Christmas... how inconvenient

It must have felt really inconvenient for Joseph and Mary to have to travel to Bethlehem at the end of Mary's pregnancy. Having recently lived with a pregnant woman, I can testify to the difficulties of having to bend over and tie your shoes, much less ride on the back of an animal for dozens and dozens of miles. 

I wonder what Mary must have thought about the timing of all of that. A few months earlier, this angel appears to her and tells her she is going to give birth to a holy baby, and at the end she finds herself in labor in the desert. And if Mary was anything like me (you know, except for that whole "being a woman" thing), when the labor pains hit my first reaction would have been something along the lines of "Of course! This kind of junk always happens to me!"

And being turned away from the inn would have just added fuel to my frustration and angst. I would certainly have felt as if the entire world was against me (as I have felt that ridiculous notion in my own life more times than I'd like to admit). 

Now, I'm kind of putting myself in Mary's position, and I must be careful not to assume that she felt the way I think I would have. I'm not suggesting this is the "truth" of the account, just that I can imagine for myself what I would be feeling, and I think the scriptures are good at allowing us to do that while teaching us something along the way.

And in this account, I think that I'm learning a little more about patience and perseverance. That despite the fact that I have my own internal timetables for how I want to do everything, ultimately, I must be obedient to what God is doing, even (or perhaps especially) when it's inconvenient or uncomfortable for me to do so. 

This is hard for me to do. I think I've said it before - but it bears repeating - that I am often guilty of looking to my own present circumstances to give me an idea of my "standing" with God. You know, if things are going well, I feel that I must be doing okay in the eyes of the Almighty, and vice versa. And while there's something to be said for the consequences of living a life of disobedience, my point is that our circumstances alone are a pretty poor indicator of our "favor" with God (just ask Job). 

But despite the fact that I know this, I keep falling into old habits. And when it comes to persevering through more difficult and inconvenient times and trusting that God is doing things for a reason, I'm really poor at sticking with it. I complain. I grumble. And at times, my own lovely wife would say I'm hard to live with. I guess I still wish (and on some level, expect) that God would make my life easier. Oops. 

As the story of Jesus' birth continues, we see that all the inconveniences Mary endured in the last bit of her pregnancy had some pretty rich symbolic meaning. "Fulfillment of prophecy" kind of stuff. Stuff that had to do with God and little to do specifically with Mary. And while I'm over here in my little American bubble thinking that whatever's happening to me has EVERYTHING to do with me, the truth is that God is about doing what he's doing (you know, saving the world, restoring what was broken, healing wounds, etc.). I have a limited view of a very limitless God sometimes. But now back to Christmas...

I'm no scholar, so I'll just encourage you to listen to/download for free this podcast from last Christmas. The pastor of our church, Lee Mason, talked about some of the historical aspects of the nativity, and it blew my mind (in a good way). There is so much deep symbolism in the story, from the "swaddling clothing" being the same kind that were used for sacrificial lambs, to the whole concept of the "inn" (probably a relative's house and not a Ramada) to the likely place of the manger (under a watchtower where it was thought the king would amass his army). It's just great to chew on it, to wonder about it all.

Here's the audio:

Again, I don't know much on my own. But I love the wonder. I mean, what a bizarre thing, to be a God born a man...

What I Don't Want for Christmas (And What I Really Want)

If you're close enough to me (in a relational sense) that a gift for me is on your list of things to buy, allow me to ease your holiday stress a bit. Here is a list of things NOT on my Christmas list this year:

* No gigantic red bow
* No luxury automobile to hold up the aforementioned red bow
* Nothing from Kay Jewelers (and DO NOT EVEN CONSIDER "Going to Jared")
* Nothing that has the letters "H" and "D" on it

That's the list. But wait, there's more! If you find yourself with something of a dilemma, wondering if the item you're looking to get for me is something I'm really going to like, I want you to do this:

Don't buy it.

Nope. What I'd really like for Christmas this year is for you to share your lives with me. 

Here's how it works:

1. If you don't know what to get me, get me something YOU like. Your favorite album. Or movie. Or book. Maybe not your favorite blouse or A-line skirt, but you know, something that means something TO YOU. 

