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I'm really enjoying Bob Dylan's two albums of solo acoustic covers of old blues tunes. Right now, I'm listening to a song called "Blood In My Eyes", a melancholy melody about passionate, unrequited love. They do not (sadly) write songs like this anymore.

As I'm listening, I'm hearing something far removed from our political season. It gives perspective. As important as elections can be, love trumps it a thousand times. When you're really feeling love, it doesn't matter who is in the who is in the White House. I'm glad this song put my head aright. Last night was a different matter, however.

Everybody was in bed. I was clicking through the channels (the five that we have) and allowed that glowing box to grow my frustration. I watched as "Boston Legal" ended by touting their candidate. I watched news coverage that also, in a little more subtle fashion, pushed their guy. Both handled the debate irresponsibly. No transfer of meaningful dialogue or clever, insightful commentary. I'm used to this, but it bothered me more last night. At the level of fever pitch, there was no room for honest discourse. I turned the TV off when someone said that this election will show whether or not we've come far enough in regard to progress on racial issues. What happened to voting or not voting for someone because of the qualifications and views of the candidate? Now, we're choosing (or not choosing) people because of their age, race, party affiliation and a bunch of other things that are largely superfluous to the choice at hand.

I saw a Simpsons clip recently (one of many I've seen recently) where a certain opinion is espoused, to which I say, "excuse me, writers of the Simpsons, but your agenda is showing." There was a time when their social commentary was brilliant. Now, too many times, they've become a mouthpiece for their ideology.

And so it goes. A great Christian writer opens a political convention with a prayer endorsing his candidate. Churches decry pro-choice candidates, and tell their people (or loudly infer) that they can only vote one way, for one party. These folks, we are to assume, are on God's side. Elections are a lot like those Reese's peanut butter cup commercials of yesteryear: "Pardon me, but your religion is in my politics." "Excuse me, but your politics seems to be in my religion." Separation of church and state (defined as the government not sponsoring a particular religion) is also good wisdom for people in general, even if it's legal. Expression of religion should have no limit. Christians getting their party affiliation and their faith affiliation intertwined should stop and untangle. Now.

I voted today. It's a wonderful experience. Yes, my faith (because it is my life) informs my decision. But government, politics and elections are not where battles of faith are won or lost. Those battles occur when you and I love each other and those around us. Government has never been the answer. Jesus always has been, and by proxy, his church has always been (at least for the last two thousand years).

My biggest problem is empathy. I understand why both democrats and republicans see the world they way they do. I don't hate either one of them. Depending on who you talk to, I'm not supposed to empathize with either one or the other of these parties. I do, because at the heart of every person is this truth: they need Jesus. If they are leading, I'll pray for them, because it's a tough job. If they don't know Jesus, I'll pray that they do. If they do know Jesus, I'll pray that they have the strength to follow his guidance and will. I refuse to pray for candidates to see the world my way. I will always pray for candidates to see the world the way Jesus sees it, as a world that needs Him, that should come to Him.

That's why I can't stomach the narrowminded nature of the discourse regarding politics and religion. That's why I've been turned off by what I've seen on the Simpsons just as much as I was turned off by things Jerry Falwell would do and say. I have clearly defined opinions on social issues, based on Biblical ideals. I do not, I refuse to, beat other people over the head with them. I will stand for them, and ultimately for God, in a way that is far more difficult: in love and compassion. It's easy to yell. It's harder to be gentle.

It's amazing how quickly we latch on to caracaters of candidates. This person is stupid because she can't answer questions the way we expect her to. This person associates with terrorists. This person is too old, too mouthy, too this, too that. I have to react to all of this with a resounding yawn.

My hope is that, at least in my circle of friends, that we elevate the discourse, that we debate, agree or disagree, but come to some enlightening aspect because we've learned from each other. You can't do that when you're screaming, or saying quick quips that might get applause but actually mean nothing. My hope is that someday we'll have those kinds of discussions in the political arena. If not, I can still love those around me, show them Jesus, and, no matter who is president, senator or clerk of courts, and God willing, I'll keep on doing it.

Lately, I've been reading Bob Dylan's "Chronicles, Volume 1" and really enjoy the writing style and commentary that Dylan provides on his own life. It's inspired me this week to give some short childhood chronicles of my own, so that you all can get a window into the strange child that I was.

It might explain how I've become such a strange adult.

One big thing was that I'd learned to read before I went to Kindergarten. This turned me into a cynic. I couldn't believe I was wasting time in Kindergarten on the Letter People when I not only knew the letters, but complete words. "I'm smarter than this", I thought. This also turned me into a voracoius reader. I would consume books while I'd consume Faygo's Rock 'n' Rye soda after school. I always loved reading contests in school, for example, where you'd get a prize for reading so many books. In one of the contests, I won a Mattel Electronic Football game, which was basically a bunch of red dots moving around underneath a transparent piece of dark plastic with a gridiron painted on it. Football, indeed!

During my reading, I developed an interest in the Revolutionary War. I was fascinated by the triumph of the underdog, and that aspect of the story still inspires me. I made a board game based on it, in which you could be George Washington, Paul Revere, John Hancock or Charles Cornwallis the British general), and in which you would move about taxing people or fighting against taxes, and so forth. I researched this game by using my forty-year old Encyclopedia set that my mother had bought from a thrift store.

Yes, I was that kid. The kid who makes board games. The kid who read encyclopedias. If I hadn't been such a big kid, I would have gotten beaten up on a regular basis.

When my second grade teacher asked about a piece of music called "Bolero", and asked us what movie the piece of music was recently in, my exact words were, "from the movie of the same name". It was just a guess, and it was wrong, although I knew that Bo Derek (yes, Bo Derek) had a movie out with that name. I'd seen the trailers for it on television. When I said that phrase, the whole class laughed. I'd phrased my response in a semi-intelligent way, and they were having none of it.

Again, I was that kid. The kid who said things differently, who knew things, and who did advanced spelling homework for fun.

I was also the kind of kid that watched the news, and was interested in current events. By the time I was in the middle of grade school, I could tell you the names of Presidential candidates, cabinet members and world leaders. For example, I remember that some guy named John Anderson was an independent candidate for president in 1980. I was six years old. I was also confused when, a couple of years later, a guy named John Anderson hit it big in country music. Such is the mind of me as a kid.

And, one more time, let me say that I was that kid. The kid who thought about politics and remembered names, places and history. And liked it.

So, when the Falkland Islands were invaded by Argentina, and the U.S. came to the aid of the British, who occupied the island, I was aghast, to say the least. These were the guys who were our enemies, I thought. We had to fight them to be free during the Revolutionary War. Now we're helping them? What gives? When I had said all this to adults, they kept telling me that the British were our friends now. "It was a long time ago", they said. Beyond that, I didn't get much of an answer. It seems that I'd missed the reconciliatory history of the U.S. and Britian.

