On Origins, Dramatic or Otherwise.

About 6 months ago, during a breakfast conversation with a friend, the topic of bullying came up. His son was being bullied at school and he asked me for advice. I had none. Well, that's not true, but we'll get to that.

I grew up around 4 miles outside Lawrence, KS, but I went to school about 15 miles away from me. The school had 500 kids, kindergarten through twelfth grade. It was tiny. So everyone made friends fast and stuck with them the whole way through school. I, however, had a twin (a supposed built-in best friend) and ADHD, so the other kids weren't really very eager to play with me. To counteract the ADHD I was put on Ritalin, which turned me into a zombie: no personality, no hobbies, just school. I made straight A's, but if we lived in the caste system I would've been an untouchable. Persona Non Grata. The zombiefication didn't help my social cause.
Next, throw in a love for comic books. A serious love for comic books. An "I got in fights with my brother over which X-Man was the best" love for comics. Add to that my speech impediment, and I had zero friends. My parents will testify that everyday from kindergarten to 7th grade my brother and I got off the bus after school crying because the other kids were so mean to us.

So I know a thing or three about bullying, which is why my friend asked me what he did. And I'll be honest. I had an answer, but he wouldn't like it. I don't like it much either. The answer to how I got other kids to stop bullying me is simple: I didn't. They never stopped until the day I moved away. What's worse is after a while, I started to believe them. I believed that I was stupid, that I was mentally handicapped, that I didn't deserve friends, that I didn't deserve to be helped, that I was just a failure all around.

Most days, I do still believe them.

So here I sit, a 31 year old man, being tormented by voices that I haven't corporally interacted with since I was 16. The rational voice inside my head thinks it's time to move on, but not before he can insult me for being so stupid as to hold on to such irrational thoughts. Ironic.

And I'd love to wrap this post up with a nice warm-and-fuzzy thought about how God made me special and He loves me and blah blah blah. I know it's true in my head, but my heart is still scared shitless of failing and letting Him down, just in case it's only partially true. I'm scared of failing myself, my family, my friends. And no, I have no idea just exactly how I'd fail them, but I can take a few guesses.

I have to keep pressing forward, keeping reaching and growing and trying to succeed in this life. I'm not entirely sure what that means right now, but I do know that I'm having to lean hard on His Grace and trust that He'll tell me where I need to go when I get lost. But first, I have to shut up a few errant voices in my head.

P.S. I told my friend recently that what helps the most to combat bullying is friends and supportive parents that will help you become who you are, despite what others say. Simple but effective.

P.P.S. Cyclops was the best.

On Being, Human.

I had an encounter with a penguin on Saturday at the Dallas World Aquarium.
He was separated from the rest of the pack, all alone on a rock. He looked at me, and I at him. He looked lonely, so I suggested that he swim back to his friends on the other side of the pond. Then, in a moment of melancholy, it struck me. "Perhaps he's forgotten how to swim. Perhaps he's forgotten how to be a bird."
I whispered to him, "Please don't forget how to be a bird."
And God whispered to me, "Please don't forget how to be Trevor."
And I shed a tear in the middle of the Dallas World Aquarium.

I did something new today. I admitted to someone that I was between churches. This is mostly shocking because I'd never admit this out loud, and the people at my former church have no idea. (Yes, I talked about this in my last blog, but seeing as how nobody at that church reads my blog...)

There's so much about the music industry that's about image and confidence and competence. To admit to being scared, or unsure, or ignorant, is to admit to an utter failure as a successful musician and (to a degree) human being. Yes, I'm fairly well removed from that world, but there are a few things I still carry around.
So the idea of admitting to being unsure about something so trivial as my church membership is automatically a bigger deal than it should be, never mind the fact that I'm regularly on stage, to be a role model for the congregation.
And it was hard to say. I wanted to come up with a different answer, to pledge allegiance to my former church, or a different church, or make up a church. Anything to seem confident.
And the idea of being without a home church is scary. I NEED accountability. I need a pastor and a family that I trust. I NEED to be seen as a whole human being, not just a bassist. I need to be encouraged to be that whole human being, not just a bassist.

No, I'm not sure what that means. I think it means that I need to be invited to barbecues, to interact with "normal" folks, to be invited to watch "The Game" (whatever that means), to build things, to read, to write, to run and jump and play, and maybe even to get in debt.

But I think I'm missing the point. Or rather, I'm afraid that I'm missing the point. I'm afraid there's some big thing that I need to do, that I know to do, that will take me to the "Next Level". Until I do this thing I'll just be stuck with the ol' "Sorry Mario, your princess is in another castle" routine. Problem is, I've no idea what this thing is. I don't think there is a thing, honestly. I think it's simply to remain faithful and steadfast, and to rise to the occasion. Meet challenges head on. Do laundry before you run out of clean underpants. Get a job that pays enough to provide nice things for yourself and the ones that you love.

On the flip side, what if I'm supposed to maintain the course? What if I'm only a few faithful steps from a couple gigs that set me up for the career I've been looking for? If I'm only a few calls away from being able to do music full time?

How do I chase God without being a musician? Is that what He's calling me to, or just what I'm afraid of? Of course, there's an easy answer to this. Just think to yourself, "What Would Jesus Do?" then do that! Ha! How silly of me!

I don't know that I'm ready yet to step away from playing like my life depends on it. I'm afraid I'll feel only regret and disappointment if I do. I feel such a strong calling, and I've always known that this life wasn't glamorous or pretty, so I've been prepared to be broke. But am I putting such an emphasis on music because I'm broken or because I'm called? How does one discern such things? Through prayer and fasting, through wise counsel, through the Word.

I honestly feel a little betrayed by my former church because I put faith in them and yet I very rarely felt like anything more than a bassist, just a body on stage to help give the appearance of prestige and preparedness that every new church plant so desires. And we're back to style over substance, worrying too much about image.
Please, don't misunderstand, I think my former church is a good place with good people. I simply think that my time there has run its course.

And with all this, I'm simply running around in circles. Please, if you have advice or insight, share it. I need all the help I can get.

On Purposes, Special or Otherwise.

I always thought that when I got older I'd have things figured out. A common idea, I'd wager. But now that I'm older, I feel I'm no closer to figuring anything out. If anything, I'm farther away. Or maybe there's just more things to figure out. Either way, I'm fairly well screwed in the game of Life.

