Hrmph.

Yesterday I was on the worship team at Hillview. Since I switched churches eighteen months ago, had been slow and shy about making myself available until this fall. In late summer two thousand eleven I threw the doors open to the inevitable deluge of involvement, and asked them to plug me in wherever they needed me, on any musical instrument or in any role where I could be of service. Last month I played bass, two weeks ago I led worship, and this past week I was the lone BGV. As a rhythm guitarist by nature, it's very exposing to stand armed only with a mic and my awkward body language. I become very self-aware. I am a seventies Neil Diamond trying in vain not to be corny. What should I do? Smile? Look around? I tend to keep my eyes closed or trained on the music sheet or Jim, the worship leader. Anything else feels unseemly.

Breaking of bread services can be intense, spiritually. The townhall-style sharing time is meant for worship by means of drawing attention to Christ in remembrance and oratory meditation before we all partake of the symbolic bread and "wine." (Since there is a fluctuating AA contingent at church, we don't use actual wine.) We tend to share from our hearts, stripping our convictions bare for the bracing truth of it. I often feel as though I should share something really coherent and inspired otherwise not talk, but inevitably I think of something worth adding, and more often than not, I stand up and speak my piece. Yesterday was a particularly grueling day for me, as I have been arguing a bit with God in recent weeks, and I haven't always taken his side. Taking God's side is my job, and while I was repentant by the time Sunday rolled around, I certainly didn't feel "prayed up" and prepared to share a Spirit-filled, worshipful attitude with the other believers. I hesitated for a long time, not wanting to share out of self, but eventually it became clear to me that it was okay, perhaps even meant to happen. So I stood up, hanging my head a little, and shared about some of my demons - particularly those hovering around the learning disability testing I had Friday. The theme of the conversation had been about the ascension, which is an unusual topic, but for me it was timely. I have thought recently about whether Jesus really could be bodily somewhere in the universe, preserved against suffocation and decay by some kind of untraceable dimensional pocket of livable atmosphere - coordinates unknown - and how scientifically preposterous that sounds. But the scientifically preposterous shouldn't be that astounding to a believer of miracles, particularly considering that I have already seen the logically preposterous happen in lives around me. I shared how I sometimes reason my way into logical corners. The rules of logic must delimit based on the information given, but I forget not to assume the universality of my own sphere of data. How very little information I have, compared to the totality of what can be known! It should be commonplace to me, that quite possible things should seem impossible, as commonplace to me as aliens and time-travel are commonplace to a Doctor Who companion on television.

Several people have since thanked me for sharing that bit about my limits and how much more information God holds. I was surprised. My paradigm says that unless I have been particularly holy this week, God won't be disposed toward using anything I have to say. But that is a false assumption and I should know it by now.

Dan took me to his new pet coffee shop, which is unfortunately right around the corner from CoSo. We talked about his leaving CoSo, and the shop he's going to start. The coffees were overpriced, but not moreso than CoSo. The music was good, and I thought extensively about possibly curating Dan's coming coffee shop as an art director.

I spent the evening trying to understand what to say in a personal statement, not content that the overmasticated shred of prose that I had ready was really what a law school admissions officer would want to read. I made some small progress, but felt very frustrated, and fought a lot of my angers and doubts about the way two thousand eleven had turned out. I went on a two mile run - and it was a good run - to leave it all out there in the cold. But it all followed me into the shower. I may or may not have stood under the hot water with my hands on my face for a long time, before falling asleep praying prayers of frustration on clean sheets.

Anthems

Monday, Oct. 24, was a workday set to ludicrous speed. I got things done but I felt as though moving in slow-motion. This song begged to be suggested to the Hillview worship team, and the second item found its way into my wishlist.

Source: amazon.com via Gabe on Pinterest

After work I met up with Tim and Dan for dinner at Rojoz, and then worked editing my client's book manuscript for a while at Sanjay's house, before clocking out in favor of inspired conversation.

Tuesday, Oct. 25, I woke up a little late after co-conspiring with Sanjay and Tim till 2 a.m., working through problems of faith, sin, ministry, and Christ's complete and undivided calling on our lives and hearts. My mind wandered when I got home, after so much heavy thinking, and my guard was a little bit down, and that was enough to go the wrong places in my heart and head for the shortest period of time. How delicate we are, stupid and wandering like sheep, that we can find the highest place and not innately know to just stay there. I fell asleep at 3 a.m. praying for closeness and mercy. I would be so hopeless if I were to fall away from my Savior, but walking with him I am always strong.

Wake late, verses by text from Dan:

Show me your ways, O LORD, 
   teach me your paths; 
guide me in your truth and teach me, 
   for you are God my Savior, 
   and my hope is in you all day long. 
Remember, O LORD, your great mercy and love, 
   for they are from of old. 
Remember not the sins of my youth 
   and my rebellious ways; 
according to your love remember me, 
   for you are good, O LORD.
Psalm 25:4-7 (NIV1984)

...and from Sanjay. Both were very encouraging to me. Especially verses from Dan are a wonder. I have spent so long knowing him as someone who reviles God and things of faith, so to see him become a man of faith has been like watching a miracle unfold. The level of humility and commitment he has inadvertently developed, out of nowhere, is heartening.

