Doug Van Pelt

Please get past my bias

...and check out (in other words, buy) this dvd -- Downe In Yon Forrest: Christmas from the Middle Ages. I don't see it in his store at this point in time, but I imagine it'll be there soon.

My bias, could be perceived to stem from the fact that I was the interviewer asking the questions (off camera, I might add), yet it was the reasoned mind of one Kemper Crabb that provided answers that I wish everyone could hear.

His take on art, Christian music, Christianity, and even the crusades are quite illuminating and interesting. What he says about meaning and suffering is amazing.

I Don't Know How I Know What I Know

McManus has penned quite a few good quotable quotes or sentences here.

His opening paragraph is good:

"When life doesn't make sense or when we give up trying to make sense of life, we find places to run and hide. Usually religion is accused of being the place where people go to escape reality. I'm not going to argue with this. Overall I agree with it. I would suggest, though, that it's not the most popular place to go anymore.

"There are two places where I find people retreating. While a healthy faith openly embraces mystery, allowing room for the unknown, our new places to escape attempt to eliminate everything that is uncertain."

Part of me doesn't want to agree with the premise that religion is a place to escape reality. It's easy to say, "For some people it is," delegating those "some people" to the stupid class. But that's too easy. I guess I could agree with the concept of running to God as a strong tower to lean on and take comfort in the shadow of His wings, so to speak, during a time of trouble or testing. Honestly, all of us come to places like that from time to time. Even the toughest and strongest of us grow tired and weary. What I don't like, though, is painting Christians as dumb and dumber -- the stupid class. The problem with that is I happen to know some believers in Christ who are brilliant and much smarter than I am. People I would be glad to put on a platform and say, "Listen to him or her talk." It's not that people are dumb for running and retreating. I don't see myself running from un-answered questions or retreating and hoping that the difficult questions that I can't answer will go away.

While I certainly don't have all the answers and while there are definitely questions that drive me to seek answers, I don't willfully classify myself as a "pretend it's all true and hide from any conflict or doubt" kind of lad. So, maybe that is why I have a hard time swallowing the opening statement. I'm allowed to disagree with McManus, of course. I love the line about "a healthy faith openly embraces mystery." That's good. It makes sense, too. Pretending we know it all is just, in the end, really dumb.

I can remember times of pretending. Sometimes it's when talking to someone with a "difficult to understand" accent or a low volume level of speaking. After asking them to repeat something once or twice, it becomes almost unbearable to ask again. Smiling and pretending I've got the jist of what they're saying becomes a convenient, but deceptive way out.

I remember talking to someone recently and thinking to myself, "Gosh, I wish they would stop talking." I hoped against hope (and what does that mean, anyway?) that they couldn't read my mind, because it wasn't a pleasant thought. I politely let them talk and talk, trying my best to focus on what they were saying.

Another problem with pretending is the person that pretends they know it all pushes those around him or her past their tolerance level and they then become unbelievable. This know-it-all is tuned out by those around him or her, because they perceive (most of the time correctly) that this person just likes to hear him or herself, holds him or herself in high esteem, and has placed a higher than should be value in their importance and even knowledge level.

There was an intern at HM many years ago named Jonathan Nolte. During one conversation, he brought up Coheed and Cambria. At the time (oh, between 2003 and 2004) they were a relatively new band. Something inside my head was clinging to an imaginary band that used the name Coheed. I even said something about, "Yeah, I know what Coheed sounds like." It could've been a real memory, but in answering the question or being a part of the conversation with him, I feigned knowing what the band sounded like. As soon as the words came out of my mouth, I realized that I was wrong. I guess I felt it would be too awkward to say, "You know what? I take that back. I do not know what they sound like." I felt like, 'Man, Jonathan knows. He knows right now that I just lied.' I can still remember that conversation, because it bothers me. Now, whenever someone asks me if I've heard of such and such band, I'll err on the side of doubt and admit that I haven't heard of such and such. Sometimes my brain is fuzzy and I'll listen to a sampler CD I picked up at SXSW or from my Magnet Magazine subscription and/or I'll hear some buzz band way early in their career, but I won't remember three days later what they sound like or I'll confuse that memory with another band. But now, as a result of catching myself in what I'll call "a lie," I would rather say, "No, I am not sure what they sound like" to another music enthusiast, even if I may have heard them once, than to confidently say I do. I might lose some scene points by stating this, but I feel a heck of a lot better erring on the side of honesty than in dishonesty.

