But I figured I couldn’t let you all get off easy today without another issue of Panoramamania, which I promised you last week. This one is a close look at the downtown Denver skyline, as seen from the top of the parking garage at Larimer Square.

You all remember the rules…the music is below, and the photo comes afterward. Click play on the track, then click the photo to resize it to its full capacity. Scroll around to check it out.

Peace, for now.

No, I haven’t committed wire fraud.

And no, I won’t be moving from Portland anytime soon.

But the title of my post leads to an interesting bit of news that a few people know, and now in order to be courteous and let everyone else know in simple terms what’s going on, I’ll share some brief details.

As fate and faith would both have it, I am on the search for a new church home. My time at New Horizons Church in Washougal, as brief as it was upon my return to Washington state, is over — and so is my involvement with the Church of God of Prophecy at large.

When I first arrived in Southwest Washington, I began re-attending NHC with the vision to check out some other churches in the area and keep an open mind as to where to attend in the future. Part of me was still loyal to COGOP as a whole so I felt it “in my blood,” so to speak, to attend a COGOP congregation.

However, over the past year or two, my faith has continually evolved and grown more than it ever had at any other point in my life. I’ve gone from being hardcore Pentecostal to a more laid-back approach in my faith, all the while still carrying the urgent message of the Gospel. Times have changed, and my style of faith has changed as well. I’m still Christian but I’m ultimately not a Pentecostal in the general usage of the word.

As an example, I grew leaps and bounds spiritually under the teaching of John Pace, pastor of Crimson House Ministries in Springfield, Missouri. He’s more of a teacher than a preacher, which fits my style perfectly. I was able to understand his points more than any other pastor I’ve ever sat under, and naturally I got more from it than if I were to sit in a tent revival. The style at NHC is more akin to a tent revival and I never really meshed well with it from the get-go…the Word being shared is the truth but the style was just not for me.

Hear me out when I say that a simple stylistic difference does not mean the teaching/preaching is not effective. If someone enjoys the flamboyant style of a preacher who gets very excited about what he speaks of and tends to convey it in a very loud fashion, then may God bless that style and those who sit under it. The same goes for the pastor who speaks a bit softer, writes bullet points on a whiteboard and has a very low-key altar call at the end of the service.

Two years ago I departed from NHC but the circumstances were entirely different. I found fault with anyone I could find fault with, and left in a fit of anger and despair over circumstances in my life. Today, circumstances in life are simply circumstances, the people at NHC are great (read: I have no beef with anyone there) and I just need something that fits my style and expression of faith, and ultimately what the Lord is calling me to do in life. I’ll re-affirm here that this decision is my own, about me and what I need from the church experience…and ultimately what I can do for the church in general.

As an added bonus, from a feasibility standpoint, the churches I have been visiting are within two miles of my apartment. How cool is that?

I guess this means no more working COGOP youth retreats and camps, no more creating videos for NHC, and no more COGOP state/regional functions for me. It’ll definitely be different, that’s for sure.

I’ll be around to visit NHC every once in awhile, and I definitely won’t lose touch with anyone. The ONLY thing this means is that you won’t see me there on Sundays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays anymore.

I do ask that everyone please keep me in prayer as I venture in a new direction, away from what is familiar. Historically it’s been hard for me to step out in such a manner, but I’ve always been blessed every time I have.

Anyway, this morning’s post is a six-shot panorama that I took of Denver’s LoDo District from a bridge that goes over a rather large set of train tracks. Union Station is on the left, the RTD Light Rail station is in the left half of the photo, and the set of traffic lights you see glaring into the distance is the 16th Street Mall.

So here’s how it works:

1. Click the play button on the YouTube link below to hear audio of the track that I feel goes with the photo.

Luomo, “Tessio” (the 5-minute mark is the best part)

2. Click the photo below and you’ll see the edited shot in full resolution — a width of nearly 2500 pixels. Use your browser’s scrollbars to navigate the entire photo. The entire concept is meant to provide an audiovisual atmosphere, meshing audio and photo to create a somewhat unique perspective. Enjoy!

Downtown Denver from train bridge

Volume 2 is coming tomorrow night and I’ll have a full photo gallery of Denver up once I leave here.

