they often don’t come back. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I honestly believe in radical freedom that comes from God’s unconditional and unbelievable mercy and grace, and the imputation of Christ’s righteousness. That freedom sometimes offends others, sometimes it increases sin for a season, and sometimes it looks skewed and out of the box. But those who know it…&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt; &lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;…always come back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;        &lt;a href="http://stevebrownetc.com/2008/02/blogs/the-old-white-guy-blog/disturbed-concerned-part-2/"&gt;rest of story here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-7299381407967401563?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/7299381407967401563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=7299381407967401563&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/7299381407967401563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/7299381407967401563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-want-to-come-back.html' title='I want to come back...'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-9158832825211542876</id><published>2008-02-12T10:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-12T10:16:35.162-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Turning off a light bulb for lent</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Interesting article a friend of mine passed on.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;font-family:Arial;font-size:85%;color:#000000;"   &gt;&lt;a href="http://blog.wired.com/wiredscience/2008/02/bishops-tell-ch.html" target="_blank"&gt;http://blog.wired.com/wiredscie&lt;wbr&gt;nce/2008/02/bishops-tell-ch&lt;wbr&gt;.html&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-9158832825211542876?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/9158832825211542876/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=9158832825211542876&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/9158832825211542876'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/9158832825211542876'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/02/turning-off-light-bulb-for-lent.html' title='Turning off a light bulb for lent'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-1612514963764905901</id><published>2008-01-26T18:01:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-26T18:06:55.102-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Pages of my Bookshelf</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R5vmIVLqOiI/AAAAAAAABV4/cyaZ0RBFZZI/s1600-h/Top-Shelf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R5vmIVLqOiI/AAAAAAAABV4/cyaZ0RBFZZI/s400/Top-Shelf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159970828882426402" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R5vmO1LqOjI/AAAAAAAABWA/ZnK36cpKtNM/s1600-h/Middle-Shelf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R5vmO1LqOjI/AAAAAAAABWA/ZnK36cpKtNM/s400/Middle-Shelf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159970940551576114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R5vmIVLqOiI/AAAAAAAABV4/cyaZ0RBFZZI/s1600-h/Top-Shelf.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R5vmVlLqOkI/AAAAAAAABWI/9nLJE0mWVSY/s1600-h/Bottom-Shelf.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R5vmVlLqOkI/AAAAAAAABWI/9nLJE0mWVSY/s400/Bottom-Shelf.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5159971056515693122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-1612514963764905901?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/1612514963764905901/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=1612514963764905901&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/1612514963764905901'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/1612514963764905901'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/01/pages-of-my-bookshelf.html' title='The Pages of my Bookshelf'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/R5vmIVLqOiI/AAAAAAAABV4/cyaZ0RBFZZI/s72-c/Top-Shelf.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-2792189563649762644</id><published>2008-01-21T12:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-21T12:56:01.632-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Chick Magnet</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.blogger.com/%3Ca%20href=" com="" kennethlayton="" redwoodscraterlake="" 5120237865868828386=""&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh5.google.com/kennethlayton/Rw69NfidnuI/AAAAAAAAAyE/WpjDmZWfiz4/s144/DSC_0139.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Recently, a good friend of mine tried to convince me that I need to buy a new car. This happened after we(my car and I) were blindsided by the car demons with a three-pronged, attack consisting of a failing CV joint, broken exhaust pipe, and a bad starter or battery. For the record, I own a 1988, not too shiny but ever so faithful, Honda Civic Hatchback. It was as if he had been withholding his thoughts and waiting for the perfect opportunity to present them. Either way, in the midst of our conversation when I was faithfully and fervently defending my loyalty to my failing machine, the comment, "You know it's not much of a chick magnet." was made. Which I of course responded to by saying, "What are you talking about, there isn't a better chick magnet out there!" Realizing that the rest of the world might thing I'm crazy, I've decided to present the following reasons why my car is, indeed a chick magnet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. 40 miles per gallon - Translation - Here's a guy who cares about the environment. Which of course is all the rage these days. That's right ladies, there's more than just talk to this guy, there's fuel efficiency as well. Just think, if he cares about the environment, what would it be like if he cared about me. Talk is cheap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. It's cozy - Translation - Feel free to go for one of those slick guys who drive one of those oversized SUVs with gigantic cup holders, reclining lazy boy seats, and huge arm rests. But when it comes time to get close to your man, you're gonna need to do quite a lot of work. In my ride, close happens by default.