Category: family

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Just as I am, without one melody.

On Saturday night I had a worship-leading experience that was totally new to me.  We were participating in an outreach with Blanket Appalachia, and about 150 of us (approximately half youth, half adult) gathered at the end of it to share what God taught us, etc.  There was also a speaker who shared with us from the word.  Standard Christian pep rally.  Good stuff.

I was sitting literally on the second-to-last row in the rural Baptist church sanctuary, playing solitaire on my phone waiting for the meeting to start when one of the leaders of the shindig leaned over the pew in front of me and asked if, while we waited on someone to show up I could lead folks in a few songs.  Not a problem.  I’ll get my guitar.

Three hymns later (the words are in the hymnal that way, and I only have to remember chords—which I did a woeful job of, as I am addicted to lead-sheets) I retreated to my spot on the second-to-last row and focused on staying awake (we’d had a really long, really good day, and I didn’t know how much preachin’ I could handle).

When we got to the end to the “every head bowed, every eye closed” portion of the event, I cheated and kept my eyes open so that I didn’t fall asleep and knock my head on the back of the pew in front of me.  The preacher got done praying and we all stood (he asked us to).  He pointed at me and asked if I could come down and lead the group in a few verses of “Just as I am” while he did an altar call.  Actually, more accurately, he just pointed at me and then motioned the “come up here” two finger deal while explaining to the entire group that we were going to sing “Just as I am.”

Let’s pause now and cover the basic information that makes this an awkward situation.  I grew up going to a Methodist church, and now I go to a Presbyterian church.  This is an entire room full of Southern Baptists, who have sung “Just as I am” (all 295 verses) at every event they’ve ever been to.  I’ve sung the song “Just as I Am” roughly three times in my life, and exactly zero of those times involved standing in front of a group.  Nothing against the song, I just don’t have it on my iPod.

At this point, walking forward, I am flipping frantically in the hymnal to find the song so that I can at least sight-read a few of the notes.  There is suddenly a pang of regret at not having paid enough atention during the sight-reading portion of music classes growing up.

I am literally blanking on the melody of this song.

To my utter joy, I learned that there was going to be a piano player helping me, as I got to the front of the room.  I silently prayed that as a prelude he would play all the way through the verse, and not just do the typical “last line of the song” lead-in.  I intentionally didn’t look back at him for a cue when to start, silently hoping that some loud singer in the back of the room would bail me out.

God in His grace provided just that.  I was bailed out by a handful of people who could probably tell I was in a “worship-leader-as-hostage” situation.  I missed about 5 notes in the first verse(singing just barely audibly), but by verse 4 I pretty much had it down well enough to sing at a reasonable volume without fear of serious embarrasment.

It’s funny how I react to situations like that.  I am so insecure, under my facade.  I’d like all of you to think that I have it all together.  And I’m pretty good at it.  I’d wager that 70% (or more) of the room was unaware I was even nervous.  I’ve got a good mask.  And when my mask starts to crumble off I make a joke to distract you from that fact.  Clever.

I long for the day, in heaven, where I will be able to truly worship the Lord without pretense.  Until then, I’ll just come to the Lord as I am, without one plea.

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My TV could be diagnosed with a split-personality disorder.

The dichotomy between the news and the advertising spots on news shows these days has me simultaneously scratching my head and rolling my eyes. In fact, it’s pretty funny.

Next up: how terrible the economy is, how we are losing life as we know it, watching Wall Street flop around and foam at the mouth.  Then they cut to commercials.  The commercial then spends 30 seconds trying to convince me that I should go out and buy things.  My life as I know it will not be the same if I don’t get this gadget or that shampoo, for the low price of 19.99 plus shipping.  Now back to the news.  We should churn our own butter and stock up on canned goods to prepare for the apocolypse, right after this break.  During the break they convince me that I should go on a cruise with Royal Carribean.  Indulge.  Treat yourself, you deserve it.  Now back to the financial news.  The Dow Jones Average is down more than it has been in your grandparent’s lifetime.  You should prepare the emergency bunker and invest in a ham radio that you probably wouldn’t know how to use, just in case TV signal goes dark.

And on it goes.

Bottom line, I’m gonna invest in a cruise where they have complimentary shampoo and gadgets, they teach you how to churn your own butter, and there’s a really large bomb-proof life boat.  It’ll make everybody happy.

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"So How old is He?"

I love this question.  People often ask how old my little boy is, and I am learning that you can’t answer the same as when he’s 15.  You have to count by weeks, or hours, or something.  I am having trouble figuring out what these people want out of me.

He’s 225 days old today.  Thanks for asking.

I’ve decided that once he hits 9 months, I am going to start answering “Almost a year” and after that you’ll be lucky if I even break it into half-years.  I may say “A year and a half,” but I can assure you my child will never be “18 months” old.

If you want how many months, weeks, or dirty diapers he is old, you’ll have to ask my wife.  He’s a half a year, according to me, for the next couple of months.

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Absurd Christmas Hymns

Having a closer listen to popular Christmas carols’ lyrics, you begin to understand how those outside of Christianity are left scratching their heads.  Here’s two that I have heard recently that have me scratching, as well.

“…A Child, a Child, shivers in the cold, let us bring Him silver and gold…”

It is just me, or does it seem borderline cruel to give a shivering baby a nice pair of cufflinks?  I think he could use a blanket.  Furthermore, how cold was it in a middle eastern stable?  This song is confusing.

“…The Ox and Lamb kept time, pa-rum-pum-pum pum…”

The whole concept of mini-concert in the aforementioned stable is awkward at best, but this line pushes me right over the edge.  I guess the songwriter thought he could just slip in a line about the rhythmic farm animals without us noticing.  We caught you, songwriter man.  I’ll blindly assume it was a man who wrote such an absurd line.  I’ll also stab in the dark and say the guy was a part-time songwriter, part time homebrewer, and he was experimenting with some high gravity pale ales while he whipped up this ditty.

I’ll keep my ears open for more holiday goodness, as we roll toward the 25th.  Any tips on some good lines would be appreciated.  Comment below.

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Skis, Boots, Poles, and Funny.

I’ve written before about sleep-redecorating and my plea to recognize it as a sport.  Today I upped the ante a bit.  But it’s not the first time.  Let me take you back.

In college a friend and I were zealous to really walk with the Lord, and so for a semester my sophomore year we would wake up at 7 AM to pray together.  We’d pray for personal needs as well as for things going on around the world.  In fact, we prayed the entire semester for him and a girl he was interested in who continually gave him the cold shoulder.  Now, 9 years later, they are married and just had their second child.  Prayer works.

But back to the story.  One morning as we were praying, it was my turn.  We had some friends who were missionaries in East Asia, and I was praying for them, out loud.  Then, I began to pray for their skis, boots, and poles, and that God would bless them….

…wait, what?

It sounded just as absurd then as it does now.  I had fallen asleep literally mid-sentence and in my dream I had seen skis, boots and poles leaned up against a wall.  So logically that’s what I talked about, to God.

Some people talk in their sleep.  I talk to God into my sleep.

This morning as I was slowly waking up and preparing to get out of bed, Jacqueline came in the room and I began telling her about my dream last night, and it happened again.  I fell asleep mid-sentence, and began rambling on about something totally off topic.

I’m working on taking this skill to the next level and to fall asleep while praying in front of large groups of people.  I just hope I’m not standing up.

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