Growing Facial Hair

I can't go grow cool facial hair. True story. There are a hundred different cool looks and i can't pull any of them off. My side burn come in thick and long and grow out onto my cheeks a bit,but then kinda fade out. I could grow a hardcore neck-beard just below my chin but the hair ON my chin is scattered and weak. oh and i've got the mustache thing down, but (unfortunately for me) i'm not a State Trooper.

It's an obvious right of passage to at least be able to grow some decent facial hair. Without it, Shia Labeouf would still just be that kid from Even Stevens, Jean-Claude Van Dam would just be some hard to understand french-ish guy with creepy ability to do the splits, and the 80's would've been deprived of the question "Does George Michael's stubble ever grow?". So i find myself in quite a situation...

I want to be a man. I mean, a hardcore, no nonsense, punch-you-in-the-face, MAN. But how manly can i be with this sad excuse for stubble? A buddy of mine, Jason King, built a blog that you can find on my list of following that he entitled "Growing Facial Hair: it's like playing dress up for guys... we act grown". I still love that and not just because it makes me feel better about my naked cheek, but because every guy hits a wall in his mid 20's where he finds it's time to grow up and every girl trying to find a guy in his mid 20's is struggling to pull one away from his Wii. So we're posed with a lot of questions... rather i should say there're a number questions that no one is asking. Number one being "What's wrong here?!" I'm noticing some big issues being dismissed as silly differences between boys and girls,. This isn't ok.

Men... boys, let's grow up. Let's stop asking the girl how far she's comfortable with going when we know how far is too far. Let's take initiative in setting boundaries in our relationships instead of deciding if we benefit enough from the boundaries we're letting everyone else set. This is sad, and i won't lose another brother to stupid and immature decisions. To fear of responsibility or inability to be a rock for his community because of a desire to have a cute hand to hold...

It's time we showed the qualities we were made for. Integrity to accompany our scruffy chins and bushy beards. A strong character to overshadow stereotypical habits. It's time we measured manliness in a new way. Men... boys, let's grow up.

This is Not a Game...

This is not a game. Let me preface this entire writing by saying it will not be something to add to this poison spitting contest. To divide, to dismantle. That being said... let's dispel some miscommunications, shall we?

Dear Trevor Keezer of Okeechobee, Fl. You're no hero. Please stick with me long enough to understand however i'm not saying you're the problem here, but i believe that stories like this one are symptoms of a very delusional body of believers.

For those who haven't heard the story click here to do so.

I believe that we belong to a family that is meant to leave behind a legacy of more than t shirts and pins. Trevor, no one was asking you not to read your bible in the break area. No one was asking to not show the absolute best service you could to every costumer that came through there and no one was asking you to not go the extra mile when a co worker needs a prayer and encouragement.

Church, let's get our hands dirty.

Let's stand against real injustices with words of peace and cause change. Let's stop spitting poison at each other with the objective of building our own kingdoms. This is not a game and i'm tired. if we're being honest, i'm angry. Not at Trevor, and again i'm sorry to take aim at you Trevor to prove a point. My point being there is a very active enemy we face. He's raising our kids and teaching us politics. He's sleeping in our homes and in some instances i believe we've seen him in our churches. and guess what... He could give a crap what kind of pins we wear. But he trembles when we speak words of peace and healing in the name of our King. He shutters when people hear that they can be restored from all the lies of his sick kingdom. So let's.

Church, let's get angry.

A friend recently told me that the best leaders are the angry ones, because they're the ones who think things need to change and change them. Not destructive, not negative, but angry. Angry is ok. Because, let's face it, those of us who are content with the way things are aren't leading anyone anywhere.

I'm hopeful because i know that there are people in my life and in this city who read this and feel a fire. Feel encouraged that there are others who aren't ok with where we are and want to build something better. And there are hundreds of people in this city that have already begun the work. I wont let this blog come off as a finger pointed at all christians saying everything is wrong , because that's not the case. I was just reminded very recently that very often we can be a large part of the problem if we aren't careful.

Be encouraged. Let's guard our hearts and therefore our words. That we wouldn't spit poison and negativity within this body of Christ. This is not a game.

Sweaty, Awkward, & Honest...

I watched him walk way to his house today with a Dr. Pepper in one hand and another unopened one in the other... It's a good 3 mile walk from the church to his house but he insisted he walks it all the time.

Sebastian came to us Yesterday for the first time. Walked down to our offices after he was found wandering around the church without a reason, covered in sweat from his walk from school to here.

"I just moved here from california."

"My parents were recently divorced."

"What's your story David?"

"Ya i believe in Jesus. Like i think He can turn stones into food or other things that hurt people like me might need."

"My dad is a satanist and thinks places like these are for fools.... i'm still not sure if he's right or not, but i had to see for myself...."

Wow... lots strange thing to be hearing from a kid for the first time. We skipped right past our favorite bands and sports and b lined "my dad is a satanist." I'm not gonna lie, i've spent the better part of my arguably young life in ministry. We prepare for moments similar to these but it seemed to me that in this moment i had to filter through conference upon conference and 5 years worth of break out sessions to know how to handle this broken kid. I've been trained like crazy for years on how to break down walls and get people to open up. How to do so without making them feel uncomfortable, but this kid spared me the games.

Honest and strange eyes stared back at me spitting brutal truth. "I really don't know what i believe but i know that ending up like my father is my absolute last resort. You think God might let me be something better...?"

... Ouch.

