Church Media Archive App

I don't code in Classic ASP much anymore, but sometimes I have to make changes to old apps I've written in the past. I wrote an app about seven years for a church I was working at that automatically recorded sermon audio and published it to a website with zero human interaction. This church needed it because they didn't have any people who had the know how or attention span to do it manually. I've re-used the app a few times since then and it has evolved. I'm at a new (to me) church in Murfreesboro and implemented it about a year ago. Last Sunday, one of our members asked me if sermons were available in a Podcast. Well, after a little bit of coding, they are now available in a Podcast format. Even though it's in Classic ASP, I think it's a cool little app, so I wanted to make it available for others to use. If you need help implementing it, give me a call or email.

Download:
http://stonesriver.thruhere.net/archive.zip

Samples:
Archive Website - http://stonesriver.thruhere.net/
Podcast - http://stonesriver.thruhere.net/?output=podcast

Instructions:
1. Unzip 3 files to a web accessible folder (e.g. c:\inetpub\wwwroot\archive).
2. Edit "avarchive.xml" in notepad.
3. Place media files in folder.
4. Point web browser to folder to view archive web page.

The Day I Learned About Backups

Google just turned 10 year old. It almost seems like they've been around since the web replaced BBS's. At the time of this writing, google has a link on their main search page allowing you to search one of their oldest indexes. If you don't know what that means, I'll tell you. You can search for something as if you were searching for it back in 2001. Anyways, I like to "google myself" from time to time. Call it vanity... call it what you will... you do the same thing! I used the legacy search to see what "Byron Sommardahl" turned up from 2001. The results from that search re-opened an old wound, long since forgotten.

I've always been a sucker for a good project. Sometime during my sophmore year (around 1998 or 1999) at Lipscomb University in Nashville, a friend told me I should start a website that allowed people at Lipscomb to connect with one another, tell others about themselves, compare notes, talk about issues, etc, all without the imposing thumb of Lipscomb's administration. Being the budding entrepreneur and web developer that I was, I registered eLipscomb.com that night for $9.75. The next day, I started development on what would be Lipscomb's first independent social network.

A month or two later, eLipscomb.com was fully functional and heavily publicized. It offered email accounts to anyone who wanted an eLipscomb.com address, discussion forums, blogs (we didn't call them blogs back then, though), polls, and file-sharing for notes, homework and papers. We had ads in the campus newspaper, fliers all over campus, and sponsorships on the campus radio station. We formed a loose partnership with The Lipscomb Underground, a student-run rant newsletter, where we re-published their weekly posting on eLipscomb.com. We even had ads running on the site to generate revenue. Everything was humming along. Those were exciting times for the small staff of eLipscomb.com.

Did I mention that I was a "budding" web developer? Here's a question for you: What's one way to learn about backing things up that will ensure beyond a shadow of a doubt that you will never forget the lesson? Hmmm... do I even need to say what happened? It's almost too embarrassing to elaborate.

You can't have a successful website without generating some jealousy. My website was no exception. One night, while all was quite and peaceful on the campus of Lipscomb University, a person of malicious intent began scanning eLipscomb.com for possible security holes. He (yes, I think it was a "he") found one. He took the site down, deleting all the files. He destroyed the database. He laid waste of all that was eLipscomb.com. Users who visited the site got a blank screen. Dead.

I got the call during breakfast the next day. One of my staff had been told by a user that the site was down. I rushed to my dorm room, checked the site, and kept a cool head. "I should be able to have this back up and running in a matter of minutes," I thought. "I'll just restore a ba..." No backups. No mirror sites. No copies on disk. Nothing. How stupid.

The best way to learn to back things up is to lose something important to you. Who knows what eLipscomb.com could have become. We had even talked about expanding the concept out to other universities (apparently a good idea considering Facebook's popularity). After the site was lost, we decided to fold.

Today, I am continuing my dream of creating a social network space. This time, it's for neighborhoods instead of colleges. Do I have backups? Yes, I do... in three states. :)

Update

I haven't updated in a while. A lot has happened in the past couple years. I went on the road with Acappella and traveled the world. I've dated a little. I've moved to another city twice. I'm now living in my hometown, Murfreesboro, TN. A partner and I founded a national social networking website focused on neighborhoods in the United States. I have joined an amazing church and volunteer with the worship and youth ministries. I've written 5 new open-source programs. I've designed 10 new websites. I've repaired countless computers and networks. I've had more meals with my mom and dad than I've had in the past 10 years.

I told someone the other day that I am happier and more content than I've been in years. After allowing that statement to sink in a few days, I am reminded how good God is (all the time).