Forward your DVD chapter a couple of spots to me learning about WWII. You know, "the Big One". The one in which we allied with Russia to fight the Axis powers. I really could not wrap my grey matter around this one. We were, when I was a child, in the middle of the Cold War with the Soviet Union, of which Russia was the primary power. These guys were bad guys, telling their people how much toilet paper to use, listening to our conversations, and preparing to blow us back to the Stone Age with nuclear weapons. "We fought along side these guys?" I said, in disbelief. Berlin, with it's four divisions of power, really blew my mind. How could something like that happen?

And what made it even more terrible in my mind was that I was personally afraid of a nuclear war. Really, I lost sleep and cried tears over this when I was a kid. That, and alien invasion. I loved to watch the miniseries "V" when it was on T.V., and then I'd be scared for the next few days at bedtime. I didn't want them to make me frozen dinner, and by that I don't mean aliens microwaving Salisbury steak for me. I mean that I would be the Salisbury steak. It scared the crud out of me.

I'd pull the the blankets up over my head. "Maybe they'll think I'm just a big pillow", I'd hope. "Even aliens don't eat pillows, right?"

So, I could not understand why, in just a few short years, we went from fighting with them, to fighting (Cold War style, anyway) against them. When I asked why, of teachers and other adults, I got very little in the way of answers. Maybe they thought I couldn't understand the whole picutre of why this had happened. Maybe I was a very annoying child. Nah, couldn't be that!

I also wonder, though, if it was that people tend to shy away from complexity. The answers I got so many times when I was a kid were simple, because, perhaps, simple is easier. And "simple would describe a lot of the advice (much of it unsolicited) that I would receive. "You'll grow out of it" or "It's just a phase" were things that I'd heard a lot. I heard them in regard to music, especially. Music has been such a big part of my life emotionally, spiritually and even financially that it illustrates what I think about conventional wisdom: for me, it's been wrong about half of the time.

Still, there was no point in discussing it. Although the debates that I'd had with adults when I was a kid have served me well, I learned eventually that you really don't change minds or even hearts. They know they're right, at least they are firm in their convictions. So many people don't have the passion, inclination or knowledge to get into nuanced discussion. Most people don't have the stomach to get to the heart of what they believe. But, when we're talking about spiritual things, "God said it, I believe it, that settles it" won't work here. You're selling God short if you leave your discussions there. God has excellent reasons for what laid out in His word. Shouldn't we be talking about those reasons?

So, if half of the conventional wisdom or advice I heard was bad, that means that it's been right about half of the time. Which was good, since there was a lot about life that I could not read in books. For example, when I was five, I was just sure that I was going to marry my cousin. Yes, it's true. After all, she was fun. Isn't that all you need to know to marry someone? "No", my grandfather said. "You just can't marry your cousin." He would grumble. "But why?", I would ask. "Because it's not right", he said, at which point other adults would chime in as well with more of the same. This was one situation where it was just a phase, of course. I did not marry my cousin, nor do I support Same-Cousin marriage, mired in controversy as it is. But I distinctly remember no one being able to give me reasons why this was a bad idea. This shouldn't have been a tough one to answer!

Now I'm a dad, and I'm determined to let my son know everything. When he asks "Why?", I tell him "why". He should know how life works, and why Summar and I believe what we believe. When I say, "no", he knows why, because I tell him why. "Because I said so" is not allowed in my house. He deserves better.

We tend to shy away from getting to the heart of why something is good or bad. I don't understand this. If you believe something strongly, shouldn't you be able to say why? Social issues for Christians are handled too often in this lackadasical way. Usually, people are against something because it is harmful to people physically, mentally, spiritually or financially. Often, however, people are against something simply because everyone else is. Is there any reason why we can't express what we believe in clear, meaningful terms? Even our rationale for our beliefs is usually copped from other sources, like famous preachers or Christian activists. We might quote them because it sounds good, but do we really prayerfully think these issues through?

Peter gives us this great, sage advice: "Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ may be ashamed of their slander." (1 Peter 3:15-16)

Soon, Dylan will ask me why we go to church. Eventually, he'll ask me why we believe in God, and possibly some other, far more difficult questions if and/or when he wrestles with his faith. I am determined to be prepared to give an answer for the hope I have. My encouragement is that we are all ready with an answer, a well-thought-out, prayed-over, from-the-heart answer.

SUCH AN EASY QUESTION by Elvis Presley
(words & music by Otis Blackwell & Winfield Scott)

Do you or don't you love me
Such an easy question
Why can't I get an answer
Tell me, will you or won't you need me
Such an easy question
Why can't I get an answer

All you do is give a sigh
And beat around the bush
Can it be that you're too shy
To give yourself a little old push
Can you or can't you tell me yes
It's such an easy question
Why can't I get an answer

Gather round, kiddies. It's blog time. Can you say "blog time"? I knew you could. Everyone sit down, now. That's good. You're all very good readers.

A few weeks ago I went to Nashville. You know, NashVegas? It's really nothing like Las Vegas. I'm not sure why people say that. The closest thing I saw was a statue close to Music Row of naked people dancing, presumably to Country music.

I, probably like you, have never seen naked people dance to Country music.

I, probably like you, never want to.

My son, showing his heart, said that the statue was "inappropriate". His tone was one of offense. We were on our way to RCA's Studio B, where Elvis Presley, Jim Reeves, Charley Pride and a host of other big 60's country stars had recorded. It wasn't very big at all, and still had those early 60's light fixutres with lightbulbs in them all the colors of the rainbow. My son wanted to play the piano that Elvis played so many times when he had warmed up singing Gospel songs before a session. I told him "no", that this was a place where you couldn't touch anything. This was a place where you reveled in the history of great artists who had shaped our musical heritage and culture, I thought to myself.

The Country Music Hall of Fame houses many artifacts, but my son's favorite was a car. It was Webb Pierce's car with guns for the hood ornament, the door handles and the shifter. In the upholstery were glued silver coins. A saddle sat between the two bucket seats in the front, as the arm rest. My son, sitting on top of my head so that he could get the full view, couldn't get over the excess of it all. Close to this car was another piano that had connections with Elvis, this time a gold-plated piano that was given to Presley by his wife for his birthday. I saw that piano at Graceland when I was a kid. It wasn't there when I went there again two years ago. Now I know what happened to it. Dylan again wanted to play it. This, I said, was another place where you could not touch anything. He took it well.

There is a place on Broadway in Nashville that is lined with records, every square inch of wall covered in the covers of vinyl. We walked through it, with Dylan, so that we could see the spectale. It was a quick walk from the entrance into the front to the exit in the back, a two minute tour of the history of music in that town. He was fascinated. Dylan will be one of the very few children who will grow up to know what records are, how they look, how they feel and how they sound.

He seems to already care a great deal about music. I less than three him immensly.

He was easily the best five year old I've seen in a museum. He looked at all the "butars", as he calls them, those six stringed feats of engineering that so many have poured their frustrations and joys into. All of the drums, and anything musical held his attention. He asked me about an acetate cutter, which is, essentially, a record maker. He wanted to know why someone had drawn on their bass drum, and if he could do the same. I said, "maybe". Usually, I informed him, bands put their band name on their kick drum. "Do you have a band name", I asked? Before he could answer, he was on to something else. Probably Buck Owens' "butar" or the fake corn set from "Hee Haw". He really wanted to play in that.

