Christmas music

Those who know me well will know of my somewhat conflicted relationship with Christmas and Christmas music. It's not that I don't like Christmas... it's that I don't like it. I mean, I love being with family and remembering the coming of our Saviour, I just don't like "Christmas". It's a bastardized version of something that should have so much more meaning. At least in the world I know. And so much of popular Christmas music makes it even worse... it's so cheery and happy about nothing... about frivolities of snow and warm cozy emptiness. And don't even get me started on Santa (sorry Curt).

Have I offended everyone's sensibilities yet? :)

So I have been trying, this year, to simply take it all in stride, and let it be a cheery, happy, empty time and enjoy it for what it is, and not get angry about it's violation of the depth and meaning and wonder and beauty of God with us, coming to earth to take on human flesh, live a human life, feel pain, sorrow, emptiness, joy, peace, relationship and love and ultimately die an excruciating death so that we might be reconciled to Him.

Trying, I emphasize...

So, in this attempt to cheer myself, I have been playing Christmas music lately, and trying to "get into the Christmas spirit". As such, as I was driving to Arlington tonight to spend time with my mom, step-dad and brother for Christmas, I had my Christmas music playlist on. It primarily consists of Future of Forestry's "Advent Christmas EP" (Thanks to Harlan, btw, for introducing me to my new favorite band), Bebo Norman's "Christmas... From the Realms of Glory", Shane & Shane's "Glory in the Highest", and Sufjan Stevens' "Songs for Christmas" (Volumes 1-5), as well a few random singles.

And, for the first time ever, I was brought to tears by a Christmas song, driving down the road.

It could be my tumultuous last 6 months that seem to have come to a head the past few weeks, but as I was listening to Future of Forestry's version of "Little Drummer Boy" something about the honesty of the song really hit me. I think I had to hear it without the connotation of it's normal packaging... a somewhat wooden thing really focused around a military drum sound. The FoF version was more melodic in nature, and I, for the first time, really listened to the words.

I will eliminate the "pa rum pum pums" to illustrate my point better:

Come they told me,

A new born King to see,

Our finest gifts we bring,

To lay before the King,

So to honor Him,

When we come.

Little Baby,

I am a poor boy too,

I have no gift to bring,

That's fit to give the King,

Shall I play for you,

On my drum?

Mary nodded,

The ox and lamb kept time,

I played my drum for Him,

I played my best for Him,

Then He smiled at me,

Me and my drum

Did you see it? Can you visualize the story? I know it's just a song, but could you just imagine? That little boy is all of us!! A poor boy sitting with his only possession, his livelihood perhaps? Maybe just a little toy drum? And people come up to us... so excited... "We're going to see the newborn King! We've got all this finery, all of this expensive stuff to give Him so we can honor Him when we get there."

Oh, and the beauty of this little child! He is so deserving of the finest of everything... but then, the sadness hits our little heart. We have nothing to give him. Oh, the shame! He is so deserving of honor, but we have nothing... except, maybe all that we have... "can I play for Him, ma'am? I'm not very good, but it's all I can do."

His beautiful mother, so kind and full of grace, nods her head slightly with a quiet smile, and we start playing... "pa rum pa pum pum... pa rum pa pum pum... pa rum pa pum pum". Her smile broadens. The animals even start getting into it... we can almost hear an orchestra start playing along in our head... it seems like the universe is accompanying our pathetic attempt at playing our little toy drum. But is all we know how to do, so we play that little toy drum the best that we can.

And, as we look into the baby's solemn eyes, those eyes that somehow hold the vastness of time and yet the most intimate love, He looks up at us, and smiles.

Broken

So I've started this particular post about five times now, and nothing rings true. I keep trying to write about something encouraging, something beautiful, something... uplifting. But it simply isn't where I am right now. My heart is not encouraged.

(sigh)

I know I am blessed beyond all measure. I have seen God's provision so much the past few months, mostly through family and friends that have given from their heart. And in the past few days I have started back to a normal-ish job, again, a circumstance provided by God in a way in which I could not have imagined to ask. I have an abundance of friends that truly do care about me, and a family that is good enough not to ask questions that would hurt too much to explain.

I eat more than my share of food. Sleep in a comfortable bed. I just packed up more than half of my t-shirt collection, and still have enough to wear a different one each day and not wash any for over a month. I get to choose what shoes I wear. I am sitting here typing on a computer that connects me with friends across the country, even across the globe, daily.

I am blessed beyond all measure.

And I don't feel a thing, at least not anything warm, or fuzzy, or whatever. I feel only the pain, the frustration, the loneliness, and the grief.

(sigh) I am so selfish.

Lord, I need so much more of You! Even that statement betrays my selfishness... I need more of Him. Gimme, gimme. I'm treating Him as if He must serve me... how backwards my heart is.

