A brief break from work and dash to the far coast, I sit with my elbow hanging over the isle on my fourth flight in less the 24 hours. This is the very meaning of illogical, a hundred and fifty people in a fiberglass tube hurtling forty thousand feet through the air at five hundred miles an hour. The physics is bewildering yet I am more likely to die behind the wheel of my Honda. Windows have been elusive this trip and I’ve hardly seen the ground. All the mountains of California and Colorado pass below without so much as a hello.
It was an exciting trip though. I had the chance to play guitar for an artist I greatly admire for her wisdom and sincerity. Her father has always told her that when she opens her mouth, she allow the spirit to fill it, boldly proclaiming the works of the Lord in song. This is a charge she carries out with humility, and I was blessed to be involved.
We went to Saddleback, a massive church in Orange county best known for its mega-best selling pastor. The event was a conference for worship leaders from as far away as Japan, a time for the potentially stretched and exhausted to be filled. I know that feeling too well, and it is a privilege to be a part of something like this.
I don’t play a lot of gigs these days, and I look forward to them when they come. This particular gig was a great opportunity to work with someone new and I was unusually nervous. That’s not to say I don’t get the usual pre-show jitters, but this was different. The band had been told we needed to be perfect, and while I pursue perfection in my playing, I have never been told up front that it had to be. With every day that passed and every listen through the songs, I grew increasingly nervous and a stone formed in my belly, ever expanding and growing heavy.
In Luke 14, Jesus has dinner with a group of Pharisees and teachers in the home of a prominent leader. While there, he shares a parable about a wedding feast, telling those in attendance that it is better to not sit in a place of honor, for if someone more distinguished than you were to come along, you might be asked to move. Such an occurrence would be humiliating. Jesus teaches, rather, to sit at the end of the table, in a place of humility, so that the master might invite you to move to a seat of honor. The proud humiliated and the humble exalted, I have long feared being the proud.
A day or two ago I was reading my way through Psalms and came to number 23. It is one of those pieces of scripture that makes you stop for a moment, like how your eyes might stop on a book you’ve read in the middle of a shelf filled with others you haven’t. David writes so romantically about his God and shepherd, and I am struck by how simple and elegant this poem is. In the last verse, David speaks of a table, possibly a banquet table, prepared for a feast “in the presence of his enemies.” David is basically saying that while the shepherd guards and protects him, God also seeks to bless and honor David while humiliating the proud and wicked. I would imagine David’s seat at this table would be quite close to the master’s.
Having read both passages near each other, I was struck by the parallel of the two tables. The scriptures, like any great work of literature, do not repeat imagery thoughtlessly and in the face of this coming gig, I began to pray that I come humbly to the table God has prepared for me. I know in faith that God will honor the humble pursuit of the gifts He’s given and I dwelled on this idea for a while. But what of my enemies? The nerves, questions, and worry over the coming gig made it quite clear who the enemy was.
Much of my life has been spent fighting myself. The petty insecurities, the self-imposed confusion, silent and public fears, it has all been there at some point. Brennan Manning, in one of his books, refers to, “The Impostor”, the false-self capable of taking over our lives. Eventually the impostor will remove all memory of the true self, most people never being aware they have made this transformation. I have lived as the impostor, and in these times, I feel like I still do. All the while, the true self, the man God has already created me to be, sits bound in captivity and out of thoughts. As I read the words of David, I know full well that these fears and insecurities are my enemy.
The morning of the gig, I sat on my hotel bed with the window open and the cool Californian breeze blowing through. I turned to the next Psalm, number 24, and realized it was the source scripture, almost word for word, for a song we were going to perform later in the day. I paused for a moment and considered the timing, the fact that I had started in Genesis close to 8 months ago and that every day I did or did not read my Bible led me to reading this particular section on this particular day. Encouragement overwhelmed me and I felt no nerves for the rest of the day. Aside from my in-ears breaking on the first song, the gig went great. For all my anxiety, it felt like I’d played that gig a hundred times before. My table had been prepared, indeed.
Today I consider the impostor. So many of David’s songs and poems speak of these ever relentless foes bent on his destruction, and I wonder how many were flesh and how many were spirit. The battle of my life has certainly been my spirit and the forces inside me that seek to undo me. I know this is dramatic, but I am amazed (not in the good way) that I am 25 years old and still struggle with fear and insecurity. My identity gradually aligns with the insecurity and before I know it, I am lost in it. I could never count the number of times I’ve performed in front of an audience, or the occasions in which I’ve opened myself up to another person, yet so often it feels like the first time I’ve done it. It is an amazing path I have traveled, and as I sit on the plane, flying high over the midwest, I know there is a long way to go, yet I am reminded still of the good shepherd. The impostor and I have more battles to fight, but God is faithful and his work has already been done.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
I Read the News Today, Oh Boy...
A landmark occasion was all over the news today as the state of California began issuing marriage licenses to gay couples. It was a “victory for humanity” in those approximate words according to the mayor of San Francisco, and the media was a flutter with stories of long-expectant couples eagerly awaiting this day. The centerpiece of the spot on NPR this morning focused on a lesbian couple in their 80’s who have been together for over 50 years. They were the first couple to be wed under the new law, and their frail voices expressed relief. Family surrounded them and they celebrated.
No piece of controversial reporting would be complete without a trip to the other side, however, and the news team soon found their way to the protesters gathered around city hall. One man was introduced as a “born again Christian”, that all too immediate “I’m with Pat Robertson” tag, and he quickly explained that he believed God would bring destruction upon this country for the things that are happening. NPR is my primary news source, and their bias was quite obvious this morning. The voice of the Christian majority, preaching condemnation and destruction.
I once wrote the question a while back, and you can dig for it if you want to, “can you legislate morality?” This is not a blog about gay marriage, I’m not going there, but this is a matter of politics. You see, the man on NPR this morning, with his picket sign and sharp words, was lobbying the political process to uphold his Christian morals. We as Christians in America do this all the time, seeking protection from the imminent cultural implosion taking place around us. Protect us from criticism, protect us from liberalism, save our babies, and keep our teenagers virgins. We place God on our side and vote from our pews; we grow complacent. How little we understand the plight of the millions of Christians operating the world over, not only without government protection but under open persecution of the very institution designed to protect them. It is not the government’s job to protect our morals, but it is our job to uphold our own.
The conservative right is not the only side to do this. I am a member of a generation alienated by the church and bitter because of it. The church as we knew it has become an enemy and so many young Christians have made the swing to the left in the name grace and justice. The gospel of Christ is transformed into a liberal political agenda as we lobby the government to take up the fight against poverty, homelessness, hunger, health, and global justice. I am guilty of this liberal swing and I, along with so many others, have turned to my government to do the dirty work I find so daunting. These are good things, Biblical things, issues close to the heart of Christ, but they are not the government’s job.
I had breakfast with a friend this morning, and we talked about the Declaration of Independence. He is a seminary student, quite smart, and he explained that close examination of this document does not point to a nation founded on Christian principles but rather deistic, almost universalist beliefs. Further study of the founding fathers would also indicate that many, such as Thomas Jefferson himself, followed in this universalist mindset, though I had long believed our founders to be devoted Christ followers. Our government protects the right to practice religion, but it does not protect the rights of one over any others. We Christians in America have long lived like it has. It shows in the way we have sheltered ourselves in our churches, and called upon our leaders to look after us. As the world burns around us, we roast marshmallows.
I think it is a dangerous thing for the government to legislate religious morality, though it is essential it legislate fundamental morals. Human life is valuable and murder is a crime. I am also of the opinion that abortion and the death penalty are no different. Basic human life, period. But what about a day like today? As I listened to the piece, it was obvious the elderly women being interviewed loved each other, but in my heart of hearts I believe their relationship to be sinful. What do I do with this?
This afternoon the same news service reported that over 25 million people are currently living as refugees under the protection of the United Nations. Floods rock the Chinese provence devastated by a massive earthquake only a month ago, and the rains are not suspected to subside for another ten days. Hundreds of thousands are dead and displaced by a massive cyclone in the nation of Myanmar, and their wicked government works to tie the hands of global relief organizations desperate to help the victims. Even on our own soil, nearly 90% of the counties in Iowa have been declared disaster areas as flood waters continue to rise. What do I do with this?
The honest answer is that I do not know. Would Jesus hold a picket sign on the streets of San Francisco? I doubt it, but I am certain he would oppose gay marriage. In spite of this, I am also certain he would have friends in the gay community, and he would be very good at loving them. Would Jesus have petitioned the government to feed the poor around him or provide social services to the homeless, prostitutes, and drug addicts? Probably not. Jesus showed little patience or interest in the function of government, but instead he dwelled with the vagabonds, loved and transformed them, even though the religious people around called him a “drunkard”.
To the Pharisees, it was Israel versus the world and like them we point our fingers and walk our picket lines. But to Jesus, we were all children of God with no more of this "us and them" garbage. He lovingly urged others to sin no more, and to take up the cause of the poor and the widow.
These thoughts consume me as I look towards November, and I consider what is important. I have no wisdom compelling me to where to assign my voice at the polling station, and in this era of the shallow entertainment we call news media, the issues are as lost to me as all the toiletries I’ve left behind in hotel bathrooms over the years. Yet I am entirely certain of one thing - conservative or liberal, it is time we stop hiding behind our government, and quit counting on them to do the job Christ died for us to do. To trust our government to uphold our morals and be the hands and feet of Christ is to sell God and the power he has generously bestowed to us, his people, through his Spirit so very short.
May God dispel the fear that drives my complacency, and forgive my shallow faith, for my sin so graciously forgiven was just as worthy of destruction as that of those we so bitterly speak against. Gay, genocidal, infanticidal, adulterous, war mongering, greedy, and prideful - we are all born equals.
No piece of controversial reporting would be complete without a trip to the other side, however, and the news team soon found their way to the protesters gathered around city hall. One man was introduced as a “born again Christian”, that all too immediate “I’m with Pat Robertson” tag, and he quickly explained that he believed God would bring destruction upon this country for the things that are happening. NPR is my primary news source, and their bias was quite obvious this morning. The voice of the Christian majority, preaching condemnation and destruction.
I once wrote the question a while back, and you can dig for it if you want to, “can you legislate morality?” This is not a blog about gay marriage, I’m not going there, but this is a matter of politics. You see, the man on NPR this morning, with his picket sign and sharp words, was lobbying the political process to uphold his Christian morals. We as Christians in America do this all the time, seeking protection from the imminent cultural implosion taking place around us. Protect us from criticism, protect us from liberalism, save our babies, and keep our teenagers virgins. We place God on our side and vote from our pews; we grow complacent. How little we understand the plight of the millions of Christians operating the world over, not only without government protection but under open persecution of the very institution designed to protect them. It is not the government’s job to protect our morals, but it is our job to uphold our own.
The conservative right is not the only side to do this. I am a member of a generation alienated by the church and bitter because of it. The church as we knew it has become an enemy and so many young Christians have made the swing to the left in the name grace and justice. The gospel of Christ is transformed into a liberal political agenda as we lobby the government to take up the fight against poverty, homelessness, hunger, health, and global justice. I am guilty of this liberal swing and I, along with so many others, have turned to my government to do the dirty work I find so daunting. These are good things, Biblical things, issues close to the heart of Christ, but they are not the government’s job.
I had breakfast with a friend this morning, and we talked about the Declaration of Independence. He is a seminary student, quite smart, and he explained that close examination of this document does not point to a nation founded on Christian principles but rather deistic, almost universalist beliefs. Further study of the founding fathers would also indicate that many, such as Thomas Jefferson himself, followed in this universalist mindset, though I had long believed our founders to be devoted Christ followers. Our government protects the right to practice religion, but it does not protect the rights of one over any others. We Christians in America have long lived like it has. It shows in the way we have sheltered ourselves in our churches, and called upon our leaders to look after us. As the world burns around us, we roast marshmallows.
I think it is a dangerous thing for the government to legislate religious morality, though it is essential it legislate fundamental morals. Human life is valuable and murder is a crime. I am also of the opinion that abortion and the death penalty are no different. Basic human life, period. But what about a day like today? As I listened to the piece, it was obvious the elderly women being interviewed loved each other, but in my heart of hearts I believe their relationship to be sinful. What do I do with this?