As I'm writing this, there are times when I'm welling up a little bit. You know, that feeling you get when you might start to cry, the preliminary preparation for crying that your body does. That's what I've felt a couple of times as I've written this. I can't believe how much he understands and loves music, exactly like me when I was five. How could this be? After all, he began living with us when he was four years old. How could he be so much like me, like us? God orchestrates things for which we have no frame of reference, no understanding of how they could come about. I don't need any more evidence for proof of this great mystery.

Again, it was remarkable how well behaved he was in the places we went to. He really didn't, for the most part, touch, taste, kick or push anything that he wasn't supposed to. It's got to be tough for a little kid to understand that adults honor people and history by sterilizing it, putting it behind glass, and looking at it. Kids do the exact opposite: they put their hands on it, poke and prod it, and get the understanding of something by experiencing it in a tactile way.

Dylan's behavior is impressive because he lives in a world where you play instruments, you don't look at them. Both at home, and at church, he pounds the drums, strums guitars and basses, and punches out, with one finger, melodies on the piano, a few of which I've actually pondered making songs out of. They are that good. 

Here's the lesson for me: church is where he can do all that stuff. At least our church is. He comes to practices and insists on playing everything he can. So many times I tell him "no". We're too busy, I'll tell him, or I don't want to hear the noise. But I always walk away from our two man jam sessions happy. He is, even at his age, a musical leader, telling me to play this or don't play that. He sings songs he makes up, usually about Jesus or being a rock star. He absolutely loves Jesus, too, by the way. Just thought you all should know that.

Museums are wonderful. We had a great time in Nashville going to them, spending time with family, and learning a little about the music business. (Just so you know, Universal Music Publishing did not take my demo. So, I'm still not a big time Nashville songwriter. Not yet.) But, as is my custom, I've been encouraged by the churches I've been in, at least in this way: they have always been places where I can do some of the things that God has made me to do.

To put it in a way that a child could understand, you can touch stuff there.

Dylan, as well, has a place where he can do the things that he likes to do as well. It's a credit to our children's ministry (and children's minister) that Dylan comes home from church happy and excited. It's a credit to our body as a whole that he has a place where he can play and learn, whether it's about God or music or sports or whatever. It should be a safe place where you can find your place in the grand scheme of God's design.

Church isn't a mere social club. It's so much more. Because Jesus is the boss, and because we exist to honor Him, it's a place where we can find and use our talents for His glory. It absouletly has to be a place where you can touch, taste, feel, smell and see. Like the world of a five year old, it should be a totally hands-on experience. Many churches seem like museums, and their people live out their lives with rules like museums have. Paul would possibly express these concepts like this:

 "Since you died with Christ to the basic principles of this world, why, as though you still belonged to it, do you submit to its rules: "Do not handle! Do not taste! Do not touch!"? These are all destined to perish with use, because they are based on human commands and teachings." (Colossians 2:20-22)

Any five year old knows what we adults tend to forget. Life is hands-on. Our churches should be the same, living as a freed people who want to experience everything there is in life, to the glory of our Father. Never let your church become a museum. It should be, as Dylan probably already sees it, a playground for the glory of God.

I got my first record with liner notes when I was eight. The record was "Elvis Golden Records, Volume 1". It had shiny, golden records on the cover. It had fourteen songs, almost all of which now are classics. It eventually had skips, scratches and cracks from me playing it so much. I loved it. I still do, in all its glorious mono and slapback echo. It sounds like wild abandon with no end in sight.

The liner notes could not have been, in my mind, any more different.

As I remember, they talked about the songwriters of the songs for the most part. I remember being so bored with them that I couldn't read them all at one time. I didn't care that one of the the guys who wrote a song Elvis recorded also wrote "I Wish I Could Shimmy Like My Sister Kate". That sounded horribly boring and old to me. In light of the controversy Elvis had caused in the first three years of his career (which is when this collection was released), there was plenty of life material to comment on. No remarks on police filming his shows, no remarks on Ed Sullivan saying he'd never have Presley on his show (and then having him on three times), no quotes from outraged religious or civic groups. As we know, corporations didn't allow such things back then.

Pretending there was no problem was how they sold more records. Now, the opposite is true. Rihanna's new disc no doubt will come with a copy of OK! Magazine, or some video from TMZ on a bonus material DVD. Labels now feed the controversy. As much as I loathe this, I know that, had they done that on the back of "Elvis Golden Records, Volume 1", I would have actually gotten through it.

I am a chronic reader of record/cassette/CD liner notes. What I miss most about downloading music is the liner notes of the disc. Reading them teaches me about bands, who they know and what they like. I like to know them, just as you, in some way, know me.

A lot of curious stuff is in the liner notes of albums. Any good Christian, for example, will tell you that only the most spiritual bands thank God, Jesus and the Holy Spirit. Only a bow to the whole trinity will send you up the Gospel music charts. The middle of the road Christian band will usually thank only God and/or Jesus. You also knew that if they didn't thank any of them, that their music was to be disposed of at a public burning, and the ashes trod upon by cloven hoofed animals. Most of my favorite Christian bands had no such obvious "thank you" in twenty point font in their CD inserts. They also didn't say "Jesus" every five seconds. I'm sure I will one day be trod upon myself for listening to such fine music. It was always far better than the blatant Jesus music that everyone else was listening to. By the way, these guys loved God, too. They just didn't shove it in your face.

Did you know that Stone Temple Pilots thanked God in their first album, "Core"? Did you know that Bob Dylan credits his own production to Jack Frost? I just loved the album (vinyl) "Black and Blue" by the Rolling Stones, not so much for the songs, which were all right, but for the inner sleeve, which had a session sheet delineating all of the tracks, and where each instrument was placed on the session tape. I looked at that quite a bit, studying how multi-track recording worked.

Also, you get to find out who these bands like from their liner notes. They usually thank label executives, bands they've toured with and music people whose roles in this business are more obscure. You get to sketch a trail of who knows who and who does what. They also sometimes quote writers, films or other songs. You get to know the personality of the artists. You also get to know who writes what songs in the band, and lets you know that, should they ever split and go solo, whose solo release you would most enjoy. I knew, for example, that when Izzy Stradlin left Guns N' Roses, that I would really like his solo stuff, because his songs on the "Use Your Illusion" albums were my favorites, usually bluesy, bar band, Rolling Stones-type of tunes. I only knew that because I read the liner notes.

Sometimes you get essays in liner notes, either by the artists, other artists, music critics, friends or record label hacks. They certainly reflect the times. Jazz releases had notes in hipster speak, and 50's pop and rock releases held articles on the greatness of the recording contained therein. In the late 1960's, the notes would usually be of no help at all, as it seems that they were more an exercise in free form writing than a companion piece to the music. The 70's saw a lot of picutres in place of liner notes, whereas the 80's began the long, long list of "thank you"'s in CD booklets. Def Leppard's "Hysteria" bucked that trend, and talked a little about the drama of recording the disc, and is one of my favorite set of notes in any music package.

