Springsteen Coming to Atlanta...My (current) top 10

Any true Springsteen fan knows that whenever he or she comes up with a top 10 list, a couple of things are certain. First, it won't be the same as it was six months ago, or maybe even six days ago. It has everything to do with the mood you are in when compiling the list.

Secondly, you'll tend to agree with about 75 percent of those who call you an idiot for leaving off their favorite song. I've compiled this list probably a dozen times. This time, I'm not looking at I-Tunes or album catalogs to remind me of ones that I might miss. I'm just going to spit out 10, with a sentence of why I chose it. In no certain order, today's top 10 is:

-- Trapped: Almost always makes my list, regardless of mood.
-- No Surrender: The live version from the '75-'85 is preferred. I've loved it too long and too consistently for it not to be on the list.
-- The Ghost of Tom Joad: With Morello. My friend Clay gives me a hard time for seeing Bruce with him during the Ghost of Tom Joad tour, in an intimate setting, and being utterly unimpressed. He's right to give me a hard time. But I do like the rocker version better.
-- Land of Hope and Dreams: Beautiful, powerful and hopeful.
-- Lost in the Flood: Live version. I've heard it live once or twice. Memorable.
-- One Step Up: One of five amazing songs on Tunnel of Love. Who'd have thunk it at the time?
-- Badlands: Too fun to sing along with to not have on the list.
-- Tenth Avenue Freeze Out: See above.
-- Bobby Jean: Never made a top 10 list for me. But it stirs something in me every time.
-- Born to Run: Tried really hard to leave it off, but seeing it live time after time makes it a must.

And there you go. For me to list the obvious omissions would be cheap. I left them off because of right now, this minute, they aren't my favorites (even though three of them would be on my all-time top 10 list.)

What say you?

Heavenly Audience for John Lynch, Shelley Hendrix and Craig Bowler...And me and you

Bob Goff, author of Love Does, posted Saturday, "Everything seemed lost, but the angels were leaning over the rails - because they knew what would happen next..."

I love that image, and I believe it happens, maybe not to that extent, all the time, and we are the ones being watched, celebrated and playfully loved. I suppose the angels do this, but I believe for certain Jesus does, and probably gathers others -- angels, saints, earthly relatives -- and says, "Guys, get over here and watch this! Craig Bowler is about to outdo himself this Sunday." Or "Shelley Hendrix is about to extend grace in an all new way."  Or perhaps, "Hey our guy John Lynch, yeah, the one we love so much in Phoenix and whose body is failing him lately, he's about to say the funniest thing he's ever said. And that's saying something!"

And we are enjoyed.

We have a heavenly audience celebrating us at our best.

And even better: When we are at our worst, no one on that side of eternity is watching, because there is no condemnation on that side. Not from our relatives who preceded us. Not by the saints. And certainly not by Jesus, who took the condemnation to the cross on a Friday, and arose on Sunday, clean from all our junk.

Thank you Jesus.

That Awkward Father-Son Masters Moment

I was ticked off when Kevin Stadler walked off the 18th hole of Augusta National on Sunday, and instead of embracing his father, golfer Craig Stadler, who was waiting just off the green, he sailed right past him, seemingly too upset that he'd bogeyed the 18th hole of the Masters.

Had Kevin parred it, he'd have finished in a tie for seventh. Instead, he finished in a tie for eighth. Big deal, right? To my judgmental eye, Kevin had blown it, in front of CBS' national audience. CBS obviously had expected something of a special father/son moment as its cameras followed Kevin and caught the awkward, wince-inducing blow-off of his dad, who had finished his round earlier. It was the first time a father and son had played the Masters in the same year.

But when given the benefit of a little time, I'm usually far less judgmental than what my initial instinct might be.

Almost every time, I'm brought back to this point:  How would I like it if my worst moment of the year, the month or even the week was caught on camera for others to see?

I'd be embarrassed; that's how I'd feel. Every single week, I'd be devastated if me at my worst was suddenly broadcast to a large, unforgiving, judgmental audience.

I don't know Kevin Stadler. I'd never heard of him before Sunday. I have met Craig Stadler a few times during the early '90s when I covered the Masters for a few years. I remember the elder Stadler to be generous and kind. I imagine the apple didn't fall too far from the tree, but again, I don't know.

I do know that I won't look back at Kevin Stadler's 10 seconds of post-Masters fame with disgust anymore. Instead, I'll choose to offer grace. I know I'll be needing some in return any minute now.