Because Too Much Music has been In My Head

2008 was a music explosion for me.  Between discovering the Black Cab Sessions, la Blogotheque, Ruckus, and various vinyl purchases, I've heard and enjoyed and fallen in love with more music this year than ever before.  To make a list of everything I've discovered and loved would be a very difficult undertaking.  Instead, I will make a list of the most notable.  After all.  Tis the season for year end lists.

Bon Iver - "For Emma, Forever Ago"

this record has received more plays since I've received it than any other I have.  Every time I put it on, I can't believe how fantastic it is.  I know it's cliche to mention in an end of the year list, but I don't care.  It deserves it.

Radiohead - most notably, In Rainbows, Kid A, Amnesiac

My friend Kriss called In Rainbows a boring pop record.  I disagree.  I think it's one of the greatest pop records of all time...if your definition of pop is wide enough to include albums that feature an orchestra playing all twelve notes in the western music scale.  I got Kid A on vinyl and came to appreciate it so much more.  I found out Amnesiac existed in the summer and felt cheated.

Coldplay - Viva La Vida or Death and All His Friends

The best material they've ever done and one of my favorite albums of all time.  Thank you, Brian Eno, for pushing Coldplay into dangerous waters.

Thrice - The Alchemy Index

Especially Vol III, Air, which I'd say is the strongest Thrice material ever released.  

The Album Leaf - Into the Blue Again

Tranquility in album form.

Fleet Foxes - s/t and Sun Giant EP

The most infectious melodies and harmonies you'll hear in a long time.  Take the Beach Boys, throw in an acoustic guitar, a mandolin, some xylophones, and Sub Pop's fantastic taste for talent, and bam.   A pair of records that you'll listen to over and over again.

Loney, Dear - Loney, Noir

Sweden just keeps putting out incredible musicians.  This guy is no exception.  It's almost like if Jonsi of Sigur Ros was the lead singer of a chamber pop orchestra.  Incredibly catchy and just genuinely excellent song writing.

Lykke Li - Youth Novels

Another Swedish gem.  Dance pop with Indie tendencies.  Fantastic record from a very young talent.  

Phosphorescent - Aw Come Aw Wry

A quirky, country tinged album.  It's so childish and fantastic.  You'll either love it or you'll hate it.  I love it.  

I haven't listened to the album Pride enough to make a decision, but that seems pretty fantastic as well.

Adam Arcuragi - Soldiers for Feet EP

A wonderful new song writer.  This is a collection of country songs sung by a non country singer.  Thick, rich harmonies and good, melancholy, nostalgic songs.   Check out "The Belgian"

There are many other notable additions, such as Noah and the Whale's "Peaceful, the World Lays me Down," the Great Lake Swimmers (whose material I wish was readily available on vinyl.  Darn little known bands on small budget record labels), and the Innocence Mission.  There are also many releases I wish I would have heard more of, like TV on the Radio's "Dear Science," Sigur Ros's new one, Man Man's "Rabbit Habits," and more.   

And of course, there's the growing love of Bob Dylan, Johnny Cash, and more recently, Emmylou Harris that have been coming around, threatening to turn me into a country singer.

Music is so much more than the sum of its parts.  I don't understand it at all.

Christmas Day

I sometimes forget that the Jesus of Christmas is the same as the Jesus of Good Friday. The same Jesus that taught us to love and live by advocating the least and the lost and then dying for us all, regardless of class, race, gender, religion (YES, regardless of RELIGION). I forget that it's the same Jesus that healed lepers, defended the woman caught in adultery, revealed Himself as the Christ to a Samaritan woman given to promiscuity, and responded to a thief's plea of remembrance by assuring him that he would enter into Glory.
I forget it's the same Jesus that met me as a whirlwind, tearing apart everything in my life that wasn't attached to the earth of who I really am and replacing what was empty, superficial, and hollow with substance, depth, and goodness.
I forget that it's the same Jesus that I'm competing with to see how deep into selfishness I can go before He stops forgiving me, and to see how much He'll keep forgiving me until I see how much I'm worth.

God rest ye, merry gentlemen, let nothing you dismay
You know that Christ our Savior was born on Christmas Day
To save us all from Satan's power when we had gone astray

There is a Place

There's a place on the way to Glory
It's a place where all my burdens have been laid
It's the place where I keep stopping
To make sure that all of them are safe
There's a jar that keeps on cracking
The keeps of all my ugliness within
And it leaks out where it's broken
And drips onto my hair and off my chin

And I know a hard rain's gonna fall
And when it comes, there'll be nothing left of me at all

There's a light shines in my darkness
That make everything seen just as it is
And my eyes just keep on closing
Because that's only way to ignore it
There's a road that leads to Heaven
It's narrow and goes on without a curve
But my feet, they keep on walking
Beneath my knees and kick and twist and turn

And I know a hard rain's gonna fall
And when it comes, there'll be nothing left of me at all

There's a heart inside my ribcage
That breaks with every selfish word I hear
And the most selfish words that I've heard
These days have been coming from right here. (points to mouth)

And I know a hard rain's gonna fall
And when it comes, there'll be nothing left of me at all.

The Ice Storm

The semester is finished.  I'm 22 now.  I've realized how undisciplined I've become this semester and how much I've overlooked certain friends of mine that I have needed to not overlook.  22, 2009, and the spring semester are all good times to start over.

I found a place to stay in Chicago.  With two good friends.  Awesome.

God and I have been having this strange sort of contest.  I keep disobeying and He keeps forgiving me.  I said, "Jesus, how long are we going to go keep doing this?"  And He said, "Are you sure you really want to find out?  Let's go.  You'll keep on sinning, and I'll just keep extending grace to you, and I am so much more stubborn than you are."

GAH!

Bon Iver is playing in Chicago on my birthday in TWO DAYS.

WHO WANTS TO COME.

Finale

I have some things to finish up for Church History, a final for Intertestamental History on Tuesday, and a take home Hebrew final due on Thursday.

I had a sort of breakdown last night. I got incredibly confused about "certain things." I'm clearer now, though. It was a sort of release of thoughts I'd held in for too long.

I don't know why I have such a hard time confessing publicly that I struggle with sexual temptation. I expressed that struggle to some brothers, who all said the same thing. We're all angry at the hold that fight has in our lives and the lives of other men around us. And yet, there's such a reluctance to say clearly in the light of everyone's watching, "I am frail, I am weak, I am struggling, and this is how." And by 'everyone,' I explicitly mean a crowd that includes females. Because guys already know.

I'm coming to appreciate the Beatles' Abbey Road as one of the greatest albums ever recorded.

Obligatory Update

I don't feel like blogging right now, because I hate blogging when I don't feel like I have anything to say.
But I am.

The semester is coming to a close. I have one more class and a few more assignments and I'll be finished. Because I see how little I have to do, I just kind of feel like I'll continue to have time for it, so I push it back further. I'm so ambitionless this semester.

I feel like my time is too precious to give to anything (school, God, general adventures) and so I've just wasted so much of it. I don't know how it got this bad. That is definitely going to be something to change next semester. Even though I want to change it now.

Ho, hum.

I turn twenty-two in seven days. I'll be the oldest I've ever been.

A Series of Revelations made in the Past Week

along with a few other assorted thoughts.

I'm more of a sinner than I ever realized.
Jesus delights in forgiving our sins more than we could ever know.
We were not created to appease those around us.
We were created to love those around us.
I am incredibly blessed.
I don't know how to sleep without going to sleep defeated, and I've barely slept all week.
I don't feel comfortable praying out loud, because I don't use words. I pray in music.
I am more of a musician than I know.

"Jesus sought me when a stranger wandering from the fold of God/
He to rescue me from danger interposed His precious blood/
And how His Kindness yet pursues me, mortal tongue can never tell/
Here in flesh till death release me, I cannot proclaim it well."

"When Satan tempts me to despair and tells me of the guilt within/
Upward I look and see Him there Who made an end to all my sin/
Because the sinless Savior died my sinful soul is counted free
For God the Just is satisfied to look on Him and pardon me."

Procrastination is a pain

But he's my good friend.

Reminders and Remainders

The snow reminds me of last Christmas. Last Christmas reminds me of Port Huron. Port Huron reminds me of this summer. This summer, Port Huron, and last Christmas all remind me of being in love.
Being in love reminds me of the reasons I had to be who I need to be.

And that reminds me of the tension of who I am now and who I could be, have been, and must be again.

I must, I must, I must be again.

I've Always Enjoyed the Album "Plans" by Death Cab For Cutie

Speaking of plans, it's time I got some of my own. Last night, I sat down and thought for a while about what exactly I would do when I get out of college. The closest thing to a plan I have is to go on a trip to Israel for two weeks in June. So I asked some people. Chris Stackowicz, head of the art department, suggested grad school at U of Chicago in Cultural Studies. I told him that the idea was to get OUT of school. He then suggested the Peace Core--something I'd considered before. But two years is a long time, no matter what you spend it doing. And anyways, I don't feel that's what I'm supposed to do. But what could I do? Stack said I should focus on making connections, which would give me more opportunties later on. I told him that I'd consider his suggestions.
Then, there's the age old question of Europe. YWAM in France? Then there's the possibility of teaching English abroad. People always talk about Korea...but why not France? I want to go there anyway.
Or Emmaus. Or Jesus People. Or some other minsitry in Chicago. I just can't get away from Chicago..