Johnny Cash has written some interesting liner notes. He did so for Bob Dylan's "Nashville Skyline". He won a grammy for his notes in his own "At Folsom Prison", and did the so the next year for the Dylan record. His view of the whole prison concert is short but brilliant. Elvis Golden Records Vol. 1 contained notes on the back of the cover that I found all but boring when I was a kid. Reissues usually are accompanied by new notes, reprinted with the old, pontificating the brilliance of the album, usually an endless morass of effusive praise, and usually overboard.

I pour over the notes because I want to know more about my musical heroes. They give us a small window into that life and the artistic process. Likewise, I feel that the Bible contains its own liner notes. After all, those geneaology lists are a lot like the thank you lists in CD's: only a few actually read them, and they are often filled with tidbits of information that allow you to know more about the history of God's people.

How about the Prayer of Jabez? Do you remember that ditty? It was a big deal for a time, and it's source is in the middle of a geneaology in 1 Chronicles. It was a source of inspiriation and, for some, controversy sourced right from God's liner notes.

You also find out that Jesus is in some way related to Tamar and Rahab. It already signals the dynamic shift in Matthew (and I would argue God's historical, unchanging view) of how we are supposed to see people and their connections. It mentions women (which, at the time, was revolutionary) who slept with their father-in-law (Tamar) or who was a prostitue (Rahab). Bathsheeba is also referenced, as "Uriah's wife." You're reading a foreshadowing that's all about who Jesus is probably going to be, and you're reading it from this boring (for some) list. The liner notes, the side notes, the genealogy all give you a bigger picture, even though we think that the music on the CD or the parables of Jesus are the biggest picture we can have. We must remember that all that stuff is in there for a reason. As in life, the small details are not insignificant.

SCRIPTURE REFERENCES:
1 Chronicles 4 (Prayer of Jabez)
Genesis 38 (Tamar)
Joshua 2-6 (Rahab)

"I do it for the joy it brings
because i'm a joyful girl
because the world owes me nothing
and we owe each other the world
I do it because it's the least I can do
I do it because I learned it from you
I do it just because I want to
because I want to"
                                   -"Joyful Girl" by Ani DiFranco

It's time.

Well, it's about time, anyway. It's close enough. It's time to come clean about my musical history. I hope (and pray) that I still have friends after the revelations that will be contained here.

First of all, when I was five, I started writing songs. I had a list, I remember, of about 25 songs that I had written in a notebook. The first, "Blue Dog In The Sky" was about a dream I had in which there was, you guessed it, a blue dog in the sky. Hovering over my house, he was. Why, I cannot tell you. Also, I cannot sing the song for you. It's the only title I remember from my list, and I don't remember how it goes.

Second of all (as I look around to make sure no one can hear me), I listened to a lot of country in the 1980's. For those of you who know how critical I am of the genre (at least the new stuff), you might be surprised. Here's how it happened:

Before dawn, I'd wake up for school. As I stumbled to our metal kitchen table to eat my Cap'n Crunch, I'd hear the strains of K100, the big country station in Toledo. Between silly morning show banter, I'd hear bands like Restless Heart and Exile. I'd also hear stuff like "Lay, Lady, Lay" by Bob Dylan and "Margaritaville" by Jimmy Buffet. They played some eclectic stuff outside of the mainstream country format. But, I also got schooled on mainstream 80's country, complete with big hair, big boots and that big drum sound that all 80's records (including country ones) had. During this time, I'd write songs while beating on my acoustic guitar, having not learned how to play it until I was 12. They were social commentary type songs, of which I have a couple of tapes. No, I will not ever post them on myspace. They are, in every way you can define it, awful.

My mom was a big country fan, and so, not only did I hear this stuff every morning, we went to concerts to see people like Loretta Lynn, Conway Twitty, Merle Haggard, George Jones, Reba McEntire and The Statler Brothers. I, friends and neighbors, am well versed in country. This was all before Junior high, by the way, wherein I started my trek to popular music, listening to Elton John and Cheap Trick a lot. I started playing guitar, and using all the chords I was learning to write fifth rate love songs, apeing the styles of Elton John and Cheap Trick. Then, the metal began.

I was in a band called Kindred Idol by the time high school began for me. We played our own songs, and bad covers of tunes by Metallica, Black Sabbath and Anthrax. I wrote songs with titles like "Cardiac Psychosis" (what does that even mean?) and "Where The Gods Sleep". Really heavy stuff, right? I mean, if you're going to write a cool, scary metal song, and you're going to invoke the gods, then, maybe talking about them sleeping isn't the route you're going to take. It's just not very intimidating.

Sitting in study hall, I penned most of my metal classics, in between Algebra homework and reading Rolling Stone. Not very rock and roll. But, we did do all kinds of inappropriate rock and roll things on stage like brandish upside down crosses made of duct tape on our amps, and our singer drank blood from a doll. Yeah, it was that kind of show. It was also very Spinal Tap-esque. Our drummer played with his hands and head at times, receiving several injuries. As for me, I stagedove and no one caught me. Luckily, I drink a lot of milk, and so no bones were broken. Drink your milk, kiddes, or when you stagedive, you might break your clavicle! I, as you now know, was a teenage moron.

We played bars even though we were well below drinking age. We scrambled for practice spaces in basements and garages. I left a while after I became a Christian. Here was where I wrote songs about Jesus, initially with a lot of "Thee" and "Thou", because I thought that's how you spoke when you sang of God. The rest of the story invovles college friends, recording studios in garages, and culminates into my latest musical endeavor. I've been in bands for close to 20 years, although it's hard to believe that it's been that long. I have the tapes of rehearsals and studio sessions (that contain songs that I've written) to prove it. That's how long I've been wasting my time trying to make music that other people will listen to.

There's something about writing songs that drives me to do it, even when no one hears them. For the songwriter, it's not about any kind of fame or fortune, but about the expression and the process of that expression. I know it's not about the fame, because many of the songs that are the soundtrack to your life were written by people you've never heard of. I know it's not about the fortune, because many songwriters never make the bucketfulls of money that singers and bands do.

Dave Matthews, for example, had so many songs when he started writing that he'd simply number them. Songs like "34" or "41" are merely the number of songs he'd written before those. Bob Dylan had such a wealth of songs he'd written (and recorded) that they are still being released on bootlegs, and some of those tunes are brilliant, even though they were rejected at the time. These guys just do it, regardless on incentive.

Allow me to extract the obvious from what I've written. I've been a songwriter for almost thirty years. I've been a failed songwriter for almost thirty years. My cassettes and CD's haven't sold more than you can count on both hands and both feet. And yet, I keep doing it. I'm now writing songs for my wife to sing, too, so I can (apparently) bring her into my vortex of sucking. As they say, the family that fails together...etc., etc.

Why on earth would I recount my steady stream of unsuccesses for you, O gentle blog reader? I have laid bare my musical soul to encourage you to feel comfortable in how God has wired you. Chris Tomlin's song, "How Can I Keep From Singing?" has been running through my head the last few days, and it reiterates what we've been told by many Christians: that we are (as another of his songs says) made to worship. We're wired to do it. It doesn't matter what we get out of it. It goes way beyond our needs and desires. We're created, we exist, we breathe to honor God. Just as I can't keep from writing songs (ideas pop in my head all the time), I can't (and you can't) keep from honoring Him, or something will burst.