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. It's old - Translation - Cars are like houses. If you're one of those pick from six models, vinyl siding, sub-division type people you probably got the wrong guy. But if you're looking for that one of a kind, full of character, maybe with a few (or quite a few) quirks, old school house that screams there's only one like me. Then you've got the right guy here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. It's a bit ruff - Translation - It needs a ladies touch. Let's face it girls, get in one of those ever so shiny new cars, and all the details are already ironed out. Where's the fun in that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Ok, it's 20 years old - Translation - It's got experience. You can go out with one of those acne induced, pubescent cars, or you can go out with a car that's had some time to mature. You know, time to work out the kinks, really figure out what he wants, choose some direction in life, and really knows how to treat a lady.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;6. Small Engine - Translation - This cars made to go the distance. Nice and steady. No fear of quick burnouts like those other rides &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;" class="ej8B8e"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;" id="1f6u"&gt;that initially jerk your head back, and appear to have the ability to really wow you until it is clear that they have given you their very best in under 6 seconds.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. And finally, no translation needed, it's gotta be love if she's going out with me in that thing, cause I admit it's probably not scoring me any points.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-2792189563649762644?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/2792189563649762644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=2792189563649762644&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/2792189563649762644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/2792189563649762644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/01/chick-magnet.html' title='Chick Magnet'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-4448996041279532974</id><published>2008-01-13T13:12:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-13T13:25:25.832-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Wandering highlights</title><content type='html'>&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Over the last 5 weeks I’ve been on quite a journey. I got to spend 2 weeks at L’Abri in &lt;st1:state st="on"&gt;Minnesota&lt;/st1:State&gt;, be home for Christmas, and spend some time at the Navigator headquarters in &lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Colorado Springs&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:City&gt;. Here’s a list of the Top 10 things I learned along the way, in no particular order.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;ol style="margin-top: 0in; font-family: arial;" start="1" type="1"&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;“Minnesota      Nice” is real. Apparently drivers smile and wave at you even if you cut      them off very blatantly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Move      over cross stitch, knitting is cool. I made a scarf, a hat, and am now      making another scarf and hat. Please feel free to just get it over with      and make fun of me at this point.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Lake      Erie Steelhead season is in the middle of the winter. I actually caught      one of the behemoths that was 23 inches. Special thanks to Troutslayer for      outfitting me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;I      cannot sing. Proven by my spectacularly awful performance playing Rock      Band on Xbox 360.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;A true      cup of tea involves PG Tips, milk, and sugar. Special thanks to Jock      McGregor.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:city st="on"&gt;Pittsburgh&lt;/st1:City&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; has lots      of very cool old buildings with lots of character and a sunny day means      it’s not raining.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;Pajama suits are back in style, at least in my head.&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;How to make a pie crust from scratch&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;I like music by Griffin House, The National, Band of Horses, and Brett Dennen&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li class="MsoNormal" style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Flight of the Concords is rather funny. Check out youtube&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: arial;"&gt;Today I'm trying to clean up my room but really procrastinating. I left it in quite a mess...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-4448996041279532974?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/4448996041279532974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=4448996041279532974&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/4448996041279532974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/4448996041279532974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2008/01/wandering-highlights.html' title='Wandering highlights'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-5085505861054217284</id><published>2007-12-04T08:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T09:50:26.550-08:00</updated><title type='text'>When the finish line becomes the starting line</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I can't remember where, but recently I was reading something written by Brian McLaren on living the Christian life.  He was comparing it to running a race.  Recently, thanks to my "I'm Not 40 yet" workout plan, I've been spending a bit more time running on my own as well. So some of these next thoughts come from a recent run I took and a book a read.