Grandma's Rusted Car Just Killed a Reindeer

I spell it RAWK

Okay, this is my newest acquisition. Better yet, I acquired it as a gift.

Dave was so excited--like, giddee little girl excited--to give me a gift for my 40th upon his return from Colorado yesterday. I came around the corner to see him with a big grin starring at me, then at my desk, then at me, then at my desk . . . I caught on.

This was sitting on my desk.

Yes, it IS a dulcimer.
Yes, it IS electric.
Yes, yesterday is the first time I played one for longer than 5 minutes.
Yes, it WILL show up in Fusion.
Yes, probably this week.
Yes, it is the first one I have owned.
Yes, I am stoked.
Yes, Dave is thoughtful.
Yes, I suck at it but no one will know because I can pull off anything for one or two songs.

Prayer Songs and Turpentine

I have a habit of writing down prayers.

Often times, I will write my prayers and sit with my guitar and a recording device of some kind and keep that prayer/song for a bit. I don't know how many prayers I have actually committed to song but I know I have thrown away more than I can remember.

Sometimes, I will watch a video of a prayer song or listen to an mp3 of a prayer song days or weeks later, analyze where I was "back then," and compare it to where I am at the moment.

The recordings are never that great quite honestly. Stripped back. References. Logs. But, they are my prayers. Sometimes they are so stream of consciousness it isn't funny. Sometimes they make poetic sense. Most, I would never share.

I highly encourage this practice. I grew up feeling "guilty" for not journaling because everyone around me said that good Christians journal. This however, makes sense to me--to sit with an instrument of some kind and talk to God. So, I journal . . . but not in a diary. My journals require instruments, paintbrushes, turpentine, magazines, poster board, clay, exacto knives, spray paint, canvas, moleskines, etc.

This video clip (bottom of blog entry) is an example of a journal entry. Horribly out of tune at spots but . . . such is life, eh? I thought it would be good to give you an example of something raw. You have to approach the song journaling and not think about radio play or writing hits.

Yesterday morning I was exhausted x's 10. I just finished reading Peter Rollins' book, "How (Not) to Speak of God" and it was very encouraging to me, however--in the midst of my personal madness. There is a portion in the book where Rollins rocked my world by tearing apart the passage of scripture (Rev. 3:16) where we learn God would rather have us cold or hot but detests the lukewarm. I love the way the King James says it : : :

"So then because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot,
I will spue thee out of my mouth."

I have heard messages on this before and preachers always camp on the idea of being "on fire" for God. Youth pastors use this passage to rally the troops and say, "God wants to light a fire under your butt to do great things for the kingdom. He doesn't like casual Christianity." This is true but part of the passage is ignored with the Billy Blanks approach. And, it is always suggested that God prefers the hot over the cold.

What about the "cold" part?

Well, Rollins blew my mind by suggesting God embraces the cold because He appreciates our honesty. Our wrestling. Our confrontation.

We are every bit as close to God when we are feeling "cold" spiritually because He meets us in the cold. God is not afraid of cold. Cold may not be the best place to stay but it is certainly not apathetic. Cold seeks. Cold longs. Cold engages.

With all that, I went to prayer. I was honest with my Lord.

I gotta know You'll direct me--direct me, lead me where to go
I gotta know You'll protect me--no more games, no "on my own"
'Cause if I'm honest and I know that's what You want
I speak out both sides of my mouth
I know You're there
Still I think You're not
All my hopes, my dreams, my fears, my tears, the years
The months, the days, the minutes--every moment, Lord
I just gotta know You'll do what You say
I gotta know You'll receive me
'Cause sometimes I don't even believe me
And if I'm honest, Lord--and I know that's what You want
I want nothing more than to hold it loosely Lord, in my open hand
But, my open hand is all I've got
All my hopes, my dreams, my fears, my tears, the years
The months, the days, the minutes--every moment, Lord
I just gotta know You'll do what You say
You'll do what You say
Hallelujah, please Lord, do what You say
Is "the least of these" the last of me?

This post is also part of Creative Chaos at Ragamuffin Soul.

Once Again

Wow! As I drank my first cup of coffee and ate a bowl of cereal I started my day by watching selected portions of last night’s Oscars (thank you once again to the fine folks at TiVo as I was suffering for Jesus at a Foo Fighters show last night—more to come on that). My wife was very excited to sit with me and take in what she had already viewed through my eyes. I knew it was going to be good when she said, “I cannot wait to show you this.”

Tahni and I both fell in love with the film, “Once” and have both been anxiously awaiting the results of the nominations since, “Falling Slowly” was announced as a nominee for, “Achievement in Music Written for Motion Pictures (Original Song).” [sidenote: this movie should have been nominated in multiple categories but that’s another story for another day].

They said it couldn't be done. I mean, after all, over the years the Academy has absolutely loved Disney (as we all do) and “Once” was up for an award in a category with 3 songs from “Enchanted” (all amazing songs by the way).

Oh, but they did it!

When Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova stepped up to receive the award I cried. Their faces were glowing. Beaming. Hansard’s speech was an inspiration and a model of grace and humility.

All artists should watch his speech and take note. (especially all Christian artists who don’t know how to receive praise but rather point one finger in the air and say “it’s all Jesus—not me” but that’s another story for another day). He could have said anything in that cool Irish brogue and I would have loved it but this dude is cool and I want to have lunch with him. Seriously.

Hansard said, “ . . . we shot on Handycams. It took us three weeks to make. We made it for a hundred grand . . . this is amazing. Make art. Make art. Thanks” No, thank YOU Mr. Hansard.

When Marketa Irglova stepped up to the microphone, the music started and cut her off. I literally jumped out of my chair and shouted, “no!” My wife said . . . “just wait.”

Then, in an unprecedented move, John Stewart brought her back after the commercial to give her the platform she deserved to give her acceptance speech. Thank you, John Stewart for the classy move that made the day of independent musicians all across this world.

I love this 19-year-old Czech girl. She is charming and talented and a breath of fresh air. Having spent a few weeks in the Czech Republic and having an affinity for the country makes it that much more special for me.

She quietly and unpretentiously—with not one ounce of the affectation we have become accustomed to— stepped up to the mic for her second shot at a speech and said,

The fact that we're standing here tonight, the fact that we're able to hold this, it's just proof that no matter how far out your dreams are, it's possible . . . and, you know, fair play to those who dare to dream, and don't give up. This song was written from the perspective of hope, and hope, at the end of the day, connects us all, no matter how different we are.

Bravo. Well done.

See this movie. Buy the soundtrack. But, do yourself a favor and watch the movie before you listen to the soundtrack. I took this advice and it worked well for me.

(photo by Getty Images)