Also, I want you to know that, just like God has made you to worship Him, He has made you, wired you, created you, to do other things that are specific to you. Whereas the worship of Him is universal, wired into everyone, your specific talents are not given to all. As for my passion of songwriting, I'm thinking that I should do it, but let Him sort out where and how it should be used. That might be advice that you need to hear, too.

Many of my favorite Christian bands have small audiences, and yet those small audiences are usually devoted fans of their music. I can see in that how God works in the details, on small levels, and that doing the big stuff is just not what He has in store for those bands. As for you and I, we might not ever have the big, important job (or, for me, the big songwriting contract), but maybe that's not what God has for us to do.

There's a whole lot less glory (and, usually, a whole lot less money) in Godly work that only a few people see or benefit from. But, it tells me that God loves us enough to provide special things for only a few people. He doesn't always mass produce his blessings to us. Sometimes, many times, they are unique, the kind of handmade items that become even more special because of their uniqueness. I, for one, feel honored that God ministers to me in specific ways. And, although I'd love for more people to hear my songs, I know that God is doing something with my passion, even if it's not what I want, or what I think should happen. As "Blue Dog In The Sky" and "Cardiac Psychosis" illustrate, I might not be world's best songwriter anyway.

I bought a record at a garage sale when I was in high school that contained one of my favorite performances. It caught my eye twice, once because it was recorded at the Monterey Pop Festival. Again, because it had two artists on both sides, respectively: Jimi Hendrix and Otis Redding. You know the first one, to be sure, and you at least know one song by the second one: "Sittin' On The Dock Of The Bay".

Boy, did I ever play "Like a Rolling Stone" by Hendrix over and over and over. The guitar work, sloppy and heavy, and solid, fast bass playing fitted with a drummer with amazing dexterity moved me. It's a song that has really influenced my electric guitar playing. Hendrix had laid out the blueprint for the heavy and melodic, all the while giving it immense soul, which is no small feat, considering that many pretenders to his throne could not duplicate it.

I flipped the record over once during that time. I'd heard that Redding had written "Respect" (the Aretha Franklin hit), and wanted to hear his version. I didn't care for it. Then, he covered "Satisfaction" by the Rolling Stones. It didn't move me. "Dock of the Bay" was not on the record. I flipped the record back over. Otis had a great hit, I thought, but was an energized soul man that didn't transfer very well to record. He wasn't pop enough, I mused, knowing that "Dock" was his only big hit. This was why, I figured. He sounded like a poor man's Wilson Pickett with no hooks (a "hook" is a catchy chorus of a song, for all you "normals", or non-musical type of folk. And, Wilson Pickett was not a splinter group formed from the ashes of Wilson Phillips.)

I was pretty hard on Otis. The great story about Otis is that "Dock" became a big hit only after his death in late 1967. He'd recorded it just weeks before. It was atypical of his catalog. It would have been a big song regardless of what became of Redding. It was, and is, a great song, expressing the melancholy that we've all felt. This was another track that I played (on my Atco 45 of it) over and over when I was about 11 years old. Already knowing the story of Otis Redding, I would ponder the irony of him never knowing his greatest success. Then, I would watch the Cosby Show and Family Ties, at least on Thursdays.

When I was a kid, we'd shut part of the house off in the winter to save on our heating bill. Our upstairs (which we used only for storage) was closed, as was the two downstairs bedrooms. When I wanted to play records, I'd bundle up and go into my bedroom. I distinctly remember it always taking a while for the turntable to start rotating because the motor and the oil was so cold. After a while, I'd be the DJ of my own station in my cold room, and loved the warmth of listening to all my old, crackling records through a pair of huge, clunky headphones that my dad had brought back from Vietnam. That warmth made me able to endure the cold, all the while my mother worrying that I'd get hypothermia.

There are things that you do because you love them. No one has to tell you to do them. No one has to pressure you or pay you to do them. I played records in my cold room because I just had to hear them. It made school bearable, because, while I loved learning, the social aspect of school made me recoil in fear. There were no kids calling me this or that when I played those records. There were no awkward moments when I was announcing the next record in my faux DJ voice for an audience of none. I would have played those records even if it cost me (which it did, in warmth) because it meant the world to me. It still does, and if you have something like that in your life, you know what I'm saying, you know the feeling you get when you do something that God has given you to enjoy.

So, back to Otis Redding. That album of his that I initially didn't enjoy holds the excitement of someone doing what he loves. I really dig it now, by the way. He didn't have a big hit when he performed that show: that was a few months away. But the energy he gives is comparable to that of Hendrix on the flip side of the disc, and you can hear that he loves what he's doing. My big point here is that, contrary to rock lore and so much pop music bloviating, it wasn't a shame that Redding didn't get to see one of his songs become a big hit. It didn't matter. He would have sung without a record contract, without an audience, without anything, in fact, he might have paid to sing, because he loved to do it. He didn't have to see a payoff in the future, because the payoff was now, the reward was doing the thing itself, not benefits that he could get later from doing the thing. Odds are that Otis would have sung in his bedroom with no heat because of the love of it.

In this life, we're big on waiting for the payoff. We become Christians sometimes because we want to be in heaven (or don't want to be in hell). If we grow in our relationship with God, we eventually long to see progress in our daily lives that goes beyond a simple need to be safe. And, some progress we do see. But what if you don't see the big payoff of your work, ever? Would that be a shame? You are saying "no", I'm sure, but our actions belie a different truth: that we want acknowledgement for our kingdom work. What if such acknowledgement never comes?

I've talked to a lot of people in churches who say that their church has so much potential, as if it's a work that is not in progress, but is yet to be completed. It seems that we are always looking for that next big thing that will make our church bigger and better. I've sat in those meetings where there's a lot of talk about doing something, and if we just did that something, our church would be so much better. Then we do the "something" that we talked about, and nothing changes. We decide to do a lot of programming in an effort to see a tangible product of our work, not because God is leading us to do it. We choose places, people and programs so that we can feel good about our work, so that we can see a result. What happens when you do something big, and no growth (that you can see) has occurred? God, it seems, measures results differently.

We laud those who have come before by reading Hebrews 11 so that we are encouraged that something better is coming. Notice how the writer ends this great parade of faith hall of famers:

"These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised."

WHAT? You mean I'm doing all this work for Him and I might not see anything out of it? Well, yeah, sort of. The writer explains it this way:

"God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect"

There are those in the Old Testament whose obedience to God accomplished something after they died. Even Moses didn't get to enter the promised land that he'd worked for forty years to bring his people into.

We serve God for the love of it, not for what we get out of it. We honor Him not for the connection or networking that it gives us, but just because He is that great. We even look at worship services as times when we should "get something" out of it, and complain if we don't. Although we usually do receive things from God during those times, receiving is not what those times are for. They are for us to honor Him. Even if you get absolutely nothing out of it, He is still worthy for you to worship. And, you'd still be hard pressed to find a time when you come before God praising Him, and get nothing in return. Do it for the moment right now that you are experiencing. Tell people about Jesus now not expecting it to go either well or badly. Do it all for His glory in the present, not for some reward in the future, which you will get anyway if you've given your life to Him.