2. Or better yet, make me something. A mix CD of songs you love. Write me something. Cook for me your favorite dish... I promise I will eat it. Forget the price of things; free is good, too.

3. Go green by recycling something you don't use anymore. Do you have any old tools? I could probably use them. Or instruments or firewood or whatever. (Maybe not actual recycling, though; I've got enough cardboard and milk cartons to last a while).

4. Or maybe beat the recession by giving me the gift of your time. Let's get lunch; we'll go Dutch. Or coffee. Or let's just get water. Or we'll throw the football (I haven't gotten to do that in years). Maybe we could catch a movie (we could rent one, or go to the theater, or watch whatever Meredith Baxter movie is on Lifetime). Do you play music? Let's do that. We'll record it and laugh about how awful it sounds. Board games are awesome ways to hang out or heck, we could just go for a walk. See where I'm going with this?

Now, I'm not trying to be a Scrooge and discourage you from buying me (or anyone) something if you'd like to do that. We always say that it's better to give than to receive, and I am certainly not about to tell you how to give. But I want you, Person I Care About Deeply, to know that more than anything else, I would like to get to know you a bit better. To receive the gift of a glimpse into your life. To know what's important to you, because you're important to me. 

It might actually be harder to do that than to just buy me a gift card, and you may be more comfortable with the gift card. Do that then; I mean, for crying out loud, we've made this season so stressful. I'm simply (and honestly and deeply) offering you the freedom to give as you see fit. And maybe I'm challenging you a bit, too. As I said in my last post, I'm kind of waging this internal war against the debt-inducing holiday madness, and I've seen that the best things in my life don't need batteries or extended warranties.

So this year, please don't spend hours trying to think of what to get me; just sharing your life with me is worth more than all those blasted luxury car commercials.

******
SIDENOTE: I just re-read this post, and I'll admit, it sounds kind of silly. Sappy, even. But so be it; I'm dead serious.

And there ain't nothing sappier than those ridiculous Kay ads.

May It Be To Me As You Say

More than any other year in my memory, this year my entire insides are fighting to put aside all the Black Friday nonsense and arrive at a deeper level of joy and understanding of the birth of Jesus (It's like 1080p, only better because it's real and doesn't become obsolete five seconds out of the box). 

Not to say that buying people things isn't a good thing to do, just that we've turned it into something kind of ridiculous, you know?

At any rate, I want to know the real Jesus, and I want him to change my heart. I don't want to put my faith in the hands of anything (or anyone) else than the actual son of God. I'm not looking for a guru, or a spiritual advisor, or someone to teach me about being a good leader nor am I satisfied with the pasty-white outer glow of all the things people say that he is. I want the real guy or I want nothing at all.

Faith is a hard thing to have and a much harder thing to keep. And I'm more and more convinced that it's not about having some bulletproof attitude that weathers all attacks from all the "heathens" and "pagans," but is more about perseverance, humility, and dedication. There's a story in the Bible where Jacob wrestles an angel... and bests him (sidenote: I can't read that passage anymore without hearing Bono singing "Bullet the Blue Sky" in my head). Now, I've not gone toe-to-toe with any angels, but I wrestle with all kinds of doubts. You can't live an authentic life of faith without some doubts, especially when you live in a culture such as ours where believing in anything supernatural is increasingly seen as small-minded and asinine. But Jacob wrestled with the supernatural, too, so maybe I've got a shot.

All this to say that I'm trying very hard to see the truth with my own eyes. I know the Christmas story by heart because it's been everywhere since I was a kid. But do I really know the story as it is written? And does the story of Jesus' birth hold more for me than what I've known about it my whole life?

I think so, but I guess we'll see.

I will say that in reading through the first chapter of Luke this morning, I was struck by Mary's response to the angel Gabriel when he tells her that she's going to give birth to the Son of God:

 34"How will this be," Mary asked the angel, "since I am a virgin?"

 35The angel answered, "The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called[c] the Son of God. 36Even Elizabeth your relative is going to have a child in her old age, and she who was said to be barren is in her sixth month. 37For nothing is impossible with God."