Lord, please help my heart to look to You... not for anything You can give me... but simply for You.

I know that I am nothing, and You need nothing from me.

You are all sufficient, and I am all insufficient.

So anything I offer You is worthless in itself.

I can do nothing without You.

You sustain me and raise me to my feet.

You give me strength to keep walking when I have none left in me.

But I know that I am nothing... and deserve nothing from You.

You are all sufficient, and I am all insufficient.

The smallest gift You give is more valuable than anything in this world.

You can do all things without me, even in spite of me.

You need no one to sustain Yourself.

You have all strength within You.

Yet You love me. You are the Servant of all.

In Your service, You show me that to give is better than to receive.

So your desire for my gift, my "service" is not for it's own worth

It is for my better. It is better to serve than to be served.

And in me becoming more like You, the Servant of all, You are glorified.

As I look back at where this post started, I don't really know where I was going with any of it. It seems I am a broken record lately. Or broken, at least. I chuckle at that, because that theme seems to be running through my life lately, even being chosen as the theme for a large summer camp I help create the visual experience (videos/sound/music) for.

I have nothing to give. Everything I thought I had to offer is dross. All my life seems to always come to nothing. Only He is worth anything, and He is all I have left.

I'm trusting in You, Lord, to help me pick up the pieces. 'Cause I have no idea what I'm doing.

But I love You, and I hope that is enough...

Traffic and Thanksgiving

Today, I, like many during this time, drove several hours from home to visit my family over the thanksgiving holidays. Normally, this is not anything that I terribly mind doing. I enjoy the time to myself to think, listen/sing to music turned up loud, or, if carpooling, enjoy good conversation. But today in my drive, after dropping off my good conversation buddy Justin, I was reminded of why I do not live in a large city: A 20-mile long, 1 hour traffic jam.

While I understand that many people put up with this every day twice a day, in Lubbock, we simply don't have them on any scale worth worrying about. Now, those who know me will probably concur that it's relatively hard to make me angry... I might get irritated for sure, but seriously angry... well, it takes a lot.

But for some reason, that traffic jam today pushed me over the edge. I was seething. I was ranting. I was shaking my hands in the air. I was livid. I was thinking of all the words I could possibly use to describe how much I hated traffic and could find none other than the guttural man-yell that rarely, if ever, escapes my lips. I wanted to do violent things to something inanimate. It was absolutely maddening.

It must be the outpouring of everything I've been going through the past few months. Failing at "making it" in freelance work and deciding to go back to work... leaving ministry for reasons which few understand and fewer still agree with, all the while missing it incredibly... complete uncertainty in relationships, both family, friendship and other... trying desperately to follow God when His only question to me is "how much will you give me?"... and not knowing how much more I can give... I have nothing. No money, no pride, no heart, no dreams, no success, no holiness. I have nothing to give. I am empty. I am not in control of my life. And it hurts. Oh, it hurts.

So when I finally reached my mom's house, I was still so angry, full of ungratefulness and a hardened heart. Why? Why must my life be so unresolved? Why can't my life be more like those people that actually get what they try for, and put in half the amount of effort I do?

And then I read a friend's blog... and it spoke of thankfulness for the harvest in others amidst a time when her own harvest had not yet come...

... and I was, indeed still am, cut to the core by it...

I realized I had been giving up on the hope of things to come and just been trodden down with the weight of the "now". I have resented that I must give up these things... as if I am an undeserving victim... I have become an arrogant fool who thinks more of himself than he ought...

The truth is, I have much to be thankful for. In these times of financial hardship, I have never gone hungry. Friends and family have come to my aid in ways that they really should not have. My old boss was able to bring me back on in a capacity that seems almost illogical to even think of, and yet is exactly what I need. In the midst of feeling the need to not "go to church" on Sundays, I have been continually blessed with opportunities to "be church", over and over again showing me church outside of walls. And even in misunderstanding, hesitancy, and uncertainty, I know my friends and family still love me.

In all of this I can see the hand of God, gently trying to lead me to know a deeper thanksgiving... not for these things, for physical, emotional or relational blessings... but for their lack... to truly be able to say "Blessed be Your name when I'm found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, Blessed be Your name, Jesus."... the Lord is SO good to me... in spite of, and, really, inside all of these troubles.

Forgive me, Lord, for my grumbling.

Forgive me for my selfishness.

I. Deserve. Nothing.

Anything you choose to give me is a blessing.

Thank You, Lord, for having no money and being forced to depend on others.

Thank You, Lord, for my failure, because in it, I learn humility.

Thank You, Lord, for relationships that hurt so deeply, yet draw me to Your heart.

Thank You, Lord, for making me give up "my" ministry so I could see Yours.

Thank You, Lord, uncertainty, for it makes me look to You.

Thank you, Lord, ... sigh... for traffic jams.