There's something else I can't get away from.

The night I met Christ, the speaker was praying for me afterward. As he was saying all of these things pertaining to my life, he said, "I sense a strong gift of music...I wonder how He's going to use that..."

Two months ago, Josh Sabo told me that there was a line I had to cross, and I said I'd do that. It's proved slower in crossing than I intended, but I still intend to cross it.

Last night, I called my friend Nick for advice on whether or not to buy a new guitar. At one point, he said, "You know how you got disappointed in me for switching to art from Youth Ministry? How I had a gift and a talent, and I wasn't using it?"
I said, "Yeah..."
"That's how Josh Sabo and I feel about you and your music."

Oh.

Jonathan Seller, young adult pastor at Colonial Woods and graduate of Moody Bible Institute is staying at my house as he takes a graduate class. We were talking, and he talked about how a lot of Moody grads get jobs at one of the 30+ Starbucks in the area near Moody and an apartment and just go from there. And with that many Starbucks...es, they're almost always hiring.

So maybe I could do that. Chicago Barista by day...
Musician by night. And day.

It's scary, but I want to go for it. I want to go for it.
I want to go for it.

Mustard Seed

This is a verse from a song I've been working on. I haven't gotten anymore than this.

The Kingdom of the Lord is a mustard seed
That fell into the garden and became a tree
The animals and birds, they all came to see
They climbed into the branches and they fell asleep.

Progress.

Last weekend, Laura Bulgrien's youth group had a retreat near Traverse City, MI. I was asked to go, and understanding how frightened I was to let God have His way in me, understood that I had to go. (not meaning I was forced....just meaning that I wouldn't allow myself to not go). God is doing amazing things in that group. I'm so thrilled to see where some of those kids will be in two years.

Today, I preached in homiletics class, my main theme being fear of greatness. My fear of letting God have His way was exposed before a class of people that I admire greatly--some of them to the point where I'm also afraid of letting them get close because they challenge me so much. I stepped down from the pulpit and realized when I sat down that I was shaking, but I said what I needed to say, and that is all I could have done. And I am glad for it.

This weekend will break my streak of playing a show every other weekend with Vine Street. It is sad. But I have things I NEED to get done this weekend. And, it'll be nice to have a weekend to just relax--especially after such a busy weekend as the last I had.

I'm getting a better understanding of what it means to be a new creation and a bearer of the Image of God and to be free from sin. They aren't perfect understandings, but they're stepping stones.



Yesterday in the Dining Commons, I was getting cereal, and a girl from Kenya said, "Are you a prayerful man?"
I said, "...what?"
"I hear you are a prayerful man. Someone told me that if I needed something prayed for, to go to you."

I saw her again today while walking to class. She said, "Look, it is the prayerful man."
I told her that I didn't know who said that, or why, because that hasn't been how I have been living lately, and she said, "maybe it was a reminder."

That is so true.

Turn and Face the Strange

I'm sure everyone knows what happened last night. I watched the results roll in, unsurprised. But then, as ABC news rolled clips of different people reacting to the election, and then John McCain's concession speech, and finally President-elect Obama's acceptance speech (perhaps to my family's dismay), I felt hope. Do not get me wrong. I did not endorse Barack Obama as a candidate for the president. He and McCain both had irreconcilable problems with my ideals, obliging me from voting in a system that I already have irreconcilable problems with participating in. But last night on my couch with my housemates, I watched history roll past the television screen. And as I watched, I realized--the game has changed. In the next election, it won't just be the usual suspects. This is the beginning of a new age, one way or another. Years from now, looking at the line of Presidents in history books, there will be a sudden change in their faces and names. And because of that change, and not because of Barack Obama, our nation is the better. One of my managers at work, a black woman named Tina, said, "I am PROUD to be an American today. I never thought I'd see the day. Maybe my children, or probably my grandchildren. But never me." A black friend a year younger than me agreed that not even he expected to see it.
This is the new age.

Subject change.

It's a dark rut I've been caught in these past couple months. I've not fought against inactivity or been passionately pursuing the Kingdom or being vigilant against sin. And I know, I need a change. I need it so badly. I need to take a step out from the mudhole I'm sinking into. And why don't I?

Because I'm terrified to know what God could do with me once He has all of me.

I understand this rut. It's familiar to me. I might not be happy about it all the time, and it may hurt, and I may be indulging in sin, but Christ can forgive sinners, and I am no exception. But to be free from that...to fully understand that I was a bearer of the Image of God first and a sinner second...that is so strange, and so frightening. It's so easy for me to embrace that I am a sinner and that Christ came to forgive me. It's so much harder to understand that I am created in God's image, and Christ came to reconcile that Image in me.

Christ, You terrify me so.

A Native-American spoke in chapel this morning. From some of the things he said, he seemed to be a mystic to an extent, talking about how Creation speaks for its Creator--that leaves and animals and wind all speak for God. And this is something that I've believed for a long time.
But it's been so long since I've sat in the wind and listened.
And I really need to.

The Scariest Prayer to Pray

O Jesus, meek and humble of heart,
Hear me.

From the desire of being esteemed,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being loved,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being extolled,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being honored,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being praised,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being preferred to others,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being consulted,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the desire of being approved,
Deliver me, O Jesus.

From the fear of being humiliated,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being despised,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of suffering rebukes,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being calumniated,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being forgotten,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being ridiculed,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being wronged,
Deliver me, O Jesus.
From the fear of being suspected,
Deliver me, O Jesus.

That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be esteemed more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That, in the opinion of the world,
others may increase and I may decrease,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be chosen and I set aside,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be praised and I go unnoticed,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may be preferred to me in everything,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.
That others may become holier than I,
provided that I may become as holy as I should,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

Bachelaureate

My heart wants so badly to be with someone. Too badly. And it's getting my mind in trouble. I'm tired of my heart flippantly going between love to love to love, back and forth between several at a time. There is only one I'm interested in, and I have yet to find who that is. But I can tell you one thing: the only thing I want is a wife that loves me fiercely. And I will wait as long as it takes for me to find her.

Ought to Give Iowa a Try!

I'm used to flat terrain, but this is completely different. Over in South Bend, we're flat, but we're also near the lake, so the wind blows past us pretty conisistenly. Here, it's completely landlocked, so the wind just thrashes at the surface of the Iowan earth making it much colder than I packed for. Well...'packed' is a relative term. I forgot the bag with my changes of clothes at my house, so I had to pick up a pack of shirts and unmentionables from the Wal-mart next to the hotel. Also, it's an incredibly long drive to Iowa...especially if you drive two hours completely out of the way to visit your little sister at Taylor University before embarking on a seven and a half hour journey.

But the journey was worth it. There are cousins in my life that haven't been in my life for far too long. I hadn't seen my Uncle Quinton since eighth grade, I think, and I hadn't seen my Uncle Marlon in much longer. I hadn't seen my cousin Carrie since she left Bethel. I hadn't met her amazing daughter Jae Lynn. I hadn't seen my cousin Eric since middle school. I hadn't met my cousin Rachel's beautiful children. I hadn't seen her Susie in so long that I forgot she existed, and I hadn't met her husband and daughter.

But, I have to confess that I've had reservations about my grandmother. There were darknesses that I knew about that I had difficulty reconciling. The same with Chet (my father--not dad). And beyond that, there's a sort of jadedness in me toward 'old fashioned' spirituality, which was the place in my mind that she occupied. But at the memorial, a Chet I never knew (heard about, but never met) read a memoir he had written about a grandmother that I had never gotten the chance to know like everyone else there knew her. And I am so desperately wish I could have known her as she was described. I knew of her joy, and I knew of her passion for her family, and of her skills with making things with her hands. But I did not know of her passion for the Scriptures, or for missions, or her hospitality for anyone (apparently, ANYone) who was in need, or how she loved her husband so deeply and passionately and was a partner with him in everything. And I saw Chet as he read this...And I saw someone else inhabiting the body of the person who 'raised' me. My uncle introduced him with a reference to his magic pen, which I then saw for the first time. I had heard about how he had written, but I never met Chet the writer--or Chet the mischievous brother or Chet the beloved son.

And I looked at the darkness and I realized something that shamed me. How do I dare to preach grace to all, regardless of the magnitude of their sin, and not extend that grace to my own family? How dare I declare all sins equal and coverable by the blood of Christ, yet paint a picture of a brooding darkness in the lives of my ancestors?

And I realized then and there, that there is a very large difference between forgiveness and grace.
And I promise, when I found out more of what that means, I'll let you know.

But I learned today that there is no shame in the 'old fashioned' spirituality of those gone on before us. In fact, there is no difference between that and the post-post-modern ideals of those around me. Everyone has a place in God's plan, and the best anyone can do is to fill theirs fully. And I learned today that my grandmother did just that.

Insane in the Membrane

Yesterday was an absolutely hectic day. I haven't had a day where I just worked in frenzies on things for a solid chunk of time in a very long time, and that's exactly how yesterday was from nine in the morning to five in the afternoon, where I took an hour nap, and then woke up to once more frantically (but with a little more calmness) work on my giant word study in Hebrew. I finally got it done, and I'm feeling well about it, and things seem to almost be able to slow down a bit now. Lyndsey (who now has a booooooyfriend) and I are taking a trip to Iowa/South Dakota(maybe?) this weekend for our grandmother's memorial service. I hope I get a chance to relax on that trip. I'm so exhausted these days.