Most folks figure out a decent way to make their lives work, then fumble around trying to keep everything together. Humbling to know and admit. My problem is that I became so myopic and centered on one aspect of myself that I never learned how to juggle other things. I've been so obsessed with music that I've neglected to provide good things for myself via a good job or strong friends and family. While my friends were becoming teachers and pastors and engineers, while they were dealing with the world and the trials and tribulations that come of it, while they were having successful relationships and careers,  I became a child with control issues who knew little to nothing of himself or the world outside of music and musicians.

I became this way because I haven't dealt with some pain and regrets in my past. Instead of coping and working out issues I just ran to music as an escape. In the world of music, I'm in control. I know what I'm doing, I can put things together, I can cope with anything that's thrown at me. Of course, this has left me with a string of crappy jobs and unhealthy relationships. I have a hard time expressing what I want for myself and from others, mostly because I have no idea what I want for myself or from others. Trust me, trying to feel satisfied in a relationship is damned near impossible when you've no idea what satisfies you.

But as the great Bill Cosby once said, that's not what I came here to talk about.
After church service today, a lady approached me. "I have a word for you. God gave me a word for you."
I don't take compliments well and the idea of God having a specific word for me is a high compliment indeed, so I just gritted my teeth, bared my false humility, and asked her what it was.
"You've spent so long chasing the music, and you've become very good at it, and God has blessed you, but you haven't spent enough time chasing Him."
Oh no, I've been found out! Run!!
She said a few more things, about "being moved by the music" and "there's a revolution in Worship coming, and you're going to be a part of it."

The random lady was right about me. Maybe not about the "revolution in Worship"(I'll talk about that later), but she was on point about me chasing music. And that's what I've been dealing with for the last few months. Not necessarily putting the music away, but finding the right place and time for it. A place and time that allows me to actually deal with life and pain and my past in a healthy way.

Part of that is my church life. I attend a good church with good people and a good pastor. But I don't feel connected to the church, and I don't feel yoked to the pastor. I feel like a musician. I feel like I'm only valued because I serve onstage consistently and have done so for the past few years. But I feel like I'm incomplete. I've only just recently realised that if I weren't playing at the church, I likely wouldn't attend. (In truth, when I'm not playing, I don't attend.)
The point of this revelation is that I need a place where I attend, regardless of my service onstage. In addition, I'd like it to be a church where there's no real chance of me serving on stage any time soon. I need to go because I want to go.

Of course, this is the juxtaposition, the hypocrisy of it all: I can really only receive value and acceptance if I'm valued for my playing. I've boxed myself in, if you will. And that's why I picked up the previously mentioned false humility.

Oh, to learn to be a real and complete human being! It sucks. It's taking everything I've known and loved and focused myself on and putting it aside, not away, but aside so I can address the rest of my metaphorical room.
I'm tired of being incomplete. It's lonely and it makes me feel crazy, like I'm constantly going insane, clinging to my last little shred of sanity, of humanity, of connectedness to the rest of the world, to the people around me. I've been trying to fumble around and keep things together without knowing where I'm going or what I'm keeping together.
Plus, this metaphorical crap I carry around isn't healthy for me. It infects my view of myself, it perverts my goals and desires, and separates me from the people I care about.
And that's the point, I think. We're all in this together as human beings, defined by who we are, not what we do. We all have pasts to get over, struggles to share, and dice to roll.
God doesn't save a plumber, or a teacher, or a designer; He saves men and women. It's high time I learned to be a man, a human being.

On Norris, Chuck

(started in February 2011, finished Jan. 2013)

As I write this, I am writhing in pure agony, afflicted by the evil plague that is Cedar Fever.  Cedar Fever is a foul punishment, a pox unleashed upon mankind to make atonement for our sins; to give us a taste of hellfire and damnation; to push us to repentance for fear of this kind of suffering for all eternity.  Lord, take me now!

When I'm sick, I get cranky, and crabby, and downright irritable. I snap at loved ones, I absent mindedly make harsh remarks to those that try to help me, and I'm just mean to little old ladies. So I must wonder, "why?"

I hate being weak. I hate the idea that I may be weak enough to actually get sick. I want to feel invincible, and being sick robs me of this delusion. It's my pride being killed, being dragged through the street and beaten with sacks full of nickels. As much as I may say that the Lord is in control, truthfully I'm only okay with that idea when I feel like I have the ability to relinquish control at any time. "The Illusion of Control." It's laughable, really. The idea that we have any power over the actions of others, or the actions of the universe, or even inanimate objects. I can eat the carrot, but if the carrot didn't want to be eaten, it will let me know soon enough by trying to come back up.

Every so often I watch my friend Matt's daughter Bella. She's about 3. When she's not feeling well she cries, she pouts, she becomes unruly and uncooperative. Sadly, the same can be said for me. I think sickness is the reminder that we are not in control, that we need to be cared for. It's a great equalizer, in that way. It doesn't matter how awesome you may think you are, you will get sick. John Stewart gets sick and needs his wife to care for him. Barack Obama gets sick and needs Secret Service to bring his chicken noodle soup. Chuck Norris doesn't get sick.
(I wish I were Chuck Norris)

A story I've heard often:
A man is hitchhiking and gets a ride from a man in a pickup. The driver tells the hitchhiker to hop in the bed of truck, and starts driving once his passenger is aboard. Looking back, he sees the hitchhiker standing up in the bed, still clutching his backpack. The driver tells him to sit down, put the backpack down, and relax. The passenger responds, "You were kind enough to give me a ride, I couldn't dare to impose on you by having you carry my bag as well."

Of course, this story is preposterous. Any rational human would put their bag down in the truck and relax. But lo, we aren't always rational.

Too often does God help us, give us a ride, give us direction or purpose, and in the face of His Grace and Mercy, we accept but refuse to lay down our burdens. Be it our pasts, our sins, our pride, our weakness, our flaws, we refuse to let Him carry it.

It's akin to that penultimate scene from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, when, dying on the side of Mount Doom, Samwise offers to carry the One Ring for Frodo. Frodo responds that he cannot, for it would destroy him. Samwise then does the only thing available to him: he carries Frodo.

Yes, I'm tearing up as I think about it. Too often must God carry me because I'm stubborn and bullheaded and refuse to share my burden with him, when all along I've been in His hands, burden and all!

