More Fun To Be Had

It is 9:05 and I am listening to Jon Mayer’s new album, and I must admit, it rocks. Now for those of you who know me, you may know that traditionally I have hated John Mayer. While in the past he has had some cute, catchy songs, for the most part I have disliked him. I disliked the fact every time he sang he sounded like he was trying to seduce a girl and I have always hated his teenybopper, sorority crowd. In fact he was on the enemy of New Prussia list. That has all changed. I guess now that he has had success he has gotten away from his normal scene. His newest album is very soulful, bluesy and mellow. It has some incredibly deep and wry lyrics and I think it is funny because this album will be completely lost on his normal fans. Anyways, I recommend it.

So I wrote a serious blog and received a lot of criticism. The truth is, maybe this worship is wrong in some regards and right in others. Just because somebody is sincere still doesn’t make something right. You can still be sincerely wrong. Just because God uses something for some good doesn’t mean it is still good. The people buying doves in the temple were there to worship the Lord, yet Jesus still kicked out the moneychangers. Christian arts need to be open to criticism. The problem is, once again, you can’t really criticize anything in Christianity. In Lisa’s response on the last entry, she claims many people’s heart are in the right place so how could this be wrong? I would ask how could we just accept anything and everything and not allow it to open to criticism? Who am I to say something is wrong but who is anyone else to say its right? Anyways to conclude this debate, it still doesn’t sit well with me or many other people and I think that means there is something behind this issue we should be aware of. I do think we need to redefine worship however.

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In other news:

Scientist Discover Wild Horses Really Could Drag Mick Jagger Away.

It has long been believed that the Rolling Stones song Wild Horses was true. The famous song states “wild horses couldn’t drag me away” and has been considered by many to be scientifically true. That belief came crashing down last Thursday in a series of scientific experiments in which an aging Mick Jagger was hitched to several teams of wild horses and told to hold to a mannequin while they attempted to pull him away. The first team of four horses quickly pulled Mr. Jagger through the mud and dirt with no problem as did the second team. Then teams of two horses also had success. Finally only one wild horse was hitched to Mick Jagger and it too was able to drag him away, disproving the song all together. Not only that but to add even more humiliation an old gray mare was then tested and it pulled him away as well. In a final disgrace of the scientific method, a Shetland pony was tied to Mick Jagger and it to quickly overpowered him.

“Well, not so much now that I am 62,” said Mr. Jagger in response, “but when I was younger there was no way in hell they could drag me away.”

The claim is, unfortunately, unverifiable. In further testing on Mr. Jagger it was proven that the song “A Golden Retriever Couldn’t Drag Me Away" would be much more accurate.

Well folks that’s about it. Later.

On Worship.

Valentino, that was the name on the slip of paper that was found in the back pocket of my jeans. Not the side with the wallet but the other side, that has nothing in it, except for the slip of paper I found. Valentino, it was printed in big thick bold letters on a perfectly cut rectangle piece of thick cardboard like paper. I ran the name through my mind and quickly realized I knew of none that matched it. Who or what was this name? Equally so, how did end up in my back pocket? The jeans weren’t new, it was no vendor tag that I knew of, nor had I taken the jeans off around anybody. I begin to think. Maybe one time, while in a crowded shopping mall, a CIA operative being chased by Chinese Assassins bumped into me and slipped the paper into my pocket. Maybe it was a code for some secret operation or maybe it held a tiny Microchip in it with the key to an international crisis on it. Maybe it was the name of a tall, slender, olive skinned, drop dead gorgeous Italian Femme Fatale that I would meet the next day. I did not know, but I knew there was a story here and the possibilities were endless. Yes, this really did happen to me the other day.

Who knows what may develop from it. Now let’s get down to business.

