Tozer on self-sins, part three

He talks here of "rending the veil" of self-sins and dying to self:

Let us remember that when we talk of the rending of the veil we are speaking in a figure, and the thought of it is poetical, almost pleasant, but in actuality there is nothing pleasant about it. In human experience that veil is made of living spiritual tissuel it is composed of the sentient, quivering stuff of which our whole beings consist, and to touch it is to touch us where we feel pain. To tear it away is to injure us, to hurt us and make us bleed. To say otherwise is to make the cross no cross and death no death at all. It is never fun to die. To rip through the dear and tender stuff of which life is made can never be anything but deeply painful. Yet that is what the cross did to Jesus and it is what the cross would do to every man to set him free.

Hmph.

A total daydreamer who is nevertheless very rational -- yeah, I guess so. But aren't mermaids all chicks? Come on!

You Are a Mermaid

You are a total daydreamer, and people tend to think you're flakier than you actually are. While your head is often in the clouds, you'll always come back to earth to help someone in need. Beyond being a caring person, you are also very intelligent and rational. You understand the connections of the universe better than almost anyone else.

What Mythological Creature Are You?

Rest In Peace

Today is the 13th anniversary of the death of my friend Jennifer, so I'm going to repeat this column I wrote about the incident from last September.

When the unthinkable happens

I watched a movie the other night that made me think of a childhood friend, Jennifer Weston. Jennifer, when last I saw her, was a gorgeous nineteen-year old who was headed to Texas to live with her cousin and pursue a country music career (she wanted to hit Texas before Nashville -- not sure why).

I still remember the Sunday morning I awoke to hear the news that Jennifer, along with her cousin Sandi, had been murdered in their apartment by a criminal on probation named Bobby Ray Hopkins.

Supposedly, Jen's cousin Sandi had thrown a party a couple weeks' previous, during which Hopkins had wandered in. Sandi's purse had been stolen, and she accused Hopkins. Whether revenge was a motive or not, Hopkins had climbed into their apartment through an open window sometime after 5 am on the morning of July 31, 1993. Jennifer was asleep in her room upstairs, but Sandi was on the couch. Sandi and Hopkins had a confrontation, during which Hopkin's claimed Sandi came at him with a knife. He took it away from her and stabbed her over 40 times (can you imagine claiming self-defense when you broke into someone's house, and then when they tried to get you out with a kitchen knife, you took it away and used it over 40 times?)

My friend Jennifer woke up and came out of her room. When Hopkins saw her, he chased and caught her, and stabbed her over 60 times with the dull knife. No single wound was life-threatening. She died slowly, from loss of blood.

During his struggles with the girls, Hopkins bled a little. Authorities were able to collect his blood samples to aid in their conviction. Also, Jennifer had scratched him hard enough to break off her nails, which contained tiny scraps of his skin, so the police were able to get his DNA from that.

Hopkins was swiftly convicted and given the death penalty, but it still took eleven years for that to happen. He was executed in February of last year, having never admitted wrongdoing or apologized. His last words were "I have no statement, sir."

It's hard to say what something like this does to the surviving family and friends. Jennifer and I were not very close -- we'd grown up in church together but lived in different towns and were separated by two years' difference in ages. We were always friends though, and had some good times together. She had a stunning alto voice -- I can still hear her demo of "She's In Love With The Boy" by Trisha Yearwood like it was recorded yesterday.

This incident taught me, in a way that I'd never known before, that evil exists in this world, that people do terrible things, and that no one is guaranteed tomorrow. It has probably made me overprotective, especially with female acquantances. I don't believe we should live in fear, or allow ourselves to grow paranoid. But it is always good to be cautious and alert, and to follow common-sense guidelines that the police give us -- pay attention when you're walking to your car, consider carrying mace in your purse ... that sort of thing.

Anyway, that wasn't really the point of this column -- I don't actually have a point. I just figured I'd share the story.

Jive Monkey Gold: Worship Songwriting Workshops, part eight

Sojourn Worship Songwriting Workshop, part 8

Nine writers came to our December meeting. We kept all six from the November workshop. Jay Eubanks, who had been to the first workshop and who has a wealth of writing and performing experience, rejoined us. Eddy Morris, a writer/ musician who owns a recording studio (Ear Candy Recording Studio) came for the first time, as did Morgan Shaffer, a recent transplant to Louisville from Louisiana. Morgan has been playing piano and leading worship for years. She had responded to my post on the sojourncommunity.com website about the songwriting workshop because she wanted to check out the process and see if writing was for her.

Jay played a new song he'd written called "From These Hands." It had three verses, a chorus and a bridge, and contained some very strong lyrics. I think he got some good advice for the song. Chandi and Eddy both think of things that I wouldn't think of -- or at least wouldn't know how to voice. Musical things. I can play a bit of guitar and harmonica, I know some piano chords, and I had a music theory class back in high school, but my knowledge of music is fairly limited. I'm more of a lyric guy. It's great to have people in the group who are strong where I am weak.

Eddy had written a song that was so catchy that I'm still humming it to myself. It had two verses, and he wasn't satisfied with the second. We spent some time working it over, and I think we came up with a couple lines. The last two lines of the chorus were more problematic. We were all pitching different samples. In the end, I think he wrote down a suggested lyric for the last line that goes "shake your boodie for the King."

Not that he'll leave that in there. After hitting our heads against a creative brick wall for awhile, we writers can get a little goofy. Anyway, that line fit the meter so eventually he'll find something of the same length that is, uh, reverent.

I came to this workshop in the midst of a bout of sinusitis. I could barely breathe, let alone sing -- which was particularly bad because I was supposed to sing a humerous song I'd written for my office holiday party that night. I wanted to save my voice, so for my song I just played the CD Chad had recorded for me, the one with the music he'd written for my hymn "Precious Jesus, Lord of All" (see the lyrics/ discussion of this song on pt. 6 of this series).

Everyone liked it. Maybe I'll have Chad sing for me all the time, because he could make anything sound good. He had recorded it in G. Eddy suggested lowering it to D and slowing the tempo down a little -- I think mainly he wanted to hear what it would sound like with Lorie singing lead. We tried that -- Chad on guitar, Eddy on the keyboard, and Lorie singing lead. Then we had everyone sing along, and we tried Chad singing lead in the lower register. It all sounded great. There is nothing like hearing your song done by talented people.

Someone, maybe Chad, played the song for Mike Cosper recently. He told me it sounded great and the worship team at Sojourn would work it up eventually to do in church.