He doesn't want us to be weak constantly, but He does want us to acknowledge our weakness, and in doing so, His strength. It's okay to be weak. It means that we're human. And in acknowledging our humanity, we acknowledge His Divinity. He'll gladly carry us, burdens and all, if only we'd stop trying to be divine ourselves and just be human.

On Fear, That Which Keeps Us Here

As I write today, I'm in a good amount of pain. Just yesterday I had surgery to fix a hernia I incurred almost 10 years ago. Why did it take me so long to fix it? Fear.

Fear of having to fully take care of myself. Fear of having to take full responsibility for myself. Fear of having to truly see my self-worth and invest in myself.

I've never fully taken care of myself. I rarely think of my diet, though I do exercise a few times a week. I have no car payment, I live in the cheapest apartment I could find, I own no furniture outside of that which fits in my bedroom. I scorn luxuries and niceties because I see them as immodest, unnecessary. But truth be told, I see them this way because I've forced myself into believing them to be so in an effort to justify my low self-worth. If I don't want them, then I won't have to justify not having them by admitting that I don't believe that I'm worth the investment.

It's the unending conundrum of Grace: That which we could never be worthy of, yet are given of it freely.

And so my surgery was a step in a new direction. I'm fully responsible for the bills. Nobody will give me money to bail me out of this debt. Never before have I been in debt, and I never really want to be, but it was necessary to take this step. I'm fully responsible for taking care of myself. I'm in the middle of a planned 5 day rest, and I don't have a dedicated caretaker for 3 of those days, so I must manage myself, force myself to rest, to believe that my well being is worth the shred of guilt I will incur from not working for 5 days.

You see, if I'm working, I can at least tell myself that I'm a productive member of society, that I'm contributing something to the world around me. Instead, I'm off for 5 days, and I feel like a lazy bum with nothing to contribute, leeching off friends and family. Yes, after only 5 days I dip to the bottom of the barrel, wallowing in despair that I've wasted my life, yet knowing full well that I'll be back at work on tuesday. Oh how glorious and irrational the human mind.

The other hard truth I'm coming to face is my own self-worth. I work because that's how I justify my existence. It's not enough to be me, to be the only me that will ever be, and to strive to be the best me I can be. I must give something of myself. Since I see very little of myself being of any worth, I work. Endlessly. I never take sick leave, I never pass up an opportunity to work, and I never shirk my responsibilities at work.
Yet here I sit, faced with the idea welling up from my heart and echoed by close friends for years that I do have something to give, something to say. That I've accumulated wisdom and guidance to share with the world. That my word may someday do somebody else some good. And I've seen it, but I refuse to acknowledge it. I feign humility, knowing that to accept a compliment would hurt my pride by forcing me to understand the role my presence can and does play in the world around me. How hypocritical, how ironic.

I know that the few readers of this blog are supportive of my endeavors, and they (you) believe in me. This I know. But I am a coward, afraid to acknowledge this, afraid to offer up larger portions of myself, of my wisdom (what little I have, at least), of my experience. I'm selfish in that way, thinking I have nothing to offer yet refusing to share anything that may be of worth. Again, I'm faced with the possibility that God has a plan for me, a plan that, despite my best intentions to muck it up, is still on track.

That, friends, is Grace in action.

As for fear, I'm still afraid. But the opposite of fear is faith. Not love, but faith. Trusting that God is good and good for us, trusting that friends and family will watch out for us, helping us as best they can, and trusting that we'll make the best decisions possible, in this life, for His Kingdom.

On Sequels, Unnecessary.

I'm not getting anything done tonight. I set aside the time to blog and now I can't think of anything. Isn't that always how it goes?

On Grace, Accepting...

Apparently, when in my last blog I noted that I'd be blogging again soon, I meant in a few more months.
I apologise for that.

Since I've last blogged, I've not heard any more from River or Destiny or anyone claiming to represent either party.  For this, I'm grateful.  Truly, I know I'm not ready to face that world again.  So, dear reader (and more-so, dear Christ Follower), what, you ask, was the point of that interaction if not to get me to reconnect with those involved in said debacle?

I think it was to show me truly who I am, or rather, who I'd been becoming. (Yes, my grammar is inaccurate from a purely literary standpoint, but my point will support it.)  You see, I was angry at River. Angry and bitter and resentful and ashamed.  In my mind, I had wronged her, wronged Destiny, wronged my family, and God Himself.  Though I had done everything I could (and I did the job of keeping my daughter and her mother healthy and sane as well as I could), I still failed.  Or at least, I felt like I had failed.  I couldn't process the whole affair. I couldn't forgive myself for the mistakes I had made, and no amount of good deeds could change my mind.

That's where Grace comes in.  The Grace of God is a powerful thing. It had made a fool of me, and I'm thankful for it.  The whole hub-bub was to show me how little mercy I had shown myself.  How little I knew of Grace.  If I couldn't forgive myself for my sins, my transgressions, how much more could God not even stand them?  If I hated myself, how much more should He hate me?  I don't deserve mercy or grace or forgiveness.
And there's the rub.  He offers it nonetheless. Because He chooses to.  He died because He chose to.  And I have only to accept His offer, but I do so knowing that I'll never be worthy of it.  It's a tension we as Jesus Lovers must live in, and I pray that I never cease to struggle with it.

Back to the point, I didn't like who I was becoming.  I didn't like the decisions I was making with such an unhealthy mindset and view of God.  Rather, my view of God was accurate (He is loving, merciful, gracious, and kind) but I didn't think any of that applied to me.  It does, and dammit if that revelation won't be the death of me.

I'm still wrestling with this truth, and it still surprises and challenges me every day, but I think I'm getting better at forgiving myself as I go. Of course, as soon as I finish typing this I'm sure that statement will be challenged again.
Such is the cycle, the horrible, weighty, freeing, and wonderful cycle of Grace and Forgiveness. Just to let things go is the scariest and most freeing thing.

So now, I'm becoming somebody else, somebody new. A body that forgives himself and others more freely, and shows grace and acceptance openly.  Or at least, that's who I'd like to be.

On Endings, Bitter.