Even though I believe in God and Jesus, I am a deist to an extent…

…the extent that God doesn’t care what happens in the world of sports.

If He did, then the New York Yankees would have 27 fewer championships than they do tonight, the Los Angeles Lakers would not have won the first out of 15, and the Pittsburgh Steelers would have only won the Super Bowls they played against the Cowboys.

Seriously, 2009 has not been a good year for normal-minded sports fans across the United States. All the afore-mentioned teams won the championship in their respective sport this calendar year alone. The only good thing was the Pittsburgh Penguins somehow preventing the Detroit Red Wings from making sure it was the ultimate Satanic Sweep, as I call it.

To make things worse, 2009 has seen the loudest cheers from the dumbest sports fans in America. I’m talking about bandwagon fans of the Yankees, Lakers and/or Steelers in action. These people have no connection to the team, the city or really anyone from the city that could be used as a minor excuse to root for the team. Such posers go out and buy the team’s gear, follow the team when it’s convenient, and do everything they can to rile themselves up to cheer for a team they know they wouldn’t like otherwise.

All that, in an effort to feel like they’re on top of the world at least in a sports sense. I’d like to think such people have an immense amount of hurt in their lives…it would make sense they would act in such a manner if they had been beaten up regularly in a playground or their parents punished them all the time.

Ugh.

And to tie this back to my original point, tonight I interacted with a couple people I know who praised Jesus for a Yankee victory.

I’m sure Jesus doesn’t give two seconds of his time to the fact that the Yankees or Lakers won. There are so many downtrodden people in this world that if anything, it’s His sympathy that allows such teams to be victorious in order to give people a placebo effect of happiness. I think Jesus is busier thinking about and reacting to things that count, like earthquakes in Malaysia or even a 6-year-old kid saying his goodnight prayers.

I had better stop before I seriously hurt someone’s feelings. I’m going to leave this post incomplete…I’ll just close by saying that I stand by the Seahawks, Trail Blazers, Mariners and Ducks even if all of them combined never win a title.

Because true fandom is, never was, and never will be about winning championships.

- The Ducks beat USC 47-20. I am still pumped about that.

- To support my team, I wore my brand-new Oregon jersey to the Perozzo Palazzo for Texas Hold’em night. I lost horribly so I’m never wearing it to poker again.

- Met up with the Blumenthal family to visit Turning Point Christian Center yesterday. Great people in that church, great worship and the Word. It’s an Assembly of God, by the way.

- I flew out from PDX yesterday and the jackdonkey sitting next to me on the plane kept twirling his hair. I was wearing a black shirt that became covered in flakes soon afterward. I blew them all off back into his lap and he glared at me.

- Heard Israel Houghton’s track “Just Wanna Say” for the first time. The video is kinda cool, the lyrics are great and I can’t remember an explictly Christian track have such a great hook. Here’s the video.

Auf Wiedersehen, y’all.

I came up with this simple melody in GarageBand on a Mac I previously owned a few months ago after a trip to Wichita, Kansas. I was traveling eastbound on US-400 toward the Missouri border when I hit a stretch where I passed miles and miles of wheat fields…they were endless, as far as the eye could see.

I thought up the melody you’re about to hear, then I took a bit of time when I got back to my then-home in Springfield to tweak the audio and throw it all on paper. It was really tough coming up with something so simple, because I don’t understand sheet music one iota.

Anyhow, I decided to recycle it when I thought of the melody again once I left Springfield for good. One of my favorite albums is the KLF’s Chill Out, which is basically an auditory tour of an imagined trip from the Tex-Mex border to Louisiana. I drew inspiration from them on a project I am currently working on…and I’m using the same melody I thought up on my Wichita trip to be the theme throughout the album.

Bear in mind this is a rough edit and I’ll be working on it a bit more as time progresses. For now, enjoy a track I titled “Homeward Bound, with a Vision and a Dream.”

Boy, was I ever wrong.

As fate would have it, and as the national economy would indicate, it became insanely hard to search for a job. After a week passed, then two, then three, I began to realize I was staring the unemployment monster straight in the face and he wasn’t backing down.

I can’t even begin to describe how frustrating the job search became. Ninety-six resumes sent to potential employers turned into only two interviews. One ended up being for a seasonal sales position that would have guaranteed less than 20 hours a week and ensured I would remain on unemployment to some degree just to keep afloat…that certainly wasn’t going to fly.