Tuesday night, I sat down and processed my internship and everything that happened during it for the first time since leaving, and I wept. It's not that I was grieved for any of it. That's just the way I process things. So much of my life began there, and I became someone I could actually see being used by God in a concrete manner...which is something that's always a little more abstract to me. There's a level of discipline and maturity I achieved there that seems to be missing from me now. I'm not too fond of that, but it gave me more reason to fight to have them again.

My grandfather spoke in chapel yesterday on the dangers of apathy and the waning of enthusiasm. It was something I greatly needed to hear.

Jesus sought me when a stranger,
Wandering from the fold of God;
He, to rescue me from danger,
Interposed His precious blood;
How His kindness yet pursues me
Mortal tongue can never tell,
Clothed in flesh, till death shall loose me
I cannot proclaim it well.

I don't understand grace or mercy at all.

A Release of Tension

This has been a trying week for me, complete with an insane weekend in the middle of it. On top of an illness that set me back a day of classes, I also had a series of large assignments (commentary comparison, sermon, etc) all due today. Friday, Saturday, and Sunday was filled with friends coming to visit for the play, a pancake dinner at the Fischer's house, and me trying to juggle that with my studies and the rest I needed to combat my sickness and exhaustion. Let it be known: today, I am mostly free of it. That is, I am mostly well, I have finished the largest assignment, my homework is done, and my smaller extensions have been arranged to be turned in later. God be praised for gracious professors.

When I'm under as much tension as I've been under, I tend to become less vigilant in struggling against spiritual apathy and temptation. This has certainly been no exception. I let my guard down for a second, and the same sins crouching at my door pounced and came in legions. With them came a strange and terrifying thought.
For years, I was sure that I hated my sin, but the problem was that I loved myself too much. I cannot now deny that it might be truer to say that I love my sin, and hate my self. Because if I hated my sin, it would not be so tempting to me, and if I loved myself, it would not be so difficult to submit myself to God's plan, that includes my restoration and resurrection.
Eesh.

Besides that. I've come to a very strange in my life lately, where I can appreciate all of the things about a young woman that attracted me to her in the first place without being attracted to her. I'm incredibly thankful that the Lord sees fit to work our friendships in the way He seems fit. How could I have ever thought I had a better idea?

Oh, For a Life to Live

Yesterday was service day at Bethel College (because obviously, the entire commitment to community service mentioned in Bethel's mission statement can be fulfilled in a single day). I went with a group to a nursing home, where there was much laughter. I played checkers with a man named Jerry, who had a wife named Jerry, and a son also named Jerry. He said it's easy to remember. A man named Richard who couldn't remember his condition (but otherwise seemed to have it very together) told me about how he was an atheist in school 'because I didn't know any better,' and three years ago became a Christian. A woman named Avon yelled for orange juice repeatedly. We took a walk from some of the patients in the dementia unit. It was saddening, but rewarding to spend time with the residents who don't often get visitors.

I've been realizing more and more that my future is completely open. That, and my ministry doesn't have to look like what I've seen before. We went to a church in Chicago on Sunday that had a sort of emergent feel to it, but without the tendency to move away from the Scripture. That, and the possibility of a session at YWAM Lyon have gotten me to realize that my creativity does not at all have to be a stranger to my ministry. And furthermore, if I do end up going to YWAM, that still means I have nine months between graduation and leaving for France that are completely open. I talked with a singer/songwriter friend about the possibility of a tour...and just talking about that has made me realize that going on tour is a complete possibility. So are a thousand other things. I just want whatever the Lord has for me.
Oh, what life could be

Non-sequitor

I got this blog with the intention of updating every other day or so. Oh well. I suppose it's alright to neglect it if I'm doing more important things.
However, I don't really know if refreshing Facebook a hundred times a day counts as 'more important things...'

Last night, I went to a bonfire for my friend Trapp's birthday. I met several people (Paul, Josh, Ryan, ...steve? Maybe?) and saw a few friends again (Sam, Lucas, Pat, Trapp) that I haven't seen in a while. We sat around the fire passing an acoustic guitar back and forth. Then there was a segment of the night where Paul put the guitar in open D 5 tuning (nevermind this if you don't know what it means) and proceeded to play a bunch of old Dashboard Confessional tunes that Lucas and I hollared along to, not knowing all of the words, but hollaring all the same. Then we went to IHOP, where we all said in unison, 'Kyle' several times to get the attention of a friend of ours that is a server. He mostly ignored us. There were several other times where we would do something that would draw the entire restaurant's attention to our table. I also bartared for food with the saltines the waitress would give me. I ended up with a plate off scrambled eggs, hash browns, and bacon. Score.

The other day, I found a YWAM missionary school in Lyon, France that specializes in creative and artistic ministries--such as music. I've been thinking about going through YWAM since the summer after I graduated, and going to a base in France since this summer, but they only had two bases, and one of them was only a 3 month training while the other was in the country. Then the other day, I looked again, and this base had been established. It's on the outskirts of a major city, and six months long, three of which will be spent on the missions field, either to Asia, Africa, or Europe. Given the post-christian nature of the United States (to which I have been called), I would try to go to Europe.
But France has been on my mind a lot lately. This base comes out of nowhere. I talk to someone at the bonfire whose son spent time in a ministry in Paris. I meet someone from France. I use a website to find new music that is in French. Last night, my friends Kath, Lauren, and I had a conversation last night about how we all want to pick French back up.

My tour with Superbomb and Vine Street continues tonight in the Acorn. gia was talked about playing piano with us, but she became ill, and so is unable. She will be joining the band, however. The plans are also in the work to get booked for a Halloween show, which we will play in costume. Music has been taking my life by storm, and I have no complaints. I love music more now than I ever have.

I'm reading Ephesians right now. There's a lot of talk in there about being predestined, and good works being set aside for us to do in advance. In the past, I've almost avoided thinking of these things because I didn't all the sudden want to admit that I might be a Calvinist. But lately, I've been realizing that Calvinist and Arminian are not the only sides, just like how Catholic and Protestant aren't the only sides. One of the things I've been thinking lately is that Calvinist and Arminian are different sides of the same coin (then people mention that they contradict eachother in points, in which case I remember that they're largely [forgive me] man-made [however inspired] explanations of how they interpret the mysteries of God). But I don't want to get stuck on one side--I want to understand the whole coin. I want to understand the sacraments of Catholicism; the traditions of the Eastern Church; the fear of God in Reformed tradition; the trust in the Spirit of the charismatic denominations; the outreach emphasis of evangelical protestantism...etc.

Strangers in a Traincar

Friday night, dear Hannahbeth and I tripped again to Chicago. We had full intention of sleeping on the train ride there to make up for lost sleep the week before. When we got on the train, however, I was much more keen on sleeping than she was, as she had ingested caffeine earlier in the day (naughty, naughty Hannahbeth).
As we sat down in one of those quad seats facing eachother, the man across the aisle had a small radio with a long antennae and explained in an accent I didn't recognize that he was going to try to listen to the debate. As the train rolled on and the car filled up, we had to sacrifice one of the sides of our quad for a man named David that smelled like he'd just had a cigarette. Hannahbeth and I had a discussion recalling her resemblance to Drew Barrymore, which she then deferred to David for his opinion. He said, 'Not really.' Then I said, 'What about me?' And he said, 'Oh yeah, definitely,' then laughed.
He assumed we were from the North Side and asked us about the Sox. We explained we were from South Bend, and he told us he had a sister in Bremen, where I used to work at a church. He then told us about his work fixing roofs of mobile homes, especially in hurricane-torn areas, and of his sick brother, and of his friends that bet he wouldn't make it to twenty five, which is a sobering thought considering he's a month away from fifty. He also told us of his father, who was abusive and negligent when he was younger, who has since become a born again Christian, surprising David very much.
He got off in East Chicago, and I spied on the arm of a young man across the aisle a tattoo of the character Alice from the disturbing video game of the same name. I asked him about it, and he said it was his favorite game ever. I told the story of a dear friend who went to a college where they weren't allowed to watch movies or listen to music, but she and her roommates played that game. He laughed, and then went back to scribbling in his notebook. I asked the man with the radio if he got the debate. He laughed and said he fell asleep. The young man with the notebook (hereafter, Kyle) told us that he had caught the first half, and described it as mostly Obama on the offensive, and returned to his notebook. The man with the radio (hereafter, Brad) asked Kyle if he was a song writer, and he said yes. I exclaimed that I was also a song writer, and Brad said he was too. We then swapped styles and influences, and Kyle even gave us his demo cd, which proclaimed him as Ill Eagle, the Anti-Rapper. I told them I was a sort of folk singer with urban influences, and Brad explained that he sang traditional songs from his homeland, Belize.

I asked why he left Belize, and he said, 'It's kind of a God thing,' at which point I thought, 'of course it is.'
He told us that he believed in God, and that God speaks to us through His word, and that one day, he felt called to the United States. He asked God for confirmation and turned in his Bible to the call of Abraham: 'leave your father's homeland and go to a land that I will give to you.' He asked for more confirmation and turned to a passage in Isaiah that confirmed it. He then came to Miami, but left because of the culture and ended up in Nappannee, Indiana. I asked if he knew Nappannee Missionary Church. He said his son goes there. I told him that my second cousin is the senior pastor. We all marveled at the smallness of the world.