Part of me enjoys exploring and hearing new music -- which is rewarded when it's a great artist (like The Polyphonic Spree is a good example), but it can be so much work, too. Sometimes it's one other song I don't like, reminding me of the many average or mediocre indie music I'll listen to on a regular basis. It's nice to have a conversation with someone who knows what kind of music or bands I'm talking about. I'm sure it goes both ways. It's also fun to help another person discover a new band that they haven't heard. I'm sure it's the other way around for the person I'm talking to, as well. Even though I had heard a few songs by Band of Horses, when my neice brought them up in a conversation about exciting new bands, my mind was drawing a blank. Instead of trying to sound like I knew what they sounded like, I admitted that I didn't. That stunk, because I was kind of thinking about how poor my memory was and disappointed about that much more than the "uncool" and the scene points that were being subtracted from my account. haha

I am Simon Cowell

famecast.com is the final battle of the bands thing I helped judge recently. They videotaped it and have it up on their website for review under the "critic's choice" stuff. It's funny. I think all the winners of the critics were not the same winners as the fan vote. We had three judges on the night I was there, critiquing spiritual, country, and Latin music.

Why?

One of my favorite songs (one of many, as I really like music) is the tune "Why?" by Micharl Card. It's a 30+ year old song, but it had great paradoxical questions, like: "Why did it have to be a kiss (to betray Jesus)? That's not what a kiss is for." McManus talks at length about how we can't seem to stop asking the question "why." Even with our advancement in technology, which answers a lot of the "what," "when," "how much" and other quantifying questions, we're still left asking and wondering why.

"Why are we here?
Why is there evil in the world?
Why is there so much suffering?
Why would God allow this to happen?
Why would we allow it to happen?
Why don't we change?
Why don't we do something about it?
Why does it matter?
Why is the question that haunts us.

It's interesting, because why is a question that must be asked by and to an authority. Someone that doesn't know the answer can't really be trusted with answering it, can they? How would they know the why? If you do something, someone can ask you "why" and you can tell them. When it comes to suffering or a tragedy, or a mystery (like the creation of giraffes or solar systems), only someone beyond ourselves, someone who actually did the creating, could begin to answer that.

My limited understanding of those questions is a confident, "I don't know." I have come to trust God, though. I have had my own personal set of tests that I ran this invisible-to-my-eyes god through, and He passed. He has amazed me and I believe in Him. Even though I don't know why certain things happen and even though I think it's somewhat of an irrelevant question for me to ask (why do I need to know?), I certainly don't think it's a question we get penalized for asking. It seems (through my own experience and reading the experience of others in Scripture -- with people like Job, Solomon, David, and Peter, for instance) that God enjoys it when we come to him with all we've got, laying bare our souls and unloading our questions and anger upon Him. He can handle it all. He's not shaken by the things that we are shaken by.

That is comforting. I believe that we exist in a fallen world. I wouldn't call myself a deist, as I believe in a balance between an active God that will answer the prayers of a believing charismatic follower and I also believe that God sits outside of the world He created and lets many things take their natural course. Bacteria randomly attack, for example. Disease spreads. Some sick people randomly pick victims to destroy. Winds gather speed and create tornadic winds, killing or injuring some. There's some things that I can't even begin to explain the why's or even the how's of. I'm not the knowing one in these cases. Sometimes not knowing leaves us "anchorless" and lost, as if we were at sea with nothing to control the direction we will go. Sometimes we can make it through these times, even if it pushes us to the brink of maintaining our composure.

Sometimes we can't offer an answer to a "why" question from someone suffering or grieving. But sometimes what can help a person like that is just to be around a person who has an anchor in their soul to the Author of their lives. Being around someone who trusts in God can be a calming effect -- even if they don't preach or offer answers. All of us can probably imagine or remember a time when an answer is offered that doesn't achieve the weight or purpose with which it was intended. Instead it falls to the ground as a cliche, words that don't stand up or help, even though we'd like to offer a cure to make things better or speed up healing.

From goalpost to goalpost

Robbie M. is going to try to jump the length of a football field -- the entire field, from goalpost to goalpost. I sure hope he makes it. Landing between the two goalposts at the end. If he drifts during the flight, those vertical goalposts could be quite an unfriendly landing pad. It should be a tremendous stunt. New Year's Eve on ESPN looks like 10pm CST.

Don't EVER ask questions about God!

That would be doubting ... and doubting is bad. It's very bad! And it's ALWAYS BAD!!!

While no intelligent or reasonable person would take a position (at least I don't think anyone would take such an extreme stance), it's implied sometimes, it seems, that to question the faith of your parents, your faith, or to question God is like an affront to the whole deal.

I firmly believe, however, that God can handle our questions. I think He can even handle our anger. I actually believe that God can handle our fury -- all of our wrath -- even our worst cuss words. I happen to think that, if we are honest with ourselves, that our behavior and attitudes sometimes come across as strongly as the vilest language or lowest insult would. And I firmly believe that God can handle this. I think that He, like the "us" He created in His image, might get His feelings hurt, or it might sadden Him to see us throwing a fit or being angry at Him and lashing out at Him, I also believe that His love and forgiveness is never-ending. He can see past the pain-inspired tongue lashings we might give Him.