Wasn’t it just a few months ago that I was shooting video for a newspaper’s website? And now here I sat, frantically trying to apply for any full-time job that would enable me to restart a “normal” life.

It’s really funny how I began to find fault with my current situation…yeah I’m staying at a friend’s house for now, I don’t have my own place and I don’t have the life I wanted when I moved here.

There was one day a few weeks ago that I was sitting at the MAX station near Lloyd Center and had a chance conversation with a homeless man. His story of how he fell hard and fast instantly served to change my perspective — to be more thankful of the small things and to be reminded that I am blessed day in and day out, no matter my plight.

Once my perspective changed, the way I viewed my Christian faith and also the way I prayed began to change as well. I began to pray more for the needs of others, and made sure to put my own needs at the end. The thought began to bond itself to my brain — I am second, no matter what.

It’s when you least expect it, or maybe it’s better said that when you are least concentrating on it, that a breakthrough in your life can occur. Monday brought about living proof of that as in the span of four hours, I received an offer of full-time employment with a local company and also secured an apartment of my own in Vancouver.

When bad times come, they hit you quick and hard. But the same is true for the good as well…the blessing comes and it is met with more blessings. I’d venture to say that most of the time, they’re not material or tangible…but it sure builds our faith when we are blessed with something we can see and feel.

For me, I had to first build my faith upon the very concept behind Christ coming to earth two thousand years ago in the first place — to bring glory to God and serve the needs of others. Once I truly began to even slightly shift my thinking that direction, the Lord blessed me with employment that I will need to bring in a necessary wage, and a living arrangement that will allow me to be close to that job and other areas of sustenance.

Tomorrow — well, today, since it’s 3:05 a.m. — is moving day. I’ll pack up my belongings into my car once again and head toward my final destination since I started my journey from Missouri two months ago…my new living arrangement in a new (to me) apartment. I’m excited and I’m thankful for friends that share the joy.

The excitement is almost too much to contain. Seriously…I have been waiting so long for something to turn in “my favor,” but it took awhile for me to learn the important life lesson that I am second, and I truly need to live as such.

I don’t do this on my blog much, but I’d like to ask that those of you that believe in prayer to act on that belief on my behalf. Please pray that I continue to serve God first, others next and myself last. Pray for direction in my life, as I have another major change in direction coming up as well. I want to be obedient to the Lord’s plan, yet proactive in a search for my place in the body of Christ.

I give thanks to the Lord, and to all of you who have prayed and helped me with words of wisdom so far. From friends who are Christian to friends who don’t profess a faith at all, everyone has helped in their own special way and for that I’m very thankful.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Vancouver, Washington is the place for me to be at this point in time. I plan on being here for awhile, now that I’m here for the right reason (as opposed to my time in 2006-07).

The degree of devastation is stunning…you can easily see where houses once stood, and trees have had their limbs picked bare. To add to the eerie effect, piles of “chat” — discarded lead tailings from the mine operations in prior generations — tower over the town, which was recently declared by the federal government to be a Superfund site.

Click the photo below and take it all in. You’ll have to scroll from left to right to see it all.

Entire blocks were devastated by the tornado. Notice the piles of chat from earlier mining operations in the background.

48 months
1461 days
35,064 hours
126,230,400 seconds

Consider that it takes four years to get through high school or get a Bachelor’s degree. The Summer and Winter Olympics come around in separate four-year cycles. A presidential election happens every four years. A normal military enlistment term, one that I served from 2002-2006, is four years.

Four years is how long that it’s been since my deployment to Iraq. Already.

I arrived in Baghdad on October 28, 2005 with the sole purpose of assisting the American Forces Network in gathering news and completing special video projects. Though my time there was short, I remember most of it like it was yesterday.

It seems surreal that I was ever over there, especially when you take into account the history of the area. I walked by the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers on more than one occasion, traveled past the ancient city of Babylon and even scaled the Ziggurat of Ur.

Also surreal were, of course, the numerous rocket attacks and various other insurgent activity we put up with. God kept his hand on me, inside the wire and outside it as well.