Here, i've ben looking around the room for a way out of one of the most awkward talks of my life and then i'm reminded in the most brutal of ways... this is what i'm here for. Sebastian was outright begging me for the explicit Gospel. And it broke my heart to realize that the Gospel truth wasn't my first reaction. I told Sebastian the story of Saul/Paul and how the God of 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th chances picked him up and used an murderer to become the greatest teacher in the New Testament. He seemed hopeful and excited.

Aside from the Dr. Peppers he left that day with a bible and promised to come back this past sunday after reading John 1 & 2. He didn't. But i'm hoping that he wanders into my office again soon. Sweaty, awkward and honest. i hope he comes to remind me of why i'm here and what my priorities are. And i'll work with my office door open until he does.

Something in the Way We Move...

I saw a movie today that reminded me of moments in my life i'm least proud of. Needless to say it's one i wont recommend. Thinking back on every one of those moments, those decisions i made (and thanking God that by His grace they're fewer and farther between than they could've been) reminded me of a few things: 

First of the ache that so many of us burn with as every muscle in our body moves to depravity. Every thought, every act of our hand works to undo, to disarm, to break down and cripple. Every single prompting from our own mind urges the tongue to spit poison. Poison even to our very own minds and hearts. 

Second of the lengths we go through to ensure that our nature is fed. The elaborate schemes our hearts allow us to prepare to provide fuel for bitterness and hatred, thoughts of death and disunity. Knowing full well all along that we will watch the things we love fall apart for the briefest moments of pleasure. Men will watch families and even nations fall, with greedy beaty eyes drinking in the chaos. Not one of us is immune...

But thirdly... Lastly... most importantly... That there is standard to which all is measured. Only by this standard are our actions and thoughts of greed and blood lust even notable. Only in the light of this perfect standard can we even understand that there is a need - that there is an alternative to... death. 

That this standard lives and breathes. 

Speaking life into darkened hearts and clarity to moldy minds. It changes something so drastically in the way we move. That now our words bring resurrection and our hands bring healing. 

We are people who bear the source of life in our chests, and we forfeit our legacies of vision and purpose because we forget that it's something we have to claim in our lives daily. Saved from the eternal consequence permanently but not from our own desire until faithfully departed. Every moment still presenting the decision to claim our decaying nature or our redeemed inheritance in the way we act. 

Know these truths. Own them. Claim them daily.

Raw, Over Cooked & Half Mixed: A Shout From the Other Side

I've always been a firm believer that if you can read, you can cook. All you need to know is what ingredients you need, what order to add them in and how long to cook. If all of these different variables come together just right, bon appetite. 

What i'm starting to see in our relationships and lives though, is that we often cling to the fact that we have one or some the required variables but not all of them. After all, how hard is it to want something so bad and have all the right ingredients for success, but watch it fail because too much heat or pressure was applied. Or maybe you're going about it just the right way, waiting the perfect length of time. Planning everything out with care. Never rushing so as not to get burned, but the truth is you just didn't have the right ingredients it needed to come out right and eventually.... fail. 

I've been through this a few times now. First couple times i was missing some ingredients. Not to say anything was missing from anyone else in the situation but it just wouldn't have fit the way anyone wanted it to. I've come out raw, overcooked, half mixed but never quite right. i'm not even just talking about dating relationships, but any relationship. 

I miss being in a band, i miss my brothers. I miss creating something from 5 different minds and watching one solid statement come out of it. We just didn't have exactly what needed to make it work without a bit more work, and know i played my part in its end just as much as the next guy.

I'm rambling.

My point is, i'm realizing how beautifully it all comes together when we realize it isn't up to us. We're just a part of the mix. How it happens and when conditions are just right to move and act in life has nothing to do with how we see it. I had to break my heart a couple times to understand that and you probably will too. This is just the shout back from the other reassuring, it was worth it. 

I know i'll see my share of worry fear and failure still, but if you can have the faith and patience just once to see God's sovereign plan run it's course... It's a bit easier the second time to trust. I just keep forgetting that in the panic that comes without fail.

I'm watching everything mix together perfectly and with sheer terrifying excitement and i can honestly say i can't wait for all to come to fruition. 

Today for Tomorrow

Have you ever been left in the wake of one of your decisions and felt completely distraught? I have a strong peace, and it's just enough to overwhelm any fear (which is the signature of a God who is good), but i cant help but be anxious sometimes. We've all been conditioned plan ahead which is good... but screws with our faith. It's a hard thought to swallow that we aren't meant to work today towards building anything tomorrow that isn't the Kingdom of God. I want to plan... to know. But my God's answers rarely come in the form i expect. Right now when everything is moving in slow motion, yet so chaotic, i'll pay close attention to what it is that seems to stand firm in the commotion.

If i could trade today for tomorrow... just to know.... 

I wouldn't.

If the Waves Don't Care...

I'm carrying 10 tiki torches, a cooler full of ice cream sandwiches and wearing a lei and grass skirt. It was needless to say that the residents of Best Western on South Padre Island were wondering what the heck was going on. You see only a few things are guaranteed at summer camp.   (1) You will get NO sleep. (2) Someone will get hurt or do something stupid for which you're responsible. (3) God will move.

The one different dynamic that i noticed this time was that there was an outside factor. Because as much as we would have loved to.... we couldn't rent out the whole island. So i watched families and drunk old men stare at us and wonder what was going one. Anytime i walked through the halls or across the beach with a sound system or instrument i was stopped at least ten times. 