We parted ways after trading information and embarked into the city to meet dear Chelsea at Moody. There, we watched the improv group Informal (featuring my friend Chris), then sat in the plaza where I met and talked with Chelsea's neighbor and friend Anna, who is from France. After a while, we retreated to our residencies. I was set up to stay in the lounge on my friend Greg's floor. Greg sadly wasn't feeling well, so we were unable to talk like we'd have liked. I borrowed his guitar and played in the lounge, where young men came, introduced themselves, and left. After awhile, a young man named Justin who I'd met two years before on my first vist to Moody stopped in and talked for a while, followed by a young man named Enoch from Traverse City. I asked if he knew where Mancelona was. He did. I started explaining the significance of Mancelona Camp in my life, and said, 'Long story short...' He replied, 'no need to make it short. I've got time, and I'm interested.'
And so, I told the story of my calling and my running from it and then back to it, then the release from my improper view of God's providence that happened at Mancelona. He asked to hear a couple of my songs, then bid goodnight.

This is pretty good for a guy who a week earlier wrote a letter to a friend confessing "i'm terrified of strangers." I think I might just be getting over it.
Praise God.

Wellspring

The other day, I unwrapped a Dove chocolate piece and was greeted by the fortune: "Dare to love completely." Now, I've found in my life that love, with all its beauty, truly is a strange and dangerous thing. Most of the pain in my life have been from love--whether it be a relationship that didn't work out, or being hurt by someone I loved, or the tension between a person I loved and they way their life turned out. But I have never been jaded. Even after falling dangerously in love and give everything I had to someone it wasn't meant for, I still believe that love exists in the way I thought it did my entire life.

The thing is, now that this position of Potential Love of my Life is vacant, my mind doesn't exactly know what to do with its vacancy. Questions play through my mind every time I talk to an eligible young woman looking at the different criteria and then playing through scenarios getting far too ahead of myself. Sometimes, it's just a passing thing. Other times, it races through my mind, keeping me up at night.

The worst thing is, I'm pretty much absolutely sure that God has little to nothing to do with it. Or at least it doesn't seem like His way of doing things (don't even say 'it never does,' homes). I don't necessarily care for it, but I have a hard time keeping this flippant heart and mind of mine under control.

There's an attitude of guarding my heart that I need to develop in myself. Put up walls high enough that only the most providential woman can climb them.
Problem is, I never been to good with walls.

On being an Object of Mercy

Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a sinner.

I've prayed that prayer several times throughout the day for the past few weeks, but never as earnestly as today. A cycle of selfishness and indulgence come to an apex between yesterday and today, and it plunged me into shame. So I took a walk down to the river.

As I prayed, my words began to sound differently than what I had thought to say.
'In my moments of loneliness, send me to the lonely.
In my moments of hunger, send me to the hungry.
In my moments of thirst, send me to the thirsty.
In my moments of desperation, send me to the to the desperate'

'Have mercy on me, so that I may have mercy on others, and on myself'

'Allow me to embrace Your image in me and in others, and may I honor it in others and myself.'

By the time I'd gotten to the river, there was no shame. Only mercy.

The Line in the Sand

A good friend, whose every word I take with close consideration told me tonight
"You are a musical genius. I mean it. You have a gifting beyond anyone I've ever met, and you need to start taking it seriously."

That scared* me for a number of reasons. First, I don't necessarily feel like I'm writing the kind of music I could be. That is, I don't always feel like I'm applying myself to write the kind of crazy full orchestra concept albums I would be able to if I tried.
But that's not even the real thing.

There's this line between doing music as a sort of giant hobby and doing it as something I'm deeply invested in that I could even make a sort of living off of. And I've straddled that line for the past couple years. In high school, I would have wanted nothing more, but I'm not in high school anymore. I've certainly began playing shows in much greater frequency over the past year, but most of the times, the audience is made up almost entirely of my friends. I've gone from playing solo to playing with different people at different times, to acquiring a full time trumpet player. I've never used the same drummer more than once, and I haven't had any problem with that. If I cross that line, I'll have to find more full time members, and actually have real practices.
Also, to date, playing live has been something that I could pick up and lay down at will. I can book a show here or there, even on a whim, and not worry about having a show after. Crossing that line means having a schedule to fill, and a responsibility to fill that schedule.
Finally...if I cross that line...I'll have to finish my album. It's been a year and a half, and I just now released CDs with five of the eleven songs, and I'm not happy with that. I've been meaning to finish it this whole time, but I've never had a deadline. If I stepped up and got serious about this music thing, I would have to make a deadline, and that scares* me.

Josh (the friend) and his band and my band and his drummer with a solo project are going to start playing a lot more regularly at different venues. Like a mini tour.

I guess that means I'm crossing the line. At least in a small way.


*not necessarily the right word

Thoughts on Humility.

My blog seems to be growing in readership. People I do not know in person are now following my blog. Does it bother me? Nah. That's kind of the idea. But it does kind of change my choice of what to put in here? Probably not. I'll most likely be just as too open about myself as I have been.
Dude in Florida and dude in Ohio, hello.
You, blogstalker Chelsea. Hello.
Everyone else, hello.

I've been noticing lately that American Christians seem to have a mistaken perception of humility. I find myself feeling a strange kind of guilt any time I find myself saying that I love Jesus more than anything, or that I want to do do all I can to please Him. Wait a minute, my humility says. You're scum. You might try to love Jesus, but you're so incredibly selfish. Since your first breath, you haven't had a single selfless thought. Your first and greatest interest is yourself, and Jesus and everyone else gets whatever's left over.

But the truth is, I feel obligated to say those things, because if I claim I'm anything other than that, I've slipped into pride, which is the greatest sin of all, for out of it stems every other sin. Lately, I've been feeling like this American-style humility isn't necessarily a very healthy way of looking at things. In fact...it's not healthy at all. It's defeatist.
And more than that, it's a vote of no-confidence in the Lord's power to change a life.

It is true that I've been known myself to be selfish, manipulative, dishonest, a cheat, a slave to lust, and a champion at justifying myself before men. But the thing is, that's who I was before. Christ got a hold of me and created in me a new nature. Have I wandered back into the same prisons I've been freed from? Yes, but it's a growing process. Habits established over 17 years are going to take a long time to break. So yes, I still sin. But am I still a sinner? Yes, but a sinner saved by grace, and that changes everything.

Also, there's this big emphasis in the American mindset about not deserving salvation. Good job, folks. We don't deserve it. And I'm not saying that we're wrong in that. What is wrong is that our focus is on what we deserve (as if we could do anything ourselves to change the state of our souls) instead of our inestimable worth, which is in us simply because of the Image of God within us.

Look me in the eye and listen to me. You are worth the death of Christ.

I've been reading the book of Acts lately, and I keep seeing the same stupid disciples in the Gospels healing the sick, casting out demons, even raising the dead. They understood that they had power. They understood that Christ gave them righteousness, therefore--they are righteous. And they didn't shy away from it--they embraced it.

And they had power.

Friendship vs. Sanctity

I had a thought today about the hymn 'What a Friend we Have in Jesus,' and that brought my mind to the newer song 'Friend of God,' and then the slew of other things that have come out of that--to be brief, 'Jesus is my homeboy' t shirts, other songs such as the song 'Jesus, You are My Best Friend' that I used to sing in high school, other things.
At times, I'm not sure if this claim of friendship necessarily gives Jesus the respect and honor He deserves. After all, it is His name that has been exalted high above all names; His name at which every knee--Christian, Jewish, Muslim, Buddhist, Atheist, Satanist, Democrat--will bow at the end of all things. It is this same Jesus that the Restored will fall down and worship at the Renewal of all things. This is that same Jesus who, when He answered, 'I am He,' an entire band of soldiers and Pharisees fell backward from the sheer power of His claim. And people have the nerve to reduce Him to friend?

Then I realized.

He reduced Himself from that. In the Gospel of John, Jesus says, 'I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master's business. Instead, I have called you friends, for everything that I learned from the Father, I have made known to you.'

Wow.

What a friend we have in Jesus
All our sins and griefs to bear
What a privilege to carry
Everything to God in prayer.

Musicscapes.

Today was the singer/songwriter chapel. The singer/songwriter was Mark Roach. He's a worship leader in his local church and a recording artist on a major label. He led us in worship, playing songs that he wrote.

He kept using the phrase, 'Bringing people into the presence of God.' And it got me thinking about my own songs...
Do I write with the intention of bringing people into the presence of God? I can assure you...I do not. Even with the few songs I've written that I've thought of as worship songs, they've spoken more about human suffering and bringing Jesus into that.

I asked the question...does that mean that my songs are on a lower level? Am I not fulfilling my duties as an artist of God? I really...don't think that's so. Sure, you wouldn't be able to have a chapel of students stand up and worship God to my songs, but do they have to fulfill that purpose? I don't think so. Sure, there's a place for songs that praise God for who He is regardless of our own insufficiencies and apart from the terribly messed up world we live in. But that's not my place to write.

Mine is the gutter, the slum, the dark corner of life. Mine is confession, hopelessness, and longing. And after all that, I cry out for help.

This is my place in music.
And I wouldn't change it.

Alive and Full of Life

Since Wednesday, there has been a much needed change in me. Not necessarily in things I'm doing or spending my time with...just with things that have been weighing on my heart and bringing my mind with it. But I talked about that in the last post.