This afternoon the same news service reported that over 25 million people are currently living as refugees under the protection of the United Nations. Floods rock the Chinese provence devastated by a massive earthquake only a month ago, and the rains are not suspected to subside for another ten days. Hundreds of thousands are dead and displaced by a massive cyclone in the nation of Myanmar, and their wicked government works to tie the hands of global relief organizations desperate to help the victims. Even on our own soil, nearly 90% of the counties in Iowa have been declared disaster areas as flood waters continue to rise. What do I do with this?
The honest answer is that I do not know. Would Jesus hold a picket sign on the streets of San Francisco? I doubt it, but I am certain he would oppose gay marriage. In spite of this, I am also certain he would have friends in the gay community, and he would be very good at loving them. Would Jesus have petitioned the government to feed the poor around him or provide social services to the homeless, prostitutes, and drug addicts? Probably not. Jesus showed little patience or interest in the function of government, but instead he dwelled with the vagabonds, loved and transformed them, even though the religious people around called him a “drunkard”.
To the Pharisees, it was Israel versus the world and like them we point our fingers and walk our picket lines. But to Jesus, we were all children of God with no more of this "us and them" garbage. He lovingly urged others to sin no more, and to take up the cause of the poor and the widow.
These thoughts consume me as I look towards November, and I consider what is important. I have no wisdom compelling me to where to assign my voice at the polling station, and in this era of the shallow entertainment we call news media, the issues are as lost to me as all the toiletries I’ve left behind in hotel bathrooms over the years. Yet I am entirely certain of one thing - conservative or liberal, it is time we stop hiding behind our government, and quit counting on them to do the job Christ died for us to do. To trust our government to uphold our morals and be the hands and feet of Christ is to sell God and the power he has generously bestowed to us, his people, through his Spirit so very short.
May God dispel the fear that drives my complacency, and forgive my shallow faith, for my sin so graciously forgiven was just as worthy of destruction as that of those we so bitterly speak against. Gay, genocidal, infanticidal, adulterous, war mongering, greedy, and prideful - we are all born equals.
Wednesday, June 04, 2008
his iron heart...
I carry a curse with words in that while I love to read, and enjoy a good conversation as much as the next guy, I am doomed to loose it, to forget it. My reading comprehension is pitiful, having to read and re-read passages in books just to remember them, and I cannot repeat anything heard without jumbling the words or forgetting it all together. Sarah can remember entire conversations, and lines from movies and shows she saw years ago. She is an ever patient reminder that I am a hopelessly visual person. For this reason, I am grateful for movies.
I just got home from seeing "Iron Man" and it was fantastic! A completely enjoyable and exciting movie, free of any cheesy lines (what was intended to be funny was actually funny), and the cast was terrific. Probably about the best "super hero" movie I have ever seen. The movie was good because the story had depth, a story about figuring out who you are, and living with the things you've done. It is a story of injustice and war. The most remarkable part of the story for me though, and forgive my ignorance all you fan boys, comes in the source of the hero's power. This may be fantasy, but bare with me for a minute.
Tony Stark is a brilliant scientist, engineer, and weapons designer who is captured by terrorists seeking to enlist his services. In his capture, he is sprayed with shrapnel, and a doctor, also in captivity, attaches an electro-magnet to his chest to keep the shrapnel from working its way into Stark's heart. Seeing the limitations of the attached car battery that feeds it, Stark finds a new way to power the magnet and sustain his life through a small, chest-mounted reactor of his own design. Instead of making weapons for the terrorists, Stark builds an iron suit, powered by this new invention and escapes. As Stark returns to society, he is touched by the delicacy of life and the terrible cost of war.
This is a story about what drives us, about what makes us strong in our weakness. In the unrealistic source of Iron Man's power we see the delicacy of the heart, that we are driven by more than pure mechanics and biology. For every bit as real the heart is, beating inside our chests, there is a metaphorical heart that for those who feel it, keeps the physical heart beating. We derive passion from it, endurance, motivation, and excitement. It feels pain, weathers turmoil, clinches in sadness, and moves with love.
I am often aware of my heart when I am anxious. It is as if a cord is pulling it deep into my chest. Anxiety rears its ugly head at the most inopportune times, when I hold a guitar, when I write these words, when I find myself on the verge of vulnerability. At my best I do not know this.
It works the other way too. Just the other night I was in my car during the last hours of daylight. The sky was electric blue like a tropical cocktail, blanketed with with thin strips of cloud colored and textured like ceiling insulation. The blue and pink were the only two colors in the sky, set in hard opposition. The voice on my radio repeated, "Your love is strong," and my heart expanded in my chest. Where anxiety makes my heart sink, joy could make it explode. This is the heart meant to endure. All the while the other heart, the finite heart, beats.
The point comes, as it does in all good hero stories, where the protagonist's strength fails and everything hangs on the brink. Iron Man is driven beyond his abilities, and his artificial heart begins to fail. Without spoiling anything, we are given a glimpse into the the true strength of Tony Stark's heart. It is a moment seldom found in a big summer blockbuster. I love a good movie because it inevitable gets my mind going. As I sit and consider the heart, I'm thinking $8.50 is a small price to pay.
Cheers!
Monday, June 02, 2008
sarah in cyber space!
I met a girl with hair like the autumn sun, and I wanted to know her better. Awkward flirting and coy conversation would follow, and come to find out she's terribly sweet, perceptive, and absolutely hilarious like no one I know. She's also my best friend. Lucky for you, she's starting a new blog!
Sarah is an extrovert, a great thinker, and a keen photographer. Her blog will be an extension of all these with an over-arching sense of deep spirituality. So check it out over on the right here! Her old blog is linked too, and while small in number, the posts are worth reading if you haven't.
It's good to have you back in the blog-o-sphere, Sarah! Been a long time coming...
Saturday, May 17, 2008
a long time coming...
I've mentioned on this blog before that I like Radiohead a great deal. My esteem for the band has only grown, from the first listen through OK Computer, to skipping class for Kid A, to the band's recent In Rainbows and I must tell you a story.
I graduated from high school the same year Radiohead's Kid A was released. The band toured the US and my best friend Hunter bought us tickets for my graduation. The closest show was in DC and we jumped into Hunter's 4Runner and headed north for a 12 hour drive. Upon reaching the Bull Run battle field where the show was being held, we saw one flash bulb construction sign after another telling us the Radiohead show had been canceled. We pounded fists against the dash, cussed, and turned around and drove home. 12 hours home to be exact.
That was seven years ago and I have never had the chance to see Radiohead again until this past Wednesday in St. Louis. Despite the frustration of the drunken frat boys all over the lawn, the two plus hours of music was probably the best and most inspiring concert experience of my life. The light show was stunning, the set list was terrific, and the band is simply flawless live. All the sonic complexity of their records translates with ease as the five members of the band have always worked hard to not leave any important, studio-made detail behind. The band's core three guitar, bass, and drum format saw both Thom and Johnny spending ample time behind the Rhodes or piano, Johnny operating any number of analog synths to reproduce much of the more peculiar sonic textures. Even Ed, the band's only dedicated guitar player set his guitar down to manipulate various floor-mounted effects.
With over two hours of music, they played every song off In Rainbows, including "Bangers & Mash" from the bonus disk, as well as at least 2 songs from every other album but their first, Pablo Honey. Highlights of the show range for the three guitar onslaughts of "Airbag", "My Iron Lung", and "Paranoid Android", to the largely programming-based "The Gloaming", to "There, There", a point in the show where only Thom played guitar, and Ed and Johnny both picked up sticks and played percussions. As a whole, the band communicated a tremendous love for live music and a deep appreciation for their fans. Thom cracked jokes from the stage and they all graciously waved and bowed to crowd at numerous points; one of the best bands in the world, living up to their reputation and with no pretension. It was a long time coming.
Anyway, for you fans, here's the setlist. Maybe put together a little playlist and enjoy!
All I Need
Jigsaw Falling Into Place
Airbag
15 Step
Nude
Kid A
Weird Fishes/Arpeggi
The Gloaming
You and Whose Army
Idioteque
Faust Arp
Videotape
Everything in Its Right Place
Reckoner
Optimistic
Bangers & Mash
Bodysnatchers
Encore 1
Exit Music (For a Film)
Myxomatosis
My Iron Lung
There There
Fake Plastic Trees
Encore 2
Pyramid Song
House of Cards
Paranoid Android
Cheers!
Sunday, March 30, 2008
a weekend at the movies...
Friday evening came with the sweet promise of a weekend with nothing to do. It feels like ages since I've had a weekend like this, and what a welcome weekend it was. The time was filled with good eats, the typical amount of sleep, which sadly isn't much, and the time forgotten lazy afternoon at home. I even cooked dinner with legitimate fixings! A very welcome weekend indeed.
The above title is a lie, though I did watch a few movies. The first was "Jackie Brown", the third film directed by Quentin Tarantino. The only of his movies I'd not seen, it was a smart tale of a street-wise flight attendant and the arms dealer who pays her bills. Not as raw and over the top as Tarantino's other work, the story is well told, written, and acted, featuring a terrific cast including the always welcome Michael Keaton, Samuel L Jackson, Robert DeNiro, and Bridget Fonda. I liked it.
Yesterday, Ryan, Scott and I went to see "Diary of the Dead", the fifth film in George A Romero's "(Noun du jour) of the Dead" franchise. An attempt to comment on the violent depravity of men, the story of a group of college film students documenting their flight from the un-dead falls short of other recent zombie flicks like "28 Weeks Later", and the remake of Romero's own "Dawn of the Dead". I confess that I like movies about zombies, but the script more or less sucked, as did the acting. So in other words, it wasn't great.
Speaking of movies, my ever more creative, not to mention funnier and better looking, companion Sarah presented me with a fabulous suggestion we will soon be undertaking. In the wake of my humiliating upset at the Oscar's (see the below reminder of my humorless obsession), Sarah, no doubt aiming to restore my pride, proposed we start watching the Best Picture winners, all 80 of them. We quickly got excited and committed ourselves to the task, and soon we will start to work our way through the movies in reverse order from "No Country for Old Men" to 1927's "Wings", plus the first two installments of "The Lord of the Rings" to catch Sarah up to speed. We both have our reservations, Sarah dreading "The Silence of the Lambs", and I "Titanic", but we're looking forward to starting. Sarah tells me I have much to learn about "The Sound of Music", and I will certainly post updates along the way.
That's all for now, and I best get to bed. Right now people the whole world over are restoring their strength so they can wake up, call and complain about their iTrip, meaning I need all the help I can get. Cheers!
Monday, March 24, 2008
so long...
I lost my iPod to a glass of week old Coke tonight, and I find myself in a quandary. I spend most of my day talking to people who own iPods. Almost everyday I talk to someone who says my company’s product ruined their iPod. I then give this spiel about how we’ve never had an instance where our product fried one, but that we would be happy to get it back and test it. This is the truth, I’ve never seen it happen, but no one cares, and for the most part no one believes you. I hate being the villain, but the truth is that things quit working, products fail, even expensive ones, and all day long I wish I could tell someone it’s just stuff.
This was my fourth iPod. The first one developed this pitiful frowning face and ultimately quit working all together. The second one had a short in it, causing it to turn on and off if you squeezed it in the right place. The third one was stolen when some high school kid broke my car window and took it along with Sarah’s. My father graciously replaced the iPods, and tonight that one bit the dust too.
A friend of mine is a Young Life leader and tonight I volunteered to help students kidnap their friends and bring them to Young Life. The 15 year old girl riding shotgun was looking for some music and set the iPod down in a cup of Coke. I didn’t know this until after the kids got out of the car and I realized the iPod was all sticky. I turned on the light and could see the liquid under the screen. All of a sudden I’m looking for someone to blame, frustrated over the fact the girl knew what she had done the moment she felt the Coke in her hands, though she never said anything. If I was in her shoes at that age, I don’t know if I would have either, and I can’t hardly blame her. While I try to take the high road, I really wish in my heart of hearts I had someone to blame who could do something about it.