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, I went out to run on the greenbelt next to my house.  It was dark, cold, and had started to snow. The clouds were reflecting the glow of the city. I think this is a perfect time for running.  For some reason I seem to like running more when it's the weather is doing something. Anyways, I started my run with the goal of running six miles.  That is the farthest distance I have run since I destroyed my self and pride in a half-marathon about 4 years ago. So with my iPod blaring I started off running.  In the beginning I was excited to get going, inspired to run farther, all pumped up because I was going to accomplish something. Miles 1-3 went by fairly smoothly. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I was running because of the potential and because I was inspired.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After that, things started to get a bit harder. My legs started to get tired and my body/mind was starting to manipulate my will. "What are you doing?" it said, "You're fine. You've already run farther than you need to at this point, is six miles really that important to you? Just turn around now and you can enjoy your success.  There's not point to continuing to push yourself. Don't you think six miles was a bit excessive? I mean come on, it'll be fine if you just stop here. It's not like anybody but you cares about this goal you've set for yourself."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But somehow, I just kept things going. I think music helps to drown out those voices in my head when I'm running. So miles 4 and 5 were more of a slogfest. I wasn't going very fast.  And I really just wanted to turn around.  At this point I just started thinking about the end.  I was fixated on finding relief from the pain in my legs and relief from the endless mental assault going on in my head. All I could think about with each and every step was stopping. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I was running just to get to the end.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Around the end of mile 5 though, I began to run for a different reason. My mind wasn't trying to defeat my will anymore. My body experienced a renewal of energy. The distance I had already come was so much greater than the distance I had left to go. Once I realized I was going to finish, I began to enjoy running. I could move past the pain in my legs much easier. &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I ran because I knew the hard part was over.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of mile 6 a funny thing happened.  I was enjoying running so much that I just ran straight past the finish line. I didn't even slow down. "What the heck do you think you're doing?!" screamed my head. "Running," I said "Isn't that the point?" &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;I was now running because I could.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ended up running 8 miles that night and afterwards I was left thinking about some pretty strong parallels between the way I ran that night, and the way I pursue my faith. You see many times I feel like I am living just to get to the end. Just to get to heaven some might say or in reality just to get to some different place in my life where things aren't quite as hard and life is fun again(or just plain easier). When I'm running this way, the joy in my life quickly disappears. Living for anything but relief becomes drudgery because I'm fixated on how hard things are and keep entertaining the temptations that keep boiling up in my head to just give up on whatever it is I'm struggling to pursue. I begin to think that the point of life or a specific hardship is to just get to the end. I can no longer enjoy the race. I can no longer love life or anyone in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as running guarantees pain, love guarantees sacrifice. Many, many times I begin to wish that I could run without feeling the pain. I also begin to wish I could love God and others without making any sacrifices.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What if I began to see my life not as an opportunity to just get to the finish line. Because in that mindset I try to love as few people as possible without totally giving up on the race I'm running. What if I began to see my life as an opportunity to love as many people as possible. To run as hard as I could. Because the point was to run, to run for the joy of it, not because I had to, or because anyone else thought I should, but because I could. Because the point of life was to run the race; not just get to the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="en-NIV-30198" class="sup"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;"Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. &lt;span id="en-NIV-30199" class="sup"&gt;2&lt;/span&gt;Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. &lt;span id="en-NIV-30200" class="sup"&gt;3&lt;/span&gt;Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;If I get to the end someday, I have a sneaking suspicion that I will have only crossed the starting line.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-5085505861054217284?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/5085505861054217284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=5085505861054217284&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/5085505861054217284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/5085505861054217284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/12/when-finish-line-becomes-starting-line.html' title='When the finish line becomes the starting line'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-6333308649493298033</id><published>2007-11-28T12:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-28T13:17:50.439-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jayber Crow</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I'm about to finish a book called Jayber Crow by Wendell Berry.  