 

"This is for all the lonely people
Thinking that love has left them dry"
                              -"Lonely People" by America

"Will a little more love make it right?"
                              -"A Little More Love" by Olivia Newton-John 

I really like leading worship for little kids. It seems like a recipe for disaster: a bunch of children singing songs loudly while a band plays even louder. It usually isn't a disaster, but wonderful, energetic, God-honoring fun.

So, a friend of mine asked me to lead worship for an overnight camp for a bunch of first and second graders a few years ago. It was great fun, and I really got to know him during the weekend, and a friend of his who was helping him out. In fact, this friend drove several hundred miles to help. It turns out, this friend had been at my friend's first church, some thirty years ago. A church, as it turns out, where my friend had been fired. Although there was some unpleasantness on the part of the church, his friend stuck with him.

This is where the blog takes the fork in the road.

Firstly, I thought, "Wow. That's great. This guy made a friend in one of his early ministries, and even though he had to leave and it got a little ugly, they're still friends. How rare." And then, I made myself sad because of that last little bit: "how rare".

I know it's rare because I have many friends in the ministry who will never tell their church family, or their actual family, or most of their friends, that they are lonely. Being a minister can put you in the category of being alone in a big crowd. There are several reasons why this happens. Let me now divert your attention to a rock and roll tie-in to the main point of this blog.

I've really stayed away from writing about Elvis Presley on this blog. I'm a big fan, as most of you know, and the Elvis story has been so played out over the last thirty years that there really isn't much to say. But, in a blog dealing with Church culture, Christian living and Rock music, it was going to happen eventually. And here it is.

George Harrison once remarked that he felt so bad for Elvis. The Beatles and Elvis only met once, in 1965. They sat around, uncomfortably for a while, until Elvis said that if they were going to stare at him all night, he might as well just go to bed. This broke up the silence, and they sat around playing some songs. Years after this meeting, Harrison remarked that Elvis must have been so isolated and lonely because he had no one who knew what it was like to be Elvis Presley. At least, he remarked, that him and the other three Beatles had each other, and could experience the pressures of their rarefied life together. As Mel Brooks and Tom Petty taught us, it's good to be king, but, as few of us ever think about, it's probably also very distancing.

Pastors are not the Beatles or Elvis. They have not the mop tops, nor the jumpsuits to pull it off (usually). But, the similarity is the almost uniqueness of the job because, unless your on staff at a megachurch, you've only got one or two other people (or many have none) that you work with, and who understand what you really do, and what you go through. Your work friends are scattered out all over the country, and usually area pastors are too interested or busy with their church to have time for you or to really fellowship with you. Denominationalism plays a big role in this, too. After all, I hear you can become Calvinist by drinking after said Calvinists. Don't write me nasty letters. It's a joke, kids! So, anyway, you don't have a lot of close contemporaries, at least in proximity to you.

So, you say, that might be a little lonely, but what about the minister's church family? They should have plenty of people to draw from for a pool of friends. Well, here's where it gets weird and complicated. A friend once gave me this advice: be weary of the first people who really talk you up one side and down the other when you first start working at a new church. Usually, he said, they want something from you (i.e., your "power"), and they want the prestige of knowing you. Prestige? Power? Do they know how much I'm making a year? Do they know my suit is the same one I bought in college for my preaching class?  Do they know I can barely spell "prestige"? (I can spell it, and spell it well, thank you very much, but you get my point here.) This advice is not too absurd if you've spent any time around churches where politics rule the day, and I've since heard it from many pastors. Of course, there are exceptions. So, again, no nasty letters from all of you who are merely nice, loving, gregarious people, okay? Proverbs 19:6 tells us that "many curry favor with a ruler." It's sad, but true that, at times, this can apply to the church as well.

I've heard really bad stories of pastors and elders being friends, and then having it turn sour very fast when they had a disagreement on an issue of ministry. I've had other ministers on staff with me lament that they had no close friends, and that they would spent time with me (and, conversely, I with them) because they felt alone. I know of many ministers who, on their first Sunday at a new church, didn't get invited out to lunch by a single person. I know of a lot of guys who have been continually burned by friendships within their church family. Turns out, a lot of them were befriended for the purpose of getting something from them. In over ten years in the ministry, I've seen and heard some ugly stuff about my friends on staff, and even about myself, from their church "friends". To which I utter, "what is up with that?" Again, Proverbs tells us that "a righteous man is cautious in friendship." (Proverbs 12:26)

Even if you leave a church in a positive way, you can still lose your friends by them leaving your former church in a negative way. Sometimes it's because they miss you, or they hate the new guy, or who knows what. They leave, and it's awkward because you still love your old church, and they don't. Many times, people try to get you involved in their dissatisfaction about this or that at a church that you've left. And, this is where it gets difficult, whether it's about a former church, or the church you're at. If you're a minister, who can you confide in? What about the people who are trying to bend your ear about someone or something that they don't like? Is there someone who won't use it against you later? I've had it happen, folks, where church people use what you told them, in confidence, against you. You probably have, too, but it stings more when it's in the body of Christ. And it's harder when part of your job is to keep so much in confidence. You need a confidant who, while you might not tell them everything, will listen, care, keep it quiet, and won't use it against you when people can't stand the sight of you. In other words, they will be a friend.

There's also the other aspects of the job that make it lonely. Many ministers are don't live close to family. They can't just go see them in an hour's drive, or have a parent or sibling babysit. That also means that most holidays, they're alone. Most families are doing something on those days, and they can't just invite themselves, so they wait for invitations that often don't come. Also, they're studying quite a bit, and doing a lot of planning, which are usually solitary situations. It's all part of the sacrifice of the job, just like you make sacrifices for your job, so this isn't a complaint as much as it is an observation, and in no way an implication that a minister's job is harder than others. I know you work hard, too, and have difficulty in your job, as well. To you I say that, you, too, should have the benefit of having good friends around you. I will say that certain jobs, like the ministry, tend to have a culture of loneliness because of the nature of the job. If your job does, my heart goes out to you.

There are also guys in the ministry who like to be alone. Some are alone because of their personalities or other reasons. There are those who choose it, because it's safer. I've heard this from several pastors, who say that they know not to get too close, because they'll get burned. I understand this, but, as I've said before here, how can you be effective in ministry if you continually do not get too close to people? This can't be a viable solution, especially in light of the early church who "had everything in common." (Acts 2:44) The early Church sounds like the opposite of not getting too close.

You might say that, "if you're so lonely (and I'm not saying I am, I'm just saying many ministers are), why not do the inviting and befriending yourself"? I totally agree, except that it doesn't always work that well. Many newcomers to churches don't stick because they can't break in to any of those relationship groups. It's harder than you might think, and, while it's easier for a new pastor, it still can be difficult. My guess is that I've been turned down more times than I've heard a "yes" regarding dinner after church, for example. It could be that people are just that busy (which is probably some of it) or that I'm a jerk (it's possible, I suppose. Stopping shaking your head in agreement!!!!!), but many of my minister friends tell the same tale. And not all of them are jerks.

