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.

Floodgates

I was this close. Inches away from it. moments. 

Just say it David. Say it out loud so that you can move on.... "I can't because...."

Nothing comes out. It's like suddenly i feel like i don't have a right to even mention it. I finally have those big brown eyes staring back at me and the chance to say what i feel and maybe hear that it wasn't all my fault. That i'm not completely incapable of not being "the ex" for once. Nothing comes out.

"It was good to see you too" I rushed here tonight and hated every minute of it. "You look great" ugh "I'm glad you're happy." ok maybe that one's true... maybe it's not.

On the bright side though, even though my hands were numb and my mouth was dry, i've never meant a song onstage more than i did tonight. "Now most days i spend like a child who's afraid of ghosts in the night. I know there ain't nothing out there, but i'm still afraid to turn on the light... I am at ease in the arms of a woman. Although, now, most of my days are spent alone." 

I'd convinced myself that this January would fix my situation like the past three have. Always the same cycle. November = broken. December = the pain giving way to a dull throb. January = Some sort of miracle. 

... Silly coincidences fueling a silly boys superstition.

It's ok. No one there tonight will know that i left out the back to yell up at a grey sky and tell God that i need some proof. That i need to know if January comes again. No one will no that i didn't get any answers and choose to believe still. And no one, especially not her, will have a clue what it felt like on the outside looking in on what was suppose to be my perfect world.

I was seconds away from saying what i've been dying to say. Nothing came out. Even now i can't bring myself to type it. I'm still not sure why.

"Time stood still for a month or six while everything was right. Then caught up to leave me in a world that changed while i was high... enough to see how i could dream, but still forget how dreams can die"

I'm not as depressed as i sound. I just feel like giving into it completely at least once is the only way to understand what we're really feeling and forget why we were afraid to feel it. 

I can't wait for my January to come again.

The Sleeve...

I was hidden away in a small smokey room, playing honestly... it was pretty rough. But i shut my eyes tight and i directed the lyrics to the corresponding faces in my mind. I was speaking to friends, old girlfriends, family... God. It was good for me. 

So the night runs it's course and i find myself packing it in early. "Don't ruin your voice by singing through it." Walking out to my car i put up all my gear. And the drive home started like any other. Then, out of the invisible sleeve of the night, Your hand moved and i was amazed. I remembered that the WHOLE EARTH is filled with glory. With reminders and signs of power, and i felt so small. But what i could hardly wrap my mind around was the fact that You were speaking to me and setting up those earlier moments in the midst of that tiny, smokey, insignificant room, when outside was this massive world and even it shoes but a fraction of Your vastness. It seems to be a display of power that You could even spin those moments around me without affecting anyone else when i'm so small to you. Not insignificant, but undoubtedly small.

"...cry to heaven when i miss, to ne'er forget creation's kiss."

That sleeve covers it up sometimes, but i don't want to forget how intimate this process is again.

Honesty pt. VI.... the pivot.

I keep saying that these threads will end soon and i realized last night that probably never will. The need for honesty will never be quenched. Plus i'd like to see how high i can count in roman numerals.

Honesty... good lord. Reading through the earlier installments, i was reminded how these started. As letters to You. As an honest moment that friends and have and a subconscious plea for advice. But last night i realized that for the past six months i haven't been honest. Ya i said it a few times because i knew it was appropriate...

I hurt. 

But i never let myself really break down. I kept busy, i thought i was suppose to. I moved forward and i did well where i was. So last night i got on my knees in a room full of strangers and i was honest. I saw that face in my mind and it hurt... I let it for the first time in months. I know you've seen this in me since last July, but i just haven't wanted to feel it. I still don't. 

We're being honest right? Honestly... i want her to know. I want her to know what this feels like. Not to hurt her as well but for her to understand what happened here. Justification?

Calm down though, before You go proving me wrong; i know it's a bad idea. I'm not looking for a battle. And the more i think about it i'd really rather You fix this in me instead of trying to reconcile things my way. It seems like that way it would stay fixed...

My fixings always come loose... i can see You laughing at me now.

So i'm sorry for straying from that honesty policy we had. I'm back for good now... until the next time i'm not. So let's be real: i'm in pain and i want You to take this.

Sry i'm not an easier project... love You.

-dave

The Moon

I'm living in two worlds. Not to be mistaken for living a double life. I'm consistent and glad of it.

But there's one world i spend most of my time in. Where the heat from the sun is strong and the days is fast-paced. Press your shirt and smile big because this is the full-time world. Full-time jobs that pay full-time bills and full-time people working their hardest to make it through to lunch. And then there's another world that, although i don't spend the greater part of my time in, seems to contribute the most substance. 

I'll explain.

The past couple of days i've seen them contrast sharply. At least three days in a row it happened, which is strange because normally these moments come a bit more sporadically lest they lose their value. Throughout the day i was productive and, i'm sure, seemed quite normal. 

And then the moon did something strange...

It covered me from head to toe in answers to questions that, even now, i can't quite put my finger on. It reminded me why, with eyes like Lions, we're called to live in chaos. Because, in chaos, those things that are steadfast stand out. You. You know who you are. You know if that calling is for you. There's no denying it and there's no escape. And even more than my need to flesh out strange ideas and emotions, this blog is for you. Because it's easy to forget what the chaos is about. We forget that, when it seems like we can't catch a break, we're only where we are because we're people of a different spirit. A stronger spirit. One that feels no less pain, but has a promise of something greater. And this is the weather that is necessary for our preparation.

So i look forward to the next reminder. I look forward to the next mediocre day. The day that i'm having trouble remembering that spirit i carry. The day that seems so normal and insignificant until suddenly.... the moon does something strange.  It's sad maybe but it takes the numbness to appreciate the passion for me sometimes.

Today was such a normal day. And then, the moon did something strange.