 38"I am the Lord's servant," Mary answered. "May it be to me as you have said." Then the angel left her.

(Luke 1:34-8 NIV)



It's the last part I'm taken by right now. "I am the Lord's servant... may it be to me as you have said." If an angel showed up and told me I was going to do something like give birth to a holy child, I would be terrified (and not just because I'm a man). That's a pretty huge responsibility to drop on someone. I would be filled with all kinds of worry, anxiety, and doubt. What if I messed it up? What does this mean for my future? What the heck is going on?

And I don't know how Mary felt. But I know that her response is to accept it all - all the potential shame she'd face from being an unwed mother, all the worry about her future, all of it - and chose to simply trust that whatever God would have happen to her is the best possible thing for her.

This is not touchy-feely, live-your-best-life-now faith; this is your-life-is-forever-altered-and-it's-going-to-be-incredibly-hard faith. A you-could-die-for-this faith. This is good for me to hear. Sure, I have ideas and plans and things I'd like to do and things I wish I could do and all those kinds of thoughts, but more than that, I want to be like Mary, telling God that if he'd prefer me to be a guy with a bunch of part time jobs and a hard drive full of music fragments that may never be heard by many people, I will accept it. I don't mean to say that I shouldn't want to dream big things, only that I accept that my primary goal in my life is to know this real Jesus, to love others as he loved, and to let all else remain lower than those two on my list of priorities. God is weird; he doesn't make sense in a lot of ways. But maybe the most important thing I'll do in my life will happen at a copy shop where I do typesetting part time, all because I was willing to be where he wanted me to be.

Now, I hope to find a job that I really love. I hope to put out music that means something to someone. And I'd really like to have an old Jeep one day. Maybe I will. But let it be for me as you say, Lord. As you say.

Being Haunted (In A Good Way)

Slowly and surely, I am finding that if given the time to simmer, I may just have some songs left to write. And in the past, I think the best ones have been the ones that haunted me,  the ones that ran on loop in my head throughout the day, when I tried to go to bed at night, and at just about every point in between. I've got a small handful of new songs on a mental playlist currently pummeling my brain nonstop, and I hope that means they're worth hearing.

Now, having these songs bouncing around in my head can be a bit maddening in the context of how I write music. It's a pretty rare feat for me to sit down and knock out a song in a few hours; instead, I've come to accept and embrace that for me writing is an evolutionary process. Lacking a real base of musical theory, I tend to approach the process by playing with sounds and letting my mind run to wherever it goes. This means that I may come across a chorus melody that will bounce around in my head for days, weeks, months, or (in some cases) years before I can find where it goes. It's like planting seeds and having to keep watering and waiting until the dang thing flowers. But it also means that I might have a chorus that runs on repeat over and over and over and over and over and over (you get the idea). If someone asks, "When are you putting out something new?," I always feel like a loser when I answer, "I'm not sure... hopefully soon," but the answer is honest. It's done when it's done. 

And yes, it does require discipline and effort, but for me the effort and discipline is comes in the form of setting aside time specifically to explore and experiment. But I still have no idea how long it will take.

Still, it's just nice to feel creative again. As I'm moving forward, helping my musical children to grow up, I'm also moving further and further away from what I've done in the past. I would really like to have something to share with people, and if you're reading this, you're probably among those who I want to share my music with most. Thanks for sticking around; you're incredibly patient.

The old aspirations are dying out in my heart, and that's good. On the other side of all the things one is "supposed" to do is a much larger world full of all the things one "can" do with music. 

For now it's nice to have music haunting me again. Maybe there's still a few bats left in the belfry after all.

In due time, in due time. 

People I'm Thankful For, 11.24.09: Parks Carpenter & John Dunn

(photo: Parks, John, and yours truly on my couch last night)

I'm really thankful to have Parks Carpenter and John Dunn in my life. Parks isn't in my life physically as much as I'd like (living in Wilmington, NC), but I'm ecstatic that John and his wife Tara once again call the Classic City home. Both of these guys are brothers to me.