Here's a page or so from it that I've been mulling over since I started it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Jayber Crow is at seminary in this part of the story:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;And so finally, late one afternoon, I went to the professor I was afraid to go to, old Dr. Ardmire.  I was afraid to go to him because I knew he would tell me the truth.....&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I knocked at his open door and waited until he read to a stopping place and looked up from his book.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Come in , Mr. J. Crow" He didn't like it that I went by my initial.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I went in.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He said, "Have a seat, please."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I sat down.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Customarily, when I came to see him I would be bringing work that he had required me to talk with him about. That day I was empty-handed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Seeing that I was, he said, "What have you got in mind?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Well," I said, "I've got a lot of questions."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He said, "Perhaps you would like to say what they are?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Well, for instance," I said, "if Jesus said for us to love our enemies-- and He did say that, didn't He?--how can it ever be right to kill our enemies? And if He said not to pray in public, how come we're all the time praying in public? And if Jesus' own prayer in the garden wasn't granted, what is there for us to pray, except 'thy will be done,' which there's no use in praying because it will be done anyhow?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I sort of ran down. He didn't say anything. He was looking straight at me. Adn then I realized that he wasn't looking at me the way he usually did. I seemed to see way back in his eyes a little gleam of light. It was a light of kindness and (as I now think) of amusement.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He said, "Have you anymore?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Well, for instance," I said, for it had just occurred to me, "suppose you prayed for something and you got it, how do you know how you got it? How do you know you didn't get it because you were going to get it whether you prayed for it or not? So how do you know it does any good to pray? You woudl need proof, wouldn't you?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He nodded.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"But there's no way to get any proof."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He shook his head. We looked at each other.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He said, "Do you have any answers?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"No," I said. I was concentrating so hard, looking at him, you could have nailed my foot to the floor and I wouldn't have felt it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"So," I said, "I reckon what it all comes down to is, how can I preach if I don't have any answers?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"Yes, Mr. Crow," he said. "How can you?" he was not one of your frying-sized chickens.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"I don't believe I can," I said, and I felt my skin turn cold, for I had not even thought that until then.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He said, "No, I don't believe you can." And we sate there and looked at each other again while he waited for me to see the nextg thing, so he wouldnt' have to tell me: I oughtn't to waste any time resigning my scholarship and leaving Pigeonville. I saw it soon enough.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;I said, "Well," for now I was ashamed, "I had this feeling maybe I had been called."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"And you may have been right. But not to what you thought. Not to what you think. You have been given questions to which you cannot be &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;font-size:85%;"  &gt;given&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt; answers. You will have to live them out -- perhaps a little at a time."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"And how long is that going to take?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"I don't know. As long as you live, perhaps."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"That could be a long time."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;"I will tell you a further mystery," he said. "It may take longer."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;He held out his hand to me and I shook it. As I started to leave, it came to me that of all the teachers I'd had in school he was the kindest, and I turned around. I was going to thank him, but he had gone back to his book.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-6333308649493298033?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/6333308649493298033/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=6333308649493298033&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/6333308649493298033'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/6333308649493298033'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/11/jayber-crow.html' title='Jayber Crow'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-4918586573853803888</id><published>2007-11-20T14:08:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-20T14:14:50.757-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Diametric Faces of God</title><content type='html'>&lt;p class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center; font-family: georgia;" align="center"&gt;&lt;b style=""&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: 14pt;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;i style="font-family: arial;"&gt;“These days I own a Dellapple”&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;i style=""&gt;&lt;o:p&gt; &lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/i&gt;And He said to him, "'YOU SHALL LOVE THE LORD YOUR GOD WITH ALL YOUR HEART, AND WITH ALL YOUR SOUL, AND WITH ALL YOUR MIND.”