I told someone of the decision I made, and how glad I was with it, and she said, 'tell me that again in a week.' Well, it's only been half a week, but I could surely tell her the same thing today.

It's such a strange place for me to be...I still don't understand why things happened the way they did, and why they couldn't have happened any differently, but I've finally reached the point where I'm at peace with not knowing. Also, I've found out that even though they seem the same, there is a complete difference between giving up and letting go. Giving up is done out of hopelessness because nothing can change. Letting go is done out of hope that things will change. I'm eternally grateful that I finally crossed that threshold.

A friend of mine came to me today rejoicing in her baptism this evening. Then, she revealed a secret to me that gave her incredible shame. I wished I could have just sat with her and held her hand and cried, but instead I could only assure her that Christ took our shame with our sin, and that even this will be used for His glory.
She said she wanted to be used for His glory. I told her that was the first step.

It's so incredible how the Lord can take the ugliest, dirtiest, most vile parts of us and use them to aiding others as they seek to be reconciled to Him through Christ. It's amazing how He can take the most misguided of plans and take them and somehow make the times of desperation great times of growth.
I'm in awe just thinking about it.
I've been reading through Acts lately. Every time it mentions Peter, I make a note that says, "foot in mouth Peter." Every time it mentions the apostles, I make a note that says, "same retarded disciples." And then this foot in mouth Peter and these same retarded disciples go throughout Israel preaching the Gospel of Christ and casting out demons and healing sicknesses and even raising people from the dead.

I can't even imagine.

At the End of Hope, At the Dawn of Peace

A lengthy battle of listening and challenging and pushing and paralysis ended tonight with the choice I didn't want to make and the answer I didn't want to hear.

And right now, at this moment, I am truly, really, completely happy.
(never let me forget this)

Praise the God of backwardness and upside downs.

Lessons.

Yesterday was a day of realization and revelation for me.

Un. There is a word in the New Testament that is translated as 'He helps.' This word is sunantilambanetai (I think).
And it doesn't mean help.
Sun-with
Anti-the other side
Lambanetai-he takes hold.

Dr. Morris explained it like this. Suppose that you were trying to lift a long table from one side. You might be able to get your own side up, but that's it. The ministry of the Holy Spirit then is to take a hold of the other side and carry it with us.
"God won't do anything for us that we can do ourselves," he said. We have to do everything we can, and then the Lord does everything that we can't.

Deux. There is a difference between deserving and worth. Just because you don't deserve something doesn't mean you're not worth that thing.
Prime example: No one deserves salvation. But, each and every one of us is worth the death of Christ.
To often, we get caught up in our deserving, as if we could do something to attain some kind of reward when in reality, we need to embrace our worth, which we have simply because we are created by the Master's hand and because His image resides in each one of us.

Trois. Not as much a realization or revelation as it is just something I found in the Gospel of Mark that I keep forgetting. Last night, I read Mark 5 before bed, and I found a theme developing.
The scene opens with Jesus and the disciples coming ashore in Genessaret and being welcomed by a man living among the tombs who was possessed by an army of demons calling themselves "Legion." The word says, "No one could bind him anymore, not even with a chain," and "no one was strong enough to subdue him anymore." The people had tried to help him, and had found their efforts fruitless, and so they had given him to his fate, content to stay away from him, leaving him there in the tombs, crying out and cutting himself with rocks.
Then, Jesus.
Jesus came and cast the demons from him. When the townspeople came, they saw that same men 'dressed and in his right mind.'
Next, a woman plagued with bleeding for twelve years who had been to every doctor, and 'it never got better. Instead, it got worse.' She touches Jesus' cloak and is instantly healed.
A synagogue leader named Jairus has a sick daughter. He brings Jesus to her, and on the way, a messanger comes and tells them she is dead. Jesus says, 'Don't be afraid, just believe,' and when He arrives, she is well again.

Everyone in Mark 5 was at the end of hope. Everything possible had been done, but with no results.
Then, Jesus.

Amen, amen, and amen.

The Gypsy King, from within his Living room

Last night, I took my first walk to the river since being here. It was my first wandering since I've been here, and that's really kind of surprising. Actually, it's incredibly surprising. The gypsy king has settled down in his two story, eight person house with record player, CD changer, tape deck, three foot tall speakers, color television, VCR, DVD player, a myriad of video game consoles, and music, movies, and games to spare.

I've been thinking about a forty day fast. For a few years, actually. I keep finding reasons to put it off, and thinking of reasons not to. Since the summer, my addiction to food has been getting worse. I'm not eating as constantly throughout the day, but I'm eating much larger portions--more than I should ever need. And it's driving me nuts. I'm not making time to work out, either. Instead, I settle onto the couch with friends and watch movies.

And I'm becoming incredibly unsettled.

I need to start doing something about all of these things soon, lest all of these things gnaw at me until the point where I do something radical in a violent reaction to all of this. I have a tendency to do that--the let things like this go on and wear at me until the action I should have taken against them swells up inside me until I burst and do something drastic. And not always is it something that actually has something to do with the problem. In the past, I've cut my hair off, thrown out CDs, done fifty push ups all at once (and then no more until the next explosion), thrown something into the river, etc. This time, I want my drastic, violent reaction to be to finally do something concrete and productive against these things.


(nonsequitur)
Folks keep saying I'm running fool's errands. Truth is, I've always been a fool.

Reminder

Somewhere along the line, I forgot what a perversion it is to think that God wants to take everything I want away from me.

A Tapped Shoulder

I feel it's a complete secret that I have been in a slump recently. All of this waiting for an answer has really been wearing on me, as much as I try to remember [WorshipAttitudeIntercessionThanksgiving], I concern myself with the answers I think I might be getting, and those all get muddled up between where they are coming from, and (sigh).

This morning I was walking to chapel thinking of all of this. I got to the chapel and found a seat, and I heard


'Just because you're waiting doesn't mean I'm not working.'


I haven't actually set aside a time for prayer since coming back from Brown City. I need to do that. Badly.

Flattery

An anonymous friend sent me this message.

How can words convey what the heart feels and possibly articulate the depths of desire and longing? You are more than simple language; you're the personification of bitter mornings under warm blankets, of sunsets burning with cherry and blond, and of a thousand lights touching the expanse of endless void. I hear a calling in the distance, in the deep of the summer night; and my heart turns to listen to the beauty of inspiration, found in you.

And I haven't been sure what to do with it since.

Which Way to Midway?

From time to time over the past few years, I have played the part of taxi for friends going to Midway. It's a nice, easy drive, and at an hour and a half each way, I don't mind it too much. In fact, I quite enjoy seeing the skyline as I pass over the crest of the Skyway and seeing the people in the city as I drive through the different neighborhoods down Garfield Ave, and then having a nice relaxing hour and a half to myself on the way back (once I get out of traffic, of course).

My trips so far have been without incident. Little did I realize when I agreed to drive Hannahbeth that she and I attract incidents.

It started well enough. We bought a near full tank of gas for a (these days) measly forty dollars. Then, I asked ChaCha for directions to Midway--which became very frustrating due to the 160 character limit on the responses they send. I followed them to Garfield Ave, and then turned a direction I saw fit. Now, I'll have you understand that while driving somewhere unfamiliar, I need nearly constant affirmation that I'm going the correct way, such as route signs every couple blocks, or in this case, airport signs--which were conspicuously absent down the few miles I drove before deciding to take a gamble and take a turn in the wrong direction. After another two miles, I asked a man in a gas station how to get to Midway. He said, 'just turn right here on 57th.'
Mind you, the street he pointed to was not 57th.
And yet, I believed him. For about three blocks.
Then I took a chance on a gut instinct and took a turn that got us back to Garfield and found us the way to Midway.

Now, once at Midway, Hannahbeth told me to drop her off at the United Airlines gate. We drove the whole row and couldn't find it. Were we wiser in the way of airports, we would have known that this might be a bad omen. Alas, we are not. She got out of the car and said she would find it once inside, and then bade me farewell, and I drove off.
Ten minutes later, my phone began to sing, 'I've got soul, but I'm not a soldier.' Hannahbeth was calling! And she was calling with a strange question.
'What's the code for Midway Airport?'
'..I'm not sure. Why?'
'My ticket says ORD. Is that O'Hare?'
'...'

Uh oh.

We discuss what she shall do, now that I'm unable to turn back for her. She says she'll try to catch a bus, or something of that nature, and if not, she'll just cancel her flight and take the South Shore back. I say that sounds like a plan, and we hang up.

Fastforward five minutes. I've just merged onto the Stevenson Expressway, and I'm in the far right lane. I see a sign that says 'Skyway to Indiana: Left Lane.' I proceed to navigate my way through the packed lanes so I may not be completely cut off from my exit. I merge one lane over. Excellent. One lane to go. I divide my attention between the traffic in the lane to the left the car directly before me driven by a man named William. Unfortunately for me, while I'm watching what might be an opening in the next lane, traffic in my lane slows down, and I bump into William's car going a few miles per hour faster than he was.

My nerves shoot through me. I see the small bit of damage done to his bumper and hope that this is nothing like the last minor fender bender I was in, in which the man was incredibly overreactive, to the point of asking to be carried off in a stretcher.