There were some other interesting songs at the workshop. Will Kottheimer played an ambitious ballad called "Jericho." Will is new to song writing, but he's been diving into it fearlessly. I told him that he's already discovered the best way to improve as a writer -- to write. Simply to write, over and over, song after song.

Chandi played an interesting, unique piece -- quite different for Sojourn. It would work as a benediction or some other kind of prayer-song ... a meditative piece. It was very polished. One great way to describe her music would be "classy."

Lorie played the song she'd presented at the November workshop -- tweaked a little bit. It still needed something -- she thought maybe another verse. I think everyone concurred -- a first verse. The verse she already had seemed more like a second verse. The song contained a bridge and chorus as well -- good lines, as I mentioned in part 6 of this series.

This isn't unusual at all -- to write a verse that turns out to be your second, and then have to go back and write the first verse. At least it's not unusual for me -- I don't know how many times I've started writing a song at the verse, or a chorus followed by a verse, and then ended up realizing I'd jumped in the middle of the song ... that the verse is good, but as a second verse rather than the first.

Anyway, she said she'd work on a new verse for next time.

Name:
Love Caddy B-Dawg, The Forlorn Moonpuppy

Birthplace:
Louisville, Kentucky, and proud of it.

Right Handed or Left Handed:
Right-handed.

Your Heritage:
Scotch/English/French/Canadian. Aye?

The Shoes You Wore Today:
Black work shoes.

Your Weakness:
If I told you, you'd pull a Delilah on me and next thing I'd know I'd be blinded, bald, and chained to some pillars in a Philistine party-pad.

Your Fears:
Questionnaires.

Your Perfect Pizza:
Oh, I love so many pizzas.

Goal You Would Like To Achieve This Year:
World Domination.

Your Most Overused Phrase On an instant messenger:
I don't use IM much.

Thoughts First Waking Up:
Dang it.

Your Best Physical Feature:
I was told in 7th grade, by an 8th grade hottie, that it was my eyes. So that's been my claim ever since.

Your Bedtime:
Usually between 10:30-midnight.

Your Most Missed Memory:
If it’s missed I wouldn’t remember it, right?

Pepsi or Coke:
Coke. But Pepsi makes great products like Mountain Dew and Dr. Pepper. They make Dr. Pepper, right? I know they make the Dew.

MacDonalds or Burger King:
Burger King has better commercials.

Single or Group Dates:
I enjoy both but ultimately the single dates are more often special -- if your date is great. Like mine. 8-)

Lipton Ice Tea or Nestea:
I don't know -- who makes the raspberry tea? I love me some raspberry tea.

Chocolate or Vanilla:
Chocolate in a landslide, baby.

Cappuccino or Coffee:
Both -- it all depends on the flavored cream.

Do you Smoke:
No.

Do you Sing:
From rising to setting sun and beyond.

Have you Been in Love:
Yup.

Do you want to get Married:
Yup.

Do you believe in yourself:
I'm not real. I'm an urban legend.

Do you get Motion Sickness:
Come spin me and find out.

Do you get along with your Parents:
Yeah.

Do you like Thunderstorms:
I love them if I'm not out in them, or if I'm not trying to watch TV when the power goes out or when weathermen INTERRUPT EPISODES OF LOST. But if I'm in the house reading, writing, cuddling, singing, or watching a scary movie, I am CRAZY about thunderstorms.

Do you play an Instrument:
I try. Guitar and harmonica.

In the past month have you been on Drugs:
Claritin.

In the past month have you gone on a Date:
Some of the best dates ever.

In the past month have you gone to a Mall:
Actually I don't think so.

In the past month have you eaten a box of Oreos:
Not a whole box for crying out loud. But I've had a few.

In the past month have you eaten Sushi:
Sushi is actually one of the few things I don't care for.

In the past month have you gone Skinny Dipping:
Who writes these? Twelve year olds?

Ever been Drunk:
Actually, no.

Ever been called a Tease:
This one girl who totally didn't get me used to call me that all the time, back when I was in my late teens.

Ever been Beaten up:
"Are you saying you want a piece of me? YOU want a PIECE of me?" (Frank to Elaine, on Seinfeld)

How do you want to Die:
Peacefully and quickly, moments after composing my best song ever.

Best Clothing Style:
Levi jeans and a good tee or button-down shirt on guys. Levi jeans and a good tee, blouse, or sweater on girls.

Number of CDs I own:
Tons but I've cut way back on record purchases since I started subscribing to XM radio.

Number of Peircings:
I don't feel obligated to answer this because of the misspelling. But okay -- I don't have any piercings.

Number of things in my Past I Regret:
Oh, tons of things.

Blogwatch

Check out Gordon's latest post over at Heavenly Heartburn. It's a great discussion on the dangers of roots -- particularly the root of bitterness.

Who is Morten Bremer?

More Tozer on "the self-sins."

From "The Pursuit Of God:"

"One should suppose that proper instruction in the doctrines of man's depravity and the necessity for justification through the righteousness of Christ alone would deliver us from the power of the self-sins, but it does not work that way. Self can live unrebuked at the very altar. It can watch the bleeding Victim die and not be in the least affected by what it sees. It can fight for the faith of the reformers and preach eloquently the creed of salvation by grace, and gain strength by its efforts. To tell the truth, it seems actually to feed upon orthodoxy and is more at home in a Bible conference than in a tavern. Our very state of longing after God may afford it an excellent condition under which to thrive and to grow.

Self is the opaque glow that hides the face of God from us. It can be removed only in spiritual experience, never by mere instruction. We may as well try to instruct leprosy out of our system. There must be a work of God in destruction before we are free. We must invite the cross to do its deadly work within us. We must bring our self-sins to the cross for judgment. We must prepare ourselves for an ordeal of suffering in some measure like that through which our Savior passed when He suffered under Pontius Pilate."

Pied Beauty

Here is Gerald Manley Hopkins' celebration of diversity and the beauty in things of various colors and textures. "Pied" in this sense means "patchy in color."

Gerard Manley Hopkins (1844-1889)
Pied Beauty

Glory be to God for dappled things—
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings;
Landscape plotted and pieced—fold, fallow, and plough;
And áll trades, their gear and tackle and trim.

All things counter, original, spáre, strange;
Whatever is fickle, frecklèd (who knows how?)
With swíft, slów; sweet, sóur; adázzle, dím;
He fathers-forth whose beauty is pást change:


Práise hím.



--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
First published in 1918, the above poem can be found in:

Hopkins, Gerard Manley. Gerard Manley Hopkins. Catherine Phillips, ed. New York: Oxford University Press, 1986.
Harmon, William, ed. The Classic Hundred Poems (Second Edition). New York: Columbia University Press, 1998.