"What's going on here!?"

"OOOooo are you guys going to be playing live music!?"

"What time does it start!?"

Sorry, i'm just here with a church camp, no live music tonight...... 

It all gave me a sudden initial exciting thought. People really long for community.  At least that was my initial thought. The more i moved along throughout the week and gave the same disappointing answer to people i began to wonder if it was community or entertainment that they all longed for. 

I'm not sure i want to entertain...

Standing on the shore with my feet in the water and feeling, for the first time at the sight of the Ocean, so incredibly small in comparison with God made me think. About what I'm doing with my time here. About learning how to "work the stage". About how much time i wasted straightening my bow tie and throwing my hat away at just the right time... Did these waves i was watching now notice? Did they give a crap what my last name was? nope. they went on forming new shorelines regardless of my new pants or catchy hooks. 

Don't get me wrong i love performing and it's been my sanity for the past year, but i wonder if the importance i've assigned it wasn't incredibly over estimated. I still have things i'd love to say and melodies i hear that could help carry the message, but i think now that the people who are on stage with me or the size of that stage are just details. the color of the lights, the mix, my clothes... all just details. Because i'm realizing that i love, but can live without, being an entertainer. 

I watched kids,  that i've grown to love very much and pray for every night, encounter the creator... and no one was thinking about my name. The waves joined in praise later that night along with us and no one was thinking about my bands new shirts. There was nothing to "set the ambiance" but God's work.

I guess i'm just feeling more and more that if even the waves that could snuff me without a thought are rolling in an effort to cry out God's name... i could bear to dedicate my life to the same. 

For Whom We Prophesy...

"Those who deal with the law did not know me;

the leaders rebelled against me.

The prophets prophesied by Baal,

following worthless idols."

-Jeremiah 2:8

I've read about prophets in the bible for since i was a kid. They come in kick down the doors declaring the word of God. They call down fire and eliminate the enemy. Strong, filled with authority and purpose. I guess my view of a prophet has always been like this.... until i read this passage. I still believe that prophets are alive and among us today. In our class rooms, our households, our work places and in our streets. Whether we know it or not... whether they know it or not. But as i read Jeremiah 2 it dawned on me that we're all prophets... but not all of the Living God.

For whom do you prophesy?

Reading that "The prophets prophesied by Baal" caught me off guard. Jeremiah wasn't the only voice booming with prophetic power in his time. There were others prophesying the schemes of other gods. Declaring their wills. There were voices that the people had to discern and decipher. The righteous will of God sometimes clashing with the voices of the lesser. Never any less sovereign or powerful, but still competing the for the ear of the people. I never stopped to think that being a prophet didn't necessarily mean speaking for God.

For whom do you prophesy?

In our words lies the power of life and death. Every compliment, every sarcastic joke, every hateful jab, every line of praise. Even the righteous can speak the words of the fallen and cause destruction and death by them if they aren't guarding their hearts.

May we be aware of the power in our tongues. May we use our words to speak on behalf of life. We can build up or tear down, all depending on who's behalf we're prophesying.

To Save the Living: Where Our Hearts Go in the Silence

So i was watching one of my favorite new TV shows and one scene in particular seemed to grab my attention. 

Plague threatened the city where the show takes place. A mother and son were quarantined in the hospital, the first two to show signs of the sickness. When the mother died and a nearby young lady asked the doctors why no one had told her dying child that his mother was gone, the doctor replied "We're just trying to save the living at this point."

Trying to save the living...

I felt sick to my stomach when i heard it. See i've been pouring my passions and efforts into finding a way to enhance meaning in our corporate worship. (ref. my entry: The Apex) Everything from what songs we sing, to where our hearts go during the silence. I wanted so badly for our community to experience the glory of God in a way that would overflow in our lives... but i've been ignoring those on the outside of our world here on monday nights. 

Sam Shoemaker in his poem "I Stand by the Door" says it like this:

I stand by the door.

I neither go to far in, nor stay to far out.
The door is the most important door in the world -
It is the door through which men walk when they find God.
There is no use my going way inside and staying there,
When so many are still outside and they, as much as I,
Crave to know where the door is.
And all that so many ever find
Is only the wall where the door ought to be.
They creep along the wall like blind men,
With outstretched, groping hands,
Feeling for a door, knowing there must be a door,
Yet they never find it.
So I stand by the door.

The most tremendous thing in the world
Is for men to find that door - the door to God.
The most important thing that any man can do
Is to take hold of one of those blind, groping hands
And put it on the latch - the latch that only clicks
And opens to the man's own touch.

Men die outside the door, as starving beggars die
On cold nights in cruel cities in the dead of winter.
Die for want of what is within their grasp.

There was nothing lacking integrity or Godly passion in our desire to worship, but i notice that where our hearts go in the silence is a selfish place sometimes.

"God meet US here"

"Father show US Your glory"

Instead of:

"Father reveal Yourself to the lost"

"God change the heart of this city to burn for You."

So let our voices lift up in praise and cry out for a touch of life in the clamor and crescendo of corporate worship, but let our hearts cry out for those who know nothing of the joy we've found and still reach out, feeling blindly along the wall searching for the door. May we stand by the door. Never going too far in so as not to forget those people "...who have not, yet even found the door, Or the people who want to run away again from God, You can go in too deeply, and stay in too long, And forget the people outside the door.Near enough to God to hear Him, and know He is there, But not so far from people as not to hear them, And remember they are there, too."

