A Ten Year-old's memories of Good Friday

I took my three oldest children to a Good Friday service at a church close to our home.  We are members of a church about fifteen minutes away, so it was nice to go to a nearby church.  The service was a mixture of music, movie clips, prayer and communion, with the pastor adding a few comments throughout.  Overall it was a very relaxed and reflective experience.  It made me think about Good Friday services I've attended throughout my life, and one in particular that I will never forget.


Growing up my family attended a small, traditional United Methodist church.  When I was about ten years old, I was the acolyte for the Easter weekend services, including Good Friday.  I loved being the acolyte for this particular service because I got to light and extinguish thirteen candles instead of the usual two.


The traditional Methodist Good Friday service uses thirteen candles to represent the twelve disciples and Jesus.  Traditional hymns about the crucifixion are used for this service: What Wondrous Love is This?, Nothing But the Blood, O Sacred Head Now Wounded and Were You There?.  Passages from the Gospels and from OT prophecy are used to weave together the story of Christ's final hours.  As each passage is concluded a candle is extinguished, symbolizing the disciples abandonment of Jesus.  As the service progresses all the candles are eventually extinguished except the Christ candle, which is left alone burning on the altar.  It's a compelling and effective way to remember and retell the story.


The last passage read during the service is  from John 19: "When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit."  Then someone standing in the alcove of the church gently sings a capella: "Were you there when they crucified my Lord?".  When the song is over it is utter silence in the sanctuary.  Then the acolyte stands up and walks up to the altar.  Picking up the Christ candle the acolyte slowly walks across the platform, down the steps and down the aisle towards the back where an usher holds open the back door of the sanctuary.  The acolyte slowly takes the candle out, leaving the sanctuary completely dark and silent.  This symbolizes the Light being taken out of the world when Jesus died on Golgotha.


After a few minutes of silent and dark reflection, the acolyte brings the lit candle back into the sanctuary and places it back onto the altar to remind everyone of the hope that is coming on Sunday.  The congregation then leaves the service in silence and reverence.  This is a powerful way to remember Christ's death on the cross.


Except the Good Friday when I was ten years-old.  At the appropriate time I carried the candle out of the service and through the back door like I was supposed to.  I stood outside the sanctuary holding the candle in the entryway of the church.  As I anxiously waited for my cue to go back inside, a stiff draft from under the outside door blew the Christ candle out!  "Oh sh*t," I whispered.  I quickly looked around in a panic.  There were no matches to be found in the entryway!  There were no lighters!  Did someone hear me say "sh*t" in church?  What was I supposed to do?  The Light is not going to come back into the world, and it will be my fault!  Just then the usher opened the door and whispered, "Is everything okay?  It sounded like you said, 'sh*t'".  He took one look at the anxiety in my face and the dead candle and started laughing.  He laughed as he took out a book of matches and re-lit the candle, and he was still laughing when I re-entered the service and placed the candle up on the altar. 


Fortunately, the crisis was averted and no one's faith was shaken by my failure to bring the Light of Jesus back into the world.  After that I always made sure that I carried matches in my pocket when I was acolyte.


I guess it is kind of funny now.

Love Wins - My thoughts on Rob Bell's new book

After seeing the interviews given by Rob Bell in the national media last week for his latest book, Love Wins, I bought it and read it. There hasn't been this much controversy in Christian circles about a book since The Shack or The Da Vinci Code.  I was at a conference this past weekend with other Navigator staff and I heard someone call it a "cursed book".  I couldn't wait to read it.  Click here to view Rob Bell's promo video for his book.

If you want to read a brief, well-written response (instead of what I've come up with), go here (Amazon review).

There are a couple things you should know about Rob Bell:  He is an excellent and creative communicator.  Whether its his preaching, his writing, or his production of video media, his style and teaching are funny, effective and explosively divisive.  He's been called many things: a rock star preacher, the next Billy Graham, a Universalist, and a heretic who teaches a false gospel.  My sense is that he loves Jesus deeply and he has great compassion for those he feels are on the outside looking in (the poor, the lost, those who don't "fit" into evangelical circles. etc.).  He writes like he preaches and it is often compelling.  He has an intentionally provocative style which certainly comes through in this book, and there are far more questions than answers or conclusions.  From the start he acknowledges that nothing he is saying is new.  (He borrows quite a bit from C.S. Lewis, Tim Keller, N.T. Wright and others).  So I definitely recommend reading this book, if only to participate in the conversation.  But do so with a praying and discerning heart.  (See Acts 17).

"Of all the billions of people who have ever lived, will only a select number 'make it to a better place' and every single other person suffer in torment and punishment forever?" (pg.2).  This is the fundamental question at the center of the book.  Another one: "Does God punish people for thousands of years with infinite, eternal torment for things they did in their few finite years of life?".  The book is drenched with Bell's incredulous and intelligent responses to these basic questions.  He spends considerable time addressing the question of how you become one of those who "go to a better place".  "Whenever people claim that one group is in, saved, accepted by God, forgiven, enlightened, redeemed - and everybody else isn't - why is it that those who make this claim are almost always part of the group that's 'in'?".  These questions stack up, and so does his criticism of evangelicals.  As a conservative evangelical myself, I can say that we often (sometimes intentionally and sometimes not) have judged and alienated those who don't follow Jesus.  We have observed their choices and lifestyles and categorized them, instead of having compassion on them like Jesus did.  We have focused on their foolishness while somehow ignoring our own.  Nonetheless, Bell's vehement critique of the "E-club" gets old after awhile.  Like listening to a one-string banjo.