We pull over, and I ask him if he's alright. 'I..don't know. You did hit me.' He asks what happens, I explain, and tell him I'll give him my information. I give him my insurance card and registration, and he writes it down in a small notebook. Meanwhile, he's asking me things about me, where I'm from, if I go to college, etc. He then writes down his information for me--all without calling the police to check the situation, which is a refreshing change for me.

After we exchange information, he says to me:
I'm going to be honest with you. I'm a little worried, because I had whiplash a few years ago, and I have to be honest, I don't feel very well right now. But if I feel alright tomorrow, I'm not going to bring the insurance into it. Because that (points to his bumper), that's Mickey Mouse. I'm still going to have my guy look at it, but if it's just a hundred, two hundred dollars worth of damage, I'm not going to bother with insurance, because it will screw you over, and it's a pain in the butt for me. And I'm not out to rip anybody off. You're a young guy; you're in college, you're trying to get home, so I'm not going to bother with any of that right now.

I thank him for being so kind, and briefly explain my prior experience with stretcherguy. He says again he doesn't want to rip me off. He puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me to have a great day and to be careful. As I'm getting into my car, he tells me that the number on the paper he gave me is his cell phone.

I get into my car and drive away, thanking God for William, and that not everyone in the world is a jerk.


A few miles later, I call Hannahbeth explaining what happened. She then tells me that she can't get to O'Hare, so she's cancelling her flight. Several miles later, she calls to tell me she's staying with our dear Chelsea Henion, our fellow Cool Counselor at Brown City. I don't remember if I told her, but I was a little jealous.

They then text messaged me, with much sass.
Then at church yesterday, Hannahbeth's parents said,
'You know Hannah's staying with Chelsea?
How's that for a scary thought. Those two together?

Sometimes, I rethink introducing them.
Not really.

A Blanket

I am a five foot seven inch
(tho some say six 'nd half)
twenty two year old little boy
Tryin' hard to act grown up
But I'm terrified to mess up
So nervous I might throw up
And make a big ol' mess all up
In this apartment I just moved into
Where I'll invite and entertain
The most esteemed of guests.
A large book shelf on display
With important records and movies
And books I meant to leaf through
And I drop names from hats
Like Tolstoy or Tolkien
(when in reality, I ain't read either).

Knock, Knock
(look through peephole)
Who's there?
Yourself.
(surprised, confused)
Who?

Someone told me once
'If you catch a cloud,
It's yours forever'
But when I reached out,
was fabric, not a cloud.
Just a clever disguise
to make something not so special
appear fantastic,
Much like the one I wear.

But my dark cloud still hovers there
Right above the ground there
Silver lined with big brown eyes
I step once forward
It steps back twice.
'Forever mine,
forever mine.'

And I've been playing parts on stage
In the dark to lines unmemorized
But isn't my own life improvised
That I should not be so stage shy?
Yet my blocking unrehearsed
Just gives me shaking nerves
And stuttered consonants to a crowd
Of empty seats unlit.
But my audition piece was far too dark
For such a light show as this here farce.

I had a dream I can't remember
Except for something to do with seagulls.

The knocks, they come
Out of peepholes, I watch
And I do not recognize
Who I've been becoming.
And yet I ask,
Is that so bad?

Messages from the REM Cycle

I had a lot of strange dreams last night. In one, I decided to try out for the play after all, but I forgot it was a comedy and not a super depressing drama. But it's okay, because I don't think I would have taken the part anyway. Also, the new theatre professor (a man) had painted his finger nails teal. At the actual play, all of the stage hands decided it would be sweet to do secret agent rolls everywhere (that part came from watching Galaxy Quest last night).

I had a dream before that where there was a small dark cloud hovering right above the ground. I looked to the person next to me (Chelsie Bennett?) and they said, 'if you catch a cloud, it's yours forever.' So I went and tried to catch it, but it was only fabric on wires.

A Statuette

Today marks the official start of the Bethel academic year. I still owe Bethel a couple suitcases filled with hundred dollar bills. I'm not worried about it.

I love my house. I'm very looking forward to living with such an incredible group of men.

There's a kind of emptiness or something inside of me. Despite my thought that I'd already made up my mind before receiving my answer, I continue to wait for that answer, and staying in a state of indecision. It's so incredibly back and forth. I go from knowing the answer one day to being sure of nothing the next. This sort of paralysis has come over me where I can't move because I don't know which way to go, and I so desperately want to avoid making a wrong decision. I asked myself earlier, 'why not err on the side of caution?'

But I've never been one to do that.

I need to be confident. But when I am confident, I fear that I'm too rash. Maybe I am.

A good friend, Greg Neumayer, had some very wise words for me last night. I want to say I got my answer through his wisdom...but I'm always reluctant to receive from God the answer that I wanted to hear.

I hate waiting. That is a fact.

And that's why I have to, I wager.

The Troubadour and the Television

When I returned home from my two months in Michigan, my family had changed houses as I had mentioned. What I hadn't mentioned is that once more, we have satellite television.

I did not particularly mind not having it...I had grown tired of coming home from school only to watch VH1 with my sisters for the entirety of my stay. But television was soon replaced by laptops, and everyone sat in their rooms on facebook, as I sat in the family room with my computer glowing before me, wishing someone would come down and keep me company. So one good thing about the television is that it has brought my sisters and I to a central location once more. However, I don't know how I feel about watching marathons of fashion based programs on the Bravo network.
I already caught myself browsing through online clothing stores. I don't need any more encouragement.

And so, I'm now outside, on the hammock, in the dark, listening to the crickets sing their nightly lullabies. A small barn cat has been prowling around looking for food. I drew her near me and tried to pet her. Naturally, she was skittish and would initially flee at the first sudden movement. Then, she got closer and started rubbing against my hand, then I'd pet her, then she would start playing with me. When I tried to pick her up into the hammock, she ran away, then came back and laid down next to the hammock. Now every time I get close, she play bites me.

It reminds me of someone I know. I won't say who.

I think I may have gotten an answer the other day. But I'm committed to challenging every answer I get until I'm convinced.

Until then, I just wait (worship, adoration, intercession, thanksgiving)

Praise God from whom all blessings flow.

(edit: the kitty tried to jump into the hammock.)

The Attack of Weddingzilla!!!!

Today, two of my best friends in the entire world (Nick&SoniWayne) had their ceremonial wedding to match the legal document they signed in April. After the wedding was a danceless reception, which was followed by an illegal dance party on Bethel's campus. After that, we migrated to Hannahbeth's house for the afterparty, complete with brinner. After the after party was the bonfire, which just ended half an hour ago.

The past few days have been busy, stressful, frustrating, stretching, and incredible. After calling Soni 'Bridezilla' a few times, we then commenced to add 'zilla' to every position. Such as brotherofthebride-zilla, Honorarybestmanzilla, Escortzilla, and Musicianzillas--that'd be me and my Escortzilla, the lovely violin bearing Chelsea Henion, who was excellent at being both an escort and a violinist. She was also excellent at giving me a hard time, which was reciprocated to a great degree.

Also, Cha Cha has been consulted for a number of different things, such as discovering what the Mertyl capital of the world is. It's awesome.

I'm very tired. Almost too tired to write a blog post.

I will just say that I'm relieved that the wedding has happened and no longer has anything to worry about.

Also, I love my life.

In Which Our Protagonist Cannot Think of an Original Title

This afternoon, I went to the Salvation Army with dear Hannahbeth, who just yesterday told me of the treasures in store. On our way back to Granger, we stopped at Michiana Used so I could stock up on games for my newly rediscovered Super Nintendo. Upon arriving at my house, dear Meredith announced that we were going to Goodwill, where I purchased a couple ties and an antique typewriter. Then after dinner, my mother and I went to Target, where more things were purchased.

After all this, I took two large boxes filled with clothes to the Goodwill drop box.


I sometimes hate feeling like such a consumer. I spend and waste so much. I really don't want it to be that way.
I was thinking earlier about moving to Chicago, and how I would have to cut down on my earthly possessions to make moving more streamlined--especially if I'm not going to spend more than a couple years at a time in one residence.
And then again, it's just about the spending. I spend so much, and I don't like it. Yet here I am, planning my next vinyl purchases.
Bah.

At Hannahbeth's house, they have several small magnets with words on them. She told me to write a poem (please note: the poems already on the fridge are things like 'Do you want to scream music' and 'put them pants on')
So I wrote a poem.

Growing Up Too Fast/Not Fast Enough

I woke up early this morning to help a pair of dear friends (Nick&Soni) ready the art building for their wedding this Saturday. After we finished for the day, they showed me their recently moved into apartment. Directly after leaving, I went with my dad and my now married sister Caitlin to rent a Uhaul and load it so that her and her husband can move to Los Angeles.

All of this marrying and moving and apartmenting made me think an awful lot about the future, when I will be marrying and moving and apartmenting myself. I've always had in my mind that that is all so far off, and so I simply hid away inside my childish present and stayed away from the future. But in two weeks, I'm starting my final year of college, and I would really like to not move home for more than a month or two afterward. Chicago has been looking incredibly well lately, and packing Caitlin&Adam's things simply make me want to move there sooner. But, I've got a lot of growing up to do.

But as I was told at Brown City...it's not doing; it's being. Growing up isn't a matter of doing grown up things. It's a matter of being a mature, responsible, independent person. It's like I realized a few days ago. If I'm ever going to be the father and husband I need to be, I need to be that NOW. Not saying I need to get married and start poppin' out babies right away--far from it. I just need to prepare myself to be that man by being him now.