May we save the living but NEVER forget the dying. May we guard our hearts and the places they go in the silence.

TVA: A Concept Album in 3 Parts...

We're working on a concept album in three parts. Based on a concept that we feel everybody of any faith has struggled with at one point if not constantly. 

 

"The logician spends his entire life trying to fit heaven into his head, while the poet is just trying to get his head into heaven." -G.K.Chesterton

 

A good book comes in three phases. First comes the Abstract. Academic literature uses the abstract to succinctly communicate complex research. For us this phase was more than anything an effort to force ourselves to really hone in on the thesis of our work. What's the theme and how many parts are necessary in our work to communicate it? Ours came in four: Thesis, conflict, climax & resolution. It can stand alone but more than anything we hope ours enhances your listening experience by highlighting all the main points.

 

Next comes the actual work. Ours will follow the mind and heart along it's journey from unbelief to faith and struggle that so many of us experience between the mind and the heart. We try and explain to ourselves and others things of spiritual nature with terms that have rigid structure and logic. It won't work. We need "poetic grunts, metaphors and puns", we need an artistic, abstract approach, but ever since the enlightenment something about our nature won't allow that. We need a bottom line. We need to find "X". This struggle provides more than enough material for writing and covers everything from a believers first skeptic glance, to the deepest moments in encounters with a living God.

 

Last comes the Appendix. A supplemental addition to a given main work. It may correct errors, explain inconsistencies or otherwise detail or update the information found in the main work, especially if any such problems were detected too late to correct the main work. Ours will add a new perspective. Often after the work is done new perspectives come about due to a new stance. We hope to remix and re-write some songs accordingly.

 

We're Working on a concept album in three parts:

 

1. Abstract

2. TVA: A work by The Vinyl Affair

3. Appendix: The Remix

 

The truth is this album sounds smarter than we are. We're 5 very normal very flawed guys, and this album will hopefully reflect struggles and successes that are familiar with most people.

 

We hope you enjoy our music, test it, hold on to what is good and  stick with us as we keep
making new music.

 

TVA loves you, 

-DG

A Name for Your god...

I don't know if you have a name for your god or if you beleive in one for that matter, but this is a song from me to mine. I read stories of how a very real, very living God interacted with His people. People with names that most people of any faith have heard before. Calling to Abraham, wrestling with Jacob, and face to face with Moses. These were intimate and life changing encounters. Abraham was called out from the most unlikely of situtations and places to be made the father of nations, Jacob fought for his blessings and never walked the same, and Moses shone with the glory he'd seen. The incredible thing about these stories though is that the same God still operates the same way with His people, and we should see that in them. I'm not sure if you have a name for your god but this is a song from me to mine.


Breath
"I woke to something beating in my chest,
It wasn't mine to give but You took it
Under the weight of Your light I lost my head,
Out of the sleeve of the night where you found me


You took my breath

Face to face but afraid to be eye to eye
Behind the veil that You hung to protect them
Pillars of salt cry a warning to my left and right
You hold me down and with a kiss break the stilness

And You took my breath"


The same God still operates with His people in the same way and our lives should show that.

Chasing Cars...

There's a fine line between discernment and a hunch - between a good feeling and the right one. 

I watched the dog that i swerved to miss tonight chase my car for a solid three blocks. (i might not have swerved if it were a cat) 

*bright lights+ fast sounds = fun! i want it i want it i want it!* 

I wonder how many times a situation i was chasing just barely missed me, and i've stood knocked senseless before when it didn't wondering what just hit me. The point is, in retrospect i can see that i never sought out the highest council that i knew i had at my disposal. I never used the discernment that i knew i had. 

 *bright lights+ fast sounds = fun! i want it i want it i want it!* 

Never thinking about what i would do when i actually caught up to it and realized that the situation was not at all what i thought it to be when it was fast passing. But this time...? This time i'm realizing that God never meant for me to stand on the side watching everything i wanted racing by and hoping that i could reach out fast enough and hold on tight. Those, before, were for someone else. On their way to their recipient, and discernment over instinct could've told me that. 

This time i move slower. This time i'm looking for more. This time i carry it gently, because our hearts break so easily these days. This time i see a signature i recognize marking situations that do more than just feel good. 

And all this shot through my mind in three fast passing blocks while watching a dog chase a car.

May We Be The Remedy...

So i was just reminded in a very big way that we're constantly on stage. All of us. The guy on the street corner begging for some money for this weeks meal,  the man behind the pulpit, the quiet kid in the back of the room, the President, that weird librarian at your school who always smelled like Campbell's Chicken Noodle Soup, all of us....

The one thing i've always clung to when talking about my faith is that no one can argue or debate experience. Who was there, what was said, who really is who they say they are and who side of the story is genuine... all debatable. But personal experience is not. 

"I felt this..."

It cant be argued.  Maybe internally it can. A genuine experience however can be questioned by oneself, possibly even doubtfully disputed, but will always come undeniably full circle. So the problem that i was introduced to this week was the fact that we (I) forget that every move we make, word we say, weather it be out of love, hate, apathy or negligence affects that experience for others. In the same way that no one can tell me that i'm wrong in knowing that God is constantly changing me for the better and working in me, i can't argue with someone who has had a genuinely negative experience associated with the church, any church. 

And it is so hard to change a first impression. So hard. 

So may our lives in no way contradict our profession of change. May they encourage and exhort those around us. Accept and not just tolerate with hidden agendas.... 