How often do we think of ourselves as being in control? In charge? On top of things? How often do we think we know what's going on, and we're prepared?
Almost 8 years ago I gave my daughter (Destiny, for the point of the story) up in adoption to a nice family in Houston. I thought to myself that my job was done, she was born, and I'd never see her again. I thought that God had wanted me to follow through and protect her, make sure she ended up in a good home, and that was that.
My ex, my daughter's mother (River, as she'll be known), was, and is, crazy. I can hardly think of any good thing to say about her outside of commenting upon her beauty (she is still gorgeous). And truly, she is crazy. But I'm also still a wounded little man, too hurt to let go of that pain, so I justify it by focusing on her insanity.
Earlier this afternoon I received a text from my baby momma (sorry for the slang) that contained a picture of her and Destiny posing together.
They met.
Apparently Destiny wants to meet me.
I have no idea what to do with this.
I've spent the last 7 years assuring myself that A) I'd never see my daughter again, and I had made peace with that; and B) I'd never see my ex again and the idea of her dying from some horrible incurable disease made me feel a little better about the world.
And yet, on my phone, staring at me, is proof that these two beliefs are wrong.
A few thoughts:
I have no idea how they happened upon each other, so it could have been forced. (River is not above stalking)
I have no idea if my daughter was coerced into professing the desire to meet me.
I have no idea what my ex actually wants.

And now, some back story: River was extremely manipulative and emotionally needy. She would lie to me openly simply to get a desired response, and create drama to try and test me.
So with that filter on, I'm very, very skeptical.
River works at a certain swedish furniture store (heretofore known as That Place With The Meatballs) and apparently happened upon the adoptive parents with Destiny, and Destiny instantly recognised River and ran into her arms.
Here's where I stand (and thank you for letting me figure this out as I vented):
If Destiny really wanted to meet me, her adoptive parents have my phone number and can find me on FaceBook. But they haven't.
And River has been known to randomly text or call me to try and reconnect, as apparently I may or may not have been her last successful and (somewhat) healthy relationship.
So "River", if you're reading this, I'm calling shenanigans!
I'm glad you met Destiny, but until the parents contact me, I will not trust you.
Sorry if I've foiled your plans. And if you are sincere, sorry that I don't trust you but you burned this bridge with a vengeance.

To everyone else reading this: Sorry this post wasn't very funny or insightful or inspiring. I'll try harder next time. And yes, next time will be coming soon.

On Death, The Defeat Of.

I feel like the captain of the Titanic. On good days, I'm bailing water, hoping to make a difference and see the ship rise a few inches, to stem back the oncoming flood. On bad days, I just sit back and polish the brass.
And yet, I remain optomistic. With a God as big and storied as mine, I know He's in control.
The book of Judges gives us a lot of stories about a lot of people that He used. Samson is one of my favourites because he screws up royally, yet with his last breath he redeems himself. God uses Samson to make a point and bring Isreal back to Himself.
If I'm going down with the ship, I want to go down in style! If God's using me as a cautionary tale, I want to make sure I do everything in my power (and His will) to make it a good tale.
The thief on the cross behind Jesus deserved to be there, dying in agony. Yet I know that when his time came, he was in Heaven's endless glory, just as Christ promised him.
If I'm to die poor, alone, having lived a life where nothing (save Christ's saving works) went right, it will be a life well lived. A life rewarded handsomely.

Friday was His death. He BECAME sin, so when He died, sin would die with Him. "Thanks, Jesus. Sin is dead. Whoo!"
But then comes Sunday. Sunday is His rebirth. His resurrection. With the resurrection, He becomes life, so while He lives, we live with Him.
There can be no forgiveness without the shedding of blood. So rich is our Father's love for us that He shed His blood. When's the last time you shed your blood for someone you loved? Perhaps you gave blood for a much needed transfusion to save an uncle? Gave a kidney for your sick cousin? Jesus chose to give His life for us. He chose to give His life for me. For you. I have a hard time giving money for people I care about. I shutter at the thought of giving an organ, and I refuse to give blood as I'm scared to death of needles. This isn't love.
Love is sacrificial. Always. If it doesn't hurt, it's not love. But let me be clear. If all it does is hurt, it's probably not love either.
In our search for love on this earth, I'm certain that the trick is finding someone who makes the sacrifice as painless and natural as possible; Someone who makes the choice of giving of ourselves easy. I cannot imagine how hard it was for our Father to give His life. I cannot imagine how hard we made that choice. How I would burn with anger at mankind, were I God. How I would seethe. Noah would not have survived the flood, were I in charge. How hard must that choice have been, knowing how sinful I am, how wrapped up in shame and pride, for God to sacrifice His Son?
Thank God I am not He, or we'd all be screwed.

We have our picture of Love, our example. It died on a cross, in agony, taking on our wrongdoings, our sin. It rose 3 days later, exchanging our nature for one of righteousness. Our best acts, our most righteous acts or thoughts or movements all pale in comparison.
He is risen, I'm not worthy, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

On Worship, Tired and/or Hungover

Yes, you read that right. I have played church services while hungover. I've played services on mornings where I never went to sleep. I've slept through church services.


Now, before you excommunicate me from the Church, know this: my heart is for the Lord, and He've never failed to humble me when I hit the stage. I'm constantly in awe of His power and majesty and the fact that He uses a screw-up like me.
That said, I want to share a bit of my mindset on mornings like those mentioned above.
I read a tweet from one "Worship_Tips", and it's as such: Remember, what you do tonight will affect how you lead worship tomorrow. Guard your heart. Don't risk loosing the anointing.


Too true.  We should be careful of the condition of our heart when we head in to His Presence. However, to avoid His Presence simply because we're tired or we made a mistake the night before would be foolish. He accepts us, broken as we are, and our willingness to be open about our brokenness and shame is one of the greatest benefits to us and to others that comes from that acceptance. 


Too many mornings I've sat through prayers from tired folk praying that God would wake them up, give them an alertness, blah blah blah. Nothing wrong with that, but I enjoy the mornings where it hurts to lift my head, where I'm too tired to give it my all. And I'll tell you why: Because when everything does work out, when God shows up, when The Spirit descends, I can know fully and completely that it had NOTHING TO DO WITH ME! Not a thing. I gave my all, and it still wasn't enough. God came down because He chose to. He honoured our songs and praises because He chose to. He gives me the strength to worship Him because He chooses to. 


How often in our "strength" and "alertness" and "preparedness" do we fret or worry about everything? Do we, (though we'd never say it out loud) think that everything hinges upon us and our competence?