Youth Specialties Sends People to Hell

I have to chuckle a little when I think of your reaction to the title of this article. Creative writing class taught me to use a hook to coax the reader into stopping and seeing what the deal is. I'd love to take credit for this ingenious use of absurdity, but I have to deflect the praise to a man standing outside the Youth Specialties Convention entrance in Anaheim, CA. His collegue held a sign which said "Jesus Kills" while he held a sign which read the same as the title, "Youth Specialties Sends People to Hell". Both signs had a phone number, but I'm not going to post it here. Email me if you want to give them a call.

One of the guys told me I was going to hell today. Quite an interesting experience, really. I haven’t been told that since my days back at Freed-Hardeman. I had some time to kill, so I stopped and talked to one of the guys and had a good, healthy 1:45 long conversation/debate right there on the sidewalk. (I wasn’t the only one trying my bible school degree out on these guys, but might have been the only one having fun doing it). When I was talking with the guy, I found him to be down-to-earth and gracious. But he was sure that I and the rest of my convention-going peers would burn in eternal damnation.

Here’s what was interesting. In my attempts to boil his message down to its core, I found that the fundamental separation is how we view scripture. He and his people viewed scripture as Jesus… not from Jesus, or the words/message of Jesus, not merely inspired by Jesus, but actually Jesus (not sure how Jesus feels about the "Cotton Patch" translation).

He had a frighteningly literal view of the entire Bible… no room for allegory or symbolism unless explicitly self-declared. If the Bible says it, it is true as it stands with no dispute or question or intellect needed. For instance, he asked me about original sin and quoted Psalm 58:3 (The wicked are estranged from the womb: They go astray as soon as they are born, speaking lies.). I said, “but surely you can see that this is poetic language speaking in exaggeration. No one would actually agree that a baby can be born, and then immediately “speak”, let alone “speak lies”. He said, “Well, then you don’t believe the Bible. You call Christ a liar, therefore you are not following Him.” So, all I could get out of him at that point was that he believes babies definitely speak when they are born, even speaking lies, because Psalm 58:3 says it does. Either that is great faith, or he is very badly misguided (most likely both).

We exchanged names (his name is Darwin if you’d like to pray for him), and I said I hoped he would pray for me as I would be praying for him. One last theological jab in the rib-cage: “Your prayers are an abomination to God, but I will pray that you will find the truth.” I said goodbye, thankful to God that I had been led away from that line of thinking and bought some “Jesus Loves You” t-shirts.

Can I Have Your Attention?

I am nervous about telling you any of this. That’s partly because I have thought of myself and portrayed myself for so long as a strong individual, seldom with a problem deeper than a twisted ankle. I’m also nervous because I’m not sure what your reaction will be towards me after you find out that I’m not always such a strong person. You might decide that I’m making all this up or that I’m making excuses. I’m hoping that you can hear my heart, see my determination, and give me grace where I have fallen short.

When I was a child, I was diagnosed by a family doctor with a common learning disorder. The only treatment available at that time was a drug that was known to have very bad side effects. My parents decided to deal with my disorder without drugs. Instead, they raised me to cope with the effects of the disorder, instilling in me a strong determination to succeed, and even excel. I owe everything to my parents who loved me despite impulsivity, social awkwardness, and academic shortfalls.

Even after such wonderful upbringing, I still had a myriad of problems. My short-term memory was horrible. I had a very hard time remembering what I had done in the last 24 hours. Memory and focus issues made school difficult. My lasting impression of 2nd grade is made up of daily paddlings for not doing homework (it probably wasn’t actually daily, but we’re talking memories of a 7-year-old). Throughout elementary school, I was in and out of school counselors’ and principals’ offices for the same reason. Middle School got a little better because the teachers didn’t care as much. High School was a lot better because the teachers didn’t give much weight to homework grades. I was able to graduate 7th in my class, by the grace of God. Still, adults told me I was lazy. Teachers scolded me for not living up to my potential. I can remember feelings of desperation because I couldn’t figure out why I couldn’t excel like the other kids. Because I couldn’t explain what was going on, I gave in and believed what people said about me.

Over the years, I learned “coping skills”. These coping skills helped me either look like normal people or function close to their level. Sometime my coping skills work, and sometimes they don’t. When my coping skills are working, I feel good about myself. I can even remember times in my pride when I bragged to people about how good I was at controlling the effects of the disorder. There were many times when I doubted that I even suffered from the disorder at all. But, when my coping skills failed, I failed. It wasn’t a good feeling at all. I would ask myself, “Why can’t I be normal like everyone else?”