No matter what I learn about the world, it is hard to overcome the materialism that pervades it. I have a very good grip on my guitars, when they were made, what they cost, the location of every nick and ding. I can even hold one, run my hands across the strings, and sense the infidelity of another person’s hands. Every DVD has a specific place on the shelf, and I can see what’s missing with a passing glance. I know where every CD I own is, how it is organized (alphabetized by genre with records chronologically sequenced by artist), and who has borrowed one. It is quite pitiful. Tonight the passing of my fourth iPod makes me sad, and in the midst of all this I forget what a luxury it was to even have one.
I have seen third world poverty with my own eyes, walked in a slum where one out of five people had HIV or AIDS. Countless homeless have heard the sound of my car doors locking, or the so simple “I don’t have any cash.” Yet I have so much more to lose, so many other luxuries that can only be lost in time. All these things are replaceable, and in spite of what I know about the world, it is hard to remember that which is not.
There is no cute anecdote here, just the knowledge that in this time of frustration, I am very aware of how easily I get priorities messed up. Even in thinking about this blog tonight, I have marginalized and hurt someone I hold closer than any other, and it sucks to realize that. I should be grateful for my sticky, caffeinated iPod, and be humbled by how quickly the things we revere become worthless. Maybe I will be come the morning.
This was my fourth iPod. The first one developed this pitiful frowning face and ultimately quit working all together. The second one had a short in it, causing it to turn on and off if you squeezed it in the right place. The third one was stolen when some high school kid broke my car window and took it along with Sarah’s. My father graciously replaced the iPods, and tonight that one bit the dust too.
A friend of mine is a Young Life leader and tonight I volunteered to help students kidnap their friends and bring them to Young Life. The 15 year old girl riding shotgun was looking for some music and set the iPod down in a cup of Coke. I didn’t know this until after the kids got out of the car and I realized the iPod was all sticky. I turned on the light and could see the liquid under the screen. All of a sudden I’m looking for someone to blame, frustrated over the fact the girl knew what she had done the moment she felt the Coke in her hands, though she never said anything. If I was in her shoes at that age, I don’t know if I would have either, and I can’t hardly blame her. While I try to take the high road, I really wish in my heart of hearts I had someone to blame who could do something about it.
No matter what I learn about the world, it is hard to overcome the materialism that pervades it. I have a very good grip on my guitars, when they were made, what they cost, the location of every nick and ding. I can even hold one, run my hands across the strings, and sense the infidelity of another person’s hands. Every DVD has a specific place on the shelf, and I can see what’s missing with a passing glance. I know where every CD I own is, how it is organized (alphabetized by genre with records chronologically sequenced by artist), and who has borrowed one. It is quite pitiful. Tonight the passing of my fourth iPod makes me sad, and in the midst of all this I forget what a luxury it was to even have one.
I have seen third world poverty with my own eyes, walked in a slum where one out of five people had HIV or AIDS. Countless homeless have heard the sound of my car doors locking, or the so simple “I don’t have any cash.” Yet I have so much more to lose, so many other luxuries that can only be lost in time. All these things are replaceable, and in spite of what I know about the world, it is hard to remember that which is not.
There is no cute anecdote here, just the knowledge that in this time of frustration, I am very aware of how easily I get priorities messed up. Even in thinking about this blog tonight, I have marginalized and hurt someone I hold closer than any other, and it sucks to realize that. I should be grateful for my sticky, caffeinated iPod, and be humbled by how quickly the things we revere become worthless. Maybe I will be come the morning.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Oscar Night!
This is the time of year where I really get sick of hearing about sports. Not that I’m ever really that excited to hear about them, but between the hype of this past Super Bowl and the inevitability of March craziness, I am weary. I suppress my inner competitor, but when it comes to this weekend is different. I look forward to the Oscars.
So here are my predictions, who I want to win and who I think will win - sometimes why. The truth of the matter is that I know nothing (especially about movies I’ve never seen), and my opinions will change nothing, just like yelling at your TV can’t make someone catch a football. But who really cares? Here we go.
Actor in a Leading Role: Daniel Day Lewis for There Will Be Blood - In the midst of good performances, Lewis has no competition. His loss would be the upset of the night.
Actor in a Supporting Role: Who do I want to win? Javier Bardem for No Country for Old Men - This man was downright terrifying. Who will win? The Academy has a way of honoring the veterans; I have this feeling Hal Holbrook will win for Into the Wild.
Actress in a Leading Role: Want? Ellen Page for Juno. Win? Julie Christie for Away From Her
Actress in a Support Role: Cate Blanchett for I’m Not There - She’s too good to be nominated twice and not win one.
Animated Feature Film: Persepolis - This tale of growing up Muslim and female is primed to dethrone Pixar from their digital tyranny, though Ratatouilli was a lot of fun.
Art Direction: Sweeney Todd - No one creates esthetic like Tim Burton and his team. I really hope this wins.
Cinematography: Roger Deakins for No Country for Old Men - This is his sixth nomination in this category, and this movie feels as cold as its ruthless villain. Simple, traditional, and beautifully filmed.
Costume Design: Want? Alexandra Byrne for Elizabeth: The Golden Age. I think that Jacqueline Durran will win for Atonement due to the stunning war sequences.
Directing: Joel and Ethan Coen for No Country for Old Men - They got snubbed for Fargo and I think they deserve this.
Documentary Feature: This one’s a guess. Taxi to the Dark Side
Documentary Short: Freeheld - I have no idea.
Film Editing: The Bourne Ultimatum - This movie must have been so hard to piece together, and to do it well was quite an achievement.
Foreign Language Film - 12
Makeup: Ve Neill and Martin Samuel for Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End - They’ve been nominated before and the third time is often the charm at the Oscars (think LOTR).
Music (Score): Marco Beltrami for 3:10 to Yuma - A good score becomes a character, and this was a memorable performance.
Music (Song): Once - "Falling Slowly" - Music and Lyric by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova - The most moving and original musical in years.
Best Picture: No Country for Old Men - The Coen’s have done their time and creating a sweeping masterpiece.
Short Film (Animated) - Madame Tutli-Putli
Short Film (Action) - At Night
Sound Editing - Ethan Van der Ryn and Mike Hopkins for Transformers - Both are two time winners and this was the best aspect of the movie.
Sound Mixing - Randy Thom, Michael Semanick and Doc Kane for Ratatouilli - All the kitchen sounds and pattering mouse feet. Very tough to balance and very cool.
Visual Effects - Scott Farrar, Scott Benza, Russell Earl and John Frazier for Transformers - I did not like this movie, but the effects were stunning, some of the best I’ve ever seen. Take note of the way light reflects off the AutoBots.
Writing (Adapted Screenplay) - Paul Thomas Anderson for There Will Be Blood - His source material was scarce, and the end result was dynamic and terrifying. A screenplay worthy of the Daniel Day Lewis’s stellar performance.
Writing (Original Screenplay) - Diablo Cody for Juno - Never has a movie been so irrevereant and touching. I really think he deserves this award and Juno deserves an Oscar.
Cheers!
So here are my predictions, who I want to win and who I think will win - sometimes why. The truth of the matter is that I know nothing (especially about movies I’ve never seen), and my opinions will change nothing, just like yelling at your TV can’t make someone catch a football. But who really cares? Here we go.
Actor in a Leading Role: Daniel Day Lewis for There Will Be Blood - In the midst of good performances, Lewis has no competition. His loss would be the upset of the night.
Actor in a Supporting Role: Who do I want to win? Javier Bardem for No Country for Old Men - This man was downright terrifying. Who will win? The Academy has a way of honoring the veterans; I have this feeling Hal Holbrook will win for Into the Wild.
Actress in a Leading Role: Want? Ellen Page for Juno. Win? Julie Christie for Away From Her
Actress in a Support Role: Cate Blanchett for I’m Not There - She’s too good to be nominated twice and not win one.
Animated Feature Film: Persepolis - This tale of growing up Muslim and female is primed to dethrone Pixar from their digital tyranny, though Ratatouilli was a lot of fun.
Art Direction: Sweeney Todd - No one creates esthetic like Tim Burton and his team. I really hope this wins.
Cinematography: Roger Deakins for No Country for Old Men - This is his sixth nomination in this category, and this movie feels as cold as its ruthless villain. Simple, traditional, and beautifully filmed.
Costume Design: Want? Alexandra Byrne for Elizabeth: The Golden Age. I think that Jacqueline Durran will win for Atonement due to the stunning war sequences.
Directing: Joel and Ethan Coen for No Country for Old Men - They got snubbed for Fargo and I think they deserve this.
Documentary Feature: This one’s a guess. Taxi to the Dark Side
Documentary Short: Freeheld - I have no idea.
Film Editing: The Bourne Ultimatum - This movie must have been so hard to piece together, and to do it well was quite an achievement.
Foreign Language Film - 12
Makeup: Ve Neill and Martin Samuel for Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End - They’ve been nominated before and the third time is often the charm at the Oscars (think LOTR).
Music (Score): Marco Beltrami for 3:10 to Yuma - A good score becomes a character, and this was a memorable performance.
Music (Song): Once - "Falling Slowly" - Music and Lyric by Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova - The most moving and original musical in years.
Best Picture: No Country for Old Men - The Coen’s have done their time and creating a sweeping masterpiece.
Short Film (Animated) - Madame Tutli-Putli
Short Film (Action) - At Night
Sound Editing - Ethan Van der Ryn and Mike Hopkins for Transformers - Both are two time winners and this was the best aspect of the movie.
Sound Mixing - Randy Thom, Michael Semanick and Doc Kane for Ratatouilli - All the kitchen sounds and pattering mouse feet. Very tough to balance and very cool.
Visual Effects - Scott Farrar, Scott Benza, Russell Earl and John Frazier for Transformers - I did not like this movie, but the effects were stunning, some of the best I’ve ever seen. Take note of the way light reflects off the AutoBots.
Writing (Adapted Screenplay) - Paul Thomas Anderson for There Will Be Blood - His source material was scarce, and the end result was dynamic and terrifying. A screenplay worthy of the Daniel Day Lewis’s stellar performance.
Writing (Original Screenplay) - Diablo Cody for Juno - Never has a movie been so irrevereant and touching. I really think he deserves this award and Juno deserves an Oscar.
Cheers!
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
top 5
At the end of every year, I always try to stop and think about the year gone by, what the best and worst things about the year were. Well, 2008 galloped by, and grabbed me by the arm like a bandit on his high horse, and February is already upon us. So for now, I choose to look back, before it is too late, and recount my favorite media of 2007. This list is not authoritative, in any sort of order, and not even limited to things released in 2007, but simply what I enjoyed during the past year. So here it is, my top 5 albums, movies, books, and TV events of the year. Cheers!
Albums:
In Rainbows - Radiohead - Radiohead has been my favorite band since I learned to drive. I skipped school the day Kid A came out, and after several years of waiting for this record, I am satisfied. While they have never ceased to be brilliant, it is nice to hear ten straight tunes without the minimalist spacer tracks of the last couple records. Also a piece of music industry history.
Neon Bible - The Arcade Fire - This record is loose and gritty, meandering in and out of 80’s new wave and modern garage rock. Very emotional and full of energy, it comes from a spiritually dark place, though recorded in a church, but it is overwhelmingly hopeful in its whole.
Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga - Spoon - A lesson in simplicity, this record draws on early Van Morrison and Elvis Costello while managing to sound like nothing else.
Asleep at Heaven’s Gate - Rogue Wave - An expression of the life’s duality of joy and suffering. I probably listened to this band, as well as their last album, Descendant Like Vultures more than anything else this past year.
A Weekend in the City - Bloc Party - This band plays so well together, yet they always sound like they’re on the verge of falling apart. Great production, awesome guitar, chaotic and beautiful.
Movies:
No Country for Old Men - The Coen brothers have made most of my favorite movies and Cormac McCarthy wrote one of the best books I’ve ever read. This movie is bleak, but it’s so good. With the best villain since I can’t remember, I couldn’t begin to break it down, so I’ll simply say that I loved it.