I want to briefly discuss two of his main points, one I agree with and one I do not.  

His discussion of heaven is very good.  He is critical of the assumption that heaven and eternal life are something that exist somewhere else and later.  "Eternal life doesn't start when we die; it starts now.  It's not about a life that begins at death; it's about experiencing the kind of life now that can endure and survive even death." (pg. 59).  This life comes through Jesus Christ when we choose to follow Him - eternal life now.  "Jesus talked about a reality he called the kingdom of God.  He described an all-pervasive dimension of being, a bit like oxygen for us or water for fish, that he insisted was here, at hand, now, among us, and upon us. . . Jesus invites us, in this life, in this broken beautiful world, to experience the life of heaven now.  He insisted over and over that God's peace, joy, and love are currently available to us." (pg. 61-62).

He also encourages the reader to think about about the gospel primarily in terms of joyous participation rather than just as a ticket reserving your spot in heaven.  "Life has never been about just 'getting in'.  It's about thriving in God's good world.  It's stillness, peace, and that feeling of your soul being at rest, while at the same time it's about asking things, learning things, creating things, and sharing it all with others who are finding the same kind of joy in the same good world." (pg. 179).  This sounds like what Jesus describes as "life to the full" in John 10:10.  I like that - we have an opportunity to experience the sanctified, joyous life that awaits us in the redeemed, re-Creation NOW, HERE, through the Gospel.  This is good.

His discussion of hell and judgment is interesting.  He has grabbed hold of the idea that we can experience hell here on earth through our choices.  By rejecting God and choosing to exclude Him, we experience hell now, and increasingly so over time.  This is Great Divorce imagery and quite true to an extent.  He spends a great deal of time flushing out this point.  He also rejects the idea of God's final judgment to an eternal torment, and instead seems to embrace the idea that, "given enough time, everybody will turn to God and find themselves in the joy and peace of God's presence.  The love of God will melt every hard heart, and even the most 'depraved sinners' will eventually give up their resistance and turn to God." (p.106-7)  He also writes, "untold masses of people suffering forever doesn't bring God glory.  Restoration brings God glory; eternal torment doesn't.  Reconciliation brings God glory; endless anguish doesn't.  Renewal and return cause God's greatness to shine through the universe; never-ending punishment doesn't." (p.108)  (I find myself wondering where God's holiness fits in here?)  He references "a long tradition" of serious Christians who also held this view (Clement of Alexandria, Origin, Gregory of Nyssa, Eusebius, Jerome, Basil).  This certainly leans heavily towards a universalist view.  Lastly, he references Revelation 21:25 as a biblical example of people having limitless opportunity to be reconciled to God, even after the appearance of the New Jerusalem and into eternity.  "We read in Revelation that the gates of that city in that new world will 'never shut' . . . gates are for keeping people in and keeping people out.  If the gates are never shut, then people are free to come and go." (p. 115)  Bell consistently encourages us to not make theologies based upon one verse, but does it himself in this instance.  And he seems to dismiss the numerous passages and images in the Scriptures that indicate there is a final judgment (Matthew 25, Revelation 20:1-15, Daniel 12:1-3, 2 Thess. 1:8-9, and 2 Peter 3:1-10 among others).     

In my opinion Bell has become so uncomfortable with the idea of lasting judgment that he's now completely rejected it.  

Sidenote: A serious mistake we can make is presuming to know WHY he's gotten to that place.  "Oh, he's just a liberal!  He's just one of those emerging church guys!  He's just preaching what people want to hear so he can keep the seats filled!  He just this or he's just that!" - Big mistake.  Only God knows the true journey of his heart.  To presume we know shows that we are ignorant and narrow-minded. 

Interestingly though, with all the questions he asks, he never actually claims specifically that there is no eternal punishment.  Nowhere in this book.  He simply gives example after example, posing question after question (How could God still claim to be loving if He sends billions of people to eternal torment?  If God wants all people to be reconciled to Him, doesn't God get what God wants?  Do we actually have to trust Jesus to rescue us from God?).  Is he chickening out? Perhaps Bell's main purpose is to get us to think.  Maybe it's to stir up the E-club to think and act with greater compassion and grace.  Maybe even he doesn't know what his purpose is.  One initial visceral response I had to his promos and interviews on TV and online, was that he was only reinforcing this stereotype that Christians are judgmental numbskulls.  I think it's likely people would see this book and his media blitz as more evidence that the orthodox Christian worldview (more simply - the Gospel of Jesus) is irrelevant and impotent.  That's probably happened to some extent.  I'm relieved that God is bigger than NBC and YouTube.


This book has some very positive, intelligent things to say.  The best chapter (the last) is actually the shortest.  It lacks the biting, provocative style of the rest of the book, and probably represents what his true voice actually is.  But his biblical thinking also has some serious holes.  I've already heard a couple people praise this book because it affirms what they'd hoped all their lives (that God loves us too much to bring eternal condemnation upon us for our simple sins).  But the idea that we would try to make God or His Word into something that we're more comfortable with is troubling.  Doing that has caused more problems over the centuries than probably anything else.

Car Alarms

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

"What's that noise, Daddy?"  my daughter Rose asked.  "That's a car alarm, sweetheart.  Somebody's set it off by accident."  It's 9am and we're sitting at the breakfast table playing her new favorite card game: War.

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

I'm reminded why we don't have a car alarm - I hate them.  For as long as I can remember I've detested unnecessary, repetitive noises.   Vibrating change in the ashtray, dripping faucets, barking dogs and especially car alarms.

HONK!  HONK!