McManus makes a point in his book (and Meaning Entry #7 -- The Answer Is the Question (or the Other Way Around) that all of us have questions. We're all trying to bring meaning to our lives and find out why... why we're here, what our purpose is, how we got here... He brings up a good point: that if you catch us young enough, our list of things we'll believe is long. It includes Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and perhaps Buddha, Allah, Krishna, and Jesus. Many people, as they find out that one or the other is false, give up on everything on that list. The point he makes, though, is that we're all inclined to believe in something.

I wonder why that is...

My Christmas List

While I've taken some time off recently, those pesty, pesky, stinky spam robots have been busy. Dumb 'bots!

Okay, here's a list of memorable Christmas gifts I've rec'd over the years:

Sports Illustrated subscription. This is a pricey gift that I've rec'd from time to time that lasts throughout the year. The issues from February thru August don't get much more than a glance before they hit the trash, though (not much football writing).

Electric Football Set (one of those vibrating fields with players painted up to be the Baltimore Colts and one team the Dallas Cowboys). The quarterback/kicker was an odd piece. Unlike the other ones with painted uniforms and helmets, this one was taller and all white and flexible plastic. The small foam/cotton ball would stand by the kicking tee, which would latch back and snap forward by pressing back on the quarterback/kicker's hands, which stretched into a handle. This same handle could be the QB's hands and the ball would be split over the handle, which you would pull back and let go, launching the pass down the field at a proportional distance due to the amount of flex you pulled back on his arm with. It could sail clear off the field or just a few inches. It had to hit an eligible offensive player to count as a complete pass. Both this action and the kick, of course, had to take place while the field was vibrating and before a defensive player vibrated into the backfield and touched this player's base. Maybe this is how the phrase "All Your Base Are Belong To Us" got started. Who knows?

Walt Garrison running away from Mike Curtis Cowboys painting. This was a reprint, but with actual lumps of paint. Not sure how they mass produced these things, but this lil' gem from my childhood is one of my most-missed. I remember looking at this and thinking how the Balitmore Colts player trying to tackle him looked kind of like a 2x2 board coming out of the Cowboy running back's leg. Kind of gruesome until the eyes and brain realized it was a player's face flesh inside a helmet. I'd love to have it now. I must've lost it during my high school years of not as much enthusiasm for football stuff on the walls phase took place. Dang it, this thing would be so valuable to me now!

Electronic football game. This little blip computer game was a handheld device that teachers hated. The one made by Mattell was so cool I still have mine today. Definitely a precursor to the video games of today, where one used his or her thumbs to navigate the player down the field.

Tan Leather Jacket. Yes, in the days of Michael Jackson's early MTV days and that red leather jacket, I have a leather jacket (made in Israel) that's a different color than the standard black/dark brown variety. While not as urban or trendy (thank goodness) as M. Jackson's, it does have a trim style to it.

Homemade Jean Blanket. I had been giving my sister old pairs of jeans for her sewing hobby, not knowing I was contributing to a custom made and very warm blanket that I'd later receive.

Portable Work Bench. While this is almost the equivalent of getting a wife getting a vacuum cleaner, this will be very useful to me for any projects I do.

Powell Double-Beamer Skateboard. This 10" wide x 30" long skateboard by Powell was truly top-of-the-line in its day (1980) and the only board I like to ride to this day. I know I could sell it for over a grand to a serious collector, but it's my board of choice (still) to this day. My feet aren't used to the more narrow and concave designs of later models. I have a picture somewhere of me opening that one.

Susie Slicker Doll. Somehow, after giving this gag gift to my dad one year, it found its way back as a gift to me. This swapping has been going on for many years now.

10-Speed Bicycle. I think this might've even been a small 24" bike ... or it could've been a 26" model (I was pretty short until sometime in high school. But this thing got a lot of good use. I might've even taken this to college for my freshman year.

BB Gun. This was a classic gift that got many, many hours of use. I even shot a "little man" in front of my younger cousin, Grant. It was really an Action Jackson action figure sitting on a bridge 30-40 yards away, but when the bb knocked him back off the bridge into the creek below, my young cousin was convinced of my deception -- that I'd shot and killed one of the "little people" that inhabited my neighborhood. Many birds are now dead due to this gift.

Johnny Lightning Racetrack. This thing had a start mechanism that launched the cars around the track at high speed. It even came with a nice racing helmet that I wore on my bicycle.

Banana Yellow Huffy Bicycle. This one was put together, I think, by another military guy, as my dad was away at war (the Vietnam War) during this Christmas time. This bike had the banana type seat and gave me many years of service ... up until the time I rec'd that 10-speed in my pre-teen years.