There Will Be Blood - PT Anderson is another one of my other favorite film makers and this study of greed and selfishness is a departure. Great screenplay, cinematography, score (provided by Radiohead’s Johnny Greenwood), and probably my favorite piece of acting since DeNiro in The Kind of Comedy.
Hot Fuzz - I could never get sick of this movie. Best laugh of 2007.
The Simpsons - I had more fun watching this movie than anything else last year. It made me feel like I was ten again.
Juno - It takes a special movie to make teenage pregnancy a laughing matter. As touching as it is funny, probably my biggest surprise of the year.
Books:
The Yiddish Policemen’s Union - Michael Chabon - This author never writes the same kind of story twice, and this exploration into noir is steeped in a fascinating piece of historical “what if?” that never looses momentum. A mystery/thriller as only a winner of the Pulitzer prize could write.
Watchmen - Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons - I live with two comic book artists, and this was inevitable. Watchmen deconstructs the super hero like 1984 does fear and politics; I simply loved it.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.K. Rowling - The conclusion of this story was everything I hoped for. Entertaining, touching, exciting, and above all, appropriate.
Sex God - Rob Bell - A unique look at the nature of intimacy as it pertains to a man and a woman, but more so God and his children.
Through Painted Deserts - Donald Miller - A simple but beautifully told story of a pivotal time in the author’s life.
TV:
Lost - Sarah and I just boarded this train (or dare I say plane? sorry...) and are somewhere in the middle of Season 3 (so no spoilers PLEASE!!!). I’m hooked.
Planet Earth - The biggest documentary budget in history, taking over 5 years to make. Awesome, stunning, and truly humbling in its scope, it is probably the finest documentary series ever made. What a world!
The Office - The smartest show on television, and the only show since the X-Files I’ve actually made a point of watching on a weekly basis.
Mythbusters - The only show on television I will watch whenever it is on, no matter the time of day. The best model of the scientific method since Bill Nye the Science Guy.
24 - My roommates and I continue to stress over this one whenever a new season gets released. Season 5 was the best one yet.
Albums:
In Rainbows - Radiohead - Radiohead has been my favorite band since I learned to drive. I skipped school the day Kid A came out, and after several years of waiting for this record, I am satisfied. While they have never ceased to be brilliant, it is nice to hear ten straight tunes without the minimalist spacer tracks of the last couple records. Also a piece of music industry history.
Neon Bible - The Arcade Fire - This record is loose and gritty, meandering in and out of 80’s new wave and modern garage rock. Very emotional and full of energy, it comes from a spiritually dark place, though recorded in a church, but it is overwhelmingly hopeful in its whole.
Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga - Spoon - A lesson in simplicity, this record draws on early Van Morrison and Elvis Costello while managing to sound like nothing else.
Asleep at Heaven’s Gate - Rogue Wave - An expression of the life’s duality of joy and suffering. I probably listened to this band, as well as their last album, Descendant Like Vultures more than anything else this past year.
A Weekend in the City - Bloc Party - This band plays so well together, yet they always sound like they’re on the verge of falling apart. Great production, awesome guitar, chaotic and beautiful. Movies:
No Country for Old Men - The Coen brothers have made most of my favorite movies and Cormac McCarthy wrote one of the best books I’ve ever read. This movie is bleak, but it’s so good. With the best villain since I can’t remember, I couldn’t begin to break it down, so I’ll simply say that I loved it. There Will Be Blood - PT Anderson is another one of my other favorite film makers and this study of greed and selfishness is a departure. Great screenplay, cinematography, score (provided by Radiohead’s Johnny Greenwood), and probably my favorite piece of acting since DeNiro in The Kind of Comedy.
Hot Fuzz - I could never get sick of this movie. Best laugh of 2007.
The Simpsons - I had more fun watching this movie than anything else last year. It made me feel like I was ten again.
Juno - It takes a special movie to make teenage pregnancy a laughing matter. As touching as it is funny, probably my biggest surprise of the year.
Books:
The Yiddish Policemen’s Union - Michael Chabon - This author never writes the same kind of story twice, and this exploration into noir is steeped in a fascinating piece of historical “what if?” that never looses momentum. A mystery/thriller as only a winner of the Pulitzer prize could write.
Watchmen - Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons - I live with two comic book artists, and this was inevitable. Watchmen deconstructs the super hero like 1984 does fear and politics; I simply loved it. Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - J.K. Rowling - The conclusion of this story was everything I hoped for. Entertaining, touching, exciting, and above all, appropriate.
Sex God - Rob Bell - A unique look at the nature of intimacy as it pertains to a man and a woman, but more so God and his children.
Through Painted Deserts - Donald Miller - A simple but beautifully told story of a pivotal time in the author’s life.
TV:
Lost - Sarah and I just boarded this train (or dare I say plane? sorry...) and are somewhere in the middle of Season 3 (so no spoilers PLEASE!!!). I’m hooked.
Planet Earth - The biggest documentary budget in history, taking over 5 years to make. Awesome, stunning, and truly humbling in its scope, it is probably the finest documentary series ever made. What a world!The Office - The smartest show on television, and the only show since the X-Files I’ve actually made a point of watching on a weekly basis.
Mythbusters - The only show on television I will watch whenever it is on, no matter the time of day. The best model of the scientific method since Bill Nye the Science Guy.
24 - My roommates and I continue to stress over this one whenever a new season gets released. Season 5 was the best one yet.
Sunday, January 20, 2008
evil
Sarah has a new job working for a ministry that connects churches with the community in non-churchy sort of ways. This is a noble mission for many people see the church as a quarantine - isolated, cold, and ominous on corners of many streets. The woman at the well in John 4 is a testament to this when she says, “Our ancestors worshiped God on this mountain, but the Jews say that Jerusalem is the only place for worship.” We have many Jerusalems and Connect Ministries seeks to tear their walls down.
Last night all the partners and camp directors went bowling with their spouses and significants. Shortly after arriving, an older man of about 60 passed Sarah and looked her head to toe. He was very skinny and tan, and he spoke disrespectfully to her. At first we all talked about awkward it was, eventually shaking off. We laughed as the 5 year old daughter of a man present innocently showed us the bandage on her middle finger. We got our lanes and sat down.
The man just so happened to be in the lane next to us and he spoke unintelligibly as we passed. He then proceed to stare at Sarah the entire time we bowled. We tried our best to ignore him, but it was difficult. At one point, I got up to bowl as Sarah left for the restroom with a co-worker. I turned in the lane and watched as the man got up and followed Sarah to the other side of the building. I quickly got rid of the ball and walked to the bathroom. The man lingered at the door and when Sarah came out, he approached her, leaned his head in close in began talking to her, when I walked up and pointed at him. My blood boiled and I spoke with more anger than I have ever spoken to anyone in my life, stuttering and shaking. “Don’t talk to her! Get away from her! I’ve heard what you’ve been saying, you don’t talk to her like that!” The man then reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye, and said, “What was I saying?” and again, “What was I saying?” He knew what he said, but I was nearly speechless from my anger at this point. Sarah grabbed my other arm and pulled me away.
I cannot imagine how Sarah felt, and I do not think that I ever could. I felt the cold chill of evil and dirty intentions as it threatened the one I love. It reminded me of a time when I was on a mission trip as an 8th grader. The youth group played putt-putt and a man in his mid-twenties approached a girl in our group, no more than 12. He asked her if she wanted to come to bed with him, and she began to sob uncontrollably. I could feel the sickness then just like I felt it last night, and I am reminded of the disease that is sin.
A police officer sat at our table for the rest of the time we bowled, and the man continued to stare until he eventually left. As we put our shoes back on, Gabe, one of Sarah’s bosses, said, “That’s what we would be without Christ.” In this moment, I am reminded of how treacherous the devil is, how sin poisons who we are until all that is left is a feeble frame with a vulgar tongue. Gabe’s words convicted me to pray for the man.
The world is full of so much beauty, but for all the good we try to create around our selves there is much darkness. We medicate ourselves against the sorrow, and focus on what makes us feel happy. An environment is created, seemingly impervious, but in reality porous and submerged in pain, darkness, and suffering. “Life is good,” some people say, but I don’t know if this is entirely correct. My friend Dave says that life is hard, which is true. Life can really suck sometimes, and for a lot of different reasons. But in the midst of everything, we are given the power to weather, and to endure.
Sarah and I walked into the parking lot at the end of the night and looked around. We ran to the car holding hands, smiling for the first time in a couple of hours. I knew the man wasn’t there, but I could still feel his presence; it was heavy on my chest. The rest of the evening was a battle against my anger, and it took hours to fall asleep. Gradually the man faded from my mind, my eyes slowly closed, and I slipped into sleep. In the morning, he was gone.
Last night all the partners and camp directors went bowling with their spouses and significants. Shortly after arriving, an older man of about 60 passed Sarah and looked her head to toe. He was very skinny and tan, and he spoke disrespectfully to her. At first we all talked about awkward it was, eventually shaking off. We laughed as the 5 year old daughter of a man present innocently showed us the bandage on her middle finger. We got our lanes and sat down.
The man just so happened to be in the lane next to us and he spoke unintelligibly as we passed. He then proceed to stare at Sarah the entire time we bowled. We tried our best to ignore him, but it was difficult. At one point, I got up to bowl as Sarah left for the restroom with a co-worker. I turned in the lane and watched as the man got up and followed Sarah to the other side of the building. I quickly got rid of the ball and walked to the bathroom. The man lingered at the door and when Sarah came out, he approached her, leaned his head in close in began talking to her, when I walked up and pointed at him. My blood boiled and I spoke with more anger than I have ever spoken to anyone in my life, stuttering and shaking. “Don’t talk to her! Get away from her! I’ve heard what you’ve been saying, you don’t talk to her like that!” The man then reached out and put his hand on my shoulder, looked me in the eye, and said, “What was I saying?” and again, “What was I saying?” He knew what he said, but I was nearly speechless from my anger at this point. Sarah grabbed my other arm and pulled me away.
I cannot imagine how Sarah felt, and I do not think that I ever could. I felt the cold chill of evil and dirty intentions as it threatened the one I love. It reminded me of a time when I was on a mission trip as an 8th grader. The youth group played putt-putt and a man in his mid-twenties approached a girl in our group, no more than 12. He asked her if she wanted to come to bed with him, and she began to sob uncontrollably. I could feel the sickness then just like I felt it last night, and I am reminded of the disease that is sin.
A police officer sat at our table for the rest of the time we bowled, and the man continued to stare until he eventually left. As we put our shoes back on, Gabe, one of Sarah’s bosses, said, “That’s what we would be without Christ.” In this moment, I am reminded of how treacherous the devil is, how sin poisons who we are until all that is left is a feeble frame with a vulgar tongue. Gabe’s words convicted me to pray for the man.
The world is full of so much beauty, but for all the good we try to create around our selves there is much darkness. We medicate ourselves against the sorrow, and focus on what makes us feel happy. An environment is created, seemingly impervious, but in reality porous and submerged in pain, darkness, and suffering. “Life is good,” some people say, but I don’t know if this is entirely correct. My friend Dave says that life is hard, which is true. Life can really suck sometimes, and for a lot of different reasons. But in the midst of everything, we are given the power to weather, and to endure.
Sarah and I walked into the parking lot at the end of the night and looked around. We ran to the car holding hands, smiling for the first time in a couple of hours. I knew the man wasn’t there, but I could still feel his presence; it was heavy on my chest. The rest of the evening was a battle against my anger, and it took hours to fall asleep. Gradually the man faded from my mind, my eyes slowly closed, and I slipped into sleep. In the morning, he was gone.
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
your best suit or dress
All over the world people dress for an occasion, and make company with the choicest of friends. Plans may be simple or extravagant yet there is a common theme happening the whole world over. This is celebration. Raise your glass into the air and speak blessings of the year to come, declare your hopes for the future, and turn your back to the disappointments of the last year. “Maybe this year will be better than the last,” and everyone drinks their approval. It happens every year.
Two things seem dangerously prevalent with the passing of each New Year’s Eve. The first is that we are all too eager to sweep the last year under the rug, all of its lessons and experiences. The second is that we are setting ourselves up to fail. This is the point of resolutions, making up for last year’s failures and creating the opportunity to screw it up this time around. I do not intended to make a sweeping generalization, but rather an assessment of seasonal sentiments at large. It is a cycle I wish to avoid this year, and as I consider the last year and the year to come, I have some thoughts.