I'm reminded of a prayer that i once asked my church to pray with me:

"God awaken this Nation. Awaken this body of the living God. Set lives on fire for you and consume us so that our skin couldn't contain the light of Your glory. I believe with my whole heart that You are the Living God who reigns from everlasting to everlasting. Declaring the end from the beginning. I believe that Your breath brought life to all creation. I believe in You sovereignty. So i believe that you can revive this body. I want to see miracles happen. I want lame legs to rise up in strength and run from city to city declaring Your greatness. I want deaf ears to be opened and hear the praise of Your beloved body in all of creation. I want to see deliverance. Empower and encourage this body. Your body.

But if no one else will. Use me. 

Let me be one to deliver the broken heart by Your power and authority. Use my pathetic and weak hands that have been made righteous beyond all compare to bring wholeness to the empty. If no one else will use me. 

I'm scared and i don't know where to start so give me an unquenchable passion and a clear vision of purpose.

If no one else will. Use me."

When January looks more like June: A Letter....

To quote  blog i posted on here early last year...

 "It seems like there's a cycle that creeps up on me each year. October always sets the scene, November's always got me singing December's love song, and January always brings some beautiful twist to kick me in the teeth."

Ok so i was wrong. Of course You wouldn't have told me that though... Or maybe it's not that You didn't tell me so much as i couldn't understand. Your word tells a story of how You spoke to Your people...

"Then a voice came out of heaven, "I have both glorified it, and i will glorify it again." So the crowd who stood there was saying it was thunder. Others said and Angel had spoken to Him. Jesus spoke and said, "This voice was not for my sake but for your sakes."

-John 12:28

Some heard thunder... hmmmm. When i think about one crowd of people hearing the same voice so differently it makes me realize that, just like so many of those people, i just hadn't been prepared to hear Your voice. And the thunder ringing in my ears for the past year has been driving me crazy. So i waited for January to come again with it's "beautiful twist" and was disappointed when it didn't. You spoke then and all i heard was noise...

CRASH CRASH CRASH CRASH

I can see now that it's ridiculous to assign Your seasons for us to silly names likes Months that we've put on time when time means nothing to You. Sometimes January looks more like May, or June. And now that my heart is prepared to hear what You have to speak into it the crash sounds so much less like a warning and so much more like direction. Prepare our hearts and awaken them to to hear Your voice. I can't imagine wasting more time pushing through chaotic sounds, when it's no one's fault but my own. 

So thank You for seasons, even if they don't come along when i expected them on my schedule. Thank You for January and June. And i promise i'll do my best to not mess this up like i did the last time. 

Thanks for Your patience with me.

-DG

The Apex

Since the emergence of the Postmodern church there's been an underlying desire to put our finger on the equation that pulls the coldest of the frozen chosen out of their seats, past the melodies and chord structures, squeezing by the puns and preaching, to drop them into the apex where God and man meet. Now, the postmodern movement is dead and I'm seeing more and more a desire for religion. Although most would deny it, they're looking for a form to fit to their faith, as often happens after a long enough time embracing free spirits and abstract faith. Now FORM ALWAYS FOLLOWS FUNCTION, and our faith cannot function without an "exoskeleton". We struggle to adhere our passion to the structure that's been set for us.  

The problem we're presented with now, and it's not one that's terribly new to the body of Christ, is finding a way to connect with God in corporate settings through elements with a fresh perspective, a temperature for change and variety, an indigenous authenticity, and a catalyst for stories of life change. The stuff people continue to talk about. The stuff they tell stories about. 

I struggle with my title as "Worship Leader". Mainly because i'm not sure how it should look. Traditionally it involves a guitar and a song book, but if we can agree (and most can) that worship is a life style... how does one lead in that? I feel like either my title should include the word "experience" and be based in corporate settings or I should be spending a lot of time in peoples homes playing conscience. 

I'm off track...

I watched this monday night as a community, that God has grown before my eyes in a semester, engaged in an encounter with the Living God. Through prayer, on their knees, hands in the air, others wrapped around each other, some stood alone in corners and soaked in the glory of a Savior, others poured out their hearts in prayer.... but there was an encounter. So what's the equation? I wish there was one. I feel like the journey is barely beginning in myself and in our community, but i'm confident that God is happy with direction we're pointing in. 

Corporate, interactive, life changing and consuming worship is what my heart desires to see here. I want us to find that apex and dwell there.

Breath

I woke to something beating in my chest

It wasn't mine to give so You took it

Under the weight of your light I lost my head

Out of the sleeve of the night where you found me

And You took my Breath

Face to face but afraid to be eye to eye

Behind the veil You hung to protect them

Pillars of salt cry a warning to my left and right

You hold me down and with kiss break the stillness

And You took my breath

Rewind...

Timing is a strange thing. Taking a step back in my own life to observe i notice i have a strategy for almost every specific venue in my life. In sales, you carefully craft every word and gesture to build on each other until you've reached a solution that is 100% tailor made for that customer. In ministry its a very similar scenario, but the stakes are much higher, the solution is a constant and the floor in ever growing and revealing itself with every corner you turn. With both we learn (regrettably) certain buzz words and idioms that we assume everyone understands and almost develop a culture around ideas that many would otherwise never understand, to help exemplify. We've boiled it down to a fine science and it seems almost subconscious.

I finally realized that's why i'm frustrated. I spend a majority of my day controlling situations and having a say in the direction of things and then when it comes to there parts of my life that i care about equally or perhaps much more i have no say but refuse to see it... or rather to understand it. We make decisions day in and day out and don't even realize until it begins to pass, that time plays such a huge part. 