Loveliest Of Trees by A.E. Housman

by A. E. Housman (1859-1936)

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

Tozer On Self, pt. 1

From A.W. Tozer's "The Pursuit Of God:"

"To be specific, the self-sins are self-righteousness, self-pity, self-confidence, self-sufficiency, self-admiration, self-love and a host of others like them. They dwell too deep within us and are too much a part of our natures to come to our attention till the light of God is focused upon them. The grosser manifestations of these sins -- egotism, exhibitionism, self-promotion -- are strangely tolerated in Christian leaders, even in circles of impeccable orthodoxy. They are so much in evidence as actually, for many people, to become identified with the gospel. I trust it is not a cynical observation to say that they appear these days to be a requisite for popularity in some sections of the church visible. Promoting self under the guise of promoting Christ is currently so common as to excite little notice."

Not so sure what I think of THIS one ....

I have some outside writing assignments so my posts will be short and sweet for awhile. Don't worry, there will be longer posts again -- just not for a week or two. But come back for occasional proverbs, poems, movie quotes, personality tests, and the like.

You Are Gonzo the Great

"Is something burning in here? Oh, it's just me." You're a total nutball who will do anything for attention. The first to take a dare, you'll pull almost any stunt. You're one weird looking creature, but your chickens don't mind!

The Muppet Personality Test

Movie Quote Of The Day

From Skeleton Key:

"Remove your perspirations."

Jive Monkey Gold: Worship Writing Community, pt. 7

Sojourn Worship Songwriting Workshop, pt 7

Proverbs 11:14 " ... in abundance of counselors there is victory."

"Community" is a concept that many in the modern arts world disdain, prefering the image of the lone, struggling, tortured artist, the strange genius whom mere mortals cannot understand. This is an anti-Christian concept, and one that makes little sense from a historical perspective. It's an image we fight in the workshop, as well as one that Sojourn fights as a whole.

As our pastor, Daniel Montgomery (who, when he calls me, says, "This is Daniel, Your Friendly Pastor") has often said, "Real relationships are messy." Because of this truism, it is often easier to avoid community. But doing so means saying "No" to growth.

Rory Noland writes, in "The Heart Of The Artist:"

I've always been fascinated by the artist colonies that emerge around major artistic movements. My favorite example is Paris in the early 1900s, a place where artists congregated and fed off each other ....

My favorite composer, Igor Stravinsky, was part of this infamous colony of artists, and his circle of friends included fellow composers Claude Debussy, Maurice Ravel, Erik Satie, and Manuel de Falla. It was a time when the arts overlapped in exciting ways as Stravinsky rubbed shoulders with artists like Pablo Picasso, Henri Matisse, and Jean Cocteau. This group wasn't without its disagreements and jealousies, but the artists were friends. They'd go to concerts and art galleries together. They'd get together in each other's homes and talk long into the night about music, art, and literature. On one occasion Stravinsky sat down with Debussy at the piano, and they played through a transcription of an orchestra piece Stravinsky was developing. It just happened to be "The Rite Of Spring", one of the landmark masterpieces of the twentieth century! I wish I could have been a fly on the wall ....

Getting artists who are basically ... independent to function as a team is no easy task. Like many artists who are thrown together with others on a team, Igor Stravinsky had to learn how to function as a team player. Howard Gardner, in his book "Creating Minds," points out that when Stravinsky was asked to join the Ballets Russes, it changed his life overnight. "Stravinsky became a valued member of what was possibly the most innovative perfoming artistic group in the world .... Now instead of working mostly alone, Stravinsky had almost daily intercourse with the ensemble ...

My prefered response, when I play a new piece for the group, is "Wow. That's perfect just the way it is. Don't change a thing."

That typically doesn't happen. In fact, going back to the September workshop, I remember doing a song called "Prophet, Priest, and King" that, in the context of a praise song, describes the different offices of Jesus. After I finished, Jeremy Quillo uttered those words every songwriter longs to hear: "This is a great song." Then after pausing, he said, "Or at least it's going to be." Then he mentioned a couple things I might want to consider changing. Then the others chimed in. This was one of my better-received songs; I could tell people were generally excited about it. However, I must admit that when they were all done, my first thought after considering all the changes recommended was, "If this is how much rewriting they want me to do on a song they think is great, imagine how much work they'd want me to do on a song they DIDN'T like." (But typically, songs that are seen as having potential will receive more critical analysis, attention, and ideas for improvement. If a song just isn't very good, there isn't much to work with.)

Their main point with the song was the lack of melodic development in the verses. I'd lived with the song for so long, though, that it was hard for me to think of ways to spice up the melody. I ended up turning it over to Mike Cosper, a far more capable musician than I am, to see if he could work his magic.

Of course, critiques involve subjectivity in a way that, say, math equations do not. An artist needs to develop his or her ability to evaluate the critism received in a non-defensive manner, and to decide where to go. I'm not going to change everything everyone wants me to change, but I do consider each piece of advice carefully.

We almost didn't have a December meeting. I wasn't sure if anyone would come, since we were in the middle of the holiday season. But we decided we might as well be "open for business," even if there were only two or three of us. It turns out we had nine, our biggest group to date ....

TO BE CONTINUED

"Tommy Boy" Movie Quote

[after Tommy has rubbed air freshener on himself]
Ray Zalinsky: Went a little heavy on the pine tree perfume there, kid?
Tommy: Sir, it's a taxicab air freshener.
Ray Zalinsky: Great, you've pinpointed it. Step two is washing it off.

Philosophical Implications In Poetry

From the poet Robert Hass, discussing the difference between metered poetry and free verse:

"The difference is, in some ways, huge; the metrical poem begins with an assumption of human life which takes place in a pattern of orderly recurrence with which the poet must come to terms, the free verse poem with an assumption of openness or chaos in which an order must be discovered."

Mystery Man On The Job

There are three things I don't talk much about, at least in specifics, on my blog: my employer, dating, and kids. Not that I wouldn't talk to you regular joes (and jills)but you never know what kind of weirdo is lurking unseen, and it kind of makes me feel weird about getting TOO personal, you know?

But I have to tell you this work story. I just gotta.

My boss called me into her office and asked me if I knew a certain guy. We'll call him "Dan Dupree." I said the same thing I always say when I think I should probably know someone but I don't: "Hmmmm. Well, the name rings a bell but I can't quite place him."