I don’t want to delve deeply into my time there…there are plenty of posts here on my blog that you can see for yourself that provide insight as to what went on, starting here. (Bear in mind that most links to video/audio are dead because I hosted the site on a different server then, and also that the last four years has seen a shift in how I view the war in Iraq.)

I just wanted to simply reflect on the starting point of a time in my life in which I was forced to grow up well beyond what I had been taught or told to do thus far…and a time in which I learned to put faith in God in action rather than in words.

Well, hallelooyer ladies and gentlemen, the city of Tulsa, Oklahoma has something to celebrate with the arrival of a Women’s National Basketball Association team. The Detroit Shock folded due to the economic hardship, paving the way for Tulsa to purchase the team and move it to the Midwest.

However, the team is yet to be named. Of course it won’t be the Shock…probably something edgier and more reflective of the area.

That’s where I come in. I’m going to write a letter to the great folks at the Tulsa WNBA office with my incredible suggestion for a nickname, and send it to them pronto. But I’m going to let you see it first, after the jump.

Ain’t I kind? Enjoy.

———————————————–

Dear Ownership, Operating Staff and Shareholders of the Tulsa WNBA Franchise:

My name is Bradly Bojangles and I am a lifelong fan of the sport of basketball. I congratulate your fine city on landing a professional team of your own in the form of the yet-to-be-named Tulsa Women’s National Basketball Association franchise. I can only imagine the feverish (no intentional reference to Indiana) anticipation of your city for the 2010 season to begin.

When one thinks of the sport of basketball, many things come to mind. For me, I visualize graceful sky hooks floating through the net without touching iron, rim-rocking dunks that bring a charged crowd to their feet, and individual scoring performances that would singlehandedly decimate another team.

The WNBA has helped bring many other facets of the game of basketball to mind that are, in their own right, very memorable because they reflect my own basketball skills as a non-professional 25-year-old male amateur basketball player. I smile when I see banked-in three-pointers that somehow find the bottom of the net, layups that carom off the top of the backboard and clank around five times before falling through, and slow development of an offensive set that leads to either a turnover or an airball.

Ladies and gentlemen, I felt encouraged to write this letter to you, the shareholders and ownership of the Tulsa WNBA franchise. I write with a significant interest, having friends that reside in Northeastern Oklahoma and having myself lived in Southwest Missouri for a time.

I will cut right to the chase in expressing the intent of this letter. The Tulsa WNBA franchise has yet to be named as of this point in time, and I believe I have a nickname for the team that can combine many elements into one whenever the name is mentioned.

Humbly, I present to you the following moniker: the Tulsa Titty Twisters.

Before you deride my idea or write me off as an overpassionate fan who may be taking his feelings for the game a bit too far, allow me to explain my reasoning behind the nickname, which is four-fold:

1. Titty reflects the gender of the participants of the sport, and the weight of the males who comprise the fan base. Marketing opportunities would be off the charts…the likes of which I shall leave to the imagination.

2. Twisters is a nod to the severe weather that punishes Oklahoma each year and leaves many frightened and in fear, much like the faces and body structure of your athletes to young impressionable children.

3. Titty Twisters, both words combined, is an homage to a prank played between two or more males when they grab and twist each other’s chest area. It is extremely painful, much like the fan experience of any game in the Women’s National Basketball Association (and my own basketball games as well).

4. Simple alliteration. Three T’s united to create a memorable “roll-off-the-tongue” effect, etching a unique team branding in the minds of many.

As an amateur graphic artist, I am currently hard at work on a mock-up of a small hand twisting an ever-so-slight nipple on a basketball while lovingly finger-rolling it into the basket. I must admit I’m finding it slow going at the moment as the curvature of the ball must be sensualized in order to reflect the human form. Should I just leave the work to your graphic artists?

Please accept my idea for the team moniker the Tulsa Titty Twisters as a heartfelt token of congratulatory laughter that your town has landed a basketball franchise with as much collective talent as myself and whatever four people I decide to pull together and play pickup basketball.

I await your response to my proposal with eager, childlike anticipation.

Sincerely,

Bradly Bojangles

**Disclaimer: This is strictly parody and in no way reflects a hate for women’s sports, the female form, or tornadoes. Actually, most WNBA players would beat me handily and I readily admit that.