The Downhere Christmas Album Doesn't Suck! Woo Hoo!

True confession: When it comes to Christmas music, I am usually pretty "Bah, Humbug." I get tired of it real fast. It always starts too early in the year in the stores. And, when it comes to new Christmas albums, it seems like I have to sort through quite a pile before I find anything fresh. I'm jaded. But honest.

Today, a Christmas album hit the street that is a breath of fresh air.

The guys from Downhere have turned out quality music for the past few years. Good poetry. Thoughtful. Engaging. Well produced. Fresh perspective. Well arranged. Good humor. Tight harmony.

"How Many Kings?: Songs for Christmas" has many great moments and makes me happy as opposed to the usual "I should have just downloaded the single for 99cents instead of wasting money on a whole album" feeling I usually get.

We are covering the title track at Westwinds on Christmas Eve. We are also doing their arrangement of "God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen" (a song that i have NEVER done at Christmas). Good King Wenceslas has a great little groove. Five Golden Rings was a fun little surprise and touch of Downhere fun. I love that these guys don't take themselves too seriously (p.s. buy their first album and stick around for the hidden track). Even the Silent Track is enjoyable summoning a bit of a Sigur Ros feel.

Thanks, guys . . . for not sucking.

I interviewed Jeremy a while back. You can read that interview here. I have always appreciated these guys. Buy the album. Rock stars need money. Click below for instant gratification.



Check out their video below:

Christmas Wishes

We had some fun with this promo for our Christmas Eve Fusions. If you attend Westwinds, forward the video to all your friends!

Naked Mary

Many years ago when I was pastoring in California we celebrated Christmas Eve at the church by inviting some artists to paint live during a Christmas Eve service. Since then, art in church and live art have become commonplace for me but back then it was groundbreaking.

On this particular evening, a young woman who had recently joined the ranks of artists at the church, and had recently joined the church for that matter, told me about her plan for painting that evening—she was going to paint the Virgin Mary pregnant with the Christ child.

She was so excited to paint. She was glowing. She had recently begun following Jesus and this was a way for her to get involved in the ministry of the church in the only way she knew how. Her gentle spirit was contagious. She made everyone feel so special. She had recently found a family at our church and was ready to take this big step.

The string of Christmas Eve services began with a packed house—as always. Our Christmas Eve services were very family oriented—all the children with the parents—lots of singing—enough tradition to make everyone happy and enough rock to stay real.

The music was flowing. Voices were singing out. The season was ripe. Laughter. Tears. The painters were painting away and eyes were fixed on the awakening canvases.

I looked over at my friend and saw her painting away—pouring herself into her work. I was so proud of her. Pregnant Mary was taking shape.

Lots of shapes.

Shapes I hadn’t anticipated. Like the bare breast.

I didn’t get the naked part in the description.

Not that I had a problem with a naked Mary. But, I knew someone would.

The evening went on and I didn’t think too much about it. My friend was so proud. I was so proud.

I had a talk with our senior pastor right after the service and he asked me to remove the painting. His rationale was that it was a family service and that some families may not appreciate naked Mary. I talked it over with the artist and she understood. We put the painting in the back room.

At least ten people came up after the service and asked to purchase it. They loved it.

Fast-forward : : :

A couple of days later there was a letter to the editor in the paper from a disturbed woman who visited the church the night of the painting.

She rambled and ranted for an entire page on how it was appalling that our church was promoting pornography. She complained about her children having to see nipples. She also complained about the coffee.

My poor friend was crushed. She had mustered up courage, ignored her fears, stood up in front of 2000 people, made her offering, and was crucified. Here she was, a young believer with a new found passion getting an all too real taste of what it is like to be in the ministry limelight at times. It didn’t seem fair.

When we talked about the letter together, my friend made me laugh. “It’s not like these 13 year old boys have never seen a boob before” she said. “I mean, it’s not like I painted her hootchie.”

I was angry because this same woman who wrote the letter would probably have high-tailed it to see the David if I paid her way to Florence.

The next Sunday in church was one of the most powerful leadership moments I have ever witnessed. My senior pastor (who was and is by no means an art lover, aficionado, or even supporter) stood in front of the congregation and read the letter from the paper. He read it and then addressed the crowd : : :

On Christmas Eve, a young woman who is part of our family painted a beautiful painting. She hasn’t done this kind of thing in church before. She is a fairly new follower of Jesus. She was very passionate about her painting of Mary—pregnant with the Savior—womb glowing.

Yes, this was a family service. Yes, we usually don’t paint naked paintings. Yes, it may have been inappropriate for the time and the audience.

But if it was a mistake, it was a mistake of passion. And, I will defend and go down with the ship for a mistake of passion.

This lesson has marked me for life.

I am not afraid to make mistakes if they are mistakes of passion. I am not afraid to fail if I do so passionately. I will defend our church and our staff for any mistakes of passion. I will silence those who dare accuse the passionate in their pursuit of God. I pray for passion to lead against all odds. God please raise up passionate people—people who love you and love this world and lost souls and pour themselves headlong passionately into their kingdom offering.