2007 was an interesting year for me. From a professional point of view, I worked much less this past year than in the year before it. I thought I had found my in, and with the start of 2007 I anticipated even more work with better pay and exposure. This was not the case, however, and I spent much of the year with time in my hands. I cannot say I grew musically in 2007, but my desire to express myself creatively has not diminished by any means.
I went to South Africa in February for two and a half weeks, and I was not prepared for the place. There may be nowhere on this planet that better exemplifies the contrast of beauty and disaster, but I saw a glimpse of the measure of God’s love there. Hope is in no short supply, even though HIV/AIDS, TB, and poverty are rampant. Cape Town and the western cape of South Africa is as stunning as anywhere in the world, and I was blessed to see it. And there at the collision of two oceans I saw God meet the earth in a way I never could have imagined. Hope upon hope, life upon life, and joy in its purest state of existence.
Like I said before, I had a lot of time on my hands this year and I am afraid that the lessons of that wild place gradually washed away. I can remember the gigs I traveled to, yet so much of this past year was a blur, which is probably normal. It is just that I came home so motivated and inspired to write, play, love, and live with so much joy and excellence, but I let my inactivity get the best of me. You can ask Sarah and anyone else who spends much time with me, and they will tell you how down on myself and in a shell I can be, either in word or demeanor. No room should be made for regret so I say this not to medicate myself, but to confess and be done with it. There is much work to be done for those who are willing and 2007 has taught me how necessary it is to be willing.
Highlights of the year include some pleasant travels with some of my favorite people. These include a week on a lake in central California, and another week in the mountains of New Mexico. I long for these places, especially now that the days have become so short. I also got to watch life come into being in the form of Sarah’s joyful nephew Noah, as well as my sister’s first child, Sam. He is beautiful and I have felt my heart grow with his presence.
I also started my first real job in 2007. When I say real job, I mean real job, the kind with salary and benefits. I finally decided that I was not playing enough to warrant not having one. I want to continue with my life, not wait on it, and the opportunity at Griffin promised a chance to proceed and plan. And, as I mentioned above, I had time on my hands and it was costing me far more than money. After two and half months, it is still good to work, and I am enjoying the structure I have no truly known since high school. I sleep better, get up earlier, and waste little time; it feels so very good. I still wish to play and pursue music, and I cannot listen to something good without loosing myself in the urge to create. My parents generously gifted me a gorgeous, inspiring Gretsch guitar, and told me to go do something with it. I intend to.
A little over a week ago Sarah and I had dinner to celebrate Christmas together, and she asked me what I resolved for 2008. Like I said above, resolutions are often an invitation to failure, so I thought carefully. If I eat better or exercise more, so be it, but I want real goals for this year, things that would shape the course of everyday life through the expansion of my spirit and mind. I then told Sarah that I want to start and complete some form of writing project (as of yet undetermined!), that I want to finish 2008 a better guitarist than I started the year (something that did not happen this past year), and that I want to learn to pray like I actually believe prayer is what the Bible says it is.
As I look to the next year, I want to continue to build upon the foundations God has laid in my life, not let life’s lessons dilute in a solution of apathy and frustration. I do not wish to wait for something to come to me that I can go and get for myself. I do not wish to waste the time that I have. Not this year. I am going to put on my best, raise my glass, toast my friends and loved ones, the year gone by, and the new year that is really no more than another day. So to 2008 and each new day I say, “Welcome. You’ll be gone before I know it so let’s make the most of it.” Happy New Year. Cheers!
Two things seem dangerously prevalent with the passing of each New Year’s Eve. The first is that we are all too eager to sweep the last year under the rug, all of its lessons and experiences. The second is that we are setting ourselves up to fail. This is the point of resolutions, making up for last year’s failures and creating the opportunity to screw it up this time around. I do not intended to make a sweeping generalization, but rather an assessment of seasonal sentiments at large. It is a cycle I wish to avoid this year, and as I consider the last year and the year to come, I have some thoughts.
2007 was an interesting year for me. From a professional point of view, I worked much less this past year than in the year before it. I thought I had found my in, and with the start of 2007 I anticipated even more work with better pay and exposure. This was not the case, however, and I spent much of the year with time in my hands. I cannot say I grew musically in 2007, but my desire to express myself creatively has not diminished by any means.
I went to South Africa in February for two and a half weeks, and I was not prepared for the place. There may be nowhere on this planet that better exemplifies the contrast of beauty and disaster, but I saw a glimpse of the measure of God’s love there. Hope is in no short supply, even though HIV/AIDS, TB, and poverty are rampant. Cape Town and the western cape of South Africa is as stunning as anywhere in the world, and I was blessed to see it. And there at the collision of two oceans I saw God meet the earth in a way I never could have imagined. Hope upon hope, life upon life, and joy in its purest state of existence.
Like I said before, I had a lot of time on my hands this year and I am afraid that the lessons of that wild place gradually washed away. I can remember the gigs I traveled to, yet so much of this past year was a blur, which is probably normal. It is just that I came home so motivated and inspired to write, play, love, and live with so much joy and excellence, but I let my inactivity get the best of me. You can ask Sarah and anyone else who spends much time with me, and they will tell you how down on myself and in a shell I can be, either in word or demeanor. No room should be made for regret so I say this not to medicate myself, but to confess and be done with it. There is much work to be done for those who are willing and 2007 has taught me how necessary it is to be willing.
Highlights of the year include some pleasant travels with some of my favorite people. These include a week on a lake in central California, and another week in the mountains of New Mexico. I long for these places, especially now that the days have become so short. I also got to watch life come into being in the form of Sarah’s joyful nephew Noah, as well as my sister’s first child, Sam. He is beautiful and I have felt my heart grow with his presence.
I also started my first real job in 2007. When I say real job, I mean real job, the kind with salary and benefits. I finally decided that I was not playing enough to warrant not having one. I want to continue with my life, not wait on it, and the opportunity at Griffin promised a chance to proceed and plan. And, as I mentioned above, I had time on my hands and it was costing me far more than money. After two and half months, it is still good to work, and I am enjoying the structure I have no truly known since high school. I sleep better, get up earlier, and waste little time; it feels so very good. I still wish to play and pursue music, and I cannot listen to something good without loosing myself in the urge to create. My parents generously gifted me a gorgeous, inspiring Gretsch guitar, and told me to go do something with it. I intend to.
A little over a week ago Sarah and I had dinner to celebrate Christmas together, and she asked me what I resolved for 2008. Like I said above, resolutions are often an invitation to failure, so I thought carefully. If I eat better or exercise more, so be it, but I want real goals for this year, things that would shape the course of everyday life through the expansion of my spirit and mind. I then told Sarah that I want to start and complete some form of writing project (as of yet undetermined!), that I want to finish 2008 a better guitarist than I started the year (something that did not happen this past year), and that I want to learn to pray like I actually believe prayer is what the Bible says it is.
As I look to the next year, I want to continue to build upon the foundations God has laid in my life, not let life’s lessons dilute in a solution of apathy and frustration. I do not wish to wait for something to come to me that I can go and get for myself. I do not wish to waste the time that I have. Not this year. I am going to put on my best, raise my glass, toast my friends and loved ones, the year gone by, and the new year that is really no more than another day. So to 2008 and each new day I say, “Welcome. You’ll be gone before I know it so let’s make the most of it.” Happy New Year. Cheers!
Monday, December 24, 2007
Wind
The wind is persistent, steady like the passing of train, endlessly pouring from the horizon. It does not rest or gust, but it simply blows. Low clouds race across the sky with barely time to perceive their shape. They are in such a hurry I wonder if they know where they are going. And above it all the moon throws its pale blue to the earth below. It traces cloud, leaves no puddle without projection, and sets the rest into hard shadow. This is not moonlight that washes over everything, but some sort of heavenly street light in the midst of a cold, dark alley. Stories and tales of the darker things are born in a night like this, yet against this sinister canvas there is nothing looming, fearful, or wicked. The night is rare in its beauty, and rich in the senses. You do not breath of the air on a night like this, you drink it. It is standing in the awareness that the world is alive all around you and that something is driving it all, something big, something mysterious.
We really have very little to go on as to what kind of night it really was. We know that magi followed a star, but that is really about it. It may have been cold, the moon may or may not have been out in the night sky, it may have been cloudy, we just do not know. Yet when we think about Christmas Eve, we picture a night of endless stars, the moon beaming down through the cracks and the cold onto the birth of Christ, our Lord. We imagine because it is an event that is easily romanticized. I do not think this is a bad thing yet it is amazing how many assumptions we apply to an evening we really know very little about. In the scriptures we get only a few verses about that night, but there is one thing I am relatively certain about. In the culmination of the physical and emotion turmoil that was Mary’s teenage pregnancy, there must have been a tremendous sense of life and the world around them - something big, mysterious, and driving it all like a strong winter’s wind.
Imagine a world in which everyone lives with a sense of something bigger at hand, something more meaningful. When I picture this world, I picture a lot of happy people who seldom fret the woes of life. To engage all your senses is to experience the world with wonder, and to give yourself up to the inevitable is to live without care. I am convinced this is joy, living without regard to the petty things or even the dramatic, but rather with a healthy and gracious understanding of the bigger picture. When I imagine the Bethlehem sky and the couple in the manger, I have to believe they felt the same overwhelming peace and belonging, even in the midst of labor.
There are many focuses in the season of Advent. I have written about the prophecies and anticipation of Israel, and about peace, to no adequate effect, in some prior work. It is also common to hear sermons about hope, joy, the magi, and the shepherds, not to mention Mary and Joseph. I wanted to take the time to consider the weight and worth of this season, I wanted to change the way I looked at Christmas. But I quickly realized how incapable I am of truly capturing and considering everything there is to consider. The Old Testament alone tells of the hundreds upon hundreds of years of anticipation, then factor in all the players in the story and what makes them essential, and it is downright overwhelming. I do not want to over think Christmas.
Now I sit here in the dark in front of the Christmas tree at my parent’s house and I picture that moon, the wind, and the shadow. I listen to Andrew Peterson and picture the stable, what the sky must have looked like on that night Christ was born. I sink back into the couch and I rest in the knowledge of something big and mysterious, something driving it all. The ancient prophecy, the star-gazing magi, the dumbfounded shepherds, noble Joseph, and blessed Mary, it all fits together so well. The circumstances surrounding the birth of Christ were perfect in every way.
I originally planned to write something for every week of the Advent season, which I obviously did not do. This week was intended to be joy, but I am realizing that if joy is living gratefully in unconditional acceptance, then perhaps all these other aspects of the season fall right in. By living in joy, we experience peace and hope, and in these things we get a pretty good picture of Christ. But joy would not exist without love, and perhaps the most important thing I have been thinking about these last couple weeks is that the coming of the Christ was a tremendous act of love. Christ became man and squeezed into this world because He loved us enough to want us to be with Him.
As Christmas day is now upon us, it is my hope that we can all rest in the knowledge of God made man through the little baby boy born in a manger. Why God did such a thing is much bigger than us, yet it is a joy to be a part of it. I hope and I pray that this Christmas is filled with the knowledge of something big and mysterious made complete in that little boy. Behold the Lamb of God, never changing, never running astray, and upon him all the Glory of the world. Merry Christmas.
We really have very little to go on as to what kind of night it really was. We know that magi followed a star, but that is really about it. It may have been cold, the moon may or may not have been out in the night sky, it may have been cloudy, we just do not know. Yet when we think about Christmas Eve, we picture a night of endless stars, the moon beaming down through the cracks and the cold onto the birth of Christ, our Lord. We imagine because it is an event that is easily romanticized. I do not think this is a bad thing yet it is amazing how many assumptions we apply to an evening we really know very little about. In the scriptures we get only a few verses about that night, but there is one thing I am relatively certain about. In the culmination of the physical and emotion turmoil that was Mary’s teenage pregnancy, there must have been a tremendous sense of life and the world around them - something big, mysterious, and driving it all like a strong winter’s wind.