I now know why time flies by so fast...

...MORNINGS are the answer. While are bodies are yearning and sometimes screaming for more rest, we will ourselves to get up and move through our routine. We kick ourselves in the stomach with strong coffee and barely keep our tired eyes open. We're wishing that we'd just make it through the day or just past the morning hours until our energy level starts to rise. There's so much "wishing" going on that the time accelerator gears turn faster and faster until we "get our wish" and then the afternoon is ticking by and people like me start wishing we had a few more hours or just a little more time to get all this work done. The only thing is, those gears are so heavy that they can't be slowed down in time for that afternoon work to get finished. And so our kids grow up "too fast" and time marches on. There's no way to stop it.

OUR SOULS ARE BEING SPAMMED
McManus concludes in MEANING ENTRY #6. He talks about varying philosophies, like the "nothing is real" and the "only thing that's real is the physical stuff we can see and prove" camps that seem to prevail among the intellectual elite, even though they are diametrically opposed. I took a Government course at the University of Texas that was really a philosophy course in disguise. It was called "Government and the Politics of Reality." Professor Edwards seemed to get a real kick out of seeing us wrestle with philosophy and ask questions about what is real. Owen Barfield and other authors were read and discussed. One popular idea was that reality was just a collective agreed upon state that existed in our minds. It was all completely relative. I got a kick out of being the oddball in there, actually believing that the physical world and the unseen spiritual world was reality.

McManus describes how our present culture has become one of options. From Burger King's "Have it Your Way" campaign to places like Build A Bear, we have options galore to choose from. The same is true for philosophies and the "answers" offered for the "What is truth?" questions. Sometimes, it seems, the vast number of options move us toward disbelief.

We can't put a finger on it,
but what is happening is that
our souls are being spammed.

Now I know how Tony Romo felt...

...no, not after he kissed Jessica Simpson on the lips. (Actually, I would not want to know what that feels like).

I think I know what his frustration felt like after fumbling the snap and hold to the game winning field goal against Seattle in last year's Wildcard playoff game. By the way, there is something about that play... Before all you Seahawks fans or Cowboys haters call me a "sour grapes cry baby," check this out: The NFL does not make rule changes for just any old reason. When they actually make a rule change, it's for a reason. Prior to last season, here's what they did concerning field goals and kicks of all types: each NFL game had 12 "K-balls," which were designated for kicking field goals, kickoffs, and punts. A few years previous they instigated this rule to make it harder to kick. What they did was make these 12 balls were brand new and not scuffed up and "broken in." Kickers used to do all sorts of things to make the balls lighter and roughed up so as to kick easier. They'd do all kinds of creative things, short of using sandpaper, I think, to roughen these balls up. With this old rule change, however, they'd only be given 20 minutes prior to the game to roughen up these 12 K-balls. 20 minutes is not a lot of time to roughen up 1 ball very good -- much less all 12 of them. Then, prior to a kick, the local stadium's ballboy would fetch one of the 12 k-balls and toss it to the ref, so it would be in play for a kick. I sure would like to talk to the Seattle Seahawks local ballboy about his supposed "fair" and "impartial" k-ball selection prior to that kick. It was within his rights, according to the rules, to pick the least scuffed ball for this play. It was legit. Last year's last-minute field goal attempt against Seattle would have probably won the game for the Cowboys, eliminating the Seahawks from the rest of the playoffs. When watching the replays of that botched hold, the ball sure looked darker and "slippery looking" than normal/other kicks. "Sour grapes," you say? Perhaps. But check out this year's rule change:

Of the 12 k-balls, each one is marked with a number and they will continue to use "K-1" for the duration of the game until it is lost in the stands or ruled unusable for some reason; in which case they'd go to K-2 and so on. And the kickers from each team are now given 45 minutes prior to each game to roughen up the k-balls. So, sour grapes or not, the NFL decided to change the rules after what happened last year.

Okay, so now we know that the play that surely caused Tony Romo to feel frustration, anger, and regret for how that game ended. As another aside, if Martin Grammatica would've dived low and taken out that speedy cornerback's legs (i.e. actually made a successful block), Romo would've been able to run for a first down or touchdown. The guy who Grammatica tried in vain to block pushed the kicker aside and tackled Romo to end the play, giving the Seahawks the ball.