&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;How is it that two people can walk into a church and have such drastically different experiences? One person finds a life giving, inspiring, and inviting group of people that immediately enables them to relax and breather a little easier. They smile and energetically engage the people and place that they have just entered. The other person immediately puts up their guard, full of suspicion and critique. Not able to accept that the motives of these “nice” people can truly be real and sincere.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;What do you do when you realize you are both of those people at the same time? Is that possible? When you see, that you are someone who finds identity and purpose in this community in which you have spent most of your life. Yet at the same time, you are someone who somewhere along the way has become cynical, wounded, and distrusting of the very community that you used to find life in.&lt;/p&gt;        &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;I am that person and I am confused.&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;The threads of this “Christian” experience, both good and bad, have been woven so intricately into the fabric of my life, that I can no longer separate them without destroying the entire garment.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;These days it seems like I have two gods’ I’m trying to worship and follow and I don’t know which one is real anymore. It’s like trying to please Bill Gates and Steve Jobs at the same time. One god is the god of tradition, of conservatism (whatever that means), and the god of the four spiritual laws. This god provides right principles, a bastion of safety amongst a crooked and depraved generation, and a systematic theology. This is the god that sees homosexuality and abortion as the ultimate assault on the purity of the Church and morality. This god is definitely a He. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;As much as I tend to see things from this first god’s point of view, this god makes no sense to the other god I’m trying to follow.&lt;span style=""&gt;  &lt;/span&gt;The god that values humanity, cares about things like social justice, the environment, the poor, and sees constrains to the love of God when faced with choices between red and blue. This god also makes no sense to my first god. To my first god, this god seems fickle and “blown by the wind.” Infected with new age ideas and gender confused. This god is he, she, both, and none of the above. &lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;In an odd way I find myself reflecting on Matthew 6:24. “No one can serve two masters; for either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to one and despise the other.” What if I have been tormenting over a choice I was never expected to make? I am beginning to think more and more these days that this struggle has been a war between lesser gods; one that has left my heart and mind bloodied as its battlefield.&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;More and more I know longer care if I’ve found the perfect face of God, because more and more my hope is in the scandalous love of a God that many days appears as absurd as the Dellapple I’m writing on. I may be confused about many things, but I am becoming more and more sure of one thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;    &lt;p style="font-family: arial;" class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;o:p&gt;&lt;/o:p&gt;Sorry if you wanted to read something a little more lighthearted. You might check out this video instead &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTYr3JuueF4"&gt;"Baby got Book" &lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-4918586573853803888?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/4918586573853803888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=4918586573853803888&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/4918586573853803888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/4918586573853803888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/11/diametric-faces-of-god.html' title='Diametric Faces of God'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-8809753410621647722</id><published>2007-11-13T09:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-13T10:02:11.646-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm not 40 yet:</title><content type='html'>I recently "discovered" a brand new workout plan unlike any other.  It's called the I'm not 40 yet workout routine. This is how it works.  Look in the mirror at yourself.  Tell yourself, "Self, you're not 40 yet."  Then ask yourself, "Self, why am I working out like I'm 40?" When the Self tells you it's because you're lazy and working out takes work (hence the name), not just 2 half-hearted jogs a weak, take the following steps:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank Self.&lt;br /&gt;Get pissed.&lt;br /&gt;Go actually workout.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;This blog makes no attempt to  discriminate based upon age. If you are over 40, all is not lost.  Simply, replace 40 with a motivating number of your choosing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-8809753410621647722?