So then my boss tells me that no one seems to know this guy, yet he's supposedly been working here for about 6 weeks. He's a summer intern. He's been turning in a time card so my boss knows he's supposedly here 40 hours a week, Monday to Friday during the day, yet no one ever sees him. She was asking me specifically because he'd sent her an email saying that he's been working "on 28" (the 28th floor, where I have an office). She described him to me, because of course she met him back when he was hired. I have no recollection of seeing anyone like him on this floor.

The dude is probably vacationing in Florida and has somehow found a way to have a time card filled out and turned in for him once a week. This whole thing is cracking me up.

I hope we never find out what's up. It would ruin it. I want my imagination to run wild, laughing at the possibilities.

Blogwatch

CLICK HERE to read a great post by Bethany on why our personal issues seem to disappear when we enter into a great new relationship, and why they often resurface if the relationships ends, or, even in the case of a successful relationship, why those issues come roaring back after the "honeymoon" period ends.

What We Need Is A Little Blake In Here

A CRADLE SONG, by William Blake

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.

As thy softest limbs I feel,
Smiles as of the morning steal
O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast,
Where thy little heart does rest.

O the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep!
When thy little heart does wake,
Then the dreadful light shall break

From thy cheek and from thy eye,
O'er the youthful harvests nigh.
Infant wiles and infant smiles
Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles.


"A Cradle Song" (1791)

Exciting Mission

I just wanted to give everyone as many details as I could about the secret mission trip that Lorie King will be going on (yes folks, she won't be able to make mean comments about me for awhile).

She and her entire family will be going to a remote location in Asia today and will be gone till next weekend. They are going to be each entering a cage fighting tournament in the various age/weight classes, kicking butt for the Lord. Lorie told me in a Jive Interview: "To reach people, you need to deal with people who are understanding. And there's no one so understanding as a person you've whipped."

She has been training in pancration, an ancient Greek style of fighting, as well as Russian Sambo and Brazilian Jujitsu. She demonstrated her formidable skills at Kroger the other day when someone tried to take the last box of Swiss Cake Rolls. That elderly lady didn't know what hit her! Before she knew it, Lorie had took her walker away, sweeped her legs out from under her and put her in a crushing ankle lock.

Join me in wishing Lorie well as she travels and as she enters the no-holds-barred tournament. I'm sure she'll tell us all about it when she returns.

What Planet Am I? What Planet Are You?

You Are From Mercury

You are talkative, clever, and knowledgeable - and it shows. You probably never leave home without your cell phone! You're witty, expressive, and aware of everything going on around you. You love learning, playing, and taking in all of what life has to offer. Be careful not to talk your friends' ears off, and temper your need to know everything.

What Planet Are You From?

Been Sick

New post later today.

Overheard on my voice mail messaging system this morning:

Female Voice: Hey Danny, we need you to run down to Nashville and pick up a cage to bring back here. Easiest day you'll ever have at Quick Boy's. Call me back.

Jive Monkey Gold: Worship Writing Community, pt. 6

For this week's repeat column, we delve into part six of the worship songwriting series. It was cool for me to reread this one because I can see how things have been developing at Sojourn since I first wrote this piece in early January.

I made a reference to an upcoming CD by Chad Lewis. That record is done and will be released Sunday, July 23. I've been listening to it for awhile -- I wrote a review on it and conducted an extensive interview with Chad for an edition of Travelogue -- Sojourn's news magazine. It will also be out the 23rd, and eventually serialized here.

The song he and I wrote that I printed in this column, "Precious Jesus Lord Of All" has been picked up by the Sojourn Worship band (we've shortened the title to "Lord Of All"). They've done it as a stripped-down folk song and a head-on pop rock number. I like it both ways.

I mentioned that the workshop detailed below was the first one in which Lorie performed a song she wrote by herself (although she had submitted fragments before). Since then she's also written one that the Sojourn worship band has been doing recently. It's an original melody to the great hymn, "There Is A Fountain."

It's good to look back frequently to check for progress. Although it doesn't always seem like it to me, when I live strictly in the here-and-now, when I stop and look back, I see that we HAVE been making progress. That's encouraging. And now, here it is, "Jive Monkey Gold:"


Sojourn Worship Songwriting Workshop, pt. 6

The November workshop brought several firsts: it was our first time to meet on a Saturday, and our first time to meet outside of the Highland Christian Fellowship facilities where Sojourn meets for weekly worship.

We met in Lorie's home and gained the participation of her room-mate Christa. Christa has a great, timeless voice -- the kind that can sing pop songs, jazz standards or old show tunes. She's written some good poems, too, and unlike a lot of artists I've known in the past, has a servant heart. She reminds me of this quote from Rory Noland: "In Nehemiah's day the musicians were in charge of maintenance for the house of God (Neh. 11:22-23). These janitors-by-day/ artists-by-night had a strict, disciplined, daily routine that included doing the custodial work needed for the upkeep of God's house. They were servant artists, and that's what we need to be." Christa is always serving, whether it's mentoring students in her church youth group, running the sound system, or just doing grunt-work around the house she shares with the other girls.

Several other first-timers came as well. I had exchanged some emails with Chad Lewis, giving him ideas for polishing some of his original songs for his upcoming CD project. I've mentioned his rich, powerful voice before in this series. Another thing about Chad is that he's a balladeer, in the original sense of the word. Our culture has come to think of ballads as slow love songs. Whenever we hear something that sounds like it's going to end up on "Delilah After Dark" in the end, we think, "Oh, that's a ballad." And of course, a slow song with heavy guitar is a "power ballad."

A ballad is actually a story song. It's an element of folk music, a remnant of the days when traveling minstrels would entertain at an Inn, singing stories of loves lost and won in far off lands. Chad tells stories in his songs, as do I. That's where we're kindred spirits. Many of our songs are visual -- you can see the MTV video as you hear the lyrics.

Anyway, I had told Chad about our worship writing workshops. He hadn't written many worship songs, but he was interested in coming so I gave him directions. We had two other first timers: Will Kottheimer and Chandi Plummer. Will is an amateur film-maker who had written one or two songs and was looking for advice, inspiration, and community with other writers. He has keen insights too, the kind that can really help a writer when he's seeking critiques.

Chandi has an extensive music background, both in voice and piano. She is steeped in Church music -- hymns, benedictions, you name it. She brings a unique perspective in that her advice usually centers around the music -- the melody, the rhythm, things of that nature. She appreciates a good lyric but her main knack is for pointing out different ways of making the song "click" musically. I've learned a lot from her comments.

Chandi has her own style, and she often writes things that no one else in our group writes. For the November meeting, she played a song she'd composed for children's worship. Pretty good -- not condescending (as songs written for kids can sometimes be).