So, last night was my botched snap/hold. My two girls are part of a dance academy that had a 30-minute performance scheduled in downtown Austin at Zilker Park's "Trail of Lights." They learned 7 songs / dance numbers for this and had been working on it all Fall. It was a big moment for them. Besides relatives from Houston and friends from our church attending, my parents flew in from Florida to see this. It was a big deal for my girls. I left our house 2 hours prior to the 8:45 performance time, thinking I'd make it. I even scheduled a quick stop to pick up a Christmas gift and flowers for the girls on the way. I made it to the highway exit on Mopac and 2244 with a good 45 minutes to go before the performance started, but we were in bumper to bumper crawling traffic for 1 hour and 20 minutes. By the time we got to the parking area, it was 9:15 and I knew the girls were done. I felt like Tony Romo immediately following that game. I wish I could've gotten into a time machine and changed our routing so as to make the performance. Maybe if I would've taken the next Southerly exit and approached the line to park from the other direction, we could've made it. If we would've bypassed the flowers... It's so frustrating, and there's nothing I can do about it now. The past is past. It's over. I have to live with the consequences and just let it go. There's no use staying mad and hurt by it all.

Good music helps. A great song can lift the "spirits" or emotions. Bands like Maylene, Mute Math, U2, and Zeppelin can bring a smile to the face.

And it's true -- the joy of the Lord is my strength. Giving disappointment and frustration to God can help. Being able to drop it in His lap can help you forget about stuff like this and not let it nag at ya.

P.S. If I was to give unsolicited advice (uh, oh, watch out, Romo), I'd say "choose Carrie Underwood over Jessica Simpson." She seems like less trouble. Who knows? I have to admire the QB for the way he's let the memory of last year's game go. He's been having quite a good year this season.

McManus is a kook

I don't really feel that way, but wanted to see if anyone was paying attention. Is anyone reading along with this book (Soul Cravings)? I'm still really digging it. Hey, I got an email yesterday from Don Miller's organization that said he was making a movie out of Blue Like Jazz! Wow, that's pretty exciting. I wonder if they'll re-enact the scene of the confessional at Reed College. Steve Taylor and Ben Forgotlastname are making it, adapting it from the book's themes. hmmm.

McManus talks about vampires and their life of being undead, which is really being un-alive. In Anne Rice's Interview With A Vampire, Brad Pitt (as Louis) relates that his love died with "her" (a lost love named Claudia). He thus gave up on life and no longer really lived. In fact, he preyed on those who crossed his path. In Entry #4 the author relates how we're all living by faith. Both reason and faith, though they are often considered as juxtapositions, are trying to make sense of things. They come to different conclusions, but ask the same question: What is true?

In Entry #5 Erwin (I like that name, it reminds me of Fletch) reasons that the originators of myth and various religions might've had good motives, and they might have had sinister ones. One guy might have thought that the volcano was mad because it hadn't been given a virgin. Or he might've be spurned by said virgin and so made up the myth so he could dump her in a volcano out of spite. He surmises that the guy who made things up must've known he was doing so. Maybe the author of a religion might've been reacting to a prevailing lie in his culture. Maybe he was tired of seeing things go wrong due to this prevailing philosophy around him.

He gives a little flesh to the suspicion that all religions were just made up to make sense of the world around us. He throws out the question: Can anyone be trusted?

Things Guitar Hero has taught me

1. video games can be hard
2. being a musician can be hard
3. music is equal parts "feel" as it is counting, and technical
4. playing music takes practice
5. guitar players have to have dexterity (in their hands, fingers)
6. failing at your instrument/piece can ruin a gig for the rest of the band
7. playing an instrument is hard work (especially at first)
8. even grunge music (like the Alice in Chains song "Dem Bones") requires talent
9. someone will get upset and demand a "cleaner version" of the game
10. wireless guitars provide more freedom than a "wired" one
11. a fun video game can be addicting
12. the band thebuttholesurfers knew how to play their instruments

Dogging on Solomon

In Entry #3 (What's the Meaning of This?), McManus takes to task Solomon. While this guy is called the wisest of all who ever lived, he was pretty much history's first nihilist. I might think Job or some of his friends got an early start, but Solomon took it to an extreme.

He used the word "meaningless" 35 times in the book of Ecclesiastes. He pursued a ton of things in his life and concluded that they were all meaningless. McManus deduces that, while Solomon's journey through Ecclesiastes began with God, "Instead of running to God, he chose to run from God."

My first inner reaction upon reading that is, 'Whoa! He's dissing the Scriptures, here!' While Solomon may have "gone off the deep end" for a time, his journey and conclusions bring the reader full circle back to God. It is all for our benefit, though, that he did experience and honestly write about his doubts, fears, and fearless observations and accusations. McManus doesn't bring the authority of Scripture into question, as he too writes with an unbridled abandon to embrace the wild ends of the topic's extremities. It can be a challenge to do that, but it can also be very beneficial to "feel" truth as it is to ponder it.

Ripped off by the new Foo Fighters album

Thanks alot, Dave Grohl! Well, at least for now, I am disappointed. I almost bought this album the first week it came out (when Best Buy sells it for $11.99), but I couldn't make it to the store before the next Sunday, when the price went up to $13.99. When I saw it went down to $9.99 in the latest Best Buy flyer, I thought I'd take a chance.