It's the same way on mornings when there's PA issues, or the sermon isn't complete quite yet, or the guitarist can't quit breaking strings. It's a chance to sit back and reflect upon how messed up we are, how we can do NOTHING good of our own strength, and praise Jesus that He shows up anyways.


Now I'm not saying that we should all stay up all night or come into church tomorrow hungover (or still drunk), but if it comes down to fellowshipping with good intentionality with good folk or unbelievers that need the word, or going to bed at 8:00 so I can be bright-eyed and bushy tailed, I'll always choose the former. Tonight I'm going out to see good folk, to fellowship with people I don't see often enough, and to praise God for excellent music. I won't be out extremely late, but I won't be in before midnight. But I'm not worried, nor do I feel that I'm testing God. My heart and conscience are clear in this matter: God is Lord, and He comes first. And at 8:00 tomorrow morning I'll find myself facedown in His Presence, with no dichotomy between last night and that moment.


Be wise in your dealings, wise in your decisions. Don't sin without regard to God or the future. But don't wrap yourself in a bubble, never going out, never talking to strangers, and never having a good time. Fellowship, food, drinks; all are gifts from God to be celebrated. And all are things to thank Him for on sunday morning, whether you're fully awake or not. 

On Whims, Chasing.

I'm perplexed by people who chase after fleeting desires. (Yes, I perplex myself, but one thing at a time).

I had a chat with a young lady tonight after her sexual practices. She usually sleeps with men on the first date because she believes that if the sex isn't good that there's not much point to progressing the relationship. This is an ideology she developed after a longterm relationship came to an end in a most painful way.

While I understand her pain, I don't understand her subsequent quest.

Same goes for men chasing women, people chasing wealth or fame, or a junkie chasing his next fix.

My pursuit, most times, is for whatever my pride desires. I'll entertain a person who is interested in me, but only because I'm flattered by their interest. I'll watch porn because I think some sort of sexual satisfaction is missing in my life. I'll chase gigs because I feel that if I were playing full-time I'd be happy.

But the longer I live the more I get tired of all this. Happiness is fleeting, and so is this life. How dare we think we have so long to live that we can fritter away our time chasing money or sex or fame!

I'd be lying if I said that being single makes me happy or joyous; but my desire for a mate is not strong enough to make me do something silly like go looking for a woman. If it happens, it happens. 

I don't think I've ever "burned in my lust", but I do get distracted and enticed. 

And being without a job does not make me happy. I need things to do during the day, I need a sense of accomplishment. But I'm trying to be open to what God has for me. I'd like to think if He told me to move to Africa that I'd be receptive. However, there's only one way to find that out. 

I think my pride is my biggest sin. Believing that I know what's best for me, that I'm in control, that if I work harder I'll get ahead. My pride tells me to make plans and when they don't work out that God didn't want me there, that maybe He is against me or has it out for me. When something happens to my car randomly I start to wonder what I might have done that He'd be punishing me. 

But it's not punishment, it's discipline. We discipline the ones we love, and we leave be the ones we don't.

My roommate is finding this out as she's started taking her dog to an obedience school following an incident wherein her dog looked her directly in the eyes at it peed on the carpet. Y'see, she never disciplined her dog, so it thought it was the master. It didn't know any better, and if it were master, it'd be screwed. It can't feed itself as it doesn't know where the food is, it can't walk itself, if it did end up outside it'd be roadkill pretty quickly.

So it is with God and us. We are idiots wandering around in a dangerous world, looking to make bad decisions and mistakes, and we find only death.

I know, a very high and mighty view to take, but the longer I live, the more I believe it. Watching my friends chase after things that fade, I feel sad for them. I feel sad for me when I do it too. No amount of sexual partners will ever make me feel good about myself. No amount of alcohol will make me forget my bad decisions or awful desires. No amount of playing will ever make me feel like an accomplishment. And no amount of praise from my father or any other authority on this earth will ever make me complete.

Thank God for grace. Grace that I could never earn, grace that I could never afford. Grace given simply because I happened to realize that I need saving. 

God knows what He's doing, as hard as that is at times to believe. As the saying goes: "Just because you can't see the sun doesn't mean it's not shining."

Of Tripe, Self-Indulgent.

As I reread some of my blogs I'm struck by the thought that I sound like a holy and righteous bastard. Perhaps I censor myself so that nobody sees the real me, or so I look like a holy and righteous awesome guy that everyone wants to know. Perhaps.

Murphy's Law has struck again and I've incurred damage upon my car. It's nothing too serious, but Mo (my car) isn't as pretty as she once was and her back door doesn't really work anymore. Just another thing I can't afford to pay for.
As I sought council for my grief, I was pointed by a friend to Ephesians. He claimed it was all about grace, and knowing, perhaps even being comfortable with the fact that we have done nothing and can do nothing to earn God's grace and forgiveness. I get that, but I don't get why he wanted me to read it.
After I read Ephesians, I read the opening chapter of Brennan Manning's The Ragamuffin Gospel (Illustrated Edition). Yes, it's illustrated. So much so that it only contains 15% of the source material. A friend bought it for me assuming I could knock it out easier, as I'm not much of a reader.

Truth be told I'm a bit numb to all of this. I can do nothing to deserve God's grace, but I fail to make the connection to what happened tonight. Instead, my thoughts turned to the possibility that perhaps God recently gave me a direct command and I haven't fulfilled it yet. Honestly, that's the best theory I have to explain my entire situation right now. And I know, it's not a very good one.
But it's a logical and existential one.

I had a dream saturday night that woke me up alarmed, in pain, and very confused. It was such an odd and disturbing dream that I immediately inquired of God if it could be a prophecy or message and if I should seek interpretation. He said no.
What didn't dawn on me until Sunday afternoon is that it could be a spiritual attack. My first reaction to that thought was that I was "of no spiritual significance at this time"; that I'm not important enough for Satan to take notice of me; that I've wandered into God's wrath, or simply His negligence, and am not currently a threat to The Forces Of Evil.

I have no uplifting ending tonight, no words of wisdom or insight, and no message of hope. I'm still wrestling with this all. I don't believe that I've missed any overt commands from my Lord, and I know that I cannot earn His grace, and that I am of great significance to Him. I don't know what He's doing, or why my accident tonight happened, but I know He's doing something and all I can do is trust Him and ask to see it.
I'd ask that you'd all do the same for me, and each other.