This is not a plea for you to befriend your minister (or to go out to dinner with my family. In a totally unrelated matter, I really like steak!). And, it's not an indictment of how churches treat their ministers. I've received many blessings from my church families that I only could have experienced being in the ministry. But, as I've talked about lately in my Jr./Sr. high Sunday school class, if we can't even emotionally take care of our own people, our own ministers, how on earth are we going to love people who don't know Jesus? This is really the pay-off, the big lesson, the main idea, the chewy, nougatty center, if you will, of this blog. If we can't be the loving people Christ has called us to be to those we hire to teach our families about Him, is there any way that we'll ever effectively love those who have not accepted Christ? And not just regarding pastors, but regarding all those new people who visit your church a few times, and then fade away into oblivion: how can we miss the opportunity to allow them to be welcomed into our relationships and experience the God that you and I experience together? We absolutely have to share that with them.

I have no idea what it was like to be Elvis or the Beatles, but I can tell you this: the four Beatles dealt with their isolation so much better the the one Elvis Presley did. Sure, the Beatles had their struggles. But Elvis is the one who self-destructed in a way that has now become so well-known it's almost parodied by celebrities who do much of the same thing. God has designed this amazing community called "the Church" to love each other and the world. If our leaders (and I imagine elders, other church leaders and their spouses experience this stuff as well) feel lonely, isolated or even estranged from that community, what does that say about the possibility of the world knowing that we are followers of Christ by our love?

"Lonely Man" by Elvis Presley

It's a lonely man
Who wanders all around
It's a lonely man
Who roams from town to town
Searchin', always searchin'
For something he can't find
Hopin', always hopin'
That some day fate will be kind

It's a lonely man
Who travels all alone
When he has no one
That he can call his own

Always so unhappy
Taking shelter where he can
Here I am
Come meet a lonely, lonely man

Always so unhappy
Taking shelter where he can
Here I am
Come meet a lonely, lonely man

Here I am
Come meet a lonely, lonely man

A long, long time ago, when White Lion, Whitesnake, Warrant and other hair bands that started with "W" were kind of a big deal, I had long hair. Longer than shouldler-length hair. It was permed, and then I didn't take care of it and it frizzed, giving me an afro, 'cept different, in that it was misshapen and zigged when it should have zagged. This is why, no doubt, I can count on one hand the dates I had in high school. My theory is that girls were scared that they would get caught up in the vortex of my hair, so they didn't date me. It's hard to believe now as my scalp clings to every last folicle it can get that at one time I had this mane of unkempt strands jutting this way and that.

I had long hair ever since grade school, so it was a really big shock when I would cut it every few years, the last time being about a year after I got married. That would have been the year of the space oddysey, 2001 when Limp Bizkit, Linkin Park and other bands that started with "L" were kind of a big deal. In my mind, changes of apperance (along with changes of jobs, places we live and life-altering experiences) are kind of like song remixes: you're still the same, 'cept different. With my short hair, I was the same, with the difference that now my fast-receding hair line was on display for all to see.

The Beatles' "Love" album has been out for a while now, and it's been interesting to see the reaction from hardcore fans. Much like Elvis Presley fans who balked at the big hit remix of his obscure tune, "A Little Less Conversation", many Beatles purists loathe "Love". As for me, I was skeptical because another Beatles compilation the world does not need. Instead, we need "Live at the Hollywood Bowl", or some of their other brilliant live stuff in a digital format. But I soon heard that "Love" wasn't another rehash. Sitting in Barnes and Noble, hearing the "Within You, Without You/Tomorrow Never Knows" mashup transformed it into a whole new way to approach the Beatles for me. When I listen to the Beatles (after 20 years of pouring over their catalog ad nauseum), I now scroll down on my mp3 to "Love", the mp3 player itself being a remix of how we listen to music. It's like a record player, 'cept different.

Like all things in life, there are great remixes and awful ones. So much of what is going on in church life these days is a remix, too, and some are great, and some are awful. Just as the "Love" has the same Beatles songs you've heard a thousands time, yet they are different, churches have the same message, except it is different.

And, just as the purist Beatles fans had their arms locked in an upward position (i.e., they were up in arms), some church folk do like the remixes that some churches are making. This kind of Reese's Peanut Butter Cup church ("You've got you religion in my culture. Hey! You've got you're culture in my religion") is making some people mad. As for me, I like the Reese' cup remix of peanut butter and banana, with a picture of the King of Rock and Roll on the wrapper. It's really quite tasty. A peanut butter and celery cup, however, would not be good, which underscores the point here: some church remixes are good. Others are bad, seemingly an adventure in losing the point, and that is of Jesus.

There are churches that are too clever for the good of cross, and there are churches that are too uptight to ever be relevant.

There are churches that are play fast and loose with the Bible, and there are churches who see only law in its pages.

There are christians who indulge sin, and christians who act like they've never sinned.

It is true that many explain away stuff that is sin, and use their remix of church as an excuse to do so. Somewhere along the way, they've lost some of the tough stuff of the Gospel, such as accountability and repentance. This is big stuff to God, and you can't jetison it just because it will bring you more people (it usually doesn't anyway) or because it allows you to do things you shouldn't be doing. This is where people should err on the side of humility, and maybe admit they were wrong even if they're not sure.

It is true that there are those who hate people who have remixed their church, simply because they know someone who does church differently, who has also strayed from the truth. This must mean that all people who do church differently are evil, seems to be the logic here, that there is an inherent temptation to the worldly side of things because the music is loud, people dress down, etc. I gotta tell ya, knowing people, that sinful people (you and me) will find a way to abuse anything that's good.

And it doesn't matter what it is. If we want to sin, we'll do it. There is nothing wrong with a traditional way of church, or a more contemporary or post modern way of doing church. It's what you do with it. Chairs aren't inherently evil. They become evil when you pick one up and hit someone with it. I'll reiterate it again: everything (new or old, traditional or contemporary, historically based or culturally relevant) has the potential for abuse because humans are doing it. We have a knack for ruining good things.

So, if we know that, why don't we have more humility? Probably for the same reason that some Beatles fans were mad. The ego and pride of being right far supercedes any freedom or grace that they might give. If someone remixes "Get Back", do you have to listen to it? Why do you care? It's still "Get Back", it's got all the vocals and guitars and drums in there. It's form is just different. If someone tells the Gospel message in a different language, using different techniques, why do you care? It's still the Gospel, it's got all the truth about Jesus dying for our sin, and that we need to accept Him as Lord, and that He is the only way. It's form is just different. If you take out the vocal and guitars from "Get Back", the purists would have a point. It's no longer the Beatles, right? The essentials, what makes it "Get Back", can't be missing from the song. If you take out sin, or the exclusivity of Jesus as the only way, you're gutting the Gospel, and the naysayers would have a point. The essentials, what makes it the Gospel (atoning death of Jesus, sinners in need of saving, etc.,), can't be missing from our telling of it.