Imagine a world in which everyone lives with a sense of something bigger at hand, something more meaningful. When I picture this world, I picture a lot of happy people who seldom fret the woes of life. To engage all your senses is to experience the world with wonder, and to give yourself up to the inevitable is to live without care. I am convinced this is joy, living without regard to the petty things or even the dramatic, but rather with a healthy and gracious understanding of the bigger picture. When I imagine the Bethlehem sky and the couple in the manger, I have to believe they felt the same overwhelming peace and belonging, even in the midst of labor.
There are many focuses in the season of Advent. I have written about the prophecies and anticipation of Israel, and about peace, to no adequate effect, in some prior work. It is also common to hear sermons about hope, joy, the magi, and the shepherds, not to mention Mary and Joseph. I wanted to take the time to consider the weight and worth of this season, I wanted to change the way I looked at Christmas. But I quickly realized how incapable I am of truly capturing and considering everything there is to consider. The Old Testament alone tells of the hundreds upon hundreds of years of anticipation, then factor in all the players in the story and what makes them essential, and it is downright overwhelming. I do not want to over think Christmas.
Now I sit here in the dark in front of the Christmas tree at my parent’s house and I picture that moon, the wind, and the shadow. I listen to Andrew Peterson and picture the stable, what the sky must have looked like on that night Christ was born. I sink back into the couch and I rest in the knowledge of something big and mysterious, something driving it all. The ancient prophecy, the star-gazing magi, the dumbfounded shepherds, noble Joseph, and blessed Mary, it all fits together so well. The circumstances surrounding the birth of Christ were perfect in every way.
I originally planned to write something for every week of the Advent season, which I obviously did not do. This week was intended to be joy, but I am realizing that if joy is living gratefully in unconditional acceptance, then perhaps all these other aspects of the season fall right in. By living in joy, we experience peace and hope, and in these things we get a pretty good picture of Christ. But joy would not exist without love, and perhaps the most important thing I have been thinking about these last couple weeks is that the coming of the Christ was a tremendous act of love. Christ became man and squeezed into this world because He loved us enough to want us to be with Him.
As Christmas day is now upon us, it is my hope that we can all rest in the knowledge of God made man through the little baby boy born in a manger. Why God did such a thing is much bigger than us, yet it is a joy to be a part of it. I hope and I pray that this Christmas is filled with the knowledge of something big and mysterious made complete in that little boy. Behold the Lamb of God, never changing, never running astray, and upon him all the Glory of the world. Merry Christmas.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
What's So Peaceful About Peace?
I hear so much talk of peace this time of year, and I cannot help but wonder where people are hanging out. Where are the sheep? Where are the stars? Where is the sweet and cooing baby Jesus to command a little silence? As far as my Christmas experience is going there might as well have been a marching band practicing on the other half of the manger, and the oboes are out of tune. The two burning candles on the Advent wreath have fallen out of their stands and are setting the carpet on fire. I can safely say that I am not experiencing much peace at the moment and either a peaceful Christmas is an illusion or its on a fast track to pass me by.
Now I must admit that I am being dramatic, but I must consider the circumstances. First there are the petty things, like how every morning I stick out my elbows and push my way onto Interstate 65 amidst dozens of people acting like they are driving their imaginary pregnant passenger to the hospital in a bumper car. This is probably the case all year long, but I have started a new job in the holiday build-up, and it is a rude awakening after the stillness of a breaking morning. I then sit at my desk and respond to a hundred or so emails and calls from edgy customers wondering where their Christmas gifts are. I once wrote a scathing letter to a manufacturer of a guitar I own because of a defect in the instrument, hoping that my words would sizzle on the page and in turn score me some kind of hand out. I was young and foolish, but it would appear what goes around comes around. We are in the throws of materialism and nothing shows the selfishness of man like people spending money. I am stressed out by the way people are spending money.
There is simply too much to do to make Christmas logistically happen. This is the busiest time of my year on every possible level. I work every day, have an engagement every night, and while this is a time for fellowship and celebration, I find myself looking for reasons to bug out. This is a time to give God glory for the intersection of mankind and the divine, yet we have so many obstacles in the way of getting there.
And then there are all the difficult things, the things that are outside of our control. This week was a week of unwelcome news, and a week of difficult lessons. I caught a glimpse of the depth of my selfishness and it hurt. At the same time our nation is fighting a war on two fronts, a war against an enemy that will never cease to exist. Democracy is failing in allied nations, civil war occurs the entire world over. Then there is the genocide in Sudan, children forced to be soldiers in Uganda, and the fact that 6,500 Africans die every day from a preventable disease. The truth of the matter is that this a world in which we have no peace, and a world that never will.
Israel, as I wrote previously, was a nation that never experienced a lasting peace. Isaiah speaks of the Messiah as the Prince of Peace, and we embrace this idea. After all, angels appeared to the shepherds below, saying, "Glory to God in the highest! Peace on Earth and good will towards men!" Our nativity scenes depict the most perfect of circumstances, carols invoke the calm, and even the high and peerless beacon of the night sky invokes a tremendous sense of purity and bliss. This picture of the birth of Christ is bursting with peaceful images and I wonder, how do I find the peace in this season?
A few nights ago I sat and watched a remarkable song cycle called “Behold the Lamb of God”. A local singer-songwriter named Andrew Peterson, along with a number of his friends, performed this telling of the birth of Christ, starting in the beginning of the Old Testament. The defining moment of the entire production is a song called “Labor of Love”, a song that is possibly the best lyrical telling of the birth of Christ I have ever heard. The song starts with the lyric, “It was not a silent night, there was blood on the ground.” And it continues:
A “labor of pain” is far from a peaceful thought, yet the child of Mary was in fact the Prince of Peace. Even God made man was born in the pains of labor, not to mention the abject squalor of a filthy manger.
In this second week of the Advent, I consider the Prince of Peace and the obstacles placed between us and a peaceful Christmas. In a world where violence, disease, and suffering is inevitable, it is the Christ child that embodies peace. Life is not peaceful, but the presence of God is peaceful, and one day this world will experience the lasting peace the Israelites longed for, and not just for those who believe, but for the entire Earth. Wars will end, the environment will be put into balance, and selfishness will cease to exist. In the birth of Jesus and the celebration of Christmas, we are intended to experience peace, if only for a moment. As I sit here and desperately try to slow down my thoughts, I do not wish for the sweetness of this season to pass me by. I long for the Prince of Peace, and it is my sincere hope that all the weight and noise imposed upon us during the Christmas season fade away, until all we are left with is the cries of a child, and a sky full of stars.
Now I must admit that I am being dramatic, but I must consider the circumstances. First there are the petty things, like how every morning I stick out my elbows and push my way onto Interstate 65 amidst dozens of people acting like they are driving their imaginary pregnant passenger to the hospital in a bumper car. This is probably the case all year long, but I have started a new job in the holiday build-up, and it is a rude awakening after the stillness of a breaking morning. I then sit at my desk and respond to a hundred or so emails and calls from edgy customers wondering where their Christmas gifts are. I once wrote a scathing letter to a manufacturer of a guitar I own because of a defect in the instrument, hoping that my words would sizzle on the page and in turn score me some kind of hand out. I was young and foolish, but it would appear what goes around comes around. We are in the throws of materialism and nothing shows the selfishness of man like people spending money. I am stressed out by the way people are spending money.
There is simply too much to do to make Christmas logistically happen. This is the busiest time of my year on every possible level. I work every day, have an engagement every night, and while this is a time for fellowship and celebration, I find myself looking for reasons to bug out. This is a time to give God glory for the intersection of mankind and the divine, yet we have so many obstacles in the way of getting there.
And then there are all the difficult things, the things that are outside of our control. This week was a week of unwelcome news, and a week of difficult lessons. I caught a glimpse of the depth of my selfishness and it hurt. At the same time our nation is fighting a war on two fronts, a war against an enemy that will never cease to exist. Democracy is failing in allied nations, civil war occurs the entire world over. Then there is the genocide in Sudan, children forced to be soldiers in Uganda, and the fact that 6,500 Africans die every day from a preventable disease. The truth of the matter is that this a world in which we have no peace, and a world that never will.
Israel, as I wrote previously, was a nation that never experienced a lasting peace. Isaiah speaks of the Messiah as the Prince of Peace, and we embrace this idea. After all, angels appeared to the shepherds below, saying, "Glory to God in the highest! Peace on Earth and good will towards men!" Our nativity scenes depict the most perfect of circumstances, carols invoke the calm, and even the high and peerless beacon of the night sky invokes a tremendous sense of purity and bliss. This picture of the birth of Christ is bursting with peaceful images and I wonder, how do I find the peace in this season?
A few nights ago I sat and watched a remarkable song cycle called “Behold the Lamb of God”. A local singer-songwriter named Andrew Peterson, along with a number of his friends, performed this telling of the birth of Christ, starting in the beginning of the Old Testament. The defining moment of the entire production is a song called “Labor of Love”, a song that is possibly the best lyrical telling of the birth of Christ I have ever heard. The song starts with the lyric, “It was not a silent night, there was blood on the ground.” And it continues:
You could hear a woman cry
In the alleyways that night
On the streets of David's town
And the stable was not clean
And the cobblestones were cold
And little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
Had no mother's hand to hold
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
Noble Joseph at her side
Callused hands and weary eyes
There were no midwives to be found
In the streets of David's town
In the middle of the night
So he held her and he prayed
Shafts of moonlight on his face
But the baby in her womb
He was the maker of the moon
He was the Author of the faith
That could make the mountains move
It was a labor of pain
It was a cold sky above
But for the girl on the ground in the dark
With every beat of her beautiful heart
It was a labor of love
For little Mary full of grace
With the tears upon her face
It was a labor of love
A “labor of pain” is far from a peaceful thought, yet the child of Mary was in fact the Prince of Peace. Even God made man was born in the pains of labor, not to mention the abject squalor of a filthy manger.
In this second week of the Advent, I consider the Prince of Peace and the obstacles placed between us and a peaceful Christmas. In a world where violence, disease, and suffering is inevitable, it is the Christ child that embodies peace. Life is not peaceful, but the presence of God is peaceful, and one day this world will experience the lasting peace the Israelites longed for, and not just for those who believe, but for the entire Earth. Wars will end, the environment will be put into balance, and selfishness will cease to exist. In the birth of Jesus and the celebration of Christmas, we are intended to experience peace, if only for a moment. As I sit here and desperately try to slow down my thoughts, I do not wish for the sweetness of this season to pass me by. I long for the Prince of Peace, and it is my sincere hope that all the weight and noise imposed upon us during the Christmas season fade away, until all we are left with is the cries of a child, and a sky full of stars.
Sunday, December 09, 2007
The Advent: Anticipation
Oh Israel, you stubborn people! You are a nation of intermittent obedience, though you are no stranger to discipline. You are easily swayed by idols though you have dwelled under the mountain of the living God. How easy it is to forget the road you walk, even though it is led by cloud and fire. How easy it is to forget the provisions you receive, even as manna and quail appear from the sky. And in the very presence of God, how easy it is to long for Egypt and your days of slavery.
Oh Israel, if you only knew what your disobedience would bring! If you only knew how joyless your law would make you, waiting every day, year after year, for the law to save you. It is not the laws you break, for the law can be fulfilled by no man, but the spirit in which you break them. The arrogance of Israel says that a time comes in which the law no longer suffices, that a man must lead Israel, that some “god” of their neighbors will come to their aid, and I cannot help but wonder if every time Israel fell back into slavery, they mourned their words: Wouldn’t it be better to be back in Egypt? (Numbers 14:3). Israel longs for something lasting, and all the while their spirit crumbles.
Permanent is a word the children of Jacob must have often thought and seldom spoken. And who can blame them? They were nomadic herdsmen, ever moving towards a land they had been promised hundreds of years before. Once in the land, they lived in peace for a time, only to be assailed and divided, eventually destroyed. It seemed their progress culminated in the building of the Temple, a reward for the guidance of Godly leaders, and a beacon of Israel’s unity. Later kings would turn wicked and greedy, the nation would divide, and the Temple would crumble to the ground. Israel would find themselves in bondage again and they would long for redemption.