...and on my way out the door my roommate Trent told me he sent me an awesome email, and that I am going to love it. I was wondering what he could possibly have sent me that would be so delightful. He was right though. [Baseball] plus [my country] plus [Zooey] equals [what a great video!]. The video's focus on inevitable Hall of Fame inductee, baseball superstar, and godly man Albert Pujols was a nice touch too.

Editor's note: the video originally posted here, which is the same one Trent sent me, has been removed from YouTube by the person who originally posted it, so I have removed its empty link. But trust me, Ms. Deschanel did the anthem justice, by singing it in true form and not elaborating on its melody the way many abusive, bungling vocalists commonly do at sporting events.

Homesuppin' and a Christian Bachelor Party

Thursday 25

As much as I wanted to get some things done at home, and be a crotchety little loner, I realized that my own need for intimate society paralleled that of the tone in my parents' pleas that I come over for a little dinner. Even though my brother is still at home, he is rarely there bodily, and even scarcer in attentiveness, as he is often mentally consumed by various outside undertakings even while physically present. As the passage of time (and the increase in my hunger) was inversely proportional to my desire to cook that mess of something I'd been meaning to cook, I conceded and drove to my parents' place for some chicken, roast apples, brown rice, and fellowship. Went home with every intention of going to sleep early, didn't fall asleep till 1:30. C'est la vie.

Friday 26

Woke up and went to the chiropractor's office for a physical therapy session, then headed to work. Work was happily busy, and afterward I posted some new things to my music blog before heading home to throw some things in a bag and commuting over to the Jeremys' house. There I met Jer Cooper and Mike Shaddle, and we packed up his raised Jeep Cherokee. After a bit of Chipotle and stopping for gas, we headed out. Conversation on the way up was good and deep. Jer and I postulated on being sin and righteousness, being Christian singles and preparing for eventual godly marriages, while Mike added observations from the perspective of a married peer. It was a good long conversation in which all three of us took turns, and it lasted us almost all the way up to Tahoe. We greeted some of the other guys who had already arrived for Jer Walker's bachelor weekend, including best man Josh Walker and Jer's UCD roommate Tim Ingrum. Stayed up watching Arrested Development Season One.

Saturday 27

Rose mid-morning to waffles and staggered Bible time. Finding that the tennis courts were closed and without nets, we proceeded to the outdoor basketball courts in the cold and played for three hours. We played four games, and oddly enough my shots were hitting, so I was on the winning team twice. We all had to stop and gasp for breath occasionally, as the icy, thinned mountain air clutched our lungs with its numbing talons. The thin sunlight soon forced us to doff our tees. It felt like summer in the midst of winter, getting a sunburn on the blacktop with snow in the hedges. The UV-rays and fresh air were revelatory to my hibernating skin. My greatest regret is that I played in my Chuck Taylor sneakers, which, classic casual chic or no, have not been considered proper sporting equipment since the 1960's. I discovered the reason for their obsolescence; I did sense the hot-spots but played through them, so by the end of the game I had blistered badly on the balls of both feet.

Later in the day we went to Fire+Ice for a perfect guy lunch: all-all-you-can-eat American food, cooked Mongolian barbecue-style. The group wandered about for a bit, myself hobbling like an old man, trying to find a place to buy a new game of Risk and some cigars.

We found the requisite tobacco but had no such luck with the Risk, instead opting to watch a matinee of Cop-Out after we were done being distracted by a parade. As much as I wanted to love a Tracy Morgan/Bruce Willis flic, it did not rise above the level of "generic guy movie" or "blatant Tracy Morgan antics vehicle" at any point, and most of us simply laughed at how bad the film was.

After the movies we went to some casinos, which were far less classy than I would have liked. For some reason I anticipated a crowd of nicely dressed, simpering moneyed sorts exchanging laughs and small-talk over sly gambler glances, amid the tinkle of champagne running over crystal. In general it just looked like a dark video arcade for grownups, with claustrophobic rooms, ugly, cheap, brightly colored carpet that crept up the walls to the ceilings, and dingy lights half-heartedly flashing everywhere.

A pack of tattooed, alcoholic d-bag types hung around with the occasional overly made-up woman. Cigarette staleness was everywhere. These women would probably have been more attractive in a different setting, with more becoming attire and less makeup, and a different outlook on life. But as is, they were instead instead quite unattractively beer-swooning and yelling at the big-screen UFC fighters. "BREAK'IZ AAAARM! BREAK HISZ ARRMMMmmm. Awww," they'd fade, going into a dissatisfied murmur of disappointment when sportsmanship was not in fact thrown to the wind in this particular televised match.

We spent an hour or so pumping quarters into a machine that makes plastic horses rattle awkwardly around a fuzzy miniature racetrack, while grossly cleavage-burdened, tired-looking women brought us cheap beers. After watching Jer Walker quietly turn $30 into $60 at the blackjack table, we exited, all underwhelmed, and drove back to the cabin, exhausted. Over pizza we watched The Hangover, during which hilarity I fell soundly asleep without realizing I was doing so.