"That's loud. " Rose says.  I give her a smile.  "Well, maybe one of our neighbors is testing it to see if we can hear it all the way in here." 

HONK!

Alright already!  Someone get that thing turned off!  I crane my neck to look out into the yard.  A thin layer of ice and snow left by last night's brief return of winter covers the grass.  In the driveway my unhonking car is also covered with ice, but the sun is out and everything is already starting to melt quickly.  I'm thankful for the sun this morning.

HONK!

"It's your turn, Daddy."  Rose says gently.  Apparently I've allowed the noise to distract me from what's really important.  I need to stop obsessing about the car alarm and focus my attention on the game.  I push the noise out of my mind.

I turn my next card over.  It's a seven of clubs.  "We both have sevens!  War!"  Rose exclaims.  We both count out three cards and lay them face down.  "This next card is it," I say.  "Whoever has the higher card  keeps all of them.  Ready?"  Both of us lay our cards down.

HONK!  HONK!  HONK!

"That's it!  I'm finding out who this idiot is!" I say not exactly under my breath.  I slam my cards down on the table and go for the front door.  "You're not allowed to say that word, Daddy."  I barely even hear Rose's rebuke as I open the door and stand on the front porch.  "Which of my dumb neighbors is it this time?"  I'm literally fuming.

HONK!  HONK! 

"Who is it?"  I look frantically up and down the driveways.

HONK!  HONK! 

"C'mon!!"  I yell to my empty yard.

HONK!  HONK!

My eyes are suddenly drawn to the corner of my house, and I see the downspout has broken away from the gutter and is hanging in midair.  Water is gushing out of the spoutless gutter.

What the . . . ?

All the melting ice and snow from my roof is running down the side of my house and into my basement!

HONK!  HONK!

Several thought's blast through my brain simultaneously as I sprint for the garage to get my ladder:

How on earth did that break?
How long has the water been running like that?
Is my basement going to be flooded?
I don't need this right now!
This is just great.

HONK!  HONK!

I open the garage door and wrestle my aluminum ladder from the wall.  I've got to get that downspout reconnected right away or I'll have some serious problems in my basement.

HONK!  HONK!

As I'm running down the driveway with my ladder something quietly occurs to me:

"If that car alarm hadn't been going off this morning, I probably wouldn't have stepped outside and noticed the broken downspout."

HONK!  HONK!

"That water could've gushed for a couple hours before I noticed it was broken.  (I mean really, who does a daily check to see that their downspouts are connected and working properly?)"

HONK!  HONK!

"God must have set that car alarm off so I'd go outside and see the broken downspout!"

HONK!  HON . . . .

The car alarm stopped at the exact moment the last thought entered my mind.

Hmmmmm.

 I guess I don't really mind car alarms after all.

Starting Over Again

My children love to stand over the furnace register on cold, winter mornings.  They crawl out of bed and head immediately to the inviting warmth of the side room register.  Often they wrap blankets around their necks and the forced air inflates the blankets into large cones.  The register always brightens their mood, brings them comfort, and puts a smile on their face.

This morning my 3-yr.-old daughter, Rose, woke up in a bright and lovely mood.   As I sat at the table reading, she came in and gave me one of her million dollar smiles.  After talking for a few moments about last night's dreams she went to sit on the couch with her 5-yr.-old brother Nathanael, who was reading a book.  I had no clue of the disaster that was about to suddenly strike our household.  Within seconds Rose was hyperventilating with dramatic tears.  She claimed that Nathanael had scratched her foot and wouldn't leave her alone (not unusual).  Nothing I did or said improved the situation, and she remained adamantly inconsolable (also not unusual).

Several minutes later I called the kids in for breakfast.  Rose sat on the couch and refused to come in and eat.  I looked at her and said, "Sweetheart.  Please come sit down with your brother and sister for breakfast."  "But my foot hurts!  Nathan scratched me!" she insisted.

I knew arguing with her when she was upset like this was fruitless.  So I suggested something I knew would make her feel better.  "Why don't you go stand on the register.  It's on right now."

"No!!!  I don't want to!"  She wailed.

"Are you sure?" I asked.  "If you stand on the register, I think it will make you feel better.  You'll see things a little differently if you do."

"No!!!  It's not even working!" she cried.

I glanced over toward the register.   The fronds of our spider plant above the register blew back and forth, clearly indicating the furnace had kicked on.  In the background I could hear the soft hum of the air blowing through the ducts.

"Rose, this will help you feel better," I said.  "Lift your arms."  I gently picked her and set her down on the register.  "No!  It's not working!  It's not working!" she yelled as the air from the register blew her hair up over her ears.  She was so angry at her brother that she refused to be comforted by the warmth of the furnace.  At that moment it didn't even exist.  Tears streamed down her face and spittle hung from the corner of her mouth. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

After several seconds I said, "Okay.  Why don't we start over.  Do you think we could do that?"  Rose hesitated a moment and after a bit more encouraging headed back upstairs to her room. Sometimes when a day begins like this one did, the kids go back to bed and we start the day all over again.  Five minutes later I walked upstairs and went into her room.  "Good morning sweetheart!  Did you sleep okay?  How about some breakfast?"  The tears and the anger disappeared, and Rose soon sat at the table to eat her Honeycomb.  The sad, grumpy little Rose disappeared as well and a new Rose took her place.

Thank God we can start over.

More later. . .

The Basketball Strangler: The Aftermath

(Before reading this entry, you should probably read my post from 11/07/09 for context.  The Basketball Strangler: Part One)

In the summertime I work at a Christian retreat center as the director of music and worship.  The conference grounds are located on the beautiful shores of Lake Michigan.  Each week of the summer season features a different bible teacher, and families from all over the country go there to spend their vacation.  It's truly a wonderful place to work and to visit.