I regret to inform you few who may have come to this site in search of a jovial, uplifting blog entry, that indeed that is not the case this time. This is a serious entry that I have been meaning to write for some time but kept putting it off, that is until a friend of mine, one Scott Higgins, encouraged me to do so. It involves worship and all these cool worship bands running around that have taken Christianity by storm. I am going to make a statement you probably won’t hear much, but one that as I talk to people, I have discovered many others who feel this way as well. Namely, I have a problem with these bands. What it is I am trying to figure out. Writers write not so much to create or to relay ideas but out of a deeply felt need to understand things, both in themselves and in the world as well. So I hope that by writing this it brings to light some revelations about this issue.

I will start with what worship is to me. I am not going to get all exegetical on you and bring in Greek definitions and Biblical syntax about the Bible’s view on worship. That is useless in this exercise; rather, I define it by what it means to me, which is probably where the problem lies.

Worship to me, in short, is telling the Lord how much I love Him in one way or another, or maybe in essence, glorifying Him. In addition to that, worship to me is an incredibly private, deeply personal, and quite often emotional experience that is shared between the Lord and I and no one else. Most of my worship is not done in song, but usually in meditation, prayer, reflection and sometimes writing. It is a profoundly deep thing that escapes words and has little room for others.

Now there is also corporate worship with the body of Christ that we usually do with our fellow believers in church, camps or other such things. I have to admit, I have always had trouble “getting into” this. I appreciate the lyrics (usually) and I enjoy the fellowship with the body of Christ collectively glorifying Him But I have trouble really seeing it as true worship on my part, because it lacks the depth of my own private worship. Why is this? Am I afraid of being openly vulnerable? Probably. Does this process seem formulaic as well? Yes, we start church, gear ourselves up for three or four songs, and it is part of the show, to butter you up to be moved by the sermon. Do I have trouble focusing on songs while surrounded by people? Absolutely. Mentally I have incredible trouble focusing on singing in church. I get distracted by people (usually chicks) around me, and to be honest, for some reason my OCD tends to distract me a lot during worship like this as well. So to make it quick, I see the need for public worship in church, like the idea, but personally struggle with it. It lacks the authenticity (I had to work that catch phrase in) of the worship of my private life. I think this is part of the problem.

These concerts to me are very fake or forced expressions of worship, lacking the depth, originality and genuineness of true worship. It is in a sense, a forced experience. Perhaps, rather then going to a show and being led, in an entertainment style concert, the same people should try and do this themselves in the privacy of their room.

Another problem is worship is free. It is also very spontaneous at times. (I think this is a huge part of the problem right here) Worship is something so meaningful, so intense, that we are commanded, encouraged and should want to do, that to charge money to do so is to me, an abomination. I could simply state it as, I WILL NOT PAY MONEY TO WORSHIP MY LORD AND SAVIOR. That is the heart of the matter to me. I am sorry, paying 60 bucks to go see Dave Crowder is absurd. And even if the people who go are genuine in their praise, I think it is a shame they cheapen themselves to do so. Do I think Jesus would pay to worship? (Besides the temple tax?) I somehow doubt it. In fact, I believe that it was our Lord and Savior who made a whip and cleared the temple of moneymakers. I can’t judge Dave Crowder’s motives, he may be sincere and honest and probably is, but I still think this is wrong.

I saw Shane and Shane once, and it was weird. First of all, their name sounds like a kid’s show shown on weekdays only on Nickelodeon, but I also thought the entire thing felt like something from the twilight zone. This was before they were big. I didn’t really know who they were and granted, I only went because a girl I liked was going, but it was still odd. First they performed some of their own stuff, like a show. Okay, I’m at a concert. Then halfway through, they make this transition into worship that we are supposed to partake in. First I am being entertained, then I am to switch modes and suddenly worship? It did not happen and the whole thing felt completely not right and even hokey.