The voices in the wilderness are echoed in their leaders as Isaiah, like David before him, speaks of a coming redemption. Israel’s battle with the law has left their nation divided and weak, full of corruption and bitterness. Jacob’s children are primed for deliverance, and in the words of Isaiah they hear how the Lord will bring Israel back together. A king will rise who will throw down their enemies and gather all of the scattered back to the folds. Israel has seen kings come and go, but this is different, this seems permanent.
There are many prophecies in the Bible concerning the Messiah, and I possess not the knowledge or the words to convey their significance. Even still I am overcome with the burden that Christmas is so much more than the birth of Israel’s Messiah. Or maybe it is that Christmas is not an adequate means of expressing the coming of a savior. Christmas is a season, and though there are many great things about it, it is just a season. I find it interesting that people consider this time of year to be a time of reconciliation and restoration. Loners find their way home, families speak their peace, and the turmoil of life seems to suspend for a few moments. This event brings hope to people who do not subscribe to the spiritual, and even suspends the fields of war.
For Israel, the coming of the Christ was anything but a season, but rather a constant awareness and longing for deliverance. The writings of the Old Testament are full of this longing and the birth of the Messiah was a long time coming. When it finally did come it seems that no one was looking except for some star-gazers and some shepherds. I am saddened that Jacob’s children missed this, almost enraged at how a nation could be so lost in trying to save themselves that they would miss the birth of Christ, but I think I get it.
I once heard someone speak about the Pharisees, those pious punching bags we in kind look at down our noses. He posed the question, “Did you ever wonder why the Pharisees were the way they were?” I always just thought they were joyless for their pride, and ignorant to the way of everyday life for all their knowledge. Who does not like someone that has no redeeming qualities? After all, it makes us feel powerful and righteous, though we could not be further from truth. This man goes on to say that the Pharisees, as the leaders of the Jews, felt a responsibility to protect Israel. For hundreds of years Israel believed they suffered as the result of their sin, and in this time of Roman occupation, it made perfect sense that deliverance could only come when Israel lived righteously. The Pharisees would then feel that by living in extreme compliance with the law, the Messiah would come in triumph and forever remove the occupying forces of pagan nations. This is logical to me, and in this light the Pharisees do not appear prideful, but rather tragic.
As I consider the advent, I dwell on the season with various thoughts of Christmas, but this year I am burdened. I have been reading about the Law, and about Israel’s battle to keep it. I have read about the ways they atoned for their sin, and the way they even groveled for mercy. And when I consider the condition of the Israelites, I realize that the anticipation of a Messiah was not a season on the calendar, but a fact of life for many hundreds of years. I am burdened by the fact that I too live like an Israelite, burdened by a law I cannot keep, a law that has caused me immeasurable grief.
This year as Advent begins, I pray for the remembrance of Israel’s and my own condition, and the anticipation of the great Liberator, the King of Kings. May Christians everywhere not be lost in the chaos of this commercial time, but celebrate the coming Messiah. For all the beauty and peace found in that manger, may we anticipate our Lord like Israel did, and as we look forward to Christ’s next coming, it is my hope that we like the magi be found watching the sky and not buried in our books.
Oh Israel, if you only knew what your disobedience would bring! If you only knew how joyless your law would make you, waiting every day, year after year, for the law to save you. It is not the laws you break, for the law can be fulfilled by no man, but the spirit in which you break them. The arrogance of Israel says that a time comes in which the law no longer suffices, that a man must lead Israel, that some “god” of their neighbors will come to their aid, and I cannot help but wonder if every time Israel fell back into slavery, they mourned their words: Wouldn’t it be better to be back in Egypt? (Numbers 14:3). Israel longs for something lasting, and all the while their spirit crumbles.
Permanent is a word the children of Jacob must have often thought and seldom spoken. And who can blame them? They were nomadic herdsmen, ever moving towards a land they had been promised hundreds of years before. Once in the land, they lived in peace for a time, only to be assailed and divided, eventually destroyed. It seemed their progress culminated in the building of the Temple, a reward for the guidance of Godly leaders, and a beacon of Israel’s unity. Later kings would turn wicked and greedy, the nation would divide, and the Temple would crumble to the ground. Israel would find themselves in bondage again and they would long for redemption.
The voices in the wilderness are echoed in their leaders as Isaiah, like David before him, speaks of a coming redemption. Israel’s battle with the law has left their nation divided and weak, full of corruption and bitterness. Jacob’s children are primed for deliverance, and in the words of Isaiah they hear how the Lord will bring Israel back together. A king will rise who will throw down their enemies and gather all of the scattered back to the folds. Israel has seen kings come and go, but this is different, this seems permanent.
There are many prophecies in the Bible concerning the Messiah, and I possess not the knowledge or the words to convey their significance. Even still I am overcome with the burden that Christmas is so much more than the birth of Israel’s Messiah. Or maybe it is that Christmas is not an adequate means of expressing the coming of a savior. Christmas is a season, and though there are many great things about it, it is just a season. I find it interesting that people consider this time of year to be a time of reconciliation and restoration. Loners find their way home, families speak their peace, and the turmoil of life seems to suspend for a few moments. This event brings hope to people who do not subscribe to the spiritual, and even suspends the fields of war.
For Israel, the coming of the Christ was anything but a season, but rather a constant awareness and longing for deliverance. The writings of the Old Testament are full of this longing and the birth of the Messiah was a long time coming. When it finally did come it seems that no one was looking except for some star-gazers and some shepherds. I am saddened that Jacob’s children missed this, almost enraged at how a nation could be so lost in trying to save themselves that they would miss the birth of Christ, but I think I get it.
I once heard someone speak about the Pharisees, those pious punching bags we in kind look at down our noses. He posed the question, “Did you ever wonder why the Pharisees were the way they were?” I always just thought they were joyless for their pride, and ignorant to the way of everyday life for all their knowledge. Who does not like someone that has no redeeming qualities? After all, it makes us feel powerful and righteous, though we could not be further from truth. This man goes on to say that the Pharisees, as the leaders of the Jews, felt a responsibility to protect Israel. For hundreds of years Israel believed they suffered as the result of their sin, and in this time of Roman occupation, it made perfect sense that deliverance could only come when Israel lived righteously. The Pharisees would then feel that by living in extreme compliance with the law, the Messiah would come in triumph and forever remove the occupying forces of pagan nations. This is logical to me, and in this light the Pharisees do not appear prideful, but rather tragic.
As I consider the advent, I dwell on the season with various thoughts of Christmas, but this year I am burdened. I have been reading about the Law, and about Israel’s battle to keep it. I have read about the ways they atoned for their sin, and the way they even groveled for mercy. And when I consider the condition of the Israelites, I realize that the anticipation of a Messiah was not a season on the calendar, but a fact of life for many hundreds of years. I am burdened by the fact that I too live like an Israelite, burdened by a law I cannot keep, a law that has caused me immeasurable grief.
This year as Advent begins, I pray for the remembrance of Israel’s and my own condition, and the anticipation of the great Liberator, the King of Kings. May Christians everywhere not be lost in the chaos of this commercial time, but celebrate the coming Messiah. For all the beauty and peace found in that manger, may we anticipate our Lord like Israel did, and as we look forward to Christ’s next coming, it is my hope that we like the magi be found watching the sky and not buried in our books.
Thursday, November 22, 2007
pilgrim
Hundreds of years ago, a group of religious idealists grew tired of their government and its gloomy oppression, and crossed the ocean to freedom. The pilgrims we place in Thanksgiving dioramas resemble quakers more than open ocean explorers yet they endured hardship for their faith that most hope they will never suffer. They weathered blistering sun and relentless seas, disease, and hunger while embarking on the reckless task of crossing an ocean with nothing more than stars, paper and strings to plot their course. When they finally reached land, they found a completely mysterious world filled with seemingly hostile people with whom they could not communicate. But rather than fearing what they did not understand, they had dinner.
The pilgrims embodied so much of what Christ called people to be. They stood up against oppression, they welcomed and endured suffering, and they sought peace and community with even the most discomforting of people. The pilgrims found their freedom, yet like most things that start well, there was corruption to be had. The pilgrims brought plagues that killed the natives, and their ancestors would steal their land, murdering along the way. The Bible would be treated as a weapon of judgment, a means of segregation, and the freedom the pilgrims fled their homes for would be bound up in false teaching. The people would forget where they came from and take their nation for granted, and as a result we today clearly live as a people with a loose and selfish grip on our freedom.
How can we properly give thanks for something that has cost us nothing? The heart of this day is good. It is a day where people gather with the ones they love, share food, drink, and stories of the paths that lead to this point. It is also a day where we think of what we are grateful for. A day for telling the people who matter to us how we feel. A day where the poor and homeless are fed. Again, the heart of Thanksgiving is good but the spirit of it is lost.
I have had the privilege of going to church in an improbably poor African community torn apart by HIV/AIDS. I have been broken by the joy of people worshiping in freedom as if they never were sick, never understood class, and never suffered under apartheid. Yet it was because they lived in all of those things and so much more that they did worship freely for the God who delivered them. Because they understood where they had been, they graciously shared their joy before God with all they met and all they did.
Today I consider how little I understand about where I have come from. I live in that selfish freedom and the expectation that what has always been there will always be there though I know that is not true. And because I live so selfishly I am often blind to the awesome deliverance I have experienced and the freedom that comes of it. Now we have to have a day set aside to show gratitude, and we sit and create lists in our minds and on paper of all the things that we a thankful for. While we certainly do have much to be thankful for, I rarely express my thanks to the spring of graciousness, but rather to the waters it yields, and that is idolatry.
So on this Thanksgiving day I recognize that the heart of this day is good, but that the spirit of this day is lost amidst the sea of everything I have to be thankful for. I hope to be the sort of person who gives thanks in the midst of suffering, like my friends at Masiphumalele, or the Pilgrims before them, but first I must learn to hold loosely to the things I historically thank God for and rather cling with white knuckles to the freedom that was given long ago. Today it is my hope we remember just where it was we came from and the ocean we crossed to get there.
The pilgrims embodied so much of what Christ called people to be. They stood up against oppression, they welcomed and endured suffering, and they sought peace and community with even the most discomforting of people. The pilgrims found their freedom, yet like most things that start well, there was corruption to be had. The pilgrims brought plagues that killed the natives, and their ancestors would steal their land, murdering along the way. The Bible would be treated as a weapon of judgment, a means of segregation, and the freedom the pilgrims fled their homes for would be bound up in false teaching. The people would forget where they came from and take their nation for granted, and as a result we today clearly live as a people with a loose and selfish grip on our freedom.
How can we properly give thanks for something that has cost us nothing? The heart of this day is good. It is a day where people gather with the ones they love, share food, drink, and stories of the paths that lead to this point. It is also a day where we think of what we are grateful for. A day for telling the people who matter to us how we feel. A day where the poor and homeless are fed. Again, the heart of Thanksgiving is good but the spirit of it is lost.
I have had the privilege of going to church in an improbably poor African community torn apart by HIV/AIDS. I have been broken by the joy of people worshiping in freedom as if they never were sick, never understood class, and never suffered under apartheid. Yet it was because they lived in all of those things and so much more that they did worship freely for the God who delivered them. Because they understood where they had been, they graciously shared their joy before God with all they met and all they did.
Today I consider how little I understand about where I have come from. I live in that selfish freedom and the expectation that what has always been there will always be there though I know that is not true. And because I live so selfishly I am often blind to the awesome deliverance I have experienced and the freedom that comes of it. Now we have to have a day set aside to show gratitude, and we sit and create lists in our minds and on paper of all the things that we a thankful for. While we certainly do have much to be thankful for, I rarely express my thanks to the spring of graciousness, but rather to the waters it yields, and that is idolatry.
So on this Thanksgiving day I recognize that the heart of this day is good, but that the spirit of this day is lost amidst the sea of everything I have to be thankful for. I hope to be the sort of person who gives thanks in the midst of suffering, like my friends at Masiphumalele, or the Pilgrims before them, but first I must learn to hold loosely to the things I historically thank God for and rather cling with white knuckles to the freedom that was given long ago. Today it is my hope we remember just where it was we came from and the ocean we crossed to get there.