On Money, A Fool And His.

I'm not sure what to do with this entry. (not a strong opening statement, I know. just go with it) So much has happened this past week, though most of it not physical. God's been kicking my ass for a while now in so many areas, and it's hard to narrow it down and pick on subject because they all seem related.

I was going to post on money matters and why being poor isn't a bad thing. I was going to reference Proverbs 30:7-9, my favourite practical prayer. In fact, I think I will:

“Two things I ask of you, LORD; 
   do not refuse me before I die: 

Keep falsehood and lies far from me; 
   give me neither poverty nor riches, 
   but give me only my daily bread. 
Otherwise, I may have too much and disown you 
   and say, ‘Who is the LORD?’ 
Or I may become poor and steal, 
   and so dishonor the name of my God."

How much more practical does it get? This gets to an issue I have right now trusting God to provide. It's humbling, that's for sure, knowing there's little to nothing I can do to make ends meet. And then when God does show up at the last second, all I can do is stand in silence. I don't deserve such help or provision, but I get it. As soon as anyone out there understands that connection, let me know!

It's never a lot of money, y'know, but it's always just what I need, which makes sense in light of that proverb, and fits in well with God's character.

When the Isrealites were wandering the desert and God gave them manna, He only gave them enough to make it through the day. It's the idea of cultivating a dependency on Him and His provision. When Jesus told Pete to go fishing and collect the coin out of the fish's mouth for the temple tax, it was only enough to pay for Jesus and Pete. No more, no less. 

It's downright magical sometimes how it works. Several years ago I was offered the chance to go to Ukraine on a mission trip and I felt very called to go. Problem was, I didn't have the $1500 for it. And I only had a month to come up with it. That didn't go very well at all, I'll say that. But literally one week before we left the money showed up. A little from the church I was attending at the time, a little worked into the budget of the missions organization with whom I was going, and I have no clue where the rest came from. I'm okay with not knowing. The knowing doesn't matter. It's the gratitude with which it's received that does.

That trip did a great many things for me. It changed my life. It got me out of a very messed up relationship that was killing me. It reminded me of my love of serving others. 

As I write this now I'm still without job, gigs are few and far between, I'm $100 short on rent, my car is out of gas, I have nothing to eat but peanut butter and jelly, etc. etc. etc. 

Am I worried? Oh hell yes!! But I know that it'll be okay. I don't know how, or when, but that's faith, right?

I do my part, I work hard when I've got the work, I'm faithful to tithe and serve and obey, and God does what He does, which is mostly saving my dumbass from myself.

Look at that. I think that covers the money situation pretty well.

Let's all pray that I swallow my pride long enough to write about sin next time. I promise, that one will hurt a lot.

On Pedro The Lion References

As I'll explain later, this blog is an exercise in breaking habits and fighting laziness. I don't feel horribly compelled to write right this moment, but I figured I might forget my point if I don't. Also, they say writing is a skill that must be practiced, so consider me practicing.


As I awoke around 11am today, I was struck by my nonchalant attitude at the time on the clock. It meant almost nothing to me (Indeed, time is an abstract I've always wrestled with, but that's for another entry). I'm so used to sleeping in and staying up late and being without job that I almost consider my current lifestyle to be the norm. However, this idea would soon die a fiery horrible death.


On the way to my parent's house a certain song came on my iPod. I haven't heard this song in years, and I'm honestly not sure why I still have it, let alone how it got on my iPod. It may be familiar to some, to others a new discovery. The lyrics go a little something like this:
"you're up with the sunrise
and down when the work's been done
with excellence industry
diligence naturally
i would like to be you
just for a few habit forming years
laziness cuts me like fine cutlery
i need a miracle someone to help me help myself
sweet jesus i need you
forgive me this sin
not hookers or heroin gambling or gin
it sounds so ridiculous but i just can't lick this


And it's true. Most days I claim to be looking for a job but in fact spend more time watching bad tv and surfing Facebook. It's not because I'd rather be watching bad tv than working, but because I'm used to wasting my day away. It feels normal. 


And laziness feels so insurmountable. It feels omnipresent and omnipotent. It feels like something I'll never beat. As the song goes, I might almost feel better if my sin were prostitutes or black tar heroin. It'd make me feel better about proclaiming to have a problem. Hell, I can give up porn but I can't quit Maury?!


But it is what it is. I do need help. I need reasons to get up in the morning, outside of myself. If I get up early I'm more likely to actually get things done, but I can't force myself awake. So here's an idea: You, dear reader, are invited over for breakfast. Or perhaps you could invite me. Either way, please let me know in advance, and I'd love to get up and cook or just eat breakfast with you.


And we'd get to hang out, and I need to be social. Social habits force change in me as being social makes me feel lame for not having a job. Peer pressure does work!
Also, if anyone knows of a place that is hiring, please let me know.


Wow, that turned into a bit more of a post than I was expecting. Go me!
Thank you for your time and consideration.

On Safety, The Illusion Of.

It ain't easy being T O D.
Sorry, that phrase is stuck in my head.

I wanted to talk about control, as that was part of the sermon this morning.  The Sabbath, and what it teaches us about slowing down, giving up both self-importance and control. Good stuff.
I was struck by the idea of controlling things, but my brain started running around with the idea of security. Security (or the illusion thereof) is probably the biggest reason why we try to control things. I know it is for me. If I can get into a good working band I'll have money and moderate success and be happy. Maybe if I get a nice girl I'll be happy. Maybe if I didn't have to clean up my roommate's dog's crap, I'd be happy.
But why do I care? Why must I control these things? Why must I have this security?
Because I'm afraid. I'm afraid that maybe I'm wrong and God isn't watching out for me, or maybe He's not big enough to help me out when I need Him, or that what He has for me isn't what I want, or that I don't love Him enough. Blasphemous thoughts, I know, but we all have them at times, especially when things get hard.

A friend of mine recently broke up with his longterm girlfriend and suffered bouts of depression in his process of grieving. But the other night at a show he said something to me. "I flirt with girls, I play the game, because when I win, when I know that I could take this girl home, it makes me feel like a man."
And it's true. It's scary, and it's true.
And I do it too. I talk to girls who take an interest in me because it makes me feel important and powerful, much like a man should. I don't much need to have an interest in any of these girls so long as they have an interest in me. Because I'm afraid that I'm not a man. That I'm not justified, that I'm not in control.