During our first summer working there, one of our featured speakers was a pastor of a prominent megachurch located near Chicago.  He was a gifted and passionate communicator and his love for God and for the Scriptures was infectious.  My parents were visiting at the time and my mom, who is sometimes difficult to impress, liked him very much.  His first message was on Sunday morning and he shared a bit of his story with us.

He'd grown up in northeast Ohio and was a basketball player in high school.  He went on to play in college at Bowling Green, where he met his current wife.  The inspiring part of his story was how his life had been radically changed after he became a follower of Jesus at age 27.  He eventually left the corporate world to pursue Christian pastoral work.  I grew up in Northeast Ohio myself, so I approached him after the service to talk about our common roots.  This is how our conversation went as best as I can remember it:

"Thank you for your message," I said.

"You're welcome.  Thanks for your music," he replied.

"So you grew up in Northeast Ohio.  I did too.  Are you a Tribe fan?"  I asked.

"Absolutely.  They're playing great ball right now.  It's hard because everyone at my church asks me why I'm not a Cubs fan.  I always say, 'Same difference!' "

"So what town in northeast Ohio did you grow up in?" I asked.

"Kirtland."

Suddenly the hair stood up on the back of my neck.  Something began to not-so-gently gnaw at my brain as I talked to him.  "And you played basketball right?  What year did you graduate from high school?" I asked.

"1982,"  he said.

I was suddenly queasy, sort of like when you see a picture of an old girlfriend.  "My older brother graduated in 1982, and he also played basketball," I said.

"Oh yeah?  What high school did he go to?"

"Cardinal.  Cardinal Huskies." I said.

A moment passed as he looked at me.  A confused expression came across his face as he desperately searched his brain trying to put the pieces together of what I was already beginning to realize.  I just waited.

"What high school did you say your brother went to again?" he asked.

"You're that guy!  You're him!"  I exclaimed.

His eyes grew huge as it all clicked and he realized what I was talking about.  He threw up his hands.  "I didn't do anything!" he said adamantly.  "For years everyone has blamed me for what happened, but I didn't do anything!"

"Whatever!  I was there that night!"  I said.  "It's one of my most vivid memories!  I can't believe it.  After all these years to actually meet you in person.  My dad is gonna crap.  My family has talked about that night often."

We both started laughing because of the absurdity of it all.  He laughed even harder when I told him that my parents were visiting that week.  I brought my dad over to talk to Ron and they had a great time reliving that night.  My mom, on the other hand, was not at all amused by the improbable revelation.  Once she found out who this guy was, her anger from that night at the basketball game resurfaced.  After the service we all went to the Sweet Shop and had ice cream together.  Everyone had a great time laughing and getting to know each other.  Everyone except my mom, who spent the entire time giving Ron her evil eye.

The situation was aggravated the next morning when Ron shared his side of the story with the 250 or so people gathered for the morning service.  According to him, he never intentionally kicked Cardinal's player.  His recollection is that after he was shoved to the floor, he inadvertently stepped on Robert's balls as he tried to stand up.  He freely admits that he was an arrogant and cocky player, but that he never viciously kicked him.  He said that he doesn't have much recollection of what happened during the melee after he got tackled.  That's probably because his forehead was bashed into the hardwood floor.

This really pissed my mom off because she felt like he was using the situation to elevate himself, and she questioned his contrite humility about the whole thing.  She may very well be right in thinking that.  To further complicate events, Ron said he had actual video evidence to corroborate his version of what happened.  I was honestly skeptical of this until several months later I received an email from Ron containing a link to a youtube video of the game.  Ron had a VHS copy of the game film from that night, and a friend of his converted the video and posted it on youtube.  I must say that watching it the first time gave me chills because I can actually see myself, my brother and my parents in the video.  Talk about deja vu.  It's quite compelling. 

Before I share the link to the video, I want to say something about this whole situation.  Before I became a follower of Jesus I was a real bastard.  In the years before my conversion I alienated a lot of people because of my bad choices and selfish lifestyle.  I've grown accustomed to people from my past refusing to believe that I've changed and that I'm any different from the person they remember.  I think it's part of the consequences we pay for living a life rejecting Jesus.  But I am an adamant believer that ANYONE can have a changed life because NO ONE is beyond the reach of the grace of God.  I also believe that we can rehearse and replay old events so often that we block out the feasibility that someone who's hurt us in the past could possibly be different.  I probably won't run into Ron Z***** again, but seeing his changed life now reminds me of how much grace there is in a relationship with Christ.  It shows me how much good God has in store for me if I can only trust Him.

It's unfortunate (or perhaps providential) that the video doesn't show the exact moment of the alleged kick in the balls.  The camera followed the action of the play, and the incident happens just out of the camera's view.  The players on both teams and the referees all had their backs to Ron and Robert.  The only people who could've clearly witnessed the incident are the Cardinal fans in the bleachers.  From the tape you see a man immediately stand up and yell at Z***** while he's pointing to Robert's genitals.  And within seconds the fit hits the shan.  (Read Part One of Basketball Strangler).

If I had to draw a conclusion, I would say that Ron Z***** did give him a shot in the crotch.  Maybe Ron got what he deserved (and maybe Robert did too).  Who knows?  But it sure is fun to talk about. 

Watch the video and you make the call.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t76OrX2aJHY 

More later . . .

The Basketball Strangler: Part One

"You're that guy!  You're him!"  I exclaimed to the man.