In my undergrad years at Reinhardt College (apparently about to be renamed "Reinhardt University"), I played in a band called Copper John. There were five of us - me, Parks, John, David (from my last post), and Jacob (who'll likely be my next "thankful for" subject) - and while we didn't do much worth writing home about during our tenure as a band, we did do a fair amount of hanging out at Parks' cabin in Jasper, GA. And when I say "cabin" I mean it in the Pioneer sense, as in "no heat or air conditioning." It was awesome. Parks grew up in Papua New Guineau, so his decor was wild.

John was my roommate my senior year at Reinhardt. He also owned me at racquetball (seriously, I don't know if I ever beat him, and we played ALOT). John is, without a doubt, one of the most unique people I have ever met. There is no one like John Dunn. NO ONE. If you've ever heard my old "Flavor of the Week" song, "Tae kwon John," you have heard of John Dunn.

I can be guilty of being a little too intense, to focused on the difficulties in front of me or on the uncertainties of tomorrow; Parks taught me how to lighten up, how to be naked (in a metaphorical sense, and well, at times, a literal sense). I owe a lot to him.

And John taught me a lot about being comfortable in my own skin. I'm not sure whether John thought of himself as I did, but he always seemed to carry himself with a quiet confidence. He also didn't seem to get bogged down by what others thought of him (on a side note, John once wore the same shirt for an entire summer just to see if he could do it. He did. I find this endlessly impressive). A deep, creative thinker, and a really good friend to a lot of people. He is also still learning to break dance.

Both of these guys have encouraged me through some of my rougher times, offering wisdom when I needed it and on some occasions, some tough love. Parks also threw John's Hangin' Tough CD out of the window of his Jetta, which was then crushed by a speeding semi. This ALWAYS gets brought up.

My life is better because of these two men. Who are you thankful for?

People I'm Thankful For, Vol. 1: David Herndon

Being the season for giving thanks (historical accounts notwithstanding), I wanted to use this blog to simply give thanks for those folks who have made my life what it is (and hopefully, by doing so, combat the hardness of my own heart).

Today, I'm giving thanks for my friend David Herndon. I actually meant to do this on his birthday a couple of weeks back, but you know how life is....

I can say without exaggeration that David played a huge part in saving my life. He and I met as freshmen at Reinhardt College in 1997, and I can't quite remember how we came to hang out so much, but by the end of Fall quarter, we were making plans to start a band (though "duo" is a more accurate description). It was a great time for me.

But more than hanging out and playing guitar in our dorm rooms, I was drawn to David by his own passionate pursuit of Jesus. And not the stuffy, meek and mild Sunday School Jesus with little lambs and small children - the real, still-doing-stuff Jesus who was much bigger than all my old childhood lessons. Having grown up in church, I knew all those stories, but somehow I had still come to think of God as some sort of spiteful judge waiting to smite me when I screwed up. He seemed to like smiting for some reason.

I don't think that came from my experiences at church growing up, but until college, I had never really considered that Jesus could be someone other than a guilt trip trying to kill my buzz. 

At least until I met David.

In David I saw someone who was searching for the truth of who Jesus was, beyond all the stories, all the anecdotes, all the information and misinformation. Though firm in his convictions, he was not trying to push a theology or dogma or anything like that on anyone. He was simply trying to figure out as best he could what his life would look like if he knew more and more deeply the real Jesus.

And somewhere deep in my own core, I wanted the same thing. High school was an especially weird time for me, and I felt angry for most it. I'm still not sure what about. But it made things hard at home, and when you factor in my own air of knowing it all - as 17 and 18 year olds can be prone to developing - I was a rain cloud always hovering around somewhere. I wasn't content - not with myself or my life.

Because of David's search for Jesus, I too began looking for him. I began to ask some real questions, things like, "Do I believe all this stuff because I've been brainwashed as a child, or is this for real?" Questions I think we all need to ask of ourselves. 

And as I sought answers to these questions,I began to let go of the ideas I had set forth for my life - what it would look like, all the things I wanted to have, etc. And in large part because of those experiences, I started a record label hoping to help artists make some sort of positive impact on our culture. Ultimately, I gave my life over to this man, this conundrum, this Jesus, who I had begun to see and know in my own life. 