And this brings me to Peter. Always at Jesus' side, always seeking His approval, wanting to say the right thing, do the right thing. I wonder sometimes if he signed on with Jesus because Pete thought the coming Kingdom was to be a military kingdom, but it doesn't matter much because eventually Pete got it.
He had foot-in-mouth disease, always saying the first thing that popped into his head, which could get awkward. But that very trait made him the perfect man to get out of the boat and try and walk on water with Jesus.
But on the night of Jesus' death, Pete denied Him three times. I bet he was scared. He was scared of being associated with Christ, possibly dying with Him, but more than that, scared that he was wrong about Jesus. Deny now, apologize later.
And he had to look into the eyes of the man he denied as Christ was being dragged away to be beaten. That had to hurt. He had to watch a man whom he loved, a man with whom he had lived the past 3 years, a man who carried his heart and soul, get crucified. He had to watch Christ die in order to give up that fear. But that was love. It didn't feel like it at the time, but it was.
We all have to die, and we have to watch our dreams die, our hopes die, our loves die. Because without death, nothing can be reborn, nothing can be renewed. The Phoenix rises from the ashes, my Christ rises from his tomb. Carrying my fears on their back, giving me hope and grace to live a life without fear.
That scares me. As well it should.

On Biblical Square Dancing, Reasons for.

I have to confess something.
Everyone's seen The Shawshank Redemption, yes?
So you know the bit near the end, where Andy (played by Tim Robbins) has broken out and crawled through the sewage, he gets out and it starts raining and he stands and revels in the cleansing downpour?
The glorious moment of renewal, of rebirth, of triumph over adversity?
Yeah, that's what I always thought honest worship should be like. And I use worship in the correct sense: A life that pleases God. Moments, actions, thoughts, and deeds that help bring the Kingdom closer to earth. No, not the "musical style". Don't get me started on that.
But I have always worshipped best through music. It's something that I feel called to, something that I'm good at, something that I know glorifies God and He delights in.
So imagine my surprise when I'm drifting to sleep in the van on the way home this morning and I have an epiphany. It goes like this:
Worship isn't about us. We don't get renewed, or rebirthed, we don't triumph over adversity, we aren't cleansed. Not always, at least.
Worship is about God (duh!). What I mean is this: yeah, it's nice when we have those amazing moments, seeing the Father come closer to us, knowing (feeling) that we've pleased Him. But our main focus of worship should be to delight the Father.
The image in my head for this, and the description I'll use: Worship is whatever we do that makes Jesus do-see-do with God in heaven.
I'm not kidding. That's the image that came to mind. Jesus (sandy brown hair, nicely kept beard, gold sash) and God (white hair, long white beard, jovial look in His eyes) dancing on a cloud. Swinging their partner round and round. (no, I was not listening to bluegrass at the time).
Blasphemous? Maybe. But I work visually, so it helps.
Next time I stand on stage for church, my goal won't be to enter into some cleansing rain, to be renewed, to be absolved. My goal will be to make Jesus dance with joy.

On Life Plans, altering them.

Today's sermon at ACL was on Luke 18:18-30. The rich young ruler asks Jesus what he must do to achieve Eternal Life. Here, I'll let you read it.

¹⁸ Once a religious leader asked Jesus this question: “Good Teacher, what should I do to inherit eternal life?”

   ¹⁹ “Why do you call me good?” Jesus asked him. “Only God is truly good. ²⁰ But to answer your question, you know the commandments: ‘You must not commit adultery. You must not murder. You must not steal. You must not testify falsely. Honor your father and mother.’”

   ²¹ The man replied, “I’ve obeyed all these commandments since I was young.”

   ²² When Jesus heard his answer, he said, “There is still one thing you haven’t done. Sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”

   ²³ But when the man heard this he became very sad, for he was very rich.

   ²⁴ When Jesus saw this, he said, “How hard it is for the rich to enter the Kingdom of God! ²⁵ In fact, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God!”

   ²⁶ Those who heard this said, “Then who in the world can be saved?”

   ²⁷ He replied, “What is impossible for people is possible with God.”

   ²⁸ Peter said, “We’ve left our homes to follow you.”

   ²⁹ “Yes,” Jesus replied, “and I assure you that everyone who has given up house or wife or brothers or parents or children, for the sake of the Kingdom of God, ³⁰ will be repaid many times over in this life, and will have eternal life in the world to come.”

So there you have it. Jesus says, and I quote, "Rich people suck. Poor people rule." The End.
Wait, no, He didn't say that. Not even close. But before I elaborate on that point, I'd like to first direct you to my favourite part of this story, which we see in Mark 10:21.

   ²¹ Looking at the man, Jesus felt genuine love for him. “There is still one thing you haven’t done,” he told him. “Go and sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”


See what happened there? Jesus, upon hearing the young man say that he's kept all the commandments, loved him. Why? Maybe the young man honestly yearned for the Kingdom. Maybe the young man almost got it, and Jesus got excited by that idea. (Yeah, we can take the easy route and say, "Jesus loves everyone!", but this isn't Sunday School, so I'm not accepting that answer) It's interesting to me that Jesus shuts down so many lines of questioning from the Pharisees and the Jews, but this young man He takes the time to answer. 


Now, onto my point. Or rather, a couple points.
First, when I read this passage, I freak out. Jesus hates wealth?! Well crap! There go all my hopes and dreams of one day owning a nice house and a nice car and a nice dog and a nice picket fence and a nice.... blah blah blah.
Jesus doesn't hate money! Jesus just doesn't love it, and He doesn't want us to love it either. Jesus paid the temple tax (Matt 17:24-27), He gave to Caesar what was Caesar's, He's okay with money. But He never had any, which is interesting. Neither do I. Does that make me a little more Christ-like than those with cash? I highly doubt it. But that's not the point.


As was pointed out this morning, when Jesus asked this young man to sell all his stuff, what did He then want the man to do with it? Give it to the poor. He wanted this young man to take what he had and invest it into the Kingdom. And this is my point.


When Zacchaeus and Jesus had lunch, Zacch (as I'll refer to him henceforth) promised to pay back everyone he overcharged and to give half of his wealth to the poor. That was good enough for Jesus. But did you notice what Jesus didn't ask him to do? Give up being a tax collector. Jesus didn't ask him to just walk away from everything he knew, He simply asked him to do what he does unto the Lord. To invest in the Kingdom, with what he has.