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/8809753410621647722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=8809753410621647722&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/8809753410621647722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/8809753410621647722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/11/im-not-40-yet.html' title='I&apos;m not 40 yet:'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-4344837932568838370</id><published>2007-11-05T09:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-05T12:17:33.716-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You David Crowder Band</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;Life makes it so hard sometimes&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;To know what's real&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When I can't feel You there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When I can't see You there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;When I can't comprehend that &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You are there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You are there&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You're everywhere&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;You are everywhere&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:arial;" &gt;Lyrics by David Crowder Band&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:arial;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I am enjoying my new CD today&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-4344837932568838370?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/4344837932568838370/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=4344837932568838370&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/4344837932568838370'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/4344837932568838370'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/11/thank-you-david-crowder-band.html' title='Thank You David Crowder Band'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-9085534897540880044</id><published>2007-10-30T11:52:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T11:59:21.175-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Banff'/><title type='text'>Banff, Beer, and Dollars</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/Ryd9jJh70bI/AAAAAAAABCQ/Nde7PE7PfDg/s1600-h/Banff+3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/Ryd9jJh70bI/AAAAAAAABCQ/Nde7PE7PfDg/s400/Banff+3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127204743591743922" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got to visit Banff, Canada recently for the NOLS Wilderness Risk Management Conference.  It was a great time and that's where the picture above is from.  I didn't get to do much exploring, but I didn't have to go far either to be surrounded by some spectacular scenery.  I already want to go back and go backpacking or something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of things I found out while I was there:  &lt;br /&gt;12 cans of Budweiser cost approximately $24. &lt;br /&gt;In case you didn't know the Canadian dollar is actually stronger than the U.S. dollar now.  &lt;br /&gt;The Royal Canadian Mounted Police don't ride horses any more, they drive patrol cars. I liked all the Canadians I met.  &lt;br /&gt;If you get pulled over for going 50km over the speed limit, the police can take your plates off your car and put you in jail immediately. (I did not have this experience)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-9085534897540880044?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/9085534897540880044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=9085534897540880044&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/9085534897540880044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/9085534897540880044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/10/banff-beer-and-dollars.html' title='Banff, Beer, and Dollars'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/Ryd9jJh70bI/AAAAAAAABCQ/Nde7PE7PfDg/s72-c/Banff+3.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-8378878029342721820</id><published>2007-10-10T13:55:00.002-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T14:10:58.589-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow in the City</title><content type='html'>&lt;table style="width:auto;"&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/kennethlayton/CityOfRocks02/photo#5119808111441190050"&gt;&lt;img src="http://lh4.google.com/kennethlayton/Rw02WfidnKI/AAAAAAAAAtg/Xe-bAngW1UU/s800/DSC_0033.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="font-family:arial,sans-serif; font-size:11px; text-align:right"&gt;From &lt;a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/kennethlayton/CityOfRocks02"&gt;City of Rocks&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went to the City of Rocks recently to do some climbing.  It was a wonderful trip.  Here's a picture I took when we woke up and had 4 inches of snow on the ground.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-8378878029342721820?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/8378878029342721820/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=8378878029342721820&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/8378878029342721820'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/8378878029342721820'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/10/snow-in-city.html' title='Snow in the City'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-8198541739778975192</id><published>2007-09-27T12:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T12:43:47.279-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Blown by the Wind</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;I spent an evening recently reading The Great Evangelical Disaster by Francis Schaeffer. The following quote gives you a fairly good idea of what the book is about. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"And if we hold this world view [a world view based upon the idea that the final reality is impersonal matter or energy shaped into its present form by impersonal chance] we live in a universe that is ultimately silent, with no meaning and purpose, with no basis for law and morality, with no concept of what it means to be human and of the value of human life. All is relative and arbitrary. And so modern man is left with nothing to fill the void but hedonism or materialism or whatever other "ism" may be blowing in the wind."&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"&gt;(Francis         A. Schaeffer, The Great Evangelical Disaster, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;         Ch. 1)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;More quotes from the book: &lt;a href="http://www.rationalpi.com/theshelter/disaster.