But as much as the future usually frightens me--I'm incredibly excited for it now.
But not without feeling sick of waiting for my future to come.

I guess I just have to start living in the present.

The Lord Will Have His Way

And so comes to pass eleven days at Brown City Camp. My expectations (both of what God was going to do and what might happen between myself and another) were completely off. There's just such a sharp contrast between last year and this year. There are a number of reasons why, I'm sure, such as a much larger load of responsibility and a much smaller and not-so-tightly-knit counselor staff. Also, there were many more problems between me and the director (much of it my fault, I admit.

But the Lord still moved. Last year, He spoke to me about stepping up and being the person I need to be, and so I tried to do that. Then this year He said, 'It's about BEING, not DOING.'

That is all for now. I'm just very glad to be home
(even though my family moved while I was gone, so it doesn't feel like home.)

I have a lot of boxes to go through.

He Took Our Shame

I learned a funny lesson today. Last night, I did something I shouldn't have. When I woke up, I remembered it, and instantly felt the sickening, crushing shame from it. And so I went through my morning routine, feeling wretched and despised like I often do after mistakes, and I thought

'Why am I letting this shame come over me? I did what I did and I can't change that. I can only change what I do now. All this shame is doing is crippling me.'

And I wonder sometimes what it means when it says that Jesus took our shame. And then there are times where I get answers, like this morning. But then that begs the question--why would He take our shame?

A Homecoming

Tomorrow is my last full day here. Then Wednesday, I head to my favorite place on this planet: Brown City Camp. And after that, home to Granger, and then to Bethel.

I'm having a hard time understanding what it really means that I'll be leaving so soon. But then again, just two months ago I was having a hard time understanding what it really meant that I was coming up here so soon. The time disappeared somewhere, spent among wise elders, vibrant children, promising high schoolers, and a host family that treats me much better than I deserve, learning the true heart of the Gospel and finding God's heart for people that I met with mixed expectations.

And at the same time...I'm leaving to somewhere, which makes the leaving so much more bearable.

Four years ago at Brown City camp, I realized that the Gospel required something of me, and I decided to give everything to Jesus. After that year, I wondered, 'how could camp possibly get any better than that?' Last year, that question was answered.

And I'm completely expecting another answer this year.

Pray for Revival.

Homecoming

The Great Magician

It's often stated that the Lord still does miracles. In turn, these miracles are often overlooked. Sometimes, though...it seems even like He's doing magic tricks, only there's nothing tricky about them. They're just magic.

I was worried about finances...I was angry with Him. I had forty dollars, a quarter tank of gas, three weeks, and at least six hours of driving before I could get home, where I would get a job. Today, I mowed my host's lawn. She offered IMAX tickets to the Dark Knight. I asked for cash instead (yes, I do have some concept of responsibility...) She asked how much, I said whatever she wanted. 'Whatever she wanted' ended up being fifty dollars. As I was still rejoicing in this, she comes home from visiting her parents...who had given her a fifty dollar bill to deliver to me.

And then there's the matter of making a yellow bird disappear...
Ever since Sunday, I've had an incredible peace about this whole 'getting over it' situation. It's actually...working. Surprisingly. Every time a thought pops up, I struggle to push it down, and I succeed--mostly. Just as I thought it would take forever, He says the magic words and it disappears into the palm of His hand. But sometimes, I look and think, 'but when is it going to come back...'

It would just get in the way now. It was never even intended for 'now.' Even at the height of the pursuit, it was intended for 'later.' Even during the Eighth of a Second that Shook the World, I looked at her and felt what might someday come to pass. There's nothing conclusive or psychic about that. It's just another possibility. And a possibility with many qualifiers at that.


I went to Brown City Camp again today. With no one there, that place is like some blessed ghost town. Although, when the memories of Earth Shakings that are still physically present there are memories you're trying to ignore, it seems a little less benign. But I didn't run from it. I stood at that place and looked down at it. And it all became clear.
'Might someday...'

I can't hold on to the ghost of a future life. I've tried. It whisps around my hands as they pass through it's glowing blue frame.

Holding on to a Holy Ghost, though...that's different.

Coming to Understand that it's Unimportant to Understand

I am a slave to my heart and to my mind. My heart feels things far too big for me to contain, and then my mind looks around and sees things that support those feelings.
And now, I have to learn that everything I've thought for the past year was the way things were going to be for the rest of my life isn't necessarily correct at all, and I have to learn that my mind and my heart don't always see things that clearly.

I don't understand anything at all.

For the past year, I thought I understood my future, and I thought I knew the woman that would stand beside me until the bitter end. That is, until last night, when I talked to that young woman and was given a hard answer.


I know how I operate. I know how my mind plays tricks and holds on. Things like, 'if I don't expect anything to happen, then it will,' or 'if I let her go, then we'll get married.'
How foolish.

I made a deal with the Lord--'You find me a wife, I'll just try to find You.' And three days later, there she was, as plain as anything. So I pursued her. And now, I can't help thinking that if I would have pursued Him more and her less, we would be together now (or someday), or whatever. And now, my pursuit of her is over, and all I have left is pursuing God.
Truth be told--I don't even know what that means.

But I guess I'm going to do it?

I Can Be Your Hero, Baby

Tomorrow, I preach my first sermon ever (if you don't count the preachy, half written speeches I had in speech class, which I don't).
Tonight, I have a very important conversation with a very important young lady.
No, I'm not proposing. Just...moving. 'Letting it be' has become to me 'standing still.' And, as a certain violinist would remind me--'many a false step is made standing still.' And so, I'm not standing still anymore. I have to do something about this, because truth be told...I am a man of action, and 'letting it be' while doing nothing just isn't my style. Not to mention that it might be a bit unhealthy with all of the undue stress it brings me.

Thursday, I was praying about the conversation, and I just got this deep, dark feeling that I would be completely turned down, and I just got hopeless. I was still going to have the conversation, but what good is the conversation without any hope? And so, all of the mental preparation I had made completely dissolved, and I was dreading it again, and so I had to start preparing all over again from nothing.

But then...yesterday was sufficient preparation. Colonial Woods had a cruise night and drive in movie. I wasn't doing anything, so I helped out. Dear violinist was on parking lot detail, so I helped her--for twelve hours. During this time, I was announced 'my hero' several times.

I quite like the sound of that.

And suddenly...all of the nerves rapid firing every which way are calm, and with the grace of God, I'm completely ready--for the conversation AND the sermon.

::edit::
On second thought...my spirit is calm. My nerves are not.

Jehovah Jireh?

An excerpt from my internship journal...

I’m leaning more and more on God these days—but only because I have to. I’m trying very hard not to worry about things (finances in particular), but when the backup plans I had fall through, I lose confidence in His provision. I think I have this strange idea in my head that while God may not put me through what I can’t survive, He’s only interested in preserving my life. However destitute and impoverished and beaten I become, I look to Him to provide and imagine Him saying, ‘You’re alive, aren’t you?’ I need to know what it is to trust—but I just wish I would have a safety net. Funny…isn’t He my safety net? Strange how much faith we think we have until we have to actually depend on Him. And the same with this 'situation'…a year ago when this whole thing got started, I was so sure it was the Lord saying to me, ‘See? I really do want to bless you more than you can imagine,’ and since, it doesn’t feel like that much at all. It feels more like He’s just waving something incredible in front of me, just out of reach of my arms. Why can’t He just let me have it instead of teasing me relentlessly? I hate how He always knows best, because so often, it’s the opposite of what I think is best. He knows what I want, and…
I can’t have what I want on my terms. That wouldn’t be fair to me. I just wish it didn’t have to be this hard to trust. I know that I’m learning to trust, but it’s one lesson that I know is going to stretch me further than I want to be stretched.
I’m trying to be okay with it. I really am. Just right now, I’m very frustrated. I’m very angry at Him…but I think it’s more of me being angry that I can’t understand Him, which isn’t always a bad thing. It just wears on me sometimes.

The Past is a Strange and Awkward Place

This Sunday, I will be preaching my first sermon in a real live church, with pews and people in them and an altar and everything. My sermon (for lack of a better title) is called 'Remembering what we were saved from,' and in it I state the importance of, well, remembering what we were saved from. I think it's absolutely imperative to never forget that we were once just like the people that we so often look at with derision and disdain, which in turn would turn our hearts toward them.

It's a strange coincidence that today was a day filled with hindsight. I watched some music videos of bands I listened to in high school, with lead singers I tried so hard to be. Then, wandering around the internet, I came across several old emails from an old girlfriend, both during and after our relationship, and then later passed by some old pictures of us. I wasn't surprised at the things that were said--I've never really doubted that we weren't completely happy for almost the entire duration of the relationship.
What really surprised me was when I came across a picture of me and my other exgirlfriend...and I looked happy. Not only that...it was a candid, and I actually look like I loved her.

It's so strange to think about that...I've thought for so many years that the only happy times we had were for the first couple months, and everything else was selfish and juvenile and lustful. But this picture...taken within days of my salvation...
Perhaps I did actually love her, briefly, before I had to let her go. It's completely possible.