Saturday, October 20, 2007
fields
The mind can wander to all sorts of places, familiar and foreign, the tangible and the theoretical. Sometimes I wonder just how I got there and I struggle to draw a map in my brain of the unlikely route, lingering wisps of thought all that remain. And then there are those places clear as the sky on a perfect, cold day, where the vapor trails of jets gone by hang and the sunlight draws precise lines against all it touches. It is here I find myself standing in a field of wheat. The wind turns patterns in the heads of grain and through it I see myself from some lower vantage; my hair blows across my face and the image lingers. The clouds speed past and the whole scene repeats like weather radar. This is an image I have carried for many years and it haunts me to the core. At times this image is Africa, at other times it is California, and still others some great plain I have driven past. I sit on my couch and watch the television and suddenly the image takes over, yet today it is new.
I am thinking about baseball. And it is no longer wheat but corn and suddenly I am lost in a scene from a movie and I realize that I love baseball. I have not watched Field of Dreams in years and stumbled across it today only to be sucked completely in. Kevin Costner is at the bottom of my list however this movie has always tugged at some strings. It is a good movie with a continuously expanding sense of intrigue but near the end, Terrance Mann, the J.D. Salinger - inspired author played by James Earl Jones, gives this unbelievable speech about the transcendent nature of the game and the movie suddenly becomes great. By the time Ray’s father appears I am on the verge of tears, filled with nostalgia for the movie and the game it loves.
For the sake of honesty I am unfair to sports. I openly share my disdain for all forms of team competition, especially basketball, to anyone who will listen. I do not like the way people’s lives shut down around games or how we lend our pride and self-worth to some uniformed strangers we call by their first names like we have been friends from years. Yet in this moment I find myself talking to Sarah about how much I love baseball. The games, the parks, the hot dogs, the way no one player can carry a team as a weak player cannot be compensated for in the field or at the plate.
Sarah listens to me talk and sees right through my disguise. “I do not think it is baseball you are having such strong feelings about but the memories that surround it.” Interesting, I think to myself. Images start creeping into my mind, particularly having a catch with my dad in the front yard. He was my coach for many years and a capable one at that and while at home I would stand at one end of the yard, dad at the other. We used the natural slope of our hill as a pitcher’s mound and my dad would catch, giving signs. One for the heater, two for the slider, three for the curve, none of which I could really throw. I never was much of a pitcher, a third-baseman instead, but always wanted to be. Fireflies would fill the air and we would toss the ball until dark.
She is right. Rarely I tote my favorite ball team, the Red Sox, donning a hat on some worthy occasion. I once sat in a sports bar a yelled my guts out as the Sox beat the Yankees in such an improbable fashion a few years ago. Yet the truth is that the Red Sox were my favorite team long ago when I played little league ball. Today I never watch the highlights, I have no idea who is on the team, and I am as loyal a fan as a trophy blond is a loyal wife to her oil baron husband.
Competition puts my stomach in knots. I get stressed watching people compete. I hate the way I feel when I am placed in a competitive situation. Monstrous feelings seem to overwhelm me when I begin to apply my worth to the outcome. Dread preceded me on the baseball, lacrosse, swim, and even ultimate Frisbee teams I was a part of growing up. I did not like carrying the pressure to win as I put way too much of my own concerns and pride into it. I grew emotionally weak in those years and I had to walk away from all of it.
Good lengths of time passed before I felt the strength return to me. I learned to detach my worth from the things I did and instead found it in a worthy Creator. I cannot say I do not struggle with this from time to time but the overall shift has been extraordinary. When I think about Eric Liddell, the English sprinter in Chariots of Fire, I get chills. “God made me fast. When I run, I feel God’s pleasure.” As I watched the movie, bedded down after having my wisdom teeth removed, I instantly knew it to be true. This quote changed my life.
Ray Cancella and his father play catch and I am on the verge of becoming a weepy mess. I am wondering why we cling to our innocence, why feelings may surface so strongly at the right stimuli. Is there some part of me that aches for the loss of those childhood years playing ball? Or maybe there is something natural about playing ball with your father; in his patience there is something timeless, something pure. It is good to stand in the fields of freedom and confidence, the wind blowing across your face and filling your nostrils with life, whatever the field may be. And for that, I love baseball.
Saturday, September 08, 2007
welcome to our world!
This weekend my sister gave birth to her first child. Samuel Matthew Scearce is 6lbs, 14oz, and 20 inches long. Baby and mother are well and I am an extremely proud uncle! As the first child born in our family in 25 years, I imagine there will be no shortage of gloating to come. Cheers!
Wednesday, September 05, 2007
wake up
I awoke early to a sky still full of stars and a moon so bright and full I would swear it was a street light. The rustling sounds of nylon indicate either a willingness to greet the impending dawn or a certain disdain for the cold Californian darkness. I am underdressed for the cold but I get up anyway. Down the the hill I find coffee and companions ready to join me in a quest for still water. We steal glimpses of the stars before the are lost and anticipate the sun.
I have come here for two years now to camp with a church group from Southern California. We drive north for hours to spend a week by the lake sharing in fellowship, worship and water skiing. There are no cabins here, no tents, only stars to cover our heads at night. I learned to wakeboard here the year before and this year am determined to ride without the shaky need for balance. The water is like glass this early in the day and behind the boat I am alone with morning. This is what cowboys must feel like.
If God is not in the morning he is not in anything I am convinced. There are days where watching the world reveal is to see it for the first time. I have never seen a sunrise and dreaded the day ahead of me, no matter what lie ahead. Since these mornings in California I have been able to greet the new day with frequency; in the mountains, on airplanes, in my own home. I have come to love the time of day I often cursed and during these moments of solitude I have done a lot of thinking.
To see something new is to see it with wonder. Rarely, if ever, do I find terror in the experience of the unknown, merely in the thought of it. To be alive, after all, is to constantly discover if your senses are open. I forget this often but never in the morning. Every sip of coffee, every word read, every song heard is vibrant and alive; time passes slowly with patience and no resentment.
How appropriate then God would consider spiritual experience to be a rebirth, that we are to be born again. How fitting the scriptures say that God “is making all things new!” I amazed to think that Christ left the tomb while most of the world slept, a time in which only those who sought him would find him. We were never intended to toil in the brutal sun and its scorching heat or under the heavy veil of constant darkness. In these moments it is as if the sun were to always be rising, to constantly revive the earth and expel darkness, making all things new.
It is for this reason we must live in the morning. I am growing in the conviction the day should not be slept away but that we should wake up with the world. John Lennon was right, living is easy with eyes closed, but all we miss in the dawn is symbolic of a better way to live. We are children of the dawn.
Friday, July 27, 2007
the dust bowl...
The middle of nowhere is hot and full of teenagers. Falls Creek camp brings nearly 7000 students every week to the middle of America to experience utter insanity. Southern Oklahoma is no place to spend a summer and I am grateful that this is my last day here. Tomorrow I fly to California to spend another week in an even more secluded area of the country with a small gathering of Orange Country teens with whom I will worship and wake-board, sleeping under the stars in a cool dry climate far from the sticky doldrums of the Texas-Oklahoma boarder. From California I fly to New Mexico to meet some friends for another week of camp before returning back home to Nashville. Tennessee feels so far away.
Some days it takes everything within me to look around and feel okay. I do not like living in a world where trust is so rarely rewarded. I logged into my computer for the first time this week and read through the news. Reports of indictments and mounting legal tension in the present administration seem to escalate daily. I’m tired of all this and am beyond passing it all off as some kind of political mud wrestling. I know partisan politics are fierce these days yet you can only hear so many stories of corruption and not believe it. It concerns me to see a top ranking government official leak secrets and get commuted while the victim of the leak gets her case thrown out in court. What a system! It would appear justice’s blindfold is falling off.
I guess it is a blessing to be unplugged for a few weeks. I am already experiencing the refreshment that comes with being out in creation, seeing mountains, and communing with friends and fellow believers. Plus I got to ride a mechanical bull and I've got the skinned knees to prove it (never ride a mechanical bull in shorts)! I get to spend the entire next week camping without the aid of so much as a tent. I lie on my back in those moments and consider the stars and what lies beyond with all the wonder I can give this creation. I have been to both these coming camps before and both were life-changing weeks. I simply cannot wait.
I finished the last Harry Potter yesterday, sad to reach the end of something so fun and endearing, and extremely satisfied with the finish. All of my concerns for the book seem to be appeased and I commend Rowling, while not the literary equivalent of Tolkien and Lewis who many feel apt to compare her to, on being an excellent story teller. I will revisit these books again and again over the years.
I am also getting to enjoy some new music while on the road. I’ve picked up the new Spoon and Interpol records, as well as the new Fountains of Wayne. Spoon is a brilliant alternative band out of Austin and the record warrants multiple listens. Interpol is a favorite amongst the new wave revival and Fountains may be the most clever and consistent source of solid pop music these days. Who else can write a song about a ‘92 Subaru and get away with it!
That the news from my world. I’ll check back in when I get to Glorietta but until then, Cheers!
Some days it takes everything within me to look around and feel okay. I do not like living in a world where trust is so rarely rewarded. I logged into my computer for the first time this week and read through the news. Reports of indictments and mounting legal tension in the present administration seem to escalate daily. I’m tired of all this and am beyond passing it all off as some kind of political mud wrestling. I know partisan politics are fierce these days yet you can only hear so many stories of corruption and not believe it. It concerns me to see a top ranking government official leak secrets and get commuted while the victim of the leak gets her case thrown out in court. What a system! It would appear justice’s blindfold is falling off.
I guess it is a blessing to be unplugged for a few weeks. I am already experiencing the refreshment that comes with being out in creation, seeing mountains, and communing with friends and fellow believers. Plus I got to ride a mechanical bull and I've got the skinned knees to prove it (never ride a mechanical bull in shorts)! I get to spend the entire next week camping without the aid of so much as a tent. I lie on my back in those moments and consider the stars and what lies beyond with all the wonder I can give this creation. I have been to both these coming camps before and both were life-changing weeks. I simply cannot wait.
I finished the last Harry Potter yesterday, sad to reach the end of something so fun and endearing, and extremely satisfied with the finish. All of my concerns for the book seem to be appeased and I commend Rowling, while not the literary equivalent of Tolkien and Lewis who many feel apt to compare her to, on being an excellent story teller. I will revisit these books again and again over the years.
I am also getting to enjoy some new music while on the road. I’ve picked up the new Spoon and Interpol records, as well as the new Fountains of Wayne. Spoon is a brilliant alternative band out of Austin and the record warrants multiple listens. Interpol is a favorite amongst the new wave revival and Fountains may be the most clever and consistent source of solid pop music these days. Who else can write a song about a ‘92 Subaru and get away with it! That the news from my world. I’ll check back in when I get to Glorietta but until then, Cheers!
Sunday, July 01, 2007
journeys
I just left Sarah, my girlfriend, and Scott, my roommate, at the airport here in Nashville (Sarah center, Scott perched between us. The girls to the right are on the trip as well). They are on their way to Moldova for an 11 day mission trip through our church. Moldova is nestled between Romania and the Ukraine and is the poorest nation of the former Soviet Union. Thousands of children live in orphanages there until the age of 16 when they are released by the state. 70% of girls are sold into the sex trade within their first year on the streets. 70% of boys turn to organized crime and of those, 10% commit suicide. Our church is sending three teams this year to three different parts of the country. There is tremendous hope in the gospel of Christ and I ask anyone who is willing to pray for them to do so while they are gone.
For further info, just follow the link to the team blogs on the right.
"If you get rid of the yoke from those around you, the finger-pointing and malicious speaking, and if you offer yourself to the hungry, and satisfy the afflicted one, then your light will shine in the darkness, and your night will be like the noonday. The Lord will always lead you, satisfy you in a parched land, and strengthen your bones. You will be like a watered garden and like a spring whose waters never run dry. Some of you will rebuild the ancient ruins; you will restore the foundations laid long ago; you will be called the repairer of broken walls, the resorer of streets where people live." - Isaiah 58:9-12
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