The New Black

It’s been six years since I last wrote a blog. Mainly because I did all those things in one year that sane people tell you never to do all in one year: get married, move, start a new job, have a baby. So, since that last blog, my life’s gone through more change than a laundromat in a coal-mining town. 

Marriage has been the best thing to happen to me. When I was single I was just this footloose and fancy-free guy who could do whatever he wanted, whenever he want—You know what? Let’s move on ... 

And parenthood, wow, that really changes everything. I now suffer from what is scientifically known as “daddy brain.” One of the symptoms is that in the space where my brain used to be are innumerable cheery, bubbly tunes aimed at preschoolers, shoving out all music I used to enjoy before I was a parent; such grown-up songs as … oh, wait, there’s one coming back to me … yes, yes! I remember loving this song … it’s … oh, how does it go? … out came the sun and dried up all the rain, and the itsy bits– 

Never mind.

Anyway, “daddy brain” is another part of the new me. Or the new Black, I suppose you could say, because that’s my last name. At least I think it is. Or maybe it's Berenstain, because that sounds familiar too.

Yet another part of the new Black is my job. Since I last wrote a blog I’ve become a pastor at a thriving, dynamic Christian church in New Jersey. It’s called Liquid Church. Even though the name sounds like a cult, we're rooted in traditional theology. That doesn’t mean we don’t do crazy things. One December the preaching series was called “Cosmic Christmas”. The battle of good versus evil that led to the Incarnation was juxtaposed with the cinematic battle of good versus evil in Star Wars. I'm not kidding. Look it up for yourself on the church website. We even had a nativity scene involving Jedis and Wookiees. Liquid Church isn’t afraid to exploit pop culture to spread the Gospel. And if you’re going to get all judgmental about a lowbrow approach like that, you simply had to be there to experience the hushed sacredness of thousands of people singing "In a Galaxy Far, Far Away in a Manger."

Anyway, here’s hoping my next blog gets written before another six busy years go by. But in the meantime, please excuse me. I have to go peel a half-chewed piece of ravioli off my kid’s chin, stare at it on the tip of my finger for a moment, and then eat it myself.

The new Black. It’s incredible what passes for normal now. May the Force– and an ounce of sanity– be with me.