It's also (again) a very strange thing to think about. I saw her just last weekend, and realized that most of the faults she used to harp on me about have been improved upon, and then realized how glad I was to be out of that relationship. Also, I've been through almost four years of my life since then. I'm working at a church. I'm making post college plans. My life has been moved by the Gospel, and not just youth group ethics. My heart has moved on to...a more appropriate receiver. I'm moving forward like never before.

Yet is a look over my shoulder a look of yearning? Absolutely not. In fact, I'm very glad to realize that I wasn't always as selfish or lustful as I remember being. And when I look back and realize that I didn't see how anything could be better than that?

I had a terrible imagination.

Manifesto

I've been waiting for the proper time and letting things be whatever they were going to be.

But I'm a man of action.

The Cure for Pain

My sister got married today. My aunt and uncle came down for it. My aunt and uncle are independents registered as democrats who left the Catholic church but still remain generally Catholic in belief. My father, on the other hand, is an ex liberal turned conservative who was raised in the Catholic church and was excommunicated and is now Protestant. This leads to an open forum on subjects from political to moral to religious when my aunt and uncle visit.
This weekend was no exception. However, there seemed to be an awful lot of agreement on how bad of a job the government is doing in general, and how terrible this election is, and how 'winning the war' is an incredibly ambiguous and overall unrealistic goal. I agreed.

But, there was one thing my uncle said in jest--"one you get your PhD, I'll let you try to convert me." I said, "convert you to what?" And he said, "Whatever religion your going into. Presbyterian, Baptist..."
I told him that it's not about conversion or religion at all. (and this is really what I'm getting in my head these days...I had this conversation another time with my brother-in-law's cousin)

Whatever made us, whether you call it God or the Lord or Allah or the Great Spirit or whatever, whatever it was, when it created us, we, mankind, messed something up, and broke that relationship. Now, the only thing that matters is mankind and or Maker finding reconciliation through the person and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, and from there being reconciled to one another and helping one another also find this reconciliation with the Maker. It's not about turning people into Christians or baptizing them into our denomination or filling a seat in a pew. In fact, I think those things might only seem important because we've been raised with them for so long, when in reality, they're not as essential as we may think.

Jesus works in people in different ways--this doesn't mean that it's a different Jesus; Jesus is always the same. He just heals and challenges people in different ways, just as people have different personalities and different passions. Too often, we tell people that if something isn't happening in their lives (example: speaking in tongues, immediate freedom from addictions, etc) then Christ isn't at work. This is an absolute deception! Not to mention that it discredits the work Jesus truly IS doing in their lives.

My dad left and joked, 'have fun solving the world's problems.' And there's only one way to do that--and that is the Gospel, whatever that might mean to someone. Whether it means freedom from sexual sin, whether it means finally finding peace of mind despite absolute poverty, whether it means victory over suicidal thoughts, whether it means forgiving someone that has injured you, whether it means finding a loving spouse, whether it means fixing a broken marriage, whether it means being healed of a physical ailment. Whatever the Gospel is to someone, that is what we must allow it to be.

That is what we must preach--that the Kingdom of God has come, and it is moving, and that it makes no exceptions.

Independence Day Codependence

Yesterday at two thirty, I embarked on my four hour venture back home to Granger, Indiana. It was a somewhat long drive without incident--which is good, given my luck.

When I got home, I spent a long time with Meredith and Lyndsey indulging in general silliness. I've missed them a great deal. That is not to say that I didn't miss Caitlin or Erin, I simply haven't had as much time with them. I doubt I'll get that time with Caitlin--she gets married on Saturday to one Mr. Adam Sandroni, who will be the best brother in law ever. At least until one of the other sisters gets married--then the jury will be back out.

Around this time of year, I can't help but think of how our founding fathers would feel about the way our politics are going--especially with this year's ridiculous election between two ineligible candidates. Also, I wonder how people like Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin and others would react to claims that our country was founded by Christians. Ben would get a laugh out of that.
It's not that I don't see a depravity in our society--far from it. It's just that saying our nation was founded on generally Christian values (which are found in most religions) is quite different from saying it was founded by Christians.
Besides, Christianity isn't about values. It's about the Gospel. The pure, unadulterated, life-changing Gospel.

Don't need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows

I'm starting to turn into Bob Dylan these days. I don't know why, but it's just like some sort of infection got into my lungs and started goin' from there, on down into my blood vessels and kidneys and capillaries and everything else in there.

But the secret is, I never wanted to be Bob Dylan. He's already lived, and is still living. His songs have already been written and poems written, and if any more are to be made, he's the one to do it, not me. It ain't me.
I ain't Bob Dylan.

I'm Nathaniel FitzGerald, who might just be almost as eccentric, and might have just as strange things goin' on inside him, but I got a much harder time tryin' to explain whatever those strange things are. Just ask Brenden Bell. I've said so many things to him that he doesn't understand at all.

I'm learning lately that patience ain't a virtue. It's a gift. And if you aren't asking God what on earth He's doing, you don't know Him well enough. Or maybe you can just accept things more than I can, because I know that I think I know so well how things should be. But I haven't ever parted a sea--red, made of reeds, or otherwise. I've never raised anything from the dead. I've just asked the rain to stop before, and it did twice, and once, I clapped my hand and lightning struck. That's all I've got, really. That, and I can play the guitar passably, I can conjure up some lyrics to go with it, and I know what the Bible says about certain things, and I ain't afraid to go to the wall for those things, because that Book's more right than I could ever be.

Living in the Past with an Eye on the Future

I'm eternally grateful that I am easily contented, and that things like fedoras and vests and ties can keep me happy for indefinite periods of time. I think it's my own way of returning to the 'good old days' when class and politeness were required of every decent person. And, everyone knows I love old movies, and this fedora makes me feel like I'm inside of one.

The Gospel is constantly being revealed to me in new, more meaningful ways. Even when I understood it for the first time, I didn't understand that it was the only important thing. Everything else in the Church and in life (worship style, preaching, marriage, family, art, poetry) is important because of the Gospel of Jesus.

Redeemer has been praying for five people to come to Christ this year. I'm praying for fifty, whether throughout the year or just while I'm here. A deficiency of hope makes me think throughout the year might even be pushing it, but I'm learning that there's always every kind of hope in Christ.

Brown City is a month and a week away. I can't wait to see how God is going to top my tenure here. And then how He's going to top that, and how He's going to top that, and that, and that...

The Port Huron Chronicles

I went to Port Huron this weekend. I'm taken such good care of in that town.

It started with a long, jittery day that ended with a wedding rehearsal. I drank two cups of coffee and shouldn't have, because that was half of the jitters. When I finally left, I took 69 instead of 94, which took me a whole hour out of the way. I stopped at a rest stop to see a map to see just how far out of my way I was, and in the process locked my keys in my car. I called 911, they called a wrecking crew, I called my parents, my mom footed the bill. I'm so thankful for parents that help me get out of jams, even when I put myself in them.

Once there, I spent much time with dears Nathaniel, Chelsie, Brittany, Brenden, and Chelsea & her family. I laughed a lot, watched a lot of Batman, was read to by a five year old, got a fedora finally, joined a drum circle, got into the newspaper, ate pie, cut the impeccable hair of Matthew Henion, and sat on a back porch looking at a river with excellent company. Also, I was blessed by Mr. Paul Henion with a brilliant tape deck, for which I am very grateful. The man also makes a fierce apple pie.

On the way back, I took 94, and it took me a grand total of fifty minutes to get back.
Let it be said that for me, fifty minutes is not a road trip. It's a drive up the block. Port Huron has never been so good to me as when it's this close. I'm going back home.

Today in church, one of our elders (who has a heart condition) collapsed into the pew while we were singing. He took a nitro and was taken to the hospital for tests, and he was fine--but it's still scary. I thought I was going to see a man die before my very eyes. Thank the Lord that his time hasn't come.

There's a lot I'm still afraid of. I look at my incredible blunder in getting to Port Huron, and it's so typically nathaniel. I very rarely do anything right. The only reason the Wednesday night service went well is because I listened to what Jesus told me and told them, and then because other people did most of the talking. I'm not very good at public speaking, I know that full well. I got a D in my speech class, and the only speech I did well on was the manuscript, which was my least favorite. I JUST last week understood the exclusive importance of the Gospel, and it was only because I sat still to listen to Jesus for twenty minutes. Since then, I have had such a hard time being still and listening.

I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength.

The Hope of things to Come

Tonight, I led the adult Bible study. The subject of the study was evangelism, and it was supposed to last about half an hour, then have prayer time.
We went about an hour, then started a prayer list of people we would like to see come to know Jesus.

It was very encouraging. I was very nervous about it at first, and half-expected to be met with hostility, but things are rarely ever as bad as we imagine them. Afterward, I started talking with Michael, one of the trustees, who I actually stayed with at 3DYC (who knew? Well...he did). We just started talking about random things, and then got back to the Gospel, and before I knew it, over an hour had passed.
We went to a bonfire at some congregation members' house, and a man Anthony, who was one of the more involved in the dialog in the Bible study, continued the conversation started with the study. I met two girls that are friends of Cody, and then the host's neighbor, who is a professional bowler. I very much enjoy meeting as many people as I am.


Something came to me today.
Christ isn't standing at our pulpits asking, 'who will come in?' Christ is standing at the door looking in crying, 'who will go out?'

I've been worried so much about filling the pews--what I really should be worrying about is emptying them.


God's up to something, tho. That much is for sure.