Lastly, emotionalism. I honestly believe this is a huge part of why people go to these concerts. It gives them a spiritual “buzz” that makes them feel they are closer to God and love Him more. Or maybe rather, they feel they experience Gods love for them more. (Either case they are being selfish and going not to worship the Lord but because of what they get out of it.) I hate this. I hate emotionalism and how sneaky and false it is. How you can trick yourself into feeling anything. I am not trying to but sexist here, but on an aside, I have noticed it is mainly females that get into these worship concerts. They also tend to be more emotional then men. Coincidence? I also see them have the same response to Dave Crowder as they do to a rock star. The dreamy eyes, the lure of musicians, and they say things like, “Oh I love Shane and Shane?” So wait a minute, it is Shane and Shane you are going to love, that you are going to see, not the Lord. I get it. Simply put, if you can get the same feeling from a U2 or Coldplay concert then maybe you should question what is really going on.

Let me quickly address some protests as well. I think one of the great tragedies of Christian culture (besides the fact it sucks) is that it leaves virtually no room for criticism. Who am I to criticize somebody’s music if they are doing their best to use their gifts for God? If even one person does worship God at one of these shows then how can I have the right to criticize that? The Christian culture may be the absolute safest for an artist to work in because, hey, how can I possibly say something is wrong or bad, even if they are not talented or good, if they do their best for the Lord? I have heard this before. My response is that A. Any public art that wishes to be taken seriously as art has to be open to criticism. B. And if what you say is true, then you can never criticize any Christian culture, not the cheesy Jesus junk at Christian bookstores or Carmen and the stuff he craps out and calls music as well.

What about an artist who does their best for God? Isn’t that worship as well. My friend, Andrew mentioned Petra. Were they not worshiping the Lord? THEY were, I wasn’t. The artist who does his/her best for the Lord is worshiping the Lord with their talents, but they are not LEADING others in worship. Someone there might worship the Lord but that was not the intent of the show. I did not go see Petra to worship the Lord, I went to be entertained nor did I consider their music worship, even though their own efforts, in their relationship with God, were worship on their part. (As an aside, I could argue me writing this is an act of worship, yet you are not worshiping the Lord through this, rather I am, you are just reading it and thinking upon it.)

“What about a Christian conference that you pay money for?” asks my brother Michael. This is a good question. Is paying to see Tom Nelson teach Song of Solomon wrong then? I think not because I think there is a subtle yet significant difference here. When you pay to go to a conference, you are paying to get something out of it. Something you take home with you. Usually materials, notes etc but also education and the fact you are usually equipping yourself to be more effective in ministry or in your walk etc. You are paying, in a sense, for a service you get something in return for. These conferences also don’t have the intense, personal devotion of worship usually. If I pay to go see a conference on multimedia in the church, I am paying for a resource. Worship on the other hand is sacrificial and free. You give of yourself to the Lord and not expect anything in return so I believe the issue is different.

I have no problem with buying a worship CD and listening to it in your daily life. It might help you focus more on the Lord in your private time or be used as a tool to keep your mind free of foreign thoughts. I think buying a CD is different. You are paying for production and musicians etc. I think it’s the concerts, the tours, the expensive tickets, the rock star syndrome, the emotionalism, the hoopla and sideshows I have a problem with.

Lastly, I have one more reason I’m against these shows. It’s the fact that I’m also just plain jealous of musicians.

Well there you go folks, let me know what you think. Comments, thoughts etc.

PS. This entry excludes the original keyboard jockey greats like Al Denson. His was some of the most original, meaningful, praise around! I never was so close to God as when I sang "Pharaoh, Pharaoh". In particular the 573 rd time I sang it at Dawson McAllister, in one weekend, was the most moving experience I ever had.

Its 1:28 P.M. and I am listening to silence. Now I have an idea for this next entry. I am tempted to convert it into an email format and try and start one of the urban legend type emails. You know, certain Christian emails chains go around about various things we should be aware of. I am really thinking of doing that with this and sending it to you all to send to others and see if it catched on. Let me know what you think.

See You at the Pump!