The man's eyes grew huge as he realized what I was talking about.  "I didn't do anything!" he said adamantly.  "For years everyone has blamed me for what happened, but I didn't do anything!"  And he claimed to have evidence to prove it.  I couldn't believe it.

25 years earlier . . .

I was eight years old in 1982.  I was sitting with my parents in the visitor's bleachers at Kirtland High School gymnasium watching our Cardinal Huskies do battle with a far superior Kirtland squad.  My older brother was playing on the team and we weren't expected to even compete.

The Kirtland Hornets had a gym that felt like a penitentiary: drab, dark and crawling with convicts.  Their star player was a senior named Ron Z*****, and he could shoot the lights out.  He was a trash-talking, arrogant player and had the skills to back it up.  He was also known around the league for playing dirty.

It was just before the half when Ron Z***** broke open and launched a moon shot right in front of where I was sitting.  When he came down he was boxed out by Robert Soltis, one of Cardinal's defenders.  They both fell down out of bounds and hit the first row of bleachers.  Things happened quickly after that:

Everyone's attention followed the ball across the court, so Ron took the opportunity to give a hard kick to Robert's testicles.  The visitor's bleachers erupted with angry boos and shouts, because we all had seen Ron's attack on Robert's balls.  We also watched as Robert slowly rocked back on forth, trying to slake the overwhelming pain in his gut by cradling his junk in his hands.  Then Z***** stood up, turned his back to us and walked away.  It was right then that everything began to move in slow motion.

From behind me a small man began descending the bleachers two at a time.  He slid quickly past my dad, jumped to the floor and started running toward Ron Z*****.  Instantly my dad popped out of his seat to try and stop him, but was too late to prevent what happened next.  As Ron slowly walked away from where Robert lay groaning on the hardwood, the crazed fan tackled him violently from behind, driving his head into the court floor.  The court filled instantly with punching, kicking, and screaming players and fans.  Everyone was fighting in one big, angry mass.  It was a melee.

I have several intense, vivid memories from that night.  The first is my mother's screams.  Once my dad jumped out of his seat, my mother grabbed my arm and held me down, screaming at the top of her lungs.  Another is seeing my angry brother in a wrestling match with another Kirtland player.  Another is my dad kneeling down trying to help Robert, who just lay on the floor holding himself.  And then there was the announcer's panicked voice over the PA, making a futile attempt to take control of the mob.

After several minutes the coaches and on duty police officers were finally able to get things under control.  They were eventually able to finish the game, and Cardinal suffered another defeat, made worse by the sight of one of our fans being arrested for assaulting a minor.  The crazed fan was the dad of one of our players and at the time was a member of the school board.  He got cuffed and stuffed.

Over the years the events of that night were retold dozens of times and quickly became part of our family's oral history.  And of course Ron Z***** became increasingly more evil with each telling until he'd almost become the devil himself.  At least, that's the caricature my family had created of him.  Little did I know that the story wasn't finished being written.

More later . . .

Music, Mystery and Powdered Milk Biscuits

One of best music groups on the planet is the Guy's All-Star Shoe Band from Garrison Keillor's weekly radio program Prairie Home Companion. It's a simple five-piece band that can play anything, and play it prodigiously. The piano player in particular has earth-shattering chops in any style. They provide all the incidental music for the radio show in addition to 8-10 special tunes accompanying guest musicians and singers each week. The highlight of each week's show is an advertisement for Powdered Milk Biscuits where the band freaks out in a bluegrass/ragtime hoedown. They play a simple I-IV-V progression while trading fours and it blows the mind, especially when Richard Dworsky the piano player takes his turn. You can listen to the weekly sound byte on PHC's website: http://prairiehome.publicradio.org/.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how God reveals himself to us. Fundamentally He's revealed Himself through the Scriptures and through the presence of the Holy Spirit that lives within us. What I'm thinking of, though, is the specific and occasional moments when God makes our hearts powerfully aware of His presence. I've had many of these moments, and they've always left a lasting impression. My search for understanding is not so I may conjure more of these moments, but so that I can more firmly grasp how I best develop connection with God. I'm thinking more and more that God uses different avenues and experiences to reveal Himself to different people. For some it's music, for others it's nature or books or relationships. Identifying how God has shaped my soul to best sense and engage His Spirit continues to grow in importance for me.

God has most often revealed Himself to me through music.

For example:

Last Sunday, I went with my wife to see Andrew Peterson's Behold the Lamb of God concert at our church. I was genuinely moved and impressed with both the music and the musicians. The depth of meaning behind the libretto, and the mastery with which those men played their instruments stirred me deeply. At several moments I was near tears, though I've heard the music dozens of times.

The reason I mentioned Powdered Milk Biscuits earlier is because God has often used those few short moments during that commercial break in Prairie Home Companion to shine a bright light into my soul. What's interesting is that there's nothing complicated about its form (a simple blues/ragtime), but it's done so well that it speaks deeply to me almost every time I hear it.

This was true of the December 14th episode in particular. Their special musical guest that week was Chris Thile, the vocalist/mandolin player from Nickel Creek. He played a solo cover version of the White Stripes song "Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground". I was in the car returning from church when I heard it and it literally blew my mind. I was stunned how a soloist with a mandolin could do something so profound and so penetrating to my soul. I freaked out in the car I was so filled with the Spirit of God. Then right after he finished, the Guys All-Star Shoe Band played Powdered Milk Biscuits with Chris Thile and I was so excited that I disturbed another driver who witnessed my enthusiasm--no joke. What a gift from God!