My coping skills scraped me through college. I graduated with a fair GPA and a degree in Youth and Family Ministry from Lipscomb University. I began my first youth ministry position at a little church in Mt. Juliet, TN called Corinth Church of Christ. Corinth was good for me because there had never been a youth ministry there before and no one had any lofty expectations. I could stretch and grow at my own pace, which was usually breakneck. The first two years were wonderful. Then people started noticing that my planning and organization was falling off. My third year at Corinth was spent in survival mode. I resigned in the spring of that year because of, what I thought was, “burn out”.

I quickly got a call from Randall Dunn at Friendship Christian School to come and develop their computer and network infrastructure. I took the job and before I knew it, I was teaching Jr High and High School classes along with designing websites, billboards, magazine ads, brochures, and just about anything else. The first two years were great. The third year was a struggle to survive. I resigned in the spring of my third year because of, what I thought was, burn out.

I can see a little more clearly now. You know… retrospect is 20/20. I can see that, in both jobs, I wasn’t actually burned out. I just got myself into a situation where my mental disorder was able to take over. In both instances, after a certain time, my coping skills stopped working. People noticed, called my competence into question, and I fell deeper into the hole. At that point, I couldn’t see a way out of the hole without leaving altogether.

June of 2004, I began work at University Church of Christ in Tuscaloosa, AL. I have had a great time. My youth group is full of great teenagers who love the Lord. I want to be everything they need me to be to help them get to know Jesus. I want to be in Tuscaloosa years from now when James Jackson (6) and Ellie Crew (4) come through the youth ministry. I want to have grey hair and still be pointing teens to Jesus.

Enter weeping and gnashing of teeth. For the first time in a long time, I felt a hint of familiar desperation this past May. June 1 would mark my 2-year anniversary at University. I’m beginning my third year. My coping skills began to waiver and people were beginning to notice. Before I knew it, summer was in full swing and I found myself in a pit of despair. Youth events, devos, bible classes, interns, song leading, last minute planning, upset teens, upset parents, upset leadership… I felt like I was unraveling from the top down. I remember wondering if my Dad in Murfreesboro would let me move home and work for him (if you know my Dad, you know how desperate I must have felt… ha ha).

Something was different this time, though. I felt led to take a chance and share what I was struggling with (something I had never really done before). I actually expected skepticism… I don’t know why. What I found instead was love and support from so many. That led to taking a trip to a doctor who specializes in learning and developmental disorders. After several days of tests, several hundred dollars, and the agony of having to wait for a diagnosis, the doctor told me that I have “Adult ADHD” (duh). It’s amazing to hear someone who has never met me before tell me everything that I struggle with and why. It is comforting to know that there is now safe medicine and other treatments that can help me with this disorder. It is angering to think that I have pridefully attempted to will my way out of it, as if I could will my way out of cancer or diabetes.

ADHD is one of the most over diagnosed and faddish disorders in our country. Our American culture elevates anything that allows us to shirk responsibility or deflect blame. We are so quick to label ourselves with this disorder whenever we forget a name, miss an appointment, or space out in a meeting. Doctors are prescribing meds like candy. Our culture has made it difficult for anyone to care for or respect what true ADHD sufferers are going through. I used to joke a lot about ADHD. Admittedly, there are some pretty funny jokes about it. I love this one:

- “What does ADHD stand for?”
- “It stands for Attention Deficit… Hey! Look at that!”

Though I will probably tell a few more ADHD jokes in my time, it is no longer a joke in my life. I’m finally taking all this seriously. I’m making changes like crazy. I’m growing as a person. I’m being open and honest about my struggles. God is shaping me through all of it.

When I was 17-years-old, I decided to give my whole life to Jesus Christ. From that moment on, I knew I had to devote the rest of my life to full-time ministry. If I knew then how hard ministry would be for me, I might have chickened out. But I’m not ready to go work for my Dad just yet. I must be a glutton for punishment to want so badly to continue in full-time ministry. But that’s it. I’m determined to be successful. For my sake and for my teens’ sakes, I must be successful. I covet your prayers.

The New Youth Minister Smell

Hey! If a new car can have a smell, so can I. Why should cars get all the credit? Why should they only bottle the “new car fragrance”? How about a new eau de toilette? We'll call it “Essence De Nouveau Youth Guy”.

It's fun to talk about smells. Well, maybe not so fun when you're coming home late at night with a van full of Jr. High boys. But, what about this “new car smell?” You know what I'm talking about, don't you? When a car rolls off the line, it has a distinct and pleasant smell inside the cab. People will actually buy a car and sit in the driveway just breathing. It really does smell good. The trouble is, it only lasts for a little while. Eventually the “new car smell” is replaced with a mixture of other smells, almost canceling it out completely. Did you know that new youth ministers have a smell, too? Don't get to close! I'm using figurative language, here!