Sunday 28

Woke nine-ish, had a little quiet time in 2 Samuel, since we'll be studying that this coming Saturday. Jer Walker did too, so we chatted a bit about how remarkable these stories were, at the beginning of David's reign, when he finally had the power to demand that they bring his wife back to him, who had been given away to another man, and how that man followed her all the way back weeping for her. Who does one pity? Both men had been wronged perhaps. I wonder that so little is said about her own feelings in the matter.

After another waffle-coffee breakfast, those of us who had fallen asleep finished the movie, and then cleaned the cabin. Cleaning the cabin was much more rewarding than finishing the movie, which was really only funny in flashes. But the cabin soon looked orderly and grateful, and shone a bit in the spring mid-morning. I cleaned the musty 70's bathroom, shaking out brown and yellow shag rugs that clearly had never been disturbed at any time in the last two decades. We packed and left, the Jeremys, Josh, and Mike for the slopes, and the rest of us home to our various responsibilities.

Tim, Karl Albright, Jay Adams, Robert Brown and I rode back together, chatting about various theological and political subjects of interest, and also concerning the mysterious, nuanced motivations behind the decision of some elderly to sell all in favor of RV living. Robert asked a good deal of questions about my own home church at Grace, which as usual I found hard to describe without sounding negative. But I think I succeeded in communicating some of the personality and ministry dilemmas without criminalizing anyone, which was a relief. It's especially hard to try to answer questions about why Beck and the other elder left recently, because I really don't know for sure. I only have guesses, and the truth is probably a good deal less dramatic than some curious types would probably like.

On arriving home I showered all the weekend away, nursing my sore muscles and blistered feet, and prepared for worship practice, which went relatively well again. Looks like we'll be ready for Summit, but I'll get more organized yet.

Collision Collateral

My mood today was largely determined by something that happened January 6th. On that date of this year, someone slammed into the back of the car I was driving, wrecking both the car and my spine.

Today, I was woken by my cell phone. The fellow who is indefinitely babysitting my wrecked car called. He needs a car cover on it before the 10th, which is when his landlord will see it. The car is thrashed.

Midday, I went to my old friend Josh Sikora's wedding reception (the wedding was elsewhere a couple weeks ago). The rest of the day was spent on various odd jobs around the house. I can't begin to explain how shooting low back pain, tight neck muscles, numb hands, and sharp pain between my shoulderblades can slow a fellow down. Just trust me, it was bad today. Afte hours of helping clean our garage, tidying my own room, then poring over documents at the office, the pain is just frustrating. It would be less so, if I thought it would be gone soon.

My band is still looking for time to have a first practice. Tomorrow I will play worship music while my brother leads. Monday, I must find a place to get x-rays. Gotta stop avoiding that.

Last Night, She Said...

"...good job leading music. It was beautiful."

George Dawson is speaking at our church three nights. Last night he hovered around 2 Peter a lot, and Ps. 103 a little, with some Romans and other books for good measure.

I have decided that fielding worship-leading compliments was the most awkward thing this week, besides maybe the huge jug of Sunny Delight I bought last night. How can I go into a store looking for a headband and come out with ridiculo-size Sunny D, 3 bags of beef jerky, and an AFI album? Only at Wal*Mart, baby. I can't think in there. The mediocrity stifles me. I didn't even get the headband.

Delay of Raise, Relay of Praise

Today my boss told me that due to a negative report he received a few weeks ago, the promised raise is now contingent on three more weeks of productivity mirroring my current highly approved pace. I think I can, I think I can.

Also, in the absence of our fearless elder/college group leader Beck, I am unofficially running the college group ministry. Which means that since our guest-speaker-hopeful Silvenas will not be joining us this Friday night, I will be teaching Bible study. John 19:1-16. This further means that I must pass the worship leading (i.e. glorified cumbaya strumming) to brother Peter.

4 for 4, Plus 1 More

Debuilding - I had a four day weekend culminating in the 4th of July. Most of it was spent tearing down someone else's house, for an add-on they are doing. They (my friends Mike and Nancy) will be hosting Bible students in the fall. My head was covered in dust. Insulation, drywall, and sawdust.

Cussion - I led college group Bible study on Sunday, since half the group is out of town in Mexico. That was difficult because not everyone was interested in tracking with the lesson. Biblical discussion leading is sometimes maddening, and that's not good. I want to get better at it.

Apsychotica - It recently got back to me that one of the girls, behind my back, cited my brother Peter and I as the only "normal" guys around. Thanks, I think.

Supeman Simplex - On the 3rd, Mike and I replaced my master cylinder and lubed the power windows. (Note to self: older car = broken stuff. It's a '91 Accord and a lot of it is still original stock parts. I think the next thing to go will be the starter.) Then I went with Peter to see Superman Returns. It is an instant American classic. Superman is a gentleman and a scholar, even if he does have a child out of wedlock.

Existentialization - On the 4th itself, my dad and I rebuilt our picnic table. All these things make a man feel very tactile, solutions oriented, and purposeful. I was all ready to watch the sky get shot to pieces in a blaze of existentialized glory last night. Here's to the all-American summertime blues.