After our first summer of college, I followed David down to work at Epworth By The Sea on St. Simons Island as a camp counselor, partly because it seemed fun, but mostly because hanging out with David all summer sounded better to me than going back to Eatonton and doing, um, something, I guess. 

And that's the summer I met the lovely Jana Dalelio, who I would marry four years later. Who would then bear my two children. You get the drift.

David has been my among my greatest cheerleaders, offering me the kind of unconditional support and encouragement that I needed during the Rebuilt years. He is much smarter than me, which helps, and I have never hung out with him and not been challenged in some way to deepen my own faith. His songwriting is probably my greatest musical influence, and his last Rebuilt record, Into Danger/Out of Rescue, is to me a masterpiece. He has never tried to use his gifts to make himself famous or rich or whatever but has always been an example to me of someone who sought to become the greatest he could be by trying to serve others. 

I know this is kind of a gushy, rambling discourse, but David Herndon is someone whose fingerprints are indelibly pressed upon my life. And he wasn't trying to do all these things through our friendship - he was simply trying his best to see the truth of who Jesus said he is, and by doing so, the very direction of my life was changed forever. 

I don't get to see David nearly enough anymore, but those years we spent traveling around south Georgia in his Civic hatchback are like gold to me. 

I am thankful for David Herndon. Who are you thankful for?

The Warm Fuzzies + A Marching Band = This Video

Too fun... thanks again, PCHS Marching Eagles!

Friday Night Lights: 11.13.09

Last night my band, The Warm Fuzzies, played a couple of songs with a marching band at halftime of a high school playoff game. My high school, to be exact (Putnam County High School, to be even more specific). 

This is a photo after the end of the game (which the War Eagles lost, sadly).

I've got a bunch of video to work through, but hopefully I'll be able to post some soon (if you're interested). Much gratitude to J.R. Beckwith (the band director), Julian and James (the sound engineers), Lindsay Chamberlain (videographer supreme), and all the band members. 

Words do not describe how wonderfully awesome (and bizarre) this was... definitely a highlight of my year.

Reasons I Like Fatherhood, #468: Birthday Tea Parties

(note: This photo is from a few months ago... my lovely wife is our family archivist so I'm always behind.)

Veterans Day

I don't think it's very appropriate to say, "Happy Veterans' Day!" It just seems to leave out the kind of hardship and sacrifice that our veterans have made for our country. I have no idea what it's like to serve in that capacity, and I have always had a deep admiration for those who have faced those kinds of life and death situations and did "what needed to be done."

We call my grandfather's generation "The Greatest Generation," and I think what I admire most is that willingness to do what they had to do. Having lived through the Depression and at least one World War, those folks' sacrifice and willingness to do what was necessary galvanized our nation and played a huge role in bringing about the kind of prosperity we just assume America always had. Now, I know, I know... even our heroes have flaws, and you can always throw up arguments against whatever. I'm not here to talk about whether or not some of these wars should have been fought; I'm here to celebrate the men and women who didn't have a choice in the matter. And they served anyway.

I often wonder how I would have reacted if I had been born two or three generations ago. Would I have had what it takes? My brother sent me this article (http://www.blueridgenow.com/article/20090606/TOPSTORIES/906059898) about my great Uncle Howard from a few months back, and as I read it, I was blown away. Until recently, he didn't talk much about war, and I can vividly remember being 11 or 12 years old and asking him what war was like. "It's horrible," was all he said. So to read this account; well, it's pretty ridiculous.

We sure do make a big deal out of people who get paid to act like other people on shiny silver screens. And we sure do look at U2's million dollar stage production and think, "Now that's something amazing!" But as for me, none of that holds a candle to the sacrifices people have made for our freedoms in the US. I hope my life makes a difference.

So whether I agree with policy or this-side-or-that on some issue, I cannot help but offer my deepest appreciation for our Veterans today. Thanks to my grandfather, my great uncle Howard, my father in law, and all those who did what they had to do.