All six participants shared songs at the November meeting. This isn't always the case. Sometimes people will simply audit the workshop -- they want to see what we're all about and get a glimpse into the process, to see if worship songwriting is something they could do. Other times, writers will come to hear what their colleagues are doing, and to offer critiques, even if they don't have any new songs to present to the group themselves. This is welcome, and in fact is something I encourage. Many times, workshops fail because no one is concerned about doing anything but having forum to do their stuff. In fact, I've participated in online poetry and fiction workshops that had instituted rules such as "You can't submit your own piece for review until you've critiqued five other pieces." We've been blessed to have not had to deal with situations like that. Everyone wants to help the others grow.

This was a cool month for me because it was the first month that my buddy, my cohort, my partner-in-crime Lorie presented a complete song -- words and music -- that she'd written alone. It was called "All Things New," and had some very good lines in it. It is very rewarding to watch someone develop and start climbing the ladder, start doing something they've never done before. Lorie has a ton of experience singing and leading worship, along with a Masters in Worship from SBTS, and she plays piano. She's also very much a wordsmith, so she had all the necessary tools to become a songwriter. Just needed to develop them.

I showed the group a modern hymn I'd written called "Precious Jesus, Lord of All." It's written in "8-7" meter (refering to the number of syllables on alternating lines), which, although not one of the most common hymn meters, shows up in quite a few good hymns, including "My Redeemer," "I Surrender All," and "There Shall Be Showers Of Blessing."

There is another old song with a similar meter -- I think it's called "He's The Oak And I'm The Ivy." I've never heard it, but I saw the lyrics in a hymnal years ago, in my childhood, and I had developed a melody for it way back then. I saw that the melody would fit for my new song, even though I wasn't crazy about how well it worked together with my lyrics to convey emotion. There is a difference between something that fits metrically and something that fits psychologically or emotionally. But I wanted to have a song to present to the group, so I used that melody. I told them if anyone wanted to collaborate with me on this and come up with their own melody, they were welcome to it. The lyrics (including a chorus with a different metrical scheme) were:

Jesus, more than lowly servant. More than teacher of the law.
More than sacrificial hero. Nothing less than lord of all.
Three days gone inside a cavern, sealed in with a heavy stone.
By his death made sinners welcome to the altar of God’s throne.

(chorus)
Lord of all. Lord of all. Precious Jesus, Lord of all.
Lord of all. Lord of all. Precious Jesus, Lord, Lord of all.

Body raised on Easter morning. Seen by friends for forty days.
Hundreds marveled as he taught them. Proved his claim over the grave.
Servant-teacher, hero risen -- God Who Saves and God Who Reigns.
Ascended to the clouds of heaven just as He had preordained.

Repeat Chorus


Surer than each morning’s sunrise is Messiah’s glad return.
Vainly will His foes assemble; vainly will the devil run.
Jesus and the saints of heaven will crush the forces of decay.
Then, an everlasting kingdom. Perfect love and endless day.


Repeat Chorus

Chad took up the challenge, and the very next evening presented me with a CD recording he'd made, just himself and his guitar, with a new melody. I played it for everyone at the December workshop, which was our most well-attended meeting to that point ....

TO BE CONTINUED

Why Did The Chicken Cross The Road?

This joke is a few years old, as you'll figure out due to some dated references and the appearance of a few people whose fifteen minutes of fame have elapsed. I still wanted to share it with you though because it is hilarious:

GEORGE W. BUSH
I don't think I should have to answer that question.

AL GORE
I invented the chicken. I invented the road. Therefore, the chicken crossed the road to bring together these two different functions of government in a new, reinvented way to bring greater services to the American people.

RALPH NADER
The chicken's habitat on the far side of the road had been polluted by unchecked industrial greed. The chicken did not reach the unspoiled habitat on the other side of the road because it was crushed by the wheels of a gas-guzzling SUV.

RUSH LIMBAUGH
I don't know why the chicken crossed the road, but I'll bet it was getting a government grant to cross the road, and I'll bet someone out there is already forming a support group to help chickens with crossing-the-road syndrome. Can you believe this?! How much more of this can real Americans take? Chickens crossing the road paid for by their tax dollars, and when I say tax dollars, I'm talking about your money, money the government took from you to build roads for chickens to cross.

RICHARD HATCH (Naked Guy Who Won The First Survivor)
The chicken devised a plan for crossing the road and then had the strength to make that plan work. I think we should respect it for that.

P.E.T.A. SPOKESPERSON
What business is it of yours why the chicken crossed the road? The chicken had every right to cross the road, more right than you have, since the chicken never murdered or enslaved an animal for its own pleasure.

PAT BUCHANAN
To steal a job from a decent, hardworking American.

MARTHA STEWART
If the chicken crossed the road on my property, I would be fully justified in blocking its exit until the local authorities could arrive to arrest it for trespassing. I am a private person and should not have to be subjected to the "innocent mistakes" of common chickens.

JERRY FALWELL
Because the chicken was gay! Isn't it obvious? Can't you people see the plain truth in front of your face? The chicken was going to the "other side." That's what "they" call it: the "other side." Yes, my friends, that chicken is gay. And, if you eat that chicken, you will become gay too. I say we boycott all chickens until we sort out this abomination that the liberal media whitewashes with seemingly harmless phrases like "the other side." That chicken should not be free to cross the road. It's as plain and simple as that.

DR. SEUSS
Did the chicken cross the road? Did he cross it with a toad? Yes! The chicken crossed the road, but why it crossed, I've not been told!

ERNEST HEMINGWAY
To die. In the rain.

MARTIN LUTHER KING, JR.
I envision a world where all chickens will be free to cross roads without having their motives called into question.

SOMEONE'S GRANDPA
In my day, we didn't ask why the chicken crossed the road. Someone told us that the chicken crossed the road, and that was good enough for us.

ARISTOTLE
It is the nature of chickens to cross the road.

KARL MARX
It was a historical inevitability.

SADDAM HUSSEIN
This was an unprovoked act of rebellion and we were quite justified in dropping 50 tons of nerve gas on it.

RONALD REAGAN
What chicken?

KEN STARR
I intend to prove that the chicken crossed the road at the behest of the President of the United States of America in an effort to distract law enforcement officials and the American public from the criminal wrongdoing our highest elected official has been trying to cover up. As a result, the chicken is just another pawn in the president's ongoing and elaborate scheme to obstruct justice and undermine the rule of law. For that reason, my staff intends to offer the chicken unconditional immunity provided he cooperates fully with our investigation. Furthermore, the chicken will not be permitted to reach the other side of the road until our investigation and any Congressional follow-up investigations have been completed. (We are also investigating whether Sid Blumenthal has leaked information to the Reverand Jerry Falwell, alleging the chicken to be homosexual in an effort to discredit any useful testimony the bird may have to offer, or at least to ruffle his feathers.