Christians everywhere are being urged to go to their local gas stations on August 1^st and pray for lower gas prices. With the current price at over three dollars per gallon, believers everywhere are feeling the pinch.

“We are raising prayers up to heaven just as gas prices are being raised here on earth.” Said Rev. Raymond Young 3^rd of Stonewood Fellowship Church in Houston Texas. “It has gotten to the point where many of our congregation can barely fuel their luxury SUV’s. So on the morning of August 1^st we are encouraging Christians everywhere to gather around their local gas pumps and pray that the Lord works in mighty ways to lower prices for everyone.”

The idea was originally started by a high school student in the church’s youth ministry named Jason Mathews, who claims to have gotten the idea while participating in a similar event for students called See You at the Pole, in which students gather around their school flag poles and pray to it. He took the idea to his youth minister, whom the students called Pastor Steve, who then brought the idea to Rev. Young, and soon the movement was started.

“I’m so proud of Jason,” says his mother, Lisa Robertson-Mathews, “we were really struggling as a family. We were praying about which vehicle to drive, the Hummer 2 or the Lexus LX5, now this gives me hope we can do both.”

“Now we really are thanking heaven for 7-11” joked Rev. Young. “After we pray for the gasoline prices to fall, we also encourage people to pray for the Middle Eastern countries that the oil comes from. In fact, many of the workers at the gas stations come from those countries. This would be a great opportunity to show them that we care for their souls as well as their oil.”

When asked about whether or not political decisions and the invasion of Iraq had anything to do with the increased gas prices, Rev. Young was quick to add that, “I don't really know about that but whatever the cause may be, we don’t believe for a minute it has to do with President Bush or his administrations policy’s in the middle east. We stand behind him completely.”

Whatever the case may be, Christians everywhere hope to see you at the pump on the morning of August 1^st.

Later guys.

What the dell?

Greetings and salutations, it is 9:15 and I am listening to smooth jazz of some sorts at Starbucks. Yes, that’s correct, I’m writing to you from Starbucks coffee, which means that yes, I’m now the proud parent of a new Dell Inspiron Laptop. So what does this mean to you, fair citizen of New Prussia? It means, hopefully, that I will be doing more writing, which means that you can read more of my blogs, among other things. So I’m finding that learning to type on a laptop is much more difficult then I thought it would be. Additionally it may give me carpal tunnel syndrome because after about five minutes my wrists already hurt. However now I can be that guy, the guy you always see hanging out at coffee shops, looking cool and trendy with his laptop, typing away at some important document. Is he a businessman negotiating a deal? Maybe an attorney writing a brief? Mayhap, he is a blossoming new writer, on the cusp of discovery and fame and fortune. Who knows as mysteries surround this dashing young man, but whatever the case, dang, doesn’t he look important and cool? And now I get to be that guy. Here is the scenario I can now picture happening. Read as it unfolds.

Handsome and mysterious Jeff walks in and sits down with a cup of coffee and begins to write on his laptop. Soon a hot, dumb, blond chick comes in, orders a nonfat Chai Latte, and sits down near him. She eyes him curiously and thinks to herself “hmm he is awfully dapper and working on a laptop at a coffee shop, surely he must be rich.” She moves over and smiles at me.

Curious, hot, dumb blond: “Hi, I’m ____” (her name isn’t terribly important but it is probably something like Tiffany, or Candi or something hot like that.)

Handsome writer Jeff: “Hello, I’m R. Jefferson Jordan.”

Curious, hot, dumb blond: “What are you working on?” She says as she bats her eyes and leans in close. (She hopes it’s a bank merger worth millions but she doesn’t really care as long as it makes me/her wealthy.)