Most of the time when Christians argue this stuff, there is no end. People are firmly ensconced in their ideological foxholes, and nothing changes. And for people who don't know Jesus, they could care less about all that arguing that ends up being little more than quibling about "endless geneaologies", as Scripture would say. In those debates, there is no submission and no concession. In my sermon last week, I said this: sometimes you have choice between winning the argument or winning the heart. I didn't say it like that, but that was the point. You can be logically right, doctrinally right, etc., but if you have not love, you are a resounding gong, sounding its call to the path to eternal torment for all those who you just had to obliterate by being right.

I've been down that path. I've debated with people about how some music, logically, is bad music, and no one should listen to it. Man, I was a snob. It didn't win me any friends. I've not, thank the Lord, talked to non-Christians about how wrong and bad they are, or, conversly, how right or good we are. I've tried to always share God's love and, in love, talk to them about how we all are in sin, and yet, that there's this great hope, and His name is Jesus. It makes a big difference when you display the full Gospel, not one fueled by superiority or lawlessness.

 

"Oh God, please won't you help me make it through."
                                       -"Rooster" by Alice In Chains

So much of what I write about on this blog, so much of what fascinates me in life, is absurdity. It's that moment when irony and logic work together to form a collision that makes me chuckle and then weep ever so slightly. The stories I share with you about my favorite musicians usually have a tinge of the absurd, or are all-out doctrinal studies in the ridiculous. No doubt, this one will be no different.

Speaking of the absurd, I just noticed that the advertisement for an online Christian singles chat site on my blog management page had the headline "Christian Hotties". It really did. It seems to imply that there are Christian women that you can chat with, who you can also apparently lust after whilst chatting, and are good looking enough that you can feel comfortable doing so even if you can't see them. I will not link to the site for you. I shall not be a stumbling block unto you in this manner; I will not aid you in your sin. Nor do I have time to dissect for you the myriad things wrong with this ad. But, you can, I guess, talk to Christian women who are also very attractive. So, keep hope alive, all you lustful Christian men out there! Hopefully, you're at least single when you are lusting!

But really, please don't do any of that, alright?

Life is weird, man. It really is. Church life, as we sometimes chronicle here, is no different. I've heard some great stories about people wanting their dog baptized, or pulling guns on ministers while preaching. They all remind me of Kurt Vonnegut talking about the crazy ideas that we get in our big brains. His book, "Galapagos", envisions a future world where people are far more simple minded, and don't have the mental capacity to start wars or envy each other. Throughout the book, he talks about the time when we used our "big brains" to think all manner of goofball thoughts. Vonnegut, at least in this area, gets it right. Genesis 6:5 gives us much the same great insight: "The LORD saw how great man's wickedness on the earth had become, and that every inclination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil all the time."  Psalm 94 says that the Lord knows our thoughts our futile. Smart guy, that God. He should write a book...

When I was in junior high school, I spent my study hall time in the library, where study hall was held. I didn't do much homework. I did, veraciously, read all of the books that had anything to do with music. I also taught myself how to play chess and do other things via the dusty books that surrounded me. Mostly, however, I just read books about music. One such book, a morbid tome entitled, "They Died Too Young", chronicled the lives of dead famous people like Janis Joplin and Jimi Hendrix. Elvis, who has been dead 31 years this last week, had his own chapter. I poured over all the music books, and this one was no different. Only now do I realized how strange (absurd?) it was that a junior high school library would have such a book, or that such a book was printed at all.

The book came out in the early 80's, and didn't have those musicians from my generation that "died too young". Layne Staley of Alice in Chains, Shannon Hoon of Blind Melon, Kurt Cobain of Nirvana and Tupac Shakur all would fit correctly in this book, a mourning of musicians and actors cut down in their prime, usually by their own hand. Usually with rock star deaths, there is some choking on vomit (either theirs or someone else's), or gun play, or some of both. Rock star deaths create a cult of personality where there usually was none before. For me, it's simply not cool that some of my favorite artists are no longer around.

Pete Townsend of the Who talked about his contemporaries who had died, and said that, while we may mourn them as artists, he mourns them as friends, that they were people close to him. He implied with this, I think, that we should really get over it, that we have no business deifying these people, who would have never had anything to do with such undistinguished honor when they were alive. I would absolutely have to agree. There's nothing glamorous about dying alone because you can't get a hold of your drug addiction. That was the case for Layne Staley.

I really dug Alice in Chains when they first came out. The two more mellow EP's they released, "Sap" and "Jar of Flies" are simply brilliant, melodic and dark. After their third, eponymously-titled, disc was released, they were nowhere to be found, save for an Unplugged appearance five years after. Like any music fan, I anticipated another disc. None was forthcoming. Soon, their singer, Staley, was found dead after being in his apartment, alone, for two weeks. For those of us who follow such things, it's the height of absurdity: a successful musician, doing what he wants, is so estranged from everyone and everything that he dies alone, and dies young. There is a lot of ridiculous behavior in rock and roll, and this is the height of it.

Somehow, he got it in his head that drugs were good. And, somehow, his head said that he should take more and more. Many of us can't get that, but the kinds of things that our big brains are telling us to do may be equally as destructive. Is your brain telling you to hold a grudge? Or to hate a certain family, race or religious group? Maybe your brain is telling you to overeat or to abuse your spouse. Maybe your brain is telling you that you want to chat with "Christian Hotties", whatever that is. Don't forget what God says: your thoughts are futile. If you're relying on your logic, emotion and experience alone to get you through the day, you're missing the mark. You're not consulting the One that is 100% reliable. As Paul might say, you're listening purely to the flesh. And, as you and I know that, "Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day." (2 Corinthians 4:16b) We do know that, right?

All of those people in that book, "They Died Too Young", and all of those who could qualify to be in that book, listened to the flesh. Don't get me wrong here. Not listening to it is tough. It's a struggle. Paul said he buffeted (or beat) his body daily so that it would basically fall in line, so that he "could make it (his) slave" to the spiritual, Godly side of things. That's how much of a struggle it is, and yet, it's one worth undertaking. I have a feeling that guys like Layne Staley and Kurt Cobain died because they surrendered in a fight that they felt like they could not fight any more. As sad as it is to me, it's also a lesson for me. I can't stop struggling so that, again, as Paul says in that same passage: "I myself will not be disqualified for the prize." (1 Corinthians 9:27b) I'll leave you with one of Alice In Chains' most well-known tunes, appropriately about a struggle (going off to war in Vietnam) that will not get the best of the song's main character.

"Rooster" by Alice In Chains

Ain't found a way to kill me yet
Eyes burn with stinging sweat
Seems every path leads me to nowhere
Wife and kids household pet
Army green was no safe bet
The bullets scream to me from somewhere

Here they come to snuff the rooster
Yeah here come the rooster
You know he ain't gonna die

Walkin' tall machine gun man
They spit on me in my home land
Gloria sent me pictures of my boy
Got my pills against mosquito death
My buddy's breathin' his dyin' breath
Oh God, please won't you help me make it through