Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Hip Hop Holy Land

I turned my eyes to the east and saw drumming lights going away from the night. I leaned closer to try and feel a breeze from the fleeting candles of my comfort: because if they weren't shining, I at least wanted to feel the wind that blew them out.

and the breeze felt nice.

i can remember how nervous i was in 4th grade when i sat behind my dad's 1965 Ludwig Super Classic. i saw him play them every sunday morning in the church orchestra, and occasionally on weeknights he would come home from work and play along with his Chicago tapes. All of it seemed so cool to me.

Until i was sitting behind the kit that sunday afternoon.

That day it felt like shaking and sweating and i thought i was going to either puke or poop or both.

It wasn't until 9 years later that the bugs of public performance starting to turn from death-ridden fear roaches to excited fluttering butterflies.

Now i'm a junkie looking for his next fix.

Using every limb and moving my being to the beat it makes is one of the best hits i've ever had.

There is rhythm in all things.

In the way a tree's branches break to all the crickets crying when the silence is too much to bear: its all got rhythm.

i make my own rhythm. And in doing so (and now to my point) have found a deep love for Hip Hop. From the original oralizing of The Sugarhill Gang to the present poundings of Aesop Rock, there's something inside of me that can't deny the calling of my soul to move to their beats. i won't troll on about how the greater part of the hip hop community has darker skin than mine, but i will stay there long enough to say: I'm very white. But it doesn't matter. Willie Nelson wouldn't deny there's rhythm in everything, nor would he deny the pure skill it takes to sculpt words in with beats in ways to move peoples souls and bodies. So i don't feel ashamed to confess to all of you that:


And I will until the day I die and go up to Glory where there will no doubt be a DJ spinning and angels dancing.

Sunday, September 20, 2009

I'm Going To Name My Son Clive Staples Summers

"A man can no more diminish God's glory by refusing to worship Him than a lunatic can put out the sun by scribbling the word, 'darkness' on the walls of his cell." - CS Lewis

I read once in a Book, or was it that I heard a man tell me... either way, once it was presented to me that once a man is in heaven, should that be the eternity he is to receive, then he will no longer be the man who he once was on earth. I have come to believe that this would mean he would also no longer be a man. Not even an inkling of what he was in the physical would translate into the the hereafter. Now, I understand that if that is true, and it being Heaven, then the alternative must just be so beyond my comprehension of "goodness".

That being said, I still wish I could meet CS Lewis. Meet who he was on earth. I'd like to sit with him in The Eagle And Child, share a cask beer and maybe a good Scotch, and just listen to him. He could tell me the lineup of suits that he has and where they came from and I would still probably be blown away.

All this begs the question though: Will any piece of me be left in who I am once the other side of eternity? If not, then what's all this for?

If any of you theologians out there have some insight, I would love to hear it.

for the record

i'd just like to say that i don't know where life goes sometimes. it's somewhat of a conundrum as i'm in it. i live what is life every moment that i breathe. i am alive. but where does this life go? where is it that i'm heading? i'm not so sure.

i had a sinking feeling when i was driving home tonight. i've had this feeling a few times in the past few days.

so what to do with that?

i guess we'll see, but what is my life has been such a disgusting mess of good, bad and i-don't-know-what-the-hell-to-think-about-this, that i'm just tired.

it's 2:44am and tired is a reasonable response.

so i'm going to sleep. i'm going to dream. i'm going to let my head and heart rest with hopes of a clearer state tomorrow.

i know it's been a while since i've posted here, and i'm sorry for the diary-esque-ness of this one but i just needed to get it out there. thanks. i love you. goodnight.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Lord I Was Born a Ramblin' Man

as our nights are washed away by the whites of a fresh new day, i'm certain that we could stand to be reminded of a few things.

1. the rest
2. the grace
3. the forbearance

these things that relegate us into our freedom, into our life. they don't give us breath, but they keep us breathing. and from whence do these and so many more life sustaining elements come? i believe God.

Jesus Christ.

not a feeble non-existent "being" that floats above and outside of us. not a thing that's sole absolute attribute is to have none so as not to offend.

no my friends, mine is a God that offends. who speaks a Gospel that terrifies. who for reasoning beyond my capacity, has seen fit to allow me the 3 items above and so many more to keep breathing. He will certainly tighten my chest at times, restricting the flow into my lungs, but He won't suffocate me.

i wish that i could understand how a God, a being who was made by nothing, would want to make me, let me go, only to break me, then take me back for His own.

it's all so painful.

and in my fight against the pain, i medicate with a confusing mixture of truth and lies. as many steps forward as i have taken, it feels i've taken twice back. i throw my words to the skies hoping to feel absolved of my wrong. but i don't feel it all the time. i tilt the bottle back to numb the grief of life's certainties. but i wake up with a guilty headache. i go to liturgy hoping to energize my spirit only to run it out in the first hours of leaving the building. i hold conversations of significance to distract myself from the inward reflection that is so necessary. but i see inside all the more.

a confusing concoction indeed.

but because of Him, i can still breathe in, then let it out.


and over

and over

and over again.

we all want to know why. i do. but i just don't know if i'll ever get that answer. at least not in the form of words related to the questions we're asking. maybe it comes in the form of something that pauses your heart.

a sunset or a symphony.

when we see a child's tears screaming the life that can't stay inside them, we want to know why death must be. but if we could just notice... if i could just notice, the fact that the child's life can't stay inside of her because it's just too big, well, i think i'd feel more comfort.

keep breathing because you can. and don't stop 'til you can't.