You start a band > It falls apart > You're angry > You get over it > You start a band > You've learned from your mistakes > Success ensues > You see the part that timing played.

You fall in love > Things fall apart > You shut your eyes to the inevitable > When you open it's still standing there and it's a catalyst to the peace you've been seeking > You've learned from your mistakes > You see the part that timing played.

But what about the decisions that you don't get to redo after learning? What about moves you make, that maybe you could never come close to regretting, but still end up standing in the way of another later. That scares me. I know i've been saved from one or two of these before and i know that i'll come across my share of them eventually. It's not supernatural, it's human nature. but i can't help but be frustrated when i see i'm being denied one thing or another and it's all because of a matter of timing that i could've never had a say in. 

It's not the end of the world but i feel it'd only be fair for us to have a chance to play "what if?". To entertain an idea of what could've been, and at least come closer to knowing. A waste of time maybe? No, i refuse to believe that things that make our hearts smile don't deserve a second glance or a flirtatious nod. 

To look a bitter sweet situation in the eye unafraid and unashamed and know. 

I'm going to make my decisions very carefully. But i won't be ashamed of the ones i've made or afraid of the ones i'm making. What's the point?

"If there's an order in all of this disorder, is it like tape recorder? Can we rewind it just once more?"

-U2, Wake Up dead Man

I Want to Limp...

"Then Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until daybreak, When he saw that he had not prevailed against him, he touched the socket of his hip and it was dislocated while he wrestled. The He said, "let me go, for the dawn is breaking." But he said, "I will not let you go unless you bless me." So he said to him, "what is your name?" and he said "Jacob." And he replied, "Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel for you have striven with God and with men and have prevailed."

Jacob never walked the same after that.

I feel like God has been trying to pick a fight with me. Not maliciously. But i feel like the circumstances in my life for the past two years point back to God saying chase me. Like he's given me the desires of my heart until i forget why and let them overshadow my love for Him and they're taken. I guess a better way of putting it would be that He's trying to engage me. To see how long i'll hold on in this wrestling match before i quit... to see if i'll quit. But regretfully it feels like each time i find myself with a broken hip, discouraged and focusing on the pain instead of goal at the end of endurance. 

And i let go.

I'm finding myself at that point again. Decisions that i feel like my thoughts are begging me to make that don't seem to make much sense from other perspectives. My heart is torn between two great options but only one of which really justifies a life long dedication. I'm becoming more and more obsessed with changing thing on a massive level and more and more hell bent on being person of immense impact. But a big impact requires all of my will.

Arms locked. Head to head, but not quite eye to eye with a God who's graciously willing to see if i've got what it takes to hold on no matter what. I can see Him reaching out to touch my hip and change my walk forever... and i want it so badly. To walk with that limp. The disjointing from the way it's been. To never walk the same and live in the light of that blessing that i'm fighting for with everything. I want it so badly.

My PostSecret....

i discovered a new online phenomenon this weekend through a friend. PostSecret. It's a site/service that allows people to post they're deepest secrets anonymously and be read by thousands. Some form of a release i suppose and with no consequence. It's so surprising to hear some of the secrets. Some are confessions, some are tiny insights into corky habits. But i'd bet that all of them are completely unexpected. You don't see that bottom layer of people in most everyday situations. I think, as a whole, that we're all pretty good at suppressing it.

My problem now, and just as i though it was moving past it, is that i feel i was your PostSecret. No matter how big the stage was that we stood on, and no matter how many hands we shook and smiles we pushed out, we always knew that at the end of the day we go to the other and be completely and utterly honest. Secrets we hadn't shared with anyone else. It created this trust and, i'll be honest, i fell in love with the person that no one else knew even though so many had tried to get in close enough t see it.

I miss talking about everything. I miss talking period, but this small talk kills me. Only because i was sure that my place wasn't on this side of things. I never thought i'd be the one receiving the perfect smile, and not getting a chance to know what's really going on behind the makeup. I'm not sure i want what everyone else gets. I wanted the PostSecret side as well. You in all of your funny surprises and darkest worries. 

I never kept a secret from you... until the last time I saw you when I was asked how all was and I said "fine". Don't get me wrong life is great, gorgeous even... but not quite fine. Something in me hasn't been able to rest since august.

Value

I'm becoming concerned with the value that I assign to certain things. What defines "worth" to me in situations and life in general. As i read through Old Testament accounts today my mind was burning with the need to find answers to present day questions. Questions that people seem to love to argue about. Questions that many just keep to themselves, but nonetheless, questions that i find important and pressing for an answer. 

While i was reading it seemed to creep up on me, this idea... it's all about the value we assign things. Abortion isn't about right or wrong, or choice or not, it's about the value we assign life. These are tough decisions we make. Questions like "Cake or death?" are making more and more sense. Capital punishment or not? If no, then what kind of value do we assign life? If yes, then what kind of power do we claim to have over it? Tough decisions indeed.

To take a step back to the less controversial, what about our views on life for the living? Aside from the right to live or kill, or the overall value of life, what defines value for the specific one? Money? Status? Drive? Power? ....i don't know.