Have you ever heard of the fabled “honeymoon period”? It is a social phenomena that most ministers enjoy at the beginning of their time at a new church. You see, when a minister begins working with a group of people, there tends to be a period of, normally, 3 months where he or she enjoys an abundance of immediate relationships, attentive students and indulgent parents. That's not all. Typically, these first few months are devoid of conflict and complaints. It's really something to be experienced. It really is a happy time in a minister's life, which might be the reason it is called a “honeymoon period”. I like to refer to the “honeymoon period” as the “new youth minister smell”, or “the smell” for short.

What causes this phenomena? I could be wrong, but I believe my own honeymoon period, or smell, began when University first began looking at me as the new youth minister. In many cases, searching for a new minister is likened to “courtship”. The church who is searching is essentially “courting” the desired prospect, wooing them into a position. Looking back, I really felt well taken care of during the hiring process in Tuscaloosa. I came down three times before I was hired. Each time I stayed in a nice hotel, ate great meals with the search team, and was chauffeured around town. I was being treated like a king. After I was hired, the kingdom was allowed to continue in the form of this new youth minister smell.

I have talked with other ministers about the new youth minister smell. Nearly all of them could remember experiencing it. The duration was usually around 3 months, but a couple lasted a little longer. They always reminisce about the smell as such a wonderful time. One minister told me, “You need the [smell] so that you can have some time to establish your ministry. It's a gift from God. Use [the smell] to your advantage.”

Boy, did I take that advice and run with it. I'm sure I even overstepped my bounds a few times at University. But, hey! I still had the new youth minister smell. I kept telling our leadership, half jokingly, to let me know when the smell was gone. I've been at University for about a year and a half, now and it is only just recently going away. I don't try to pretend that I know much about ministry. I'm still trying to figure everything out, that's for sure. But, I have picked up some insights over the last few months regarding this whole “smell” issue. The most groundbreaking discovery I have made is that the new youth minister smell is less and less pleasant with every passing month.

The “New Youth Minister Smell” waters down relationships. While the smell lingers, relationships are very shallow. I said before that new ministers enjoy an abundance of immediate relationships during this time. Immediate relationships are nice for a while, but they can't last. They are only “honorary friendships” where small-talk and surface-level ministry are king and queen.

The “New Youth Minister Smell” abandons struggling parents. Does a church place struggling parents on the youth minister search team? If they do, I've never heard of it. Looking back, the parents on the search team that found me are all model parents with really great kids. Of course, any church would attempt to “put their best feet forward” (for lack of better terms). I'm not knocking the search process University used. I just believe that, in the wake of a shining performance by the search team, by the church as a whole, and by the new hire, most parents feel like they can't reveal their struggles without ruining the new smell. And so, they opt to go it alone, unintentionally abandoned.

The “New Youth Minister Smell” gives false impressions. Try as I did during the hiring process to be completely real with the search team, I know I was also trying to put my own best foot forward. Even after I was hired, people in the church were still trying to put their best feet forward. But, as you probably know, the best foot is never the one they use to kick you with. It seems that no kicking is allowed while you are protected by the smell. Unfortunately, when people weren't allowed to kick, you also aren't allowed access to their true passions. When people feel like they have to hold back their true feelings for the sake of the smell, it reveals only false impressions.

I really loved the new youth minister smell at first because of the space it allowed me in my ministry. I had the freedom to mess up without being raked over the coals. But, in retrospect, I hung on to the new youth minister smell way too long. When the new smell should have diffused on its own, I did my best to keep it going. In fact, I managed to keep it lingering in full force until just recently. I'm telling you, it was an eighteen month smell! It left people still feeling like they needed to be cordial instead of real. Parents were afraid to tell me what they really thought for fear that it might make me think they didn't like me. Teens were still very friendly, but there weren't a lot of relationships that went beyond the surface. The bottom line is that real ministry was being choked out by this horrible, pretentious smell.

I got a good look at this phenomena after eighteen months in it's grip. I'm so glad to say that, today, the new smell is gone. No more pretense. No more assuming everyone is perfect. No more pent up feelings. The new smell has been replaced with one that is much, much sweeter. It has been forced out by the wonderful aroma of REAL life, done in community with other imperfect, smelly people. I would take the chance to minister to the depths of the heart of a teenager amidst conflict, crisis, and cruelty over the lie of a polite smile any day. Goodbye new youth minister smell. I won't be missing you.