Adam was a farmer by trade. He farmed in the Garden. So when he got kicked out, what did he do? He farmed some more! Moses was a shepherd, so when God called him to lead Isreal out of Egypt, what did he do? He shepherded! They invested into the Kingdom what they had!


I think the scariest thought I've had in a long time was that God would ask me to completely give up my musical talent and ambition to become a "normal person". I don't know how to be normal, and I don't know how to live without being a musician. So thankfully, the idea I get is that He would never call me to just lay it down and walk away, but instead to take it up from a different angle, a different perspective, for a different purpose. I don't think He wants me to deny such a huge part of my life. Instead, I think He wants to see more balance. That's still a scary thought for me, though.


I don't believe in a God who wastes anything. I believe He uses everything: experiences, materials, debts and surpluses, strengths and weaknesses, even bad ideas and mistakes. And He does this by asking us to invest into His Kingdom everything we have. Yes, He may ask some of us to give up a job every now and then, or to take a paycut, or give a lot away, but how many of us feel that what He's asking of us encompasses who we are just a little too much? How many felt that the job He led us away from was the epitome of who we are? Or that the amount we lost due to a paycut defined us as human beings? So I, being a bass player, know that with gigs lost and money lost, that He is still going to take care of me. He just wants me to invest a little more into His Kingdom.


For the record, the only thing God ever asks us to lay down and never touch again is our sin. And that's the part of me that's freaking out. But I know it'll be okay. It just won't look quite like what I had pictured in my head. 




Sidenote: I love Peter and his ability to state the obvious, almost in a such a way as to try and gain brownie points. He had foot-in-mouth disease, and therefore makes a great role model. Everytime you feel like an idiot for something you said or did in the name of God, think of Pete. If he doesn't make you smile, I don't know what will.

On end of the year lists, my meager attempts at.

So everyone is turning in their Best of 2010 lists pertaining to movies, music, bowel movements, and what-have-you, so I decided I'd try my hand at one. Since I bought so few albums in 2010, I decided instead to list what I listened to the most this past year. This should be very interesting. Here we go!

1. Elbow - The Seldom Seen Kid
2. Thrice - Beggars
3. Abel - Lesser Men
4. mewithoutYou - It's All Crazy! It's All False! It's All A Dream! It's All Right!
5. Manchester Orchestra - Mean Everything To Nothing
6. We Shot The Moon - Fear And Love
7. Van Morrison - Moondance
8. The Exit - Home For An Island
9. Pink Floyd - Animals
10. The Heel, The Serpent - Salt Of The Earth

So what does this mean? Mostly, it means that I'm poor and can't afford to buy new music. Past that, I have no idea. What do you think, dear reader?

On discipline, self-indulgence.

Islam, literally translated, means Duty.
as well it should.
everything about this life on earth is a discipline. some are easier than others. breathing, easy. eating, easy. not eating too much, not so easy. exercising, harder still.
even our world views are disciplines. whether christian, jewish, agnostic, atheist, whatever, we have to work to keep up our beliefs. we can't rest on our laurels, or we'll lose sight of what we're doing, where we're going.
it's that way with everything. as soon as we think there's nothing else to know, or learn, or do, we officially give up all desire to live. whether we get there by our victories and the ensuing pride and glory, or it's depression that brings us there, it all ends the same.
funny how that works out. 
i've got so much left in me to do, so much to see, but i feel more and more like i'm running out of time. not an onset of death, mind you, just... that the season is ending sooner than i'd like. 
that my time of youthfulness is soon to depart, leaving me with the settling of accounts that accompanies adulthood. 
adulthood.
by all accounts, as my age indicates, i am an adult.
so why don't i feel like it? why can't i see myself as such?
i know i didn't intentionally do this to myself. but then, who's to blame? can any one party take all the blame, honestly? aren't all involved guilty, in some way?
aye, we are.
next question is, can i do anything about it?
am i prepared for it?
can i live an adult life? get a real job? buy a house? find a girl, get married? 
why am i even thinking about this crap?
i'll take each day as it comes, trying to live the best i can, being the best me that i can be. and my God, i hope it's glorious!

On love, Hell, and all points between.

This is a conversation I wish I had more often. *sigh*


God is love. Yes, Amen. But why would a loving God send anyone to Hell?


Good question! And it has a much simpler answer than you'd think.


Of all God's attributes, there's only one of which He's described as perfectly being. Holy. Revelation 4:8b: "Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty, who was, and is, and is to come."
Why does the holy thrice repeated mean God's perfect at being holy? Hebrew numerology. Three is the Hebrew number of perfection, seven is the number for completion. The numbers 12 and 40 also have significance, but not for this lesson.
Holy, Holy, Holy. Perfectly holy. Without blemish, without imperfection. And that's the key. Without imperfection.


One of the attributes of perfection is that it cannot stand or allow imperfection. It is intolerant of imperfection. Any imperfection in the presence of perfection makes the perfection imperfect as well.
An example: Let's say you buy a car, brand new off the assembly line, zero miles and not a speck of dust on it. It's perfect, yes? Now let's say there's a teeny tiny scratch under the back bumper where nobody can see unless they were looking for it. Is the car still perfect? No. It's damned close, but it's not. One tiny imperfection makes the whole thing imperfect.


So it is with God. Or close enough, rather. Any imperfection in God's presence would be burned away. It couldn't survive. So what's God to do with an imperfect race of people whom He desperately wants to embrace? He makes a way. He sends His son to be a perfect sacrifice, building a bridge to Him.
But, He only sees us as perfect because He sees His Son covering us. If we don't have the Son in us, He doesn't see us as perfect. We therefore cannot enter Heaven. Simple.


Perfection through salvation, in this light, is much like voting. You as an American-born citizen have the right to vote, but you don't have to. And honestly, wouldn't you complain if voting was forced upon you? You'd rebel, you'd leave the country, you'd fight just as hard for the right to not vote. So would you really rather God force salvation upon everyone? He desires for all to know Him, which is where the love comes in, but if you choose to walk away, then so be it. Just know that there's no amount of good you can do in this world that will buy the covering of His Son, the only thing that will allow you into His Presence.