I felt small again last night. Defeated and reminded of mistakes and regrets. I felt like a product of less value. Maybe it was a matter of numbers. Maybe it was an old track record of failures. Maybe it was the fact that both were so widely known in a place that i use to call home and now feel i cant return to. ...I don't know

But i can hear that certainty, although barely, in the back of my mind. Reminding me of what it is that defines me, and of the fact that it's very possible that many may never see that but myself and my God. The core of my integrity, and the root of my character may never be broadcast like my sins have been... but regardless of the value that's been assigned to our past by those bystanders we must take the initiative to value the good and right and work to create more.

I'm working on it.

Forgetting the Face

This may be the most important blog i've posted yet.

I'm finding more and more that the way God speaks to me is never the way I expect. I find myself dying to hear a word from him in the midst of situations and not realizing until later, until now, that the situation was the word i needed. Most times there's no voice. There's no booming epiphany until after when it creeps up like your own thought... "Oh... that's why that happened..."

Again, this blog has nothing to do with my past relationships but this is an example that's key to my point. I, pretty recently, went through a break up with someone i loved very much. When it was happening, she told me it was like there were two Davids. The one in front of her, that she could see and feel. The one she fell in love with. And the one she knew via text and email when she went back to school each semester in Tennessee. The one who's words she couldn't quite put to a face. She went on to tell me that every time she saw me, when we were living life together, it seemed to fit. It just seemed right. But she had trouble remembering that boy she loved and the face that went with his words when her other worlds crowded in. That's how it ended.

We'll come back to that.

A very close friend of my family recently had been going through her own hell. She became pregnant again by the father of her first child whom abandoned her the first time around and was incredibly abusive. When she revealed this to her mother, she got a response she probably expected and definitely feared. Her mother began to hurl insults and names, horrible things at her, while her 4 year old son sat crying on the floor with his hands over his ears curled up strangely like someone was holding him. 

Later that year she told me about a counseling session she went through with a woman in her church. 

"You're obviously angry aren't you?'

"Yes"

"I need you to close your eyes and picture the scene in your mind when you're mother said those things to you"

"I don't want to"

"I need you to do this and tell me where you see Jesus in all of this"

"He's not there"

"You're not looking"

"You don't understand He wasn't there, i know it"

"Please, look around the room. Look closer."

She gasps a beautiful gasp of revelation. 

"I see Him. He's standing in the room holding my son and looking at my mother. And He does NOT approve.

I listened to her tell me about this in tears. And she didn't sound angry in the slightest. Because when she looked closely, she saw His face. I hear people so often say things anger about how a God who loves us could let these things happen. But never have i ever heard someone honestly say they have seen the face of God in situations that hurt like hell, and they were angry. 

When you see His face you understand.

Maybe not why this is happening. Maybe not why He allows it. But it's enough just to know He's there. It's something that cannot be explained but MUST be experienced. The biggest difference for me between the hard times and the unbearable, is whether or not I'm remembering to seek His face and remember it.

That girl i loved so much gave me a big part of her life and heart but the problem was that she wasn't willing to do what it took to remember who was on the other end of the messages that i sent her. She couldn't remember my face... wouldn't seek it out. And that's fine she'll move on and find someone hopefully who she is willing to do that for. But as for me, i don't want to find myself in a situation of hopelessness. Pain I can handle. Fear I can get past. But hopelessness, is just that, when and only when i forget to stand back and see that He's there. 

I wish i could explain it to those who haven't experienced it. But i hope so badly that one day You'll see it and be as blown away as i am.

A Good Set Up

The neck was crooked; a little warped. Some of the frets were a bit rusted and the strings sat just a bit too high above the fretboard to play comfortably. Chips of wood were missing on the back of the neck warning against the idea of committing to a scale and sliding your hand against the splinters. The name that had been painted carefully on the head was one that most would pass over. It didn't have that high dollar ring to it...

But no one stopped to listen to the song it could let out if you paid enough attention to the signs to tell that it wasn't crap... just used a bit. No one else stopped to think that maybe there's more of a sense of ownership in something when bits and pieces of yourself and your time go in to the restoration that brings it back to life. After all strings only cost so much, and there's plenty of money out there. They print more every day. And the time and effort would pay you back two fold what you could put into it.

Now it's hanging on my wall, with a fresh polished coat and strong untarnished strings that sit above the neck and just the right height. The frets have been oiled down and shined, the neck has been tightened and straightened a bit and the splinters have been smoothed down and filled. I'd take that guitar out and play it in front of the Queen with more confidence than any thousand dollar boring no-work-involved bit.... because i know it. I've invested my time and care into it.

Restoration.

I remember being asked.. "Can i take care of you...?" by an angel with eyes the size of the moon. It was flattering and of course I said yes, but some how it seems like i've ended up a little worse for the wear since then... A few more splinters, a bit more rust. I can still hold a tune though... i'm not ruined. I'm just waiting for someone to invest the time it would take to smooth out the rough areas. I never asked the old thing in that shop if i could set it up and try and bring the best out of it, I just did it. Being asked was sweet and I won't forget it, but I think right about now I could use a good set up. 

Creatures of Habit/Creatures of Love

Disclaimer: This is not a blog about dating or lovers lost. Stick with it please because i believe there's something here for all of us.

I'm discovering more and more that i am a creature of habit in day to day life. I always set two alarms, one two hours before i have to get up, and one at the appropriate time. I always make my tuna with just a bit of mayonnaise and a lot of avocado. I always tear up when i play "Clean" live.

But in conversation with three different people from three very different parts of my life these past weeks I'm discovering, more importantly, that we're all creatures of habit emotionally. I don't know why but that brought me some comfort. Seeing those same tendencies to love someone too much in others wasn't necessarily a happy feeling but it was ridiculously reassuring. 