Handsome writer Jeff: “Well, it’s a story about the selling of human heads as a novelty item, but really it’s a satire about post world war two America and the mass commercialism it produced to help cope with it’s fear of a nuclear Soviet Union and it’s possession of the A-bomb. (Or perhaps I say, “It is a sci-fi story set on planet mars about a werewolf coming to grips with his homosexuality but in actuality it’s really a metaphor for the fall of the Antebellum south and life during the civil war and subsequent Union occupation.”}

Now completely bored and disinterested hot, dumb blond: “Um, ok, nice to meet you. Bye!” She says in a complete lack of comprehension of everything I said. She then rolls her eyes and struts away.

Suddenly the pretty, artistic girl dressed in Bohemian garb and a stylish peasant shirt who, I failed to notice due to hot, dumb blond, but was sitting in the corner reading a collection of essays or possibly Atlas Shrugged looks over at me and speaks.

Pretty Bohemian girl: “Really! That is incredibly fascinating! I love post world war two satire. Tell me more. Do you write much?”

Handsome and shocked writer Jeff: “Well I do now.”

Pretty Bohemian girl laughs at my witty remark: “Hi, my name is Sabine.” (Or some other cool name like that.)

We start with small talk and as the coffee starts flowing so does the conversation. We chat lightly about existentialism, discuss the viability of ruling parts of central Europe, stopping briefly upon art and if it can have meaning in a post-modern era, and diverge into other meaningful dialogues. We exchange numbers, go out and spend the next few years together. Maybe we move to New York or maybe we travel to Bohemia and tour other parts of central Europe (as I show her my future domain.)

All during this time I continue to write, become published and get very rich and famous. I begin to move in the upper echelon of high society, mixing and mingling (you knew mingling had to be included) with actors and writers, diplomats and royalty.

Then one day at some random gala event, I look across the room and see her. Hot dumb blond all dolled up and on the prowl. She notices me and walks over. She smiles and introduces herself. She feigns both interest and understanding as we chat. Soon we exchange contact information and depart. That night I dump pretty Bohemian girl for hot dumb blond and the rest is history.

Well that is more or less the scenario that I envision and I think it is a good one.

What’s in a name? Well having a laptop means I need to come up with a name for it. So I’m asking for suggestions. I have two lines of thought here. First of all, the name must be female because all guys name machines after females, (i.e. The Memphis Belle or the Indianapolis Ho) so a female name is defintaly in order. Here are some names I thought of.

Natasha- The old fallback name.

Sabine- In honor of the Bohemian I will some day dump.

Danika- I like this name but I actually new a girl with this name and I would hate for her to hear this someday and think I named it after her.

Isabelle- This leads to another name as well.

Coraline- I stole this from a Neil Gaiman title.

Adaline- I like this name to, it’s also the title of a Elliot Smith song.

Ok. that’s the first list. The second list stems from the fact that my laptop is a Dell, and involves puns made from it. I nominate these names as well.

Adel - get it? A dell.

Isadell- This is kind of funny because it’s a take on Isabelle ...Is A Dell

Adelline- This is funny to because it’s a take on Adeline. A dell-ine.

Madeline - Mad-dell-line- and possibly in honor of my friend Brian’s daughter, which would be weird.

Della- A take off of Ella- also another friend of mine's daughter, which could also be weird.

I’m leaning towards Isadell. Who knew that female names with Dell could be so much fun?

There is one more thing to discuss. In my last entry, so long ago, I mentioned astronauts as hero’s and Kelly said she never thought of them as such. To girls they probably weren’t but to little boys they have always been held up as heroes, even though I contend they now aren’t. Worst of all, Rhino suggested that, by my logic, athletes aren’t hero’s either. I fail to see this. Granted, they don’t have mutant powers or slay orcs, but that doesn’t mean they are not heroes. In fact, they may be the only hero’s we have left. Think about it, they are the modern day equivalent of ancient warriors. They perform great feats of physical prowess, doing what very few can do. Slinging stones? Wielding a sword? Fighting in hand-to-hand combat? There were all skills based on physical ability. Modern athletes are a continuation of this theme. They battle against each other in arena’s and the have tremendous athletic ability. What is more glorious then making a clutch buzzer beating, game wining three point shot from 23 ft away to win a play off game? What could beat a running back, twisting and turning, juking and hurtling over defenders, to score a touch down to defeat the enemy and win a super bowl? What about the Olympics? See they ARE great.