Maybe I'll grow to like it. Maybe it'll be one of those "good listen" albums, where you can listen to it all the way through and really enjoy it. U2's How To Dismantle An Atomic Bomb is like that, as is All The Things That You Can't Leave Behind, though each one of those has some great, great songs on it. After one pass through Echoes, Silence, Patience & Grace, I haven't been impressed. I kinda feel like my 10 bucks was wasted. I'll give it some more listens and see.

I got some copies of the latest issue of HM yesterday and am very happy with how it came out. I'm real glad I fixed one mistake that I saw in the album reviews section, which comes on the heals of a reader pointing out that the previous issue had the wrong album title listed in the Ratings section for Emery's latest. I saw this mistake (where I had Bradley Hathaway suddenly signed to Solid State Records, instead of You Are A Snowflake, his private imprint thing).

Surely Goodness and Mercy

Well, after a week-long absence, guess who's back? Surely, that's who. The long-haired orange tabby of the new bunch of HM cats had taken off the night of their first release at the HM Ranch. I thought maybe he'd run away or got eaten by wolves (coyotes). But this morning when I opened the little door to their cathouse to feed 'em, there was all three of 'em there, instead of just Goodness and Mercy. I'm real glad about that.

ENTRY #2: Making Sense of This Mess
In this entry, the second of the third section (Meaning), McManus reveals that he had made himself vulnerable and submissive to a psychiatrist (or psychologist) -- someone with a degree and a comfortable, long couch. He let someone inside his head to peer around in his soul as he tried to grapple with the order of the world and his place in it. He felt confused, intimidated and overwhelmed, it seems. So he sought help.

Something about that creeps me out. I definitely believe that people with those degrees can help people. Heck, counseling and helping someone can be a very addictive and rewarding experience. But something un-nerves me about a profession that has state-given authority to lock people away. I met a guy (Russian rock guitarist and composer of The Trumpet Call) named Valeri Barinov. He was sent to psych wards and given psycho-active drugs and other treatment in Soviet Russia back in the 80s ... simply because he did something considered "crazy." He believed in Jesus and used his skills as an artist to try and communicate that faith and truth to others. This was considered "crazy" in an atheistic state. He was tortured for his belief in something that someone with a degree thought was a delusion. Most of the people I know have lived their whole lives (and "whole" is a good descriptive term for quality as well as quantity) and never visited a psychiatrist. I'm glad the profession exists, as I've stated. There's just a few degrees of mistrust I have with the "system."

Anyway, McManus uncovered that he had this missing element in his life. His family raised him to forget about his dad. He was "erased" from all conversation, etc. It was as if the man did not exist. But McManus knew different. He felt the vacuum.

It's interesting how longing and meaning can get your attention when something's wrong or missing.

My Resignation from Auto Racing

It is with great pride that I tender my resignation from auto racing. It's always been my dream to go out on top, and the imaginary applause from the crowd is almost deafening. Frankly, it's all I'd imagine it would be. When I drive into Austin and I see that Red Toyota or that Silver Cruiser that's going to slow or cuts in front of me only to slow down, I immaturely thought, 'I'm going to beat this car.' Having won so many of these so-called "races," I am glad to step down. I'd much rather resign from this racing circuit this way, rather than get taken out by an accident. The chances I've taken to hurry here or rush there have been unnecessary and the risk has not been worth it. Being willing to get somewhere a little bit later and following a slow fuddy-duddy might be frustrating, but in the long run, I'd rather see mewithoutYou in one piece than miss the show in a hospital room.

A brother of a wife of a singer of a fairly local band here was recently in a serious auto accident. This guy has had a kidney re-attached, a ruptured spleen, a punctured lung, broken pelvis bones ... and all kinds of internal damage. It's made me think, 'That could be me.' Sometimes accidents come out of nowhere and are hard to predict, much less defense; but driving carefully and "defensively" can certainly reduce the chances and improve the odds.

Allowing idiotic thoughts of "racing" to get somewhere is totally immature and crazy. It's funny how dumb stuff like that can creep up, though, if you give it any room. So, like Ricky Bobby, I'm going to step down from the racing circuit. I might raise cats instead. I saw a commercial during the Super Bowl one year that showed some cat wranglers in action. That looked pretty cool, and I've got lots of space out here on the HM Ranch...

Youth With A Mission

Last night a writer sent an email with a youtube link and some information about the horrible events that unfolded near Denver, CO early, early Sunday morning. Some guy came to the dormitory at Denver's YWAM base and asked for a place to stay (according to today's news reports). He opened fire and shot 4 to 5 people. Two of those later died in the hospital.

