With Stan Wawrinka's stunning US Open victory over Novak Djokovic in Sunday's U.S. Open final, the one-handed backhand made a glorious return to prominence. For the uninitiated, most players today hit their backhands with two hands, which is generally more effective but less aesthetic. Yet Wawrinka's one hander is the best of both worlds: consistent, powerful, and gorgeous. Which gets me thinking: what are the five prettiest one handed backhands I've ever seen?  (And because I have to have "seen" it, that eliminates Don Budge, a Californian who won the first Grand Slam in 1938 and by all accounts had the first great backhand in tennis, ever.) Here's the list: 5.  Ken Rosewall, Australia.  Rosewall was a rarity in that he had a slice backhand that was a weapon, not a liability.  I still remember seeing him knife a return-of-serve winner past Rod Laver in their epic fifth set tie break in Dallas in 1972. 4.  Arthur Ashe, USA.  Effortless power and fearsome topspin.  When he was "on," this shot was untouchable.   3.  Roger Federer, Switzerland.  Because his backhand hasn't quite measured up to Nadal and Djokovic in his later years, we forget what a punishing shot it was in 2003-2006.  Especially the down the line.   2.  Stan Wawrinka, Switzerland.  Why do the Swiss have the great one handers?   1.Stefan Edberg, Sweden.  His backhand wasn't as powerful as Wawrinka's but it might have been more effective.  Why?  His ability to add slice to his topspin.  Massive shoulder turn and elongated follow through on the topspinner make his the prettiest of them all.      

Yep, I'm headed here, to Lake Wylie Elementary School:     I will be working with a fourth grader every Monday during the school year on improving his reading skills. Like I told our church, I can't repair home, but I can help with reading. I am one of about 40 Good Shepherd volunteers who are now part of the "Reading Buddy" program.  Curriculum and resources provided. Our goal is to saturate the school with the love that characterizes a living relationship with Jesus Christ. We have room for a few more?  If you'd like to join up as a Reading Buddy, you can contact me at talbotdavis@gsumc.org.  

What?! A Sunday that's not part of a series at Good Shepherd? A stand-alone, independent Sunday worship gathering? Yep, that's right. Wake Up Call is complete and Nooks & Crannies starts on Sept. 18, so this Sunday, Sept. 11, is all about a youthful expression of the possibility of mission. It will be exuberant, joyful, and very challenging. Sunday. 8:30, 10, 11:30 on Moss Road. 10, 11:30 on Zoar Road. 11:30 Latino (and for our Latino community, only two weeks left until they move en el otro lado de la calle and begin worship gatherings in the Living Room)  

In addition to thinking about The Curse Of Knowledge recently (see yesterday's post), I've also been thinking about the dichotomy between the strategic and the spiritual. Some churches -- indeed, some organizations -- are so wrapped up in strategy that they seldom if ever consider the role of the Spirit.  These groups tend to devote a lot more time to planning than to praying, and the result can be wisdom devoid of power.  I have felt Good Shepherd in this place a time or two. Others churches and organizations have a different vibe: so wrapped up in pursuing the Spirit that they fail to balance it with wise planning or skillful execution.  "Let's just pray about it," becomes a poor substitute for the not-very-glamorous work of preparing, equipping, and ministering.  In the worst scenarios, obsessive spirituality becomes a camouflage for organizational incompetence. So what if our privilege at Good Shepherd is to realize the wisdom AND the power of strategic spirituality? What if prayer was neither substitute nor excuse but instead becomes accelerant? What if we do the hard, often tedious of planning, directing, and streamlining -- trusting that God has given us minds to do so -- and then give all that "product" to him in prayer? What if our strategy is spiritual and our spirituality is strategic? I don't know exactly how to make that happen, but I'm willing to try.

I've been thinking a lot about The Curse Of Knowledge recently. Just what is The Curse Of Knowledge? This:  once you know something, you forget what it's like not to know it. The applications in church life are almost endless:

• Once you know the Apostle's Creed, you forget what it's like not to know it.
• Once you know the Lord's Prayer, you forget what it's like not to know it.
• Once you know "salvation by grace through faith," you forget what it's like not to know it.
• Once you know the best time to raise your hand during 'The Great I Am,' you forget what it's like not to know it.

And in forgetting what it's like not to know those and a thousand other church habits and practices, you unintentionally make it very difficult for newcomers to know what in the world is going on.  The Curse Of Knowledge is why, for example, I almost always say when talking about a letter of Paul, "some of you know that Paul was a pastor & missionary and others of you never heard of him until this morning, and either way is OK." But the reason I've been thinking about The Curse Of Knowledge is because we have brought in several new staffers at Good Shepherd over the summer months. And because I know what it's like to work here, I forget what it's like not to know it. I know all the whys and whens and hows of inviting all people into a living relationship with Jesus Christ so well . . . that I forget what it's like not to know them. I know where to go to pick up expense report and absence requests so well . . . that I forget what it's like not to know that stuff. I know who is in assisted living and memory care so well . . . that I forget what it's like not to know those people. I even know what matters to me as a leader so well . . . that I forget what it's like not to know what makes me tick. So onboarding new employees into a place like Good Shepherd involves driving a stake into the heart of the curse of knowledge.