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One quote especially has stuck in my mind.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Verdana, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:85%;"&gt;Truth demands confrontation.         It must be loving confrontation, but there must be confrontation nonetheless."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;This one has been sitting in my head for a few days now. I'm wrestling with it as I try to formulate what I really think about it. These days it seems as if I'm constantly trying to balance on a small tightrope between two extremes:  &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Truth without Love&lt;/span&gt;(characterized by self-righteousness, which I can't stand) and &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Love without Truth&lt;/span&gt;(characterized by accommodation, which is many times motivated by my fear of confrontation and offending).  Embracing either extreme brings forth neither Love or Truth. My tendency is to wish Jesus would have just accommodated once and a while.  But I really don't think he did.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-8198541739778975192?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/8198541739778975192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=8198541739778975192&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/8198541739778975192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/8198541739778975192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/09/blown-by-wind.html' title='Blown by the Wind'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-5298827288144368836</id><published>2007-09-19T07:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-19T08:56:58.244-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tight Calves, Loose Glutes, and a Weak Lower Back</title><content type='html'>After a year at the Idaho Athletic Club I recently received a call from Melissa, a personal trainer, informing me that I'm still eligible for a free physical consultation as part of my gym membership. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I went. I stood on a scale, measured my body fat percentage, and did a squat with my arms raised above my heads while she walked around looking at my form. Which I felt like a total bafoon doing. The results:  15.5 % Body Fat. 185 lbs. My lower back has a very poor arch and&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt; I have very tight calves and hamstrings as well as lats. Since these muscles aren't relaxed, they're compensating and creating poor posture.  Which means that my glutes are simply looking pretty instead of doing anything to really support my body like they should be. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, and I was offered four personal training sessions to help me achieve my physical goals for a very reasonable rate of $299.  And I was told that it is extremely important to have a multi-vitamin.  Those cost $20 for 50 vitamins that you take twice a day.  "Uhm, yeah...I'll pass on those." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think a guy like me kind of befuddles a personal trainer when I say I'm simply interested in going to the gym 3-5 times a week, and I just want to have  a simple workout routine that will help me stay in shape.  I don't want to record calories. Instead, I just want to know generally how much to eat.  I don't want to record my weight.  Instead, I just want to jump up and down naked in front of the mirror and make sure most of my body doesn't move.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-5298827288144368836?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/5298827288144368836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=5298827288144368836&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/5298827288144368836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/5298827288144368836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/09/tight-calves-loose-glutes-and-weak.html' title='Tight Calves, Loose Glutes, and a Weak Lower Back'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-6659191133796468214</id><published>2007-09-18T08:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-18T08:20:59.188-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't bring Rick Warren with you when you go to prison</title><content type='html'>If you ever go to prison, don't bring Rick Warren with you.  You might be a threat to the United States. I read these two articles recently about how the Government is screening books on faith in US prisons because they do not want them to become breeding grounds for terrorism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.iht.com/articles/ap/2007/08/22/america/NA-GEN-US-Prison-Book-Ban.php"&gt;Associated Press Article 8/22/07&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.blogger.com/New%20York%20Times%20Article%209/10/07"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2007/09/10/us/10prison.html?pagewanted=1&amp;amp;ei=5124&amp;amp;en=93a79f2540fb3d8d&amp;amp;ex=1347163200&amp;amp;partner=permalink&amp;amp;exprod=permalink"&gt;New York Times Article 9/10/07&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a couple of sections of the article:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;“Government does have a legitimate interest to screen out things that tend to incite violence in prisons,” Mr. Laycock said. “But once they say, ‘We’re going to pick 150 good books for your religion, and that’s all you get,’ the criteria has become more than just inciting violence. They’re picking out what is accessible religious teaching for prisoners, and the government can’t do that without a compelling justification. Here the justification is, the government is too busy to look at all the books, so they’re going to make their own preferred list to save a little time, a little money.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Among the books banned at their prison were "When Bad Things Happen to Good People" by Rabbi Harold S. Kushner, and "The Purpose-Driven Life" by the Rev. Rick Warren, the lawsuit said.