CAPTAIN JAMES T. KIRK
To boldly go where no chicken has gone before.

FOX MULDER
You saw it cross the road with your own eyes. How many more chickens have to cross before you believe it?

FREUD
The fact that you are at all concerned that the chicken crossed the road reveals your underlying sexual insecurity.

BILL GATES
I have just released eChicken2006, which will not only cross roads, but will lay eggs, file your important documents, and balance your checkbook. And Internet Explorer is an inextricable part of eChicken.

EINSTEIN
Did the chicken really cross the road or did the road move beneath the chicken?

BILL CLINTON
I did not cross the road with THAT chicken. What do you mean by "chicken." Could you define "chicken" please?

LOUIS FARRAKHAN
The road, you will see, represents the black man. The chicken crossed the "black man" in order to trample him and keep him down.

THE BIBLE
And God came down from the heavens, and He said unto the chicken, "Thou shalt cross the road." And the chicken crossed the road, and there was much rejoicing.

COLONEL SANDERS
I missed one?

What Number Am I?

You Are 4: The Individualist

You are sensitive and intuitive, with others and yourself. You are creative and dreamy... plus dramatic and unpredictable. You're emotionally honest, real, and easily hurt. Totally expressive, others always know exactly how you feel.

What Number Are You?

Sean Of The Dead Movie Quote

Barbara: [Over the phone] Some men tried to get into the house.

Shaun: Well are they still there?

Barbara: [Over the phone] I'm not sure, we've shut the curtains.

Selection From Tobias Wolff

from "Old School:"

... Anyway, I myself was in debt to Hemingway -- up to my ears. So was Bill. We even talked like Hemingway characters, though in travesty, as if to deny our discipleship: That is your bed, and it is a good bed, and you must make it and you must make it well. Or: Today is the day of meatloaf. The meatloaf is swell. It is swell but when it is gone the not-having meatloaf will be tragic and the meatloaf man will not come anymore.

All of us owed someone, Hemingway or cummings or Kerouac -- or all of them, and more. We wouldn't have admitted to it but the knowledge was surely there ....

So, Monkey Maniacs, who do you imitate, either in your writing or in whatever art you do, hobby you have, passion you hold (or rather, when we're talking passion, I should describe it as having a hold of you rather than as something you hold, passion being what it is)?

Quote Of The Day

From the movie "Anchorman":

Champ Kind: I woke up on the floor of some Japanese family's rec room, and they would NOT stop screaming!

From A Maine Trapper's Diary

"Another day, another dollar; fourteen hours on snowshoes and wish I had pie."

Now THIS guy is a kindred spirit. I hope I meet him in heaven someday. We shall discuss this crazy, cruel world, we shall tell each other our stories, and oh yes, we shall have pie.

Old School Excerpt

From a fictional account of a Robert Frost lecture in Tobias Wolff's excellent novel "Old School." Frost is laying a verbal smackdown on a teacher who had insinuated that in these complicated modern times, with industrialization, wars, etc., strict attention to form and meter is inadequate to "express the modern consciousness," and that "form should give way to more spontaneous modes of expression:"

"... don't tell me about war. I lost my nearest friend in the one they call the Great War. So did Achilles lose his friend in war, and Homer did no injustice to his grief by writing about it in dactylic hexameters. There've always been wars, and they've always been as foul as we could make them. It is very fine and pleasant to think ourselves the most put-upon folk in history -- but then everyone has thought that from the beginning. It makes a grand excuse for all manner of laziness. But about my friend. I wrote a poem for him. I still write poems for him. Would you honor your own friend by putting words down anyhow, just as they come to you -- with no thought for the sound they make, the meaning of their sound, the sound of their meaning? Would that give a true account of the loss?

Frost had been looking right at Mr. Ramsey as he spoke. Now he broke off and let his eyes roam over the room.

I am thinking of Achilles' grief, he said. That famous, terrible, grief. Let me tell you boys something. Such grief can only be told in form. Maybe it only really exists in form. Form is everything. Without it you've got nothing but a stubbed-toe cry -- sincere, maybe, for what that's worth, but with no depth or carry. No echo. You may have a grievance but you do not have grief, and grievances are for petitions, not poetry. Does that answer your question?"

A Little Keats For Your Mind's Travels

"To Some Ladies", John Keats:



WHAT though while the wonders of nature exploring,
I cannot your light, mazy footsteps attend;
Nor listen to accents, that almost adoring,
Bless Cynthia’s face, the enthusiast’s friend:

Yet over the steep, whence the mountain stream rushes,
With you, kindest friends, in idea I rove;
Mark the clear tumbling crystal, its passionate gushes,
Its spray that the wild flower kindly bedews.

Why linger you so, the wild labyrinth strolling?
Why breathless, unable your bliss to declare?
Ah! you list to the nightingale’s tender condoling,
Responsive to sylphs, in the moon beamy air.

’Tis morn, and the flowers with dew are yet drooping,
I see you are treading the verge of the sea:
And now! ah, I see it - you just now are stooping
To pick up the keep-sake intended for me.

If a cherub, on pinions of silver descending,
Had brought me a gem from the fret-work of heaven;
And smiles, with his star-cheering voice sweetly blending,
The blessings of Tighe had melodiously given;

It had not created a warmer emotion
Than the present, fair nymphs, I was blest with from you
Than the shell, from the bright golden sands of the ocean
Which the emerald waves at your feet gladly threw.

For, indeed, ’tis a sweet and peculiar pleasure,
(And blissful is he who such happiness finds,)
To possess but a span of the hour of leisure,
In elegant, pure, and aerial minds.


Poems (1817)

Worship Songwriting Community, part five

Only three writers came to the October workshop, down from six the previous month. Whenever you start a new venture, it is common to begin with a "buzz" and then settle into a smaller pigeon-hole for awhile, until you can build up a good base. Still, I had hoped for a bigger crowd. Maybe some new faces.

Actually, we ended up with four people because Sojourn's teaching pastor/ elder Daniel Montgomery happened by, and with a ginormous smile and much gusto plopped into a chair and said, "Oh, this is my favorite group!" He listened with enthusiasm to each song, and came up with some great comments and questions. It's encouraging to writers when their pastor takes an interest in what they're doing. So many pastors that I've met, mostly through my work in gospel radio, view music as a second-class citizen or even a necessary evil -- something to take up some time in a worship service before the real ministry begins. Daniel views music as integral, however, and is in love with original music that is birthed out of community.