A famous missions story is told of Rev. E. P. Scott, a missionary to India in the 19th century, where he was caught by a murderous band of tribesmen who were closing in on him with spears. Knowing he was going to die in a few moments, the missionary took out his violin, closed his eyes and began to play and sing "All Hail the Power of Jesus' Name". When he finished the song he opened his eyes to see that the tribesmen had dropped their spears and were weeping. Scott spent the remaining years of his life with these people, sharing the Gospel of Jesus with them. Was it the power released from the music that so keenly changed the hearts of those men? I believe it was.

I remember my college chamber group singing "If Ye Love Me, Keep My Commandments" by Thomas Tallis in the vault of Lincoln's tomb. It's a sublime piece and when we sang it in that circular granite sepulcher, God shone His light brightly among us. It was a moment never to be repeated, but forever impressed into my soul. I felt as if I was swimming in sound and somehow hearing colors.

Another time when I was 19 yrs. old I was at home alone listening to the Hallelujah Chorus from The Messiah. I had sung that piece dozens and dozens of times in choir, but that particular time when I was alone and listening to it, I began to weep uncontrollably. It was so odd and out of place for me to do that, I didn't quite know how to feel about it. That was one of the first times I experienced that.

Recently during one of the most difficult times of my life, God used a song called, "The Silence of God" by Andrew Peterson to reveal Himself to me. My wife and I had just lost our baby and I was having a really rough time. Listening to that song, God revealed a piece of Himself that I desperately needed that day.

So I surrender myself to this deep desire and longing I have to hear and to play extraordinary music. By surrendering I avail myself to God's familiar avenue through which He reveals Himself to me. But this means that I will suffer a bit when I hear or witness great music. My suffering comes from wanting desperately to participate with those joined together in musical community, but knowing that I won't be able to. I must create my own community, and hope that God will reveal Himself in the midst of it. I can't be a part of the Square Peg Alliance, but I can pray for people to join my own alliance. Maybe that will happen someday. If not, I still believe that I'll hear from God, I just need to listen carefully and invite Him to show Himself.

More later . . .

God Loves Movies

God Loves Movies. I know it. Certainly there are countless movies that God abhors because of the content. But He loves the medium and how it can awaken and enkindle so much within our spirit.

This is why sports movies are often so compelling and enjoyable. I love sports movies. Of course they can be cliche and sensationalized, but that's okay because it's part of the experience. Among the many great sports movies there's Major League, The Natural, Murderball, Chariots of Fire, Field of Dreams, The Rookie, Rudy, Rocky, Remember the Titans, A League of Their Own, Cinderella Man, Hoop Dreams, Team Hoyt on YouTube, Seabiscuit, Jerry Maguire and of course Hoosiers (the best sports movie of all time). Teen Wolf deserves an honorable mention because Michael J. Fox swishing the final free throw with no time remaining is close to a classic moment. When that movie came out, who didn't dream of being a werewolf and flying higher than Michael Jordan?

The common theme in all these films is the accomplishment of victory against a seemingly invincible opponent and insurmountable odds. That's why you never grow tired of watching Jimmy Chitwood sink the final field goal in Hoosiers. It's also why you feel like a million bucks after watching the US Olympic hockey team defeat the Soviets in Disney's Miracle. It causes our hearts and minds to look beyond what we can normally see to something far greater. It can be a fabulous inspiration.

Some might think that a film is something too flippant for God to really care about. I would disagree. Art has always been a powerful force to engage the soul and inspire the heart. Have you ever watched The Passion of the Christ? Think of the illiterate peasants in the 12th century who couldn't read the Bible, but they could see the amazing frescoes and stained glass adorning the churches of the time. God is the One who designed us to respond so viscerally to art, music and expression. There's a reason you want to vomit while watching the ignorance and violence of Schindler's List. Everyone I know cried when Ray Kinsella was finally able to reunite and reconcile with his long dead father at the end of Field of Dreams. It's how God created us. God is the original storyteller and moviemaker. Moses at the Red Sea anyone? Gideon anyone? David and Goliath anyone? There's not a more perfect movie script than the one found in 1 Samuel. It tells the story of the newly-anointed boy David killing the invincible giant Goliath, fleeing the insane and violent king Saul, hiding with his army among the enemies of Israel and overcoming unbelievable obstacles to become the greatest King of Israel. It was certainly messy, but it is an amazing story. God cares deeply about incredible stories of heroes and villains and faith and risk.

I'm anxiously waiting to see what movies we have awaiting us in heaven. Anxiously.

More later . . .

Dreams and Sleeping

My whole life I've had vivid dreams while I sleep. At least 6 nights a week the craziest dreams rip through my mind at a pace I can barely keep up with, and when I wake up I guess I'm rested. I get so little sleep anyway I'm not sure my body would even know real rest. I haven't slept well at all since our children arrived over six years ago. I might get 5-6 hours a night, and if I sleep longer I wake up feeling ucky.

The vivid dreams started early. When I was young I had a recurring dream that I had two moms: my evil mom and my real mom. The evil mom had a warped, demonic face and a cold, whispery voice. It was my mom, but a dark, twisted version of her. My real mom always seemed to be in the next room when the evil mom appeared, so they never actually met. I couldn't convince my real mom that there was a horrible woman lurking around the house terrorizing her son. I had that dream many times.

When I was in high school I started doing a lot of music and theater. The classic performer's nightmare became a regular in the queue. It's the typical dream where you're on stage and you're the lead, but you have no idea what show you're in or what you're lines are. The urgency and acute nature of the stress is breathtaking. Very recently though, I actually recognized while I was sleeping that I was having one of these dreams and I somehow woke myself up. What a feeling of empowerment that gave me.