To sit down and explain to someone that you hardly know just how badly you were hurt. 

To explain to some that you're standing in detergent aisle of HEB with an absent look on your face because it was the first time you'd smelled her scent since last summer when we were all crammed in the van. I had never been able place that scent until that moment.

To explain to an acquaintance the meaning behind album titles like "The Fix is Fading" and "The Background and the Aftermath", and see that they, not only understand completely, but appreciate you putting into words what they've been trying to.

To explain your silly reasons for regretting the smallest of details. "I would've ordered a pizza to share if i'd known that's what she wanted... that would've made her birthday better."

SERIOUSLY?! We say some pretty ridiculous things and act all sorts of crazy when it comes to love. When it comes to my failed attempts i like to think that i fought for it every step of the way until she left me nothing to fight for... i'd still probably fight for it if i had the option.  

But suddenly, and without a shred of warning this week the idea crept up on me that we're hurting because we're crazy enough to limit our love to romance. I'm not just talking about the need to love a partner through "unromantic times". I'm talking about a completely different kind of love. We all crave it. We're mostly starved of it. But there seems to be such a shortage of willingness to love the people around you.. all of them.

I want to be able to say that i'd fight to make sure that people around me understood love and felt it with the same fervor that i did in romantic relationships. I think there's a much stronger community laying dormant under the one we have here now. But we're all waiting for someone else to make the first move and make themselves available... willing. That's all it would take in any relationship to make it work. Willingness. 

I want to carry myself in light of that vision.

Holding Hands With Old People

I've come to the conclusion that we miss out on a lot of really incredible moments for stupid reasons. Call it ignorance wearing the mask of preference. I come from a background of upbringing in what many call the "emergent church". There are a lot of ideologies that are common among churches like these but the really crippling characteristic i've found i learned in places like this is in the presentation. Now i'm NOT saying there's anything wrong with it. What i am saying is i've let my inclination towards one way of doing things keep me from really experiencing God in other settings. 

I stood in a congregation full of suits and graying hair, Singing hymns and wishing that the drum kit wasn't electric or at least that it was audible. Extremely tired from an early morning service that almost seems to take place at an ungodly hour.... afternoon service please? Kidding. And as the service drew to an end, everyone stretched across the teal pews and held hands for the last song, "Be Thou My Vision". I had to stifle laughter. Holding hands? Really? Not in my comfort zone. But as the hymn drew to and end these words kicked me in the teeth...

"Heart of mine own heart, whatever befall. Be Thou my vision oh Lord God of all."

Be Thou my vision... WHATEVER befall. Man, as a servant of God that hurt to hear. Because i realized that my vision was not God's. 

ouch.

I began to sing those words throughout my day when i was alone. "Heart of mine own heart..." If we could sing those words and mean them with all of our hearts - sincerely pray them in a spirit of honesty and longing to see His vision made a reality - then details like style and and presentation wouldn't interfere in encounters with the living God. If my vision had been in line with His, then my standing there in there in the sanctuary holding hands with people three times my age and singing songs written in my Grandmother's youth would've been a part of it. Because when He is our vision, age, style, presentation and preference fall to the wayside and there aren't sub groups of believers. The body of Christ operates as a whole.

"Heart of mine own heart, whatever befall. Be Thou my vision oh Lord God of all." 

Something's ready to happens in this city and every bit of me is dying to be a part of it.

This City

Broken in the ally, kin to a rusty drain

With thimble full of heartache, and handbag to match the pain

I can hear her coming, in high heels, to wreck my day

This city is screaming and i can't seem to ease it's pain

This city screams

Bathsheba's in the shower, been in there for days and days

Can't seem to get clean now, but she's tried everything

And i can hear her crying 'cause everybody knows her name

More than a story, a brokenhearted legacy

This city screams

This city screams

There's a man in glasses reading America to hopeful few

Dylan is still singing lies that carry bitter truth

But the widow is still selling drink to a drunken youth

The Father's raising judges but his people still wonder who

And this city screams

This city screams

Beautiful Truth.

I'm not sure why we do the things we do. Why we keep things to ourselves that don't need to be kept. Why we pour ourselves into words that are backed by silly emotions. Why we fall apart at the thought of a future that isn't under our control entirely.... 

Why we bother.

I didn't really make any new year resolutions this year. By that, i mean, i didn't write them out ahead of time and if you asked me point blank i wouldn't be able to answer in one sentence. But i will say that something needs to change. I want to carry myself differently. With more certainty. And i feel like the only way to do that is to embrace the fact that i don't know jack. hmmmm. the only way to be certain is to embrace the questions that can't be answered and let them reveal themselves the way they have for the past... well, since minute one.

Man fell, but this gave him the chance to prove and validate His love by choice instead of default.

Hearts break, but find the beauty in the elegant and creative process of redemption and rebuilding.

Beauty rusts, life counts down, love hurts like hell, and life teaches fear, but for every valid tear there are ten thousand reason to fall in love with creation. Even more so the creator. 

I want to forever be reminded of why this world is beautiful. I want it to be reflected in my words, my songs, my interactions and in the continuation of the creative process that we've inherited. "I believe in the poetic genius of a creator", and i refuse to forget it. I'll question it, sure. I'll question it most definitely, but never doubtfully dispute it.. And i'm positive that my searching, and thirst will only be answered and reinforced by more beautiful truth.

We've found hope.