Christian Culture Strikes Again.

It is 7:30 P.M. and I am listening to a group of high school kids pretend to study in a group. No parent should let their high school kid go study with a group of friends because studying is not at all what happens. Anyways, faintly in the background Radio Head is playing so it is all good. Now let’s jump right into some fun:

Ringing in the Sheaves:

Christian ring tones, that is the subject of today’s topic. My friend Matt, sent me this link, www.ringspirations.com it is for a company that is collecting Christian rings tones for people to pay and download. The catch is they have this big mission statement and purpose and what-knot. Here is their motto: “Every time your cell phone rings, let it magnify the king,” I think it should be “Every time your cell phone rings, it makes it harder for Jeff to admit he is a Christian.” Or “every time your cell phone rings, an angel gets its wings.”

This is, of course, a revolutionary new method of evangelism that allows you to do so without having to actually love anybody. In fact, God himself has made a deal with Ringspirations to have the seven trumpets sound through your ring tones when the rapture happens.

I mean what can reach out to somebody more then 8-bit digital recordings of “Where there is faith” by 4 Him or “Friends” by Michael W. Smith? These phones also offer language filters to keep your conversations clean.

Their jingle could go something like “Hear the phones ringing their singing that you can be born again…” Or however that song goes.

Not only that, but I think there is a lot more potential for money, I mean ministry here. How about a Christian phone service as well? The service, tentatively called Nexthell offers unlimited God minutes and free calls to any Christians on the same plan. Remember, they have the largest prayer chain in the world to back it. (It’s the network} Now you can imagine and talk to an entire nation waving their hands and phones in heaven together.

Instead of Katherine Zeta Jones, they have signed Rebecca St. James to be their spokesperson. I really think I’m on to something here.

An Update from My Last Entry.

So my good friend Nicole mentioned in my last blog entry that I wrote “I poured soup into my open wound.” She thought perhaps soap would have been better. This is not the case. It was the all new “Chicken Noodle Soup for the Open Wound.” It immediately brought a soothing yet shallow and temporary relief to my aches and pains. It turns out this serious is more vast then I had known. Here are some other titles.

- Chicken Noodle Soup for the Confederates Soldiers Soul

- Chicken Noodle Soup for the Coward’s Soul

- Just Noodle Soup for the Anorexics Soul.

- Chicken Noodle Soup for the Pokemon’s Soul

- Chicken Noodle Soup for the Carpet Stain

- Chicken Noodle Soup for Hillary Clinton’s Soul–wait, never mind, she doesn’t have a soul.

Well that’s about it for now. I’ll catch you next time.

I Am Trying to Break You Heart

I went to see Wilco last Thursday night. It was, to put it simply, the best show I’ve ever seen. There are two types of bands, those that merely entertain you, and there are those who are artists, creating an auditory Van Gogh or Rembrandt (or in this case maybe Picasso?) while you watch. Wilco is the latter. They are simply brilliant in concert, and anyone who is a music fan should make it a point to see them. They are the kind of musicians who make a crusty white boy like me want to dance and sing along with everyone else.

Now it’s time to bring back a lost segment of our show. That’s right, it’s time for more…

Great Moments in OCD history:

So the other day I was helping my dad move some stuff from storage and in the process received a little sliver on my finger. Not a serious one, but the kind that’s an annoying little bugger, like a paper cut, that hurts whenever you touch something with it. This really wasn’t problematic until work the next day. Mind you I receive money from people’s purses and wallets etc and let’s face it, money can be a dirty thing. No problem I was wearing band-aids. Now through the course of mandatory hand washing at work the band-aid naturally fell off. So I am careful with it, no biggie. However, I drink a lot of coffee at work (of course) which then makes me pee like a racehorse. (Or as one employee claims…a walnut bladder) So on break I run to the men’s room. Being in a hurry I open the door, step in and reach up to grab the inside handle to pull the door close. At that point I felt a dull pain in my finger as the cut pressed against the door handle. I looked at my hand and to my horror realized there was no band-aid on my hand. Time froze, my stomach churned, panic set it. I had pressed my open wound against the nasty doorknob of the men’s restroom! (Everyone knows how dirty these doorknobs can be when people don’t wash their hands) I, for all intents and purposes, had pretty much pulled my wound open and poured a vial of virus’s into my bloodstream, mashing them in further to insure they were injected! I could feel them circulating through me already. I was surely now going to die of Ebola or something equally horrible. Fortunately, due to a past similar experience, I had a contingence plan. I ran over to the sink, poured soup into the wound and made like a surgeon, scrubbing for the very first time. Then I went to the dish sink and ran sanitizer over my hand for a minute, and finally to be sure I had ended all threat of malaria or worse, I went to grab a little alcohol scrub cleaning pack, the kind they use to clean skin before injections, and delicately cleansed my poor finger. After that I figured there was nothing else I could do. I now wait patiently to see if I die of scurvy, AIDS, the Black Death or consumption. If I die please send flowers.

From the News Desk:

In international news President Mamoud Ahmadinejad of Iran appeared before the U.N last week in support of Iran’s nuclear program stating, “Right now, who can call the United States into account? Who has the power to hold them responsible for their actions?” He then went on to add, “Unfortunately, it is to late to hold them accountable for the release of Paris Hilton’s new album.”

Well guys and gals, it’s been fun. I’ll catch you later.

Climbing Jacob's Ladder

I reluctantly walk into the building before me. I hate the place. It smells of over-sterilization and fading urine. Bodies twitch uncontrollably and mouths make incidental groans. Withered faces and hollow stares greet me. Seeing but not recognizing, watching but not comprehending. Artifacts in storage waiting to die. I am loath to go there, which I know means all the more reason I should go, to the nursing home.

She's dying. Has been for sometime, but now she really is. She has entered that last downward spiral and she knows it. We all do. I can't do much for her. Coffee and ice cream are perennial favorites, so I bring those with me. It's the least I can do. She looks like a wraith, rickety and gaunt. The image of God reduced to a fragile nothing. Flesh and blood scraped bare. I feel so helpless.

We were never very close. How could we be? But when I see her sitting there, lost in the fantasies of her mind, hands quivering from illness, pain plaguing her body, I am filled with emotion. She can't hear anymore and she can hardly talk at all. I am still reluctant to go. All I can really do is sit with her, but when I walk in and she sees me, her face lights up in a rare and genuine smile and a bit of life returns to those eyes, if only for a second, and in that moment I know I did the right thing. She is, after all, my grandmother.

More to come.

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.

Here is a paid advertisement:

Do you feel burned out because of anxiety? Is the stress of this life bearing down on you to heavy? Do you want an out? Do you need an out? If so we have the medicine you need. New scientific discoveries have lead to the creation of Eff’nAll the wonder drug that lets you not give a rat’s ass anymore. Marriage on the rocks? Facing bankruptcy? Does your life seem pointless? Take Eff’nAll and you can now care less! Just look what others have to say.

“My husband was cheating on me and sold our children into slavery as first I couldn’t take it anymore, but Eff'nAll has numbed all my feelings so that I don’t have to ever feel anything again. Thanks Eff’nAll” –Debbie Miller, soccer mom.

“I was facing federal charges of extortion and tax evasion for my 10 million dollar business, and I has suffered a nervous break down, but with Eff’nAll I’m oblivious to all anxiety in my life. I could care less!” Daniel Richards, former CEO.

“Now I don’t care anymore that my dad doesn’t love me.” -Katie Willis, 5th grader.

So what are you waiting for! Escape those worries and anxiety once and for all! Talk to your doctor today about Eff’nAll and never give a rat’s ass again!

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.