As I ground up coffee beans this morning and added water to start a pot of coffee, I thought about those at YWAM in Denver. Here I was, able to have a "normal" morning, but for four people there (not to mention their friends, co-workers and family), today is anything but normal.

I pray, not knowing all that needs to be prayed for, asking God to bring His peace to those grapling with the shock and grief of what happened. I think God created in us the ability and need to grieve when loved ones are taken away from us. Grief is kind of like a reminder of how much people matter and mean to us. The loss we feel reminds us of the value of love.

McManus said in an early entry:

"Grief is proof that love prevails over death."

A gunman opened fire in a church parking lot about 70 miles South of Arvada, CO yesterday morning. Investigators are, no doubt, looking at shell casings and evidence to determine if this was the same gunman that shot people over at YWAM's headquarters earlier in the morning. This guy was shot by a church security guard. I wondered about a church having a security guard, but was pretty happy to find out that they did -- otherwise a lot more people would have been shot. I watched some of The Today Show this morning, where Merideth interviewed a young couple that had seen the gunman. She asked them, "I heard you were praying while in your car and that you also prayed for the gunman." It wasn't absolutely apparent, but it almost seemed like the interviewer wasn't sure what to make of a person that would pray for his or her attacker.

The girl responded that she prayed for God's peace for this guy, because something must've been going on ... he must've been experiencing great pain to do something like this. When Christians share what they saw and experienced, etc, they are being witnesses. That's what a witness does in court and perhaps this is just one of many things that will happen in the wake of this horror that makes us wonder.

Four people have died thus far (two from YWAM and two from the church) and I can imagine that their entry into heaven is one that is mixed with honor and joy. Perhaps Stephen, the first martyr, greeted them yesterday. I'm sure it wasn't too long before the object of their affection and the Ultimate Martyr met them and embraced them as they entered a new phase of their eternal life. While these four died in a different manner than some of the apostles (who were arrested, jailed, tortured and killed for preaching about Jesus in Roman occupied territories), they were nonetheless killed because of their allegiance to Jesus the Christ. I think it's logical and correct to add them to the long list of martyrs. This just happened to be sudden.

I feel like a real magazine publisher now...

A knock on the door revealed a Fed Ex courrier this morning, and then I remembered, 'Oh yeah! I asked my printer to overnight me one of the cover forms yesterday, so I could look at the cover.' Someone at the plant made a mistake and printed "Form #1" before all 16 pages of it were approved via proofs. I wasn't pleased with the way the cover was looking, and I lowered the cover price for Canadians, as the value of their dollar is closer to matching the US dollar now, and I omited one of the articles from this issue and needed to take that artist's name off the cover listing. This hardly ever happens, as everyone is usually really careful about getting each page approved in the "pre-press" stage before the presses print them. For some reason, this one was printed prematurely. There was a chance that I could be happy with the "cut the guy's hair out as his head is placed over/on top of the HM logo" job that I had done previously. I wasn't happy with it and spent several hours on Wednesday night fixing it -- eventually lowering the photo size so no one's head laid on top of the HM logo. I'll post a couple versions up here for ya'll to preview.





Anyway, I opened up the package and then called the printer and told them I couldn't accept this cover. Sigh. I wanted to, but it's not worth it to me to compromise the quality of this issue.
:?|

The new phone books are here!

"The new phone books are here! The new phone books are here!"
Navin R. Johnson was jumping, skipping and dancing when new copies of the local phone book arrived. "I wish I could get that excited about a new phone book!" said his boss.

Navin R. Johnson felt it. "Millions of people read this every day. I'm somebody now. Things will start looking up for me now." While he was talking a gunman opened up to any old page and did a skydive with his index finger onto a random name. "Johnson, Navin R...sounds like a typical random (bleep)." Then he drove to where Navin worked and started shooting at him from the hill across the street.

McManus' first entry in the new section of Soul Cravings (Meaning) is titled "Is It All Just Dumb Luck?" He goes all fatalistic on us and leaves the entry with pretty much nothing but questions. Who decides whether we live or die? What is the difference between that one miner who lived and the twelve who died? Why that one? Is it all just dumb luck? He asks questions, but doesn't answer any of them this time. This is respectful of the reader and it's courageous. There is something about resolution that makes us not sit comfortably when we don't have it.

I remember that conversation with David Crowder earlier this year, where I asked him how he could let someone come to his church, ask questions, and then leave without the answers. It almost sounded cruel to let such a thing happen -- especially when we are convinced that we have some of the answers to life's important questions. But he said he trusts that God was part of the "equation" when this person came into his "space" and that God will be a part of that when this person leaves his space. He brought up how we (in America, especially) have a "Messiah complex" that basically says, "If God is at work, it is partly because I am involved in it.