Rarely are my dreams the kind that bring peace or a sense of fun. I've never had a dream that I was Superman and that I could fly. The closest I've gotten is The Greatest American Hero; I've got the suit and should be able to fly but I can't. That's frustrating. Or maybe in my dream I've got a Harley between my legs, but I just can't seem to get her going, or she's just really slow.

I also dream about losing one or more family members. This looks different every time. Sometimes I dream that I'm having an affair with some anonymous woman and my wife discovers us. She takes everything and leaves. Another time she takes our three kids up in a hot air balloon and it disappears without a trace. Another dream has my 4-yr.-old Nathan walking across the rafter beam in a huge barn. And of course I'm yelling at the top of my lungs and of course . . . he falls. These dreams are the worst.

My dreams of late have been of the CIA/NSA flavor, with a bit of the Bourne Identity thrown in. I'm being pursued by a large group of agents who are very sinister and powerful. I wake up running.

Another very weird aspect of my dreams is that anyone can show up as a major character. I might think of the most random person during the day, or see someone's image in a magazine or paper, and they will guest star in that night's dream. It might be someone from high school who I just reconnected with on Facebook, and they'll appear in my dream like we were never apart. Weird.

In the Bible God frequently uses dreams to communicate with people. I can't help but wonder what, if anything, He might be trying to show me. I won't speculate, but whatever it is, it's certainly coming to me in HD.

More later . . .

Answering my friend's question...

Since joining Facebook in May of 2008, I've reconnected with dozens of people from high school and college. Each reconnect is interesting because they all knew me before I became a follower of Jesus. My life has changed so dramatically since then that during these reconnections I'm compelled to talk about it.

One renewed friendship is with a girl I used to date in high school. I was a total shit to her back then, and she has some understandable bad memories of me. After hearing about how my life had changed, she asked me how/why I would devote my life totally to God. I've included my very long answer to her question. Hopefully we can continue to dialog about it together from afar. She lives in Arizona.

Here it is:

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Okay, I'm going to do my best to answer some of your questions. I certainly don't think you're being disrespectful by asking me to talk about my faith.
It's best if we go back to the beginning so I can set the context for you. At different points I'm going to quote passages from the Bible.

My stuff from high school continued when I went to college. I pursued music, sex and drugs/alcohol all with equal passion. Eventually I was taking drugs most days of the week (primarily dope and shrooms). It had wrecked a lot of my relationships, including my relationship with Christina (my wife now). I had grown up going to church every week, and even went during college most Sundays with my parents. I knew a good deal of the stories of the Bible and knew who God was and who Jesus was. My problem was is that I didn't believe much if any of what I had heard, and it had almost no impact on my life.

So my life went on like that until my senior year in college. My senior year was pretty difficult. My drug use and stupid behavior was reaching it's apex, and after years & years of thinking that I was going to teach music and play music professionally, I decided to walk away with no real plans for what to do next. I was asking a lot of questions and I was becoming more and more discontented with where my life was heading. Now, one thing that my church experience had given me was a healthy concept of feeling guilty over my choices. My parents had that number down cold. So I had all this unrest and guilt in my heart with no idea how to manage it. I had briefly become involved with a Christian ministry on campus (Hope Fellowship), but I didn't stick around because for the most part no one seemed to have any real interest in me. My reputation certainly preceded me.

Anyway, during this time that I started asking questions, I began meeting these people at AU who were involved with The Navigators. These guys were the first people I'd had ever met whose faith seemed genuine--it made a visible impact on their lives. God was real to them, He spoke to them and directed theirs lives (according to them). But of course I thought that I would never be able to have what they had because of all the bad stuff I was into. It was also at this time that I started thinking more about Jesus and the whole issue of His dying on the Cross to "save me from my sins". This of course I had heard growing up in church and also from my new friends, but I had systematically rejected the whole idea. Deep down I knew that I was holding Jesus at arm's length, and I just didn't want to give someone else control of my life. The Bible teaches that, "All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). Isaiah 59:2 says, "But your iniquities have separated you from your God; your sins have hidden his face from you, so that he will not hear." I thought a lot about this idea of my sin--I had plenty of sins to choose from in my life. And I definitely felt like there was a great distance between God and myself. I looked at the lives of my new friends and I saw peace, and I saw friendships that were genuine, and I saw lives that were filled with purpose and conviction.

My friend Nate was the one who spent the most time answering my questions. Among the many things we talked about, two things still stick out in my mind. The first is from Romans 6:23, "For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our LORD". That reminded me of John 3:16, which everyone in the world knows, "For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son, that whoever might believe in him shall not perish but have eternal life."

Eventually, (and I cannot pinpoint a day or time), I found myself contemplating becoming a follower of Jesus. As I wrestled through what this would mean to me, I found myself excited about the idea of being able to trust God. I remember thinking that my music, theater and druggie friends were going to think I was such a hypocrite. But I didn't care. I felt like I was being chased by God. I couldn't get Jesus' words from John 5:24 out of my mind, "I tell you the truth, whoever hears my word and believes him who sent me has eternal life and will not be condemned; he has crossed over from death to life." I had this growing desire to find this source of life.

So, at some point, I made the decision to believe God. I made the decision that I was going to start following Jesus. Despite the fact that I wasn't sure what it would mean over time. Despite the fact that I wasn't sure what it would mean to my life. And on and on . . .