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-6659191133796468214?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/6659191133796468214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=6659191133796468214&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/6659191133796468214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/6659191133796468214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/09/dont-with-you-to-prison-rick-warren-in.html' title='Don&apos;t bring Rick Warren with you when you go to prison'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-4192247552787223832</id><published>2007-09-13T11:49:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-13T12:05:54.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dobbson and "Focus" reject  album cover for new Christan Band</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RumKB-jn2eI/AAAAAAAAAmM/B2tEZ4Vm0xk/s1600-h/hotness.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RumKB-jn2eI/AAAAAAAAAmM/B2tEZ4Vm0xk/s400/hotness.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5109767018805451234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="text-decoration: underline;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div face="arial,helvetica,sans-serif" size="10pt" style=""&gt;In recent news,Dobbson and "Focus" have rejected an album cover for an up and coming Christan band....stating that "it may cause people, especially young Christian woman to go astray".  Apparently if the album does go to press it will bear the new "Explicit Hotness" rating.  A label reserved only for the truly beautiful in society.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;High Tide, the lead singer of the band, responded to the dilemma by saying, "I was thinking we should switch to wearing square frame glasses while looking contemplatively to the sky.  That way we can still be so hot but less suggestive. This way we might at least capture the "Plain White Tees" audience and still remain uplifting."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt; &lt;div face="arial,helvetica,sans-serif" size="10pt" style=""&gt; &lt;/div&gt; &lt;div style="font-size: 10pt; font-family: arial,helvetica,sans-serif;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;.....this post is a sin an entirely fictitious.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-4192247552787223832?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/4192247552787223832/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=4192247552787223832&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/4192247552787223832'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/4192247552787223832'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/09/dobbson-and-focus-reject-bio-picture.html' title='Dobbson and &quot;Focus&quot; reject  album cover for new Christan Band'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RumKB-jn2eI/AAAAAAAAAmM/B2tEZ4Vm0xk/s72-c/hotness.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3311611422331374138.post-486800968876294044</id><published>2007-09-12T22:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-12T23:13:03.463-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Myers Briggs ENTP'/><title type='text'>Extroverted Intiuition &amp; Introverted Thinking...Is Myers Briggs God?</title><content type='html'>I've been inspired. I've had an aha moment. Miss Wingett has compelled me to begin a blog. So now being therefore compelled, I must start somewhere.  And what better place to start then here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been reading my personality test recently and I've identified strongly with the ENTP type. If you're interested in reading it you can find it at personalitypage.com just look for the ENTP type. You'll find that I am motivated by possibilities, full of ideas, frustrated by routine, and can have trouble in relationships once I get bored with people. Oh yeah, and I don't pay good attention to peoples feelings and I can exhibit infectious enthusiasm. For example, I've been mulling over this personality profile during the day and a friend of mine, who has never had interest what so ever in personality tests, said tonight that she now has a desire to see what her personality test reveals.  Funny since earlier today she said that the last time she did one of these things she started skipping questions and lost interest less than halfway through. I shouldn't be surprised.  The test said this would happen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In reality, all I'm trying to say is that today my mind has been absorbed by the intricacies of the Extroverted Intuitive Thinking Perceiver.  I guess it should come as no surprise since that's what the test says would happen anyways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Which brings up a very important questions.  If Myers Briggs has had enough insight to intricately produce a portrait of the inner workings of my personality, predict what kind of person my love life will be best lived with, and give me recommendations on fulfilling career choices; I'm left with only one question.  Is Myers Briggs God?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3311611422331374138-486800968876294044?l=kennethlayton.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/feeds/486800968876294044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3311611422331374138&amp;postID=486800968876294044&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/486800968876294044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3311611422331374138/posts/default/486800968876294044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://kennethlayton.blogspot.com/2007/09/extroverted-intiuition-introverted.html' title='Extroverted Intiuition &amp; Introverted Thinking...Is Myers Briggs God?'/><author><name>Kenneth</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/12638433569472152693</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://bp3.blogger.com/_odlH_wdQCu4/RvFjsVJ3lSI/AAAAAAAAAoc/Ko6sdkcwLc0/s400/n9323654_39529359_3653.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