Sometimes a good rhetorical question should not be answered. It forces those that hear it to consider the question carefully. That's a good thing sometimes. McManus certainly does this with Entry #1 of Meaning...

Mister Bungle (comments are working again)

Hey:

Mike Patton (Faith No More) has a side band, called Mr. Bungle.

Hair metal is going to die a commercial death. The "Seattle sound" will probably takes its place on radio, etc.

A young skinny slam poet guy from Arkansas will emerge and wow audiences everywhere, giving poetry a real boost in the arm (like a flu shot).

Photos of horses and such will begin appearing on this blog.

The cover design of the new issue of HM will surprise you (slightly).

The self-righteous ex-sinner

I had an angry visitor at the HM Ranch today. I could tell they'd been mad about something for a good long while, because as soon as I said "Hello," they launched into their tirade.

"You need to stop supporting the band Hawk Nelson!"
Why?
"Because they are encouraging kids to get drunk. 'Be not drunk with wine, but be filled with the Spirit,' the Word of God says."
What are you talking about?
"Their so-called 'hit' song, 'Bring 'Em Out' tells kids over and over again to "...raise your fists if you're pissed like this..."
That's not what they...
"Oh, I know what they meant! I know what pissed means. My father was Irish!"
But that's not even what they're saying in the song. They're singing: Pump up your fists if you twist like this.
"Oh..."

This particular conversation didn't really happen. I imaginged it all as I was making coffee this morning. I was reminded how some people hold on to associations from the past, and small things can trigger them so hard that it blinds them to the simple facts. I used to be over sensitive to the verb "party." When I was in high school, it meant "smoke pot." If you "partied" it meant you smoked dope ... or at least were "cool with it." The current definition I hear now is more along the lines of attending parties or get togethers -- with no necessary inebrients.

I wonder why some believers are quick to judge and/or jump to conclusions. Sometimes it seems like we hold on to our "bad, bad sinful past" like a badge that allows us expert advice on the subject. You know, if I was once a member of a gang and I noticed a member of a Christian band using a hand symbol that showed allegiance to that gang, I would hope that I wouldn't get bent out of shape and charge onto message boards and spread my slander everywhere for all to see.

I think it's cool that Jesus was realistic in His instructions to us. He knew that we'd be offended by and sinned against by others. He gave us great guidelines in Matthew 18 on how to properly deal with this when it happens. This is helpful advice to remember.

If I used to do such and such whenever I was involved in xyz-sin, then it's easy for me to assume that, when I see such and such behavior, that xyz is going on. It's not always true. Having this knowledge is helpful and can be useful, but it shouldn't be rushed to. At least that's my thought on the matter.

Leave me a comment and let me know what you think. Oh! I forgot! No one can leave comments on this site right now because of some problem with the database behind it. Argh!

Rip off the wings of a butterfly

ENTRY #25: A Place of Hope
The butterfly is an amazing creature. The fact that it is the result of a metamorphosis from a caterpillar is incredible. According to McManus, the butterfly was one of the most famous metaphors to ever come from the early followers of Christ.

It's a good way to describe the change that happens to a person when they become a believer. Too bad God doesn't give us giant colorful wings as soon as we surrender to Him in prayer, huh? That would be wild. In the summer time it would be hard to hide your faith. If persecution became rampant, it'd be easy to spot the Christians.

The author wonders out loud what makes the caterpillar start to break out of the coccoon. What is he or she thinking? The incredible struggle and difficult task of breaking out of this thing makes the new creature -- the butterfly -- build the strength with which to fly. There really is a lot to learn from watching the world around us. Creation certainly glorifies its Creator. I wonder if God gets mad when He watches the Discovery Channel and they make a passing reference to "billions and billions of years of evolutionary process..." I wonder if He's ever taken a tv set and tossed it out of a window of Heaven, watching it plummet for miles and miles to shatter on a planet or moon somewhere...?

Alt Press Magazine Votes Lust Control "Most Unwanted Band Reunion"

Well, not really. But if they had, my comment might be, "Forget them! What do they know? They voted Mute Math the #1 'Band to see live before you die,' and Mute Math is ... well, uh, great live. But still... Well, okay, they've got a point."
haha

Getting back to normal now after an 11-day late deadline (the latest deadline for me ever). Besides composing the first enewsletter in a few weeks, today I plan on building a coyote-proof cat house. The frame is done. Now all I need to do is finish the stilts/platform/beam-frame that holds it about 5 feet high, install the light, put up a door, and tack in all the carpeting/insulation. Here's hoping I get it all done today (because it's supposed to freeze tonight). The 60-watt light bulb in the small (24" x 32") box acts as a chicken-coop like heater that'll keep the furry little wonders warm. I plan on having a little door on one side that I can insert food in a bowl on. They'll have their own little escape hatch/entrance on the bottom.