Looking back it was a period of about two years between when I first started exploring becoming a follower of Jesus and when I finally decided I would. During that two years I wrestled with God and my soul, and took more drugs & had more sex, and fought with God, and took more drugs, and fought with my new Christians friends, and took more drugs, and fought with my parents, and took more drugs, etc. etc. . . . eventually I gave up and told God okay.

Initially most of my friends and family thought I was a little off kilter. They laughed and said, "Pretty soon you're going to f@$#! up and what will your new friends think then?" And I did screw up a lot in the beginning, but the Navigator guys never bailed on me. They were committed to help me start a new life. And most importantly my greatest fear of all never came true: that God would give up on me and walk away from me. When I think back on all the terrible things that I had done and thought about, it can only be a miracle that God hasn't left me and given up on me. But that's the beauty I never knew before I decided to believe Jesus' words and follow Him. Jesus says in John 6:35 & 37, "Then Jesus declared, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty. 37All that the Father gives me will come to me, and whoever comes to me I will never drive away."

I've now been following Jesus for 13 years, and it's been a wild ride. The most significant thing about my life since then is that God has been patient with me and has shown me great mercy. And there's a few key things that characterize our life together (Christina and I) as we walk with God. If you've read this far, I hope you'll read a little longer.

Key Thing #1 -- I have peace in my life. I am no longer am guilty about anything in my life, especially from my past. It says in 2 Corinthians 5:17, "If anyone is in Christ he is a new creation; the old is gone and the new has come" Wow is this ever true! I believe completely that when Jesus died on the Cross and God raised Him from the dead, that my sins were taken away--past, present and future. I'm not saying that I no longer do things that are wrong (far from it), but I'm no longer guilty because of them. Jesus has made this possible for me and for anyone who might believe in Him. This has a profound impact on how I live my life and the quality of the life that I'm living because I'm not shackled by doubt and guilt deep, deep inside.

Key Thing #2 -- I can trust God for everything--I no longer have to worry about my life. Jesus said in John 10:10, "The thief comes only to steal, kill and destroy. I have come that they may have life and have it to the full." Philippians 4:19 says, "My God will meet all your needs, according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus." My decision to trust God for everything has been the best decision of my life. This has allowed me to resist the fear of "not having enough" and the pursuit of greed and materialism. The richness of my life has enabled me to be content with all that God has provided for me. So I don't worry about if I will keep my job, or how we will pay our mortgage, or where we will get money to retire, or where our next vehicle will come from, or the high cost of gas, or the well-being of my children, etc. etc. Because I believe utterly that God will meet all of our needs--financially, relationally, and physically. In now way am I saying that we don't plan wisely or spend carefully or do what we need to do in order to survive. We definitely try to be the best stewards of what God has given us. But ultimately God is the one who meets every need we have, and He wants to do that for me.

Something that is a source of great hope and peace for me is: the Creator of the Universe, who is unlimited in His resources and power, has unlimited affection for me and wants to meet my every need.

Key Thing #3 -- I am totally secure in my identity. I know who I am and whose I am. This may be the most significant & tangible thing that has affected me since I started following Jesus. One of the things that has plagued me as long as I can remember is that I've done almost everything in my life from a position of fear. I was afraid of getting into trouble, I was afraid of displeasing my parents, I was afraid of failing, I was afraid of not fitting in, I was afraid of what people would think, I was afraid of not being the best, I was afraid of being laughed at, I was afraid of getting caught, I was afraid that I wouldn't succeed, I was afraid of being found out, I was afraid of looking like a fool, I was afraid . . . . Everything that I did was because I was afraid. Even when I was carrying on with the sex/drugs/alcohol, it was mostly all in secret because I was afraid of getting into trouble or being thought of as a druggie. I graduated magna cum laude from college in spite of all the drugs and alcohol because I was so afraid of not being successful in school. Every relationship that I ever carried on, male or female, romantic or platonic, was all about me--so needless to say they were all pretty much based on crap.

But Jesus has released me from all of that. In 2 Corinthians 5 the apostle Paul wrote, "For Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And he died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for him who died for them and was raised again." This has become what my life is about--to live my life for Him who died for me (Jesus) and not for myself. I am no longer afraid of failing. So my life has become about loving and serving others on Jesus' behalf. And this has transformed everything in my life, especially my relationships with people. Because now I see people not for what they are, but for who they can become. I see people as potential dwelling places for the Holy Spirit to live and lead, which has made my life incredibly exciting and fulfilling. By living a life not to fulfill myself I find myself filled regardless. It all goes back to where Jesus said, "He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty. "

And also, I'm not a crazy nutjob. I'm a regular guy who loves his wife and children, who loves beer, who loves football and baseball, who loves hanging out and who is fiercely loyal and committed to his friends and family.

A final note: I need to disclaim that everything I've just said is the ideal--the goal to which I attain. In reality I can give into fear in a second. I can be an awful person, and awful husband, and an awful parent. I do the best that I can, but often my best isn't all that great. But because I've decided to trust God and follow Jesus, He gives me incredible grace to start anew at any moment. And that is my hope: that God is never finished with me. He is always helping me to become a more authentic man -- friend, husband, and dad. Jesus has done this for me. The things of this world cannot give that to us--the world leaves us empty, sputtering and in despair.

So that is why I've given myself completely to Him--to leave my life and the life of my family in His hands. I've given my life to God because He can do far more with it than I could ever do with it on my own. But I never would have discovered this unless I had decided to finally trust Him and receive Jesus to give me life. I can't imagine my life another way.


That took me a little longer to unpack than normal. I think I'm going to start a blog.

So do you still want to talk about this? I would love to if you do.

Your old friend,
Charly

More later . . .