Until next time, keep your underwear on and keep it dry.

Heroes Come and Go

It is 5:30 P.M. and I am listening to Elliot Smith.

Here is an issue that has haunted me recently. Are astronauts heroes? The other day I was thinking upon heroes and what goes into the idea of being one. Why I do not know but I was. I then thought about astronauts and how everyone regards them as such. I wondered if they really were heroes and after much mental anguish I decided that they are definitely not heroes. Not anymore anyways. I mean think about it, we send people into space every other Friday, its' like payday. Is this really heroic anymore? Now the original men in space, the pioneers, and the chimp we sent up, they were certainly heroic. They risked themselves in unexplored regions with relying on equipment that my pocket calculator is more powerful then. The men on the moon, they were certainly hero’s as well. But modern astronauts? They are everywhere, they visit schools, are on TV, you can’t get away from them. That being said, the men and women who died in the two shuttle explosions would be exceptions and I mean them no ill will, but as for the rest? I think they're just trying to use their status to get laid. I mean heroes vanquish evil, they cast powerful rings into the only mountain that can destroy them, or they have claws that come out of their wrists and other mutant powers. Or sometimes they storm the beaches at Normandy as well. Astronauts don’t even wear capes.

Think about it this way. Who views astronauts as heroes? Children. Do their opinions really count? I mean children view Jedi, (or in my case the Sith) Cowboys, and Pirates as hero’s too. But when you get older, are they still heroes? Who cares about cowboys? Around here we make fun of them. So why are astronauts still considered so great? And for the final nail in the coffin consider this. Not only has the United States sent men into space but so have the Soviet Union, the European Space Agency and China. You’re telling me the technologically stone aged Soviet Union and the cowardly France have sent men into space and we still consider it great and courageous? That alone proves the feat is over rated and as for the French, the probably went into space to escape another foreign invasion. So I rest my case, astronauts are no longer hero’s. Sorry about that.

And now it’s time for another addition of,

Great Moments in OCD History: So I am working the closing shift at work, we are running behind due to a last minute rush of people but we finally close. Then the dreaded words that strike fear into my inner core are issued. “Hey Jeff, could you clean the bathrooms? And try and hurry because we are behind schedule.” Something inside of me vomits black bile into the chasm of my soul. None the less, I had cleaned them before and in theory, the more I do it the easier it is supposed to get. (A form of exposure therapy, albeit extreme.) So I smile and lie, “Sure no problem.” And I grind my teeth and set out upon my fate.

It should be duly noted that in order to properly clean the restrooms while not setting off OCD to much, it requires time to carefully do so. I did not have time and was trying to hurry and overcome all this anxiety. I spray junk on the toilet and scrub it with the brush, up and down a few times. Then on the up motion, that is when it happened. I have dubbed it the toothbrush affect, the wet bristles being pulled against something and splattering out on things nearby. Only the nearby object it splattered on was my face. Time froze, an atomic bomb went off in my stomach, I got hot and panicky. What was I to do? Scrubbed toilet water on my face!?!? The boy with OCD! I cannot possibly begin to describe the horror it caused. I was almost paralyzed. To make matters worse, we were trying to hurry so I didn’t get to stop and wash it off an appropriate matter for at least twenty minutes. It was a nightmare. Later I poured sanitizer on my face, wiped down with alcohol swabs and took a shower. I would have scrubbed my face with comet and bleach if I didn’t think it would blind me. I even considered shaving my goatee, since some of the water hit it. That was a few days ago and I am still waiting for the Aids, or Hepatitis A, B and C to set in.

Well, see you later.