Articles By: Russ Masterson
I’m a husband, father, child, friend, and pastor. I also teach, through talking and typing. I love being apart of Burnside by reading and writing about spiritual things with an attempted measure of authenticity. If you want to burn more time reading jump over to my blog at www.liesioverheardinchurch.com.
I Think I Know Why Jesus Was A Carpenter
The most rewarding thing I did this week was toss a messy pile of roof shingles into a nasty dumpster. I suppose, as a pastor and writer, I should have something loftier to claim, a driving sermon, a thoughtful article. But not this week.
The pile of shingles littered the back corner of my small lot...
February 11th, 2010 | Essays, Featured | Read More
Beloved, “The Bachelor” Is Below You
Yes, last night I watched the television show The Bachelor. A friend of my brother-in-law is one of the girls on the show, so we tuned in to see the mess.
Last week I watched the first three episodes from season one of Mad Men, the hit show on A&E about the advertising world in the 1950s. The show’s...
January 19th, 2010 | Arts, Television | Read More
Chris Tomlin or the Gospel: A Plea to Quit Worshipping Worshippers
The lights dimmed, the entire place went dark. Massive screens across the back of the stage burst with colors. A video began telling the story of the Passion conferences. After a few minutes, the video piece transitioned and powerful words scrolled onto the screens as violins and cellos filled the...
January 13th, 2010 | Featured, Music | Read More
Pages Can Breathe
My wife falls asleep immediately, head to the pillow, but I like to read myself into the dream world. I climb into bed and pull my headlamp over my curly hair. I aim the light at the pages and read the words working my way through the ink, a story bleeding from the author’s heart and honed by his mind....
January 12th, 2010 | Essays, Featured | Read More
Grace for Andre
I just turned off a 60 Minutes interview with Andre Agassi. Agassi recently released his autobiography, which sent waves through the tennis world as he admitted to hating tennis for most of his life. He was forced into the game by his fanatical father, who taped ping pong paddles to his hands as a...
November 19th, 2009 | Featured, Sports | Read More
The Crappiest Dad at Mother’s Morning Out
My dad wasn’t always there. He was around and fatherly for my childhood but relatively absent for most of my teenage years. He regrets missing those irreplaceable moments of first dates and first cars, and we’ve reconciled since those vacant years but neither of us can get them back. I tell you that...
November 16th, 2009 | Essays | Read More
A Father Who Doesn’t Rescue
He was big. Like a vending machine. And as black as coal. I don’t mention that because I’m racist, because I don’t think I am. I mention it because he was. His eyes were sunken into his skull and the whites around his dark pupils burst with brightness by contrast.
My one-year-old daughter knew...
October 6th, 2009 | Essays | Read More