How To Be Funny

On occasion, people tell me that I'm a funny guy. I've always wanted to be able to make people laugh, but it hasn't always come easy. When I was in school, I failed more than I succeeded. So, if I'm funny now, I owe it to the lessons I learned while growing up.

I work with teenagers for a living. I get to see them grow physically, spiritually and emotionally. It really is a joy. Part of being a youth minister is fielding some pretty strange questions. One night, coming back from a youth trip, a young guy asked me, "How can I be funny?" Pulling one of my own, self-taught lessons out of my mental files, here's what I told him:

"Gordy (names changed to protect the innocent), when you try to be funny, you spread it way too thin. Picture your 'funny' as a liquid in a bucket. It's your bucket, Gordy. No one else's. The 'funny' that's inside the bucket is yours too. It might have been someone else's at one time, but it's yours now. See, you've got this 'funny' in a bucket and you're squirting it all over the place. It's getting all over everything. No one takes the time to realize, 'Hey! This is funny!,' because they're too busy wiping it off. What you've got to do is wait until the bucket is full. Once you've accumulated enough 'funny' in your bucket, you're ready to pour it out. Wait until an opportune time and let 'em have it. Just dump that 'funny' all over the place. The sheer volume of the bucket dump will force people to realize, 'Hey! This is funny!' You see, Gordy, it's simply the difference between a squirt and a dump."

Gordy still quirts a little too much, but I believe he'll get the hang of it some day. Sometimes, when I hear him trying to be funny too much, I'll ask him if his bucket is full. Most of the time, his answer is no. I hope I helped him out a little. I'm not sure if God cares if we are funny people of not, but when we get the hang of this "funny" business, it sure makes things a lot more fun.

God's Power vs. My Weakness

I remember pitching quite a fit in the doctor’s office as a child. My mom still talks about it at dinner parties when people need a laugh. Without exaggeration, it took three nurses, the doctor, and my mother to hold me down… for eye drops. I simply didn’t want them.

I have been a little sick for the past few days. The doctor told me it was bronchitis, so I’m sure I’ll be fine soon. But, while I waited on the doctor in my little personal examination room, I was able to overhear just about everything that went on. One thing caught my attention most of all. It was a little girl who was telling her mother that she didn’t want a shot. Her mother must not have heard her the first time, because the little girl repeated it over and over. The phrase, “I don’t want a shot,” got louder and louder with every repetition. At one point, they must have gone into a room because the little girl’s voice was muffled all of a sudden. But, then, her sweet but desperate voice turned into a scream of one who had been betrayed. From that point on, she cryed, “I want my Daddy!” Something tells me she didn’t want that shot.

I waited and waited. I didn’t have a watch with me, but it seemed like I had waited for an hour. I began to pick up on a conversation outside the examination room door. It was the doctor (who I had been waiting on) and a personality-filled drug-rep. That drug-rep talked to the doctor for what seemed like 30 minutes. I was in agony. All I could think of was, “I wish that drug-rep would leave so that I could see the doctor.” Now, I have a friend who is a drug-rep, so I mean no offense to drug-reps around the world… but have some decency! I just wanted to see the doctor in a timely fashion.

I can look back on my life and see great value in my defeats. I haven’t been given everything I wanted. My parents didn’t hand me a candy bar every time I wanted one in the check-out line. My teachers didn’t give me a good grade just because I smiled at them. My doctor doesn’t rush to my examination room as soon as I sit down just because I want him to. People who love me don’t fix all of my problems for me even when they know I might experience a little (or a lot of) pain. I have been defeated over and over in my life and I am better because of it.

Paul had a similar problem in II Corinthians 12. Paul speaks about a “thorn in his side.” Who knows what that “thorn” was? Maybe Paul struggled with a particularly difficult sin. Maybe Paul had a physical problem. We can ask Paul some day. Whatever it was, Paul asked God over and over to remove the thorn. God would not remove it. There was purpose in His refusal… there was purpose in Paul’s defeat.

Do you think there is purpose in those eye drops that I didn’t want? You bet there was! Was there a purpose for the shot that the little girl didn’t want? You know there was! Was there purpose in my having to wait so long to see the doctor? Probably not, but in all these cases, including Paul’s, we were defeated. Here is what God says to the defeated: “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness."

Do you see? God desires our defeatedness. Bring Him your broken life, your failed attempts, your everyday stumblings, and EXPECT His power to be made perfect through all of them. God’s grace is sufficient. Now, that’s something that I want. God has already said that I can have it. Thanks, God.