The other two writers that month were Jeremy Quillo and Lorie King. Jeremy played two songs he'd just finished. Those of you who own the latest Sojourn worship CD, "These Things I Remember," know that he wrote about half the songs on that disc. Since that time, he hadn't written anything -- said he'd been kind of blocked. These new songs showed that he hadn't lost a step, though.

One was a modern hymn called "The Fatal Wood." It had a Celtic groove and featured verses set in what's called "common meter". Blew us all away. He's told me since then that he has raised the music a whole step and altered some of it rhythmically, so I will be interested to hear it again. He said it had been a long time since he's been so excited about one of his compositions. I was excited too. Jeremy sets the benchmark for the rest of us time and again.

Common meter, by the way, is so named because it's the most common form of hymn meter in the English language. It features alternating lines of iambic tetrameter and iambic trimeter. The "iamb" is a metric foot that consists of two syllables on a stress pattern that reads "da-DAH." Think, for instance, of how you say the word "today." "Tetrameter" means four metric feet -- in this case, four iambs. So basically there are eight syllables.
"Trimeter" means three metric feet -- in this case, six syllables. So the odd lines have eight syllables, the evens, six. You can see this, for example in Amazing Grace:
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me ....

More specifically, hear the stresses:

aMAZing GRACE, how SWEET the SOUND ....

Lorie had come up with some lyrics, no melody. Had some good words to it -- very perspicacious, as her songs tend to be. Many of her lines can be sermons in themselves. I played a melody that I thought would fit -- a waltz-time tune, a boat-like, sea shanty kind of thing on guitar, with a harmonica interlude. I don't think it was at all what she wanted for the song, but that's one of the purposes of collaboration -- you pitch things and see if you get a hit. Sometimes you do, sometimes you don't.

It's tricky for a new writer, even for an experienced writer, to come up with both words and melody. There is no single way of doing it. Sometimes I get an idea for a song that includes both at the same time. I start writing down the words, singing as I go. Other times, I'll fool around with my guitar, come up with some cool chord changes, and think, "I should write some lyrics to this." Still other times, I write the lyrics first. Everyone needs to discover, through trial and error, what works best for them.

Jeremy suggested some things for Lorie's song -- Jeremy, like me, has a background in poetry. Unlike me, he has a long history of writing songs for corporate worship. His opinions have gravitas. He's a very humble person -- in fact, he told me a couple weeks ago that he sees his role in our group as being more of an advisor. He doesn't want to pitch too many of his own songs, because he sees we have a lot of beginning/ developing writers. He told me that he feels he's gotten enough attention through his writing, and now he wants to help others step up to the plate.

Back to the October meeting: I played an original of mine called "Forgive Us." Part of the lyrics -- a pre-chorus, go:

You lit up the nightfall to show us the way,
We'd grown to love darkness so we raised the stakes ...
And hammered them into Your skin.

Lorie had already heard this song and applied her judicious editing skills to it. Daniel and Jeremy had some questions, particularly wanting to know what I meant by "raised the stakes," beyond the fact of the soldiers piercing Jesus' with stakes on the cross. It was obviously also a metaphor -- a line with both the literal, and a symbolic, meaning. Or was it just wordplay on my part, kind of a pun?

The question stumped me. This goes back to my limited experience with worship music as compared to, I don't know, what I would maybe just call "singer-songwriter" style. Singer-songwriters sometimes write in a stream-of-consciousness technique. Sometimes it is more purposeful, symmetrical, but still in a way that gives their subconsciousness control to put forth images, words, symbols that the conscious writer may not fully understand. Does everything need to be understood? Does anyone really understand everything the David Mead's, Patty Griffin's and Bob Dylan's of the world write?

Don't get me wrong -- it's not gibberish. You can draw meaning. The writer, if he felt the need, could explore his feelings and tell you what he meant. Or at least what he was feeling as he composed the lines. I write a lot of songs about bad or painful situations that I could have been in, or could be in now, based on my experiences, if not for the grace of God. A lot of those songs have come about in the aftermath of my divorce -- a couple I can think of, "Sheila" and "If I Didn't Know Better," come from the standpoint of a guy who has jumped into a bad relationship to "save himself" from the aftermath of a painful loss, knows it, but is "hooked" (no -- I don't know any real "Sheila's"). Another, "You're Making A Mistake," was written from the standpoint of a guy on the road to recovery who is trying to get a girl to take him in, to believe that he's a good, steady catch who now has his act together. These aren't situations that I have allowed myself to fall into, but again, without God's grace, instruction, and power, I would have.

But there are other songs that I have written -- who knows where they came from or what each line means? I don't care to examine them, necessarily. I know they stirred certain emotions in me -- perhaps they'd stir different emotions in someone else. Maybe some time in the future I'll look back at them and think, "Oh, this is obvious to me now: I was writing about "Person X" or about emotions that I was dealing with, or whatever. By then it will be easy to see -- perhaps now it would be painful, annoying, or difficult to comprehend. The subconscious mind is always ahead of the conscious mind.

Worship writing is different. You're coming up with something to be sung in a corporate environment. The lyrics need to have a certain obvious-ness to them. Otherwise they're just personal prayers -- not something that will edify others and turn their gazes and voices God-ward.

So what did I mean by "raised the stakes"? I guess my subconscious was remembering the parable of the tenants -- how the vineyard owner sent servants to collect his due from the tenants. The tenants beat one, killed one, stoned one. So then the owner said, "I'll send my very own son. They wouldn't dare disobey him." Only they did. They raised the stakes, turned up the notch, got down to brass tacks -- they killed the son.

Of course, in our workshop, I didn't think of this. It hadn't dawned on me why I'd written that line other than that there was a double meaning, it was clever, and it moved me. So I probably sounded like an idiot when I offered my feeble attempt at an explanation, but live-and-learn.

I am learning to be more direct, more purposeful. I still love lines that aren't necessarily obvious at first. They're like little treats. Have you ever had that experience, where you love a song, it's catchy, you sing it and listen to it many times, and then one day, for some reason, you "get" a certain line in a way that has previously eluded you? You think, "Aha! I didn't realize they were alluding to that." A treat. But there is a difference between having a little "treat" in the context of a worship song with an obvious message or petition, and having an entire song, or a line on which an entire song hinges, that is obtuse.

In November, we moved out of HCF for the first time and switched the workshop from a Sunday to a Saturday. I didn't know if we'd get more people, less, or what. I didn't know if the dynamic would change.

It did.

TO BE CONTINUED ...

Lyrics To Chew On From Bono & Co.

"It's no secret that a conscience can sometimes be a pest
It's no secret ambition bites the nails of success
Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief
All kill their inspiration and sing about their grief."

-- U2

The Sesame Street Personality Generator

You Are Big Bird

Talented, smart, and friendly... you're also one of the sanest people around. You are usually feeling: Happy. From riding a unicycle to writing poetry, you have plenty of hobbies to keep you busy. You are famous for: Being a friend to everyone. Even the grumpiest person gets along with you. How you life your life: Joyfully. "Super. Duper. Flooper."

The Sesame Street Personality Quiz

Exciting New Party Opportunity

I'm trying to earn some extra money so I'm going in business myself on the side. For $25 you can book me for parties. I will come and read "The Gift Of The Magi" to you. For $50 I will read "Candide." Consider me for birthday parties, baby showers, anniversaries, bar mitzvahs, retirement parties, and anything else you can think of.

For an extra $10, someone will come and hold a balloon while I read. For $10 more, someone else will hold another balloon on my other side. If you make a special request, they can hold sparklers instead of balloons, but you'll have to sign an insurance waiver in case they burn your house down on accident.

For an extra $15, a Republican will do an interpretive dance while I read.

For an extra $17.50, a Democrat will turn cartwheels while I read.

Good Citizens Beware

The Nightriders are all busted up following Independence Day in-fighting, so we will not be able to defend you all from the clutches of evil.

First, I went to Joel and Amanda's party but had to leave early to attend my aunt's festivities. When I got out of the pool and was drying off on the deck, Jason and Joel did their expected attack and tried to beat me up and throw me in the pool because of the animosity that has been building since last summer (I may have pulled some pranks on them, and I may have been gloating about it all winter).

Anyway, as soon as they lunged at me I dropped down on the deck and grabbed the bottom rail. Jason went down with me so I put him in an ankle lock. I had both my legs scissored around his left leg and my right arm locked in tight around the ankle of the same leg. I was attached like glue to his leg so for Joel to throw me in the pool he'd have had to be strong enough to drag me AND Jason over there and throw us both in. He kept trying to pry me off Jason's leg, while that evil Stacey started pulling my chest hair. I was screaming, as Joel puts it, "like a little girl" because of the hair-pulling, but I wouldn't let go of Jason's leg so they eventually gave up and said they'd get me next time.

At my aunt's house, my youngest cousin was laid up in the house all day because he had pulled his groin Monday playing wiffle ball. I had a good deal of fun at his expense, with my claim that "no one really understands just how dangerous wiffle ball can be until something like this happens."

Now, the ironic thing about me putting Jason in an ankle lock and making fun of Daniel's groin injury is that later on I was playing volleyball with my other cousins, and I collided with cousin Andrew. His knee slammed right into my calf/shin. OWWWW! I was hobbling around but continued to play. Then a few minutes later I jumped for a ball and when I came down my uninjured leg slipped on the grass, sending me down backwards with the sore leg bent backwards, pinned underneath me. I could tell everyone thought I'd broke my leg because it was a scary-looking fall, but I was fortunate. I got back up and played some more, although I shouldn't have. My leg throbbed all night, although it didn't bruise or swell. It still hurts now when I try to move my ankle or when I walk on it.

Meanwhile, back at the Anderson's Nightrider Pool Party, the rest of the gang was banging each other up during a game of Pool Frisbee War, which involved no less than three frisbees. Here is a report from Pinhead Stacey:

We all were injured dude. Joel got beat up the worst. Him and I were fighting to get out of the side of the pool and Joel completely fell backwards right on his back - It was hilarious, but he really hurt himself. He also got hurt doing something else. Then Amanda thought she broke her little toe. Rach had bobbed Jason hard on the face. Jason slammed my neck against the edge of the pool. We were pretty whooped.

So as you can see, the Nightriders are all on injured reserve. I'm thinking that someone forgot to give us the memo about getting old, putting aside childish things, taking care of our decrepit bodies.

Andy Partridge Lyric

"I'm 12 o'clock
All daylight hours
I'll warm your bed
I'll grow your flowers
Like I'm a miniature sun
This ball ingnited when she told me I was her only one."

-- Andy Partridge (XTC, The Dukes of Stratosphere)

Take Me Out To The Ballgame

Bob Dylan is now in the Baseball Hall of Fame. His recent baseball-themed episode from his XM radio show, "Theme Time Radio Hour with Bob Dylan" is now in the archives in Cooperstown.

It was a very interesting show, and Mr. Dylan even performed an acapella rendition of "Take Me Out To The Ballgame."

According to Arbitron, the show has 1.7 million listeners. I am one of them. And the theme of today's show is "Summertime."

Hope everyone had a wonderful time here in America, celebrating Independence Day. Hope you Monkey Maniacs around the world had a good time too. I nearly broke my leg playing volleyball, and am now hobbling around, grimacing through my pain, but as you can see, nothing can stop me from addressing my public.

Jesus Cleans Your Heart and Turns You Into A Sex Symbol

More from Donald Miller's "Searching For God Knows What:"

(Talking to a friend of his)

"... But let's try a little experiment." I looked out over the record store, a mass-market chain store that must have housed ten thousand CDs, and I asked him to go into the racks and find one ugly person on the cover of a record.

"Do what?" my friend asked.

"You know, find an ugly person."

"Okay," my friend said reluctantly, and with that he walked into the aisle and started thumbing through the discs.

"What about this one?" he said, holding up a compact disc with a dorky-looking guy holding up an acoustic guitar, the letters of the type looking like something printed in the sixties, but the picture very much modern.

"Easy enough, isn't it?" I asked.

"Yeah, sure," he said sarcastically. But the reason I had asked him to do this was because I knew our next stop would be a large Christian bookstore here in Portland, a bookstore that has an entire room devoted to music ... I asked my friend to come to the music room with me and I asked him to do the same thing, to find a record with an ugly person on the cover ...

... I went with him and both of us thumbed through the discs, picking out covers and showing them to each other, but none of the artists even slightly passed for ugly.

We spent about twenty minutes looking through the records but came up with nothing. We literally couldn't find one record cover with an ugly person on it ... we are, perhaps, even more obsessed, in the Church, with the stuff culture is obsessed with. We are hardly providing an alternative worldview. The mantra seems to be "Trust in Jesus! He will redeem you to the world!"

c. 2004 Donald Miller