Last Day (and the unknown ahead)

So yesterday was my last day at St. Luke's Southwest in Lubbock. And I don't know what to think.

God as been leading me in a strange direction the past few months. In a direction I am definitely not comfortable in. A direction completely foreign to me. One in which church is not a "Jesus show" on Sunday mornings consisting of men on a platform performing for people sitting down below, whether in song or rhetoric, asking that the Spirit flow through our actions. No, He is leading me to a church that is 24-7, to one of every member functioning, of being their part of the body of Christ, of one in which no one person is a "movie star" but instead shines all light toward the glory of Christ . . . To a church that encourages each other to actually grow . . .

And yet, I see how God did chooses to work in our present American commercialized church paradigm . . . how He will use what we give Him, because of His grace . . . but for some reason, He gave me a glimpse of something so much better, so much deeper . . . and yet, I have no idea how to get there . . .

"Light my way

Open my eyes

Won't You go before me?"

-Dallas Stevens III

So, my last day. As a small group of people prayed for me after the service, I was at once touched and hurt by it . . . and I can't put my finger on exactly why it hurt . . . It wasn't pain at leaving, as callous as that sounds. I will miss a number of people there, but I know God was leading me away. No, it was a pain of something, maybe a recognition that it takes someone leaving for them to be prayed for. . . that this type of encouragement should be going on everyday for everyone . . .

I don't know. I have been plugged into the American church machine for so long, I don't really know what it looks like outside. I am almost afraid. I have no grid for real church. When I hear the word, "church", I still think of a building that people meet in every weekend to have a service where someone talks at you for up to an hour and we sing songs that are either devoid of life, or glorying in emotion. . .

Sorry, cynical Kris took over there for a minute . . .

So Lord, lead me home

Lead me to a place where I find You

Lead me to others who want You alone

Not a show

Not a power

Not a calling

Not a mission statement

Not a program

Not a well-turned phrase

Not a clever 3-point box

but You

and You alone.

A reflection on the nature of "love" . . .

What follows is no new thoughts, no new insights . . . just one lonely person's rambling in the night, trying to figure himself out: at times the hopeless romantic, at times the realist. What follows is a discussion with . . . myself.

So, as established in a few previous blogs, I am a hopeless romantic. I am a dreamer. I write sappy love songs to the object of my affection, albeit, so far, none have ever actually heard said love songs. I dream of her night and day, decline to eat because it holds no savour, decline to work because it holds no purpose. I desire the fairy tale relationship, the rose-colored glasses, etc., etc.

But how realistic is such a relationship? The unfortunate realist in me must acknowledge that is really isn't. At all. Love is messy. It's not easy. It's not all peaces and cream. It's not like the movies, it's not like the valentine's day cards.

But it's not emotionless, either. Passion (not sex) for another individual can be quite genuine. In fact, it seems to me that real love could be the prerequisite for passion; that all-encompassing emotional response that has no quantifiable objective other than to feel strong . . . somethings . . . toward another.

But is passion a valid basis for a relationship? While the world at large, collectively, seems to be shouting a resounding "yes", I would bet that most people, if honestly asked, would disagree. Passion can be fleeting . . . especially if that passion has no basis in anything other than physical or emotional attraction. People change; physically, emotionally, mentally, even spiritually . . . and if the passion is based on any of those things . . . it is doomed to wither and die.

No. Love. Real, honest, love is choice. It is choosing to actively love (v.) another person. Committing that nothing, no matter what, will ever change the way I treat you. People say it all the time in wedding vows, and are so happy to because of the hormones racing through their blood; "to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish; from this day forward until death do us part." But very few really consider the cost of such a vow, if indeed they mean to keep it.

But is commitment without passion worth it? I hesitate, but I would say "no". However, I think that but perhaps honest commitment results in passion. What we choose to actively love inevitably creates emotional attachment in our hearts. When we decide to act towards someone with their best interest above our own, that sacrifice breaks something within us . . . it breaks down our god-complex and makes our reality no longer revolve around us. It may come slowly, but I believe that when we love (v.) it can turn into love (n.).

But is that emotion even worth it? To open yourself up to such pain? To such vulnerability to rejection? Oh, the thought makes me cringe. I want to wrap myself up in a blanket and shut the world out.

And how do we justify those other passions? Can we? Is it wrong to feel your stomach go in knots when the girl you're "head over heels for" walks by? Is it wrong to feel physical attraction to someone? To be knocked speechless by beauty? It's hard to say. . . we've so corrupted those feelings. Are these transient, experiential, feelings a justifiable reason to begin a relationship?

I don't know. I want to say "yes", but I have a hard time with that. I don't feel like it's an honest answer. And yet these signs of passion are the things I desire with every fiber of my being. How can I desire them so, when every brain cell tells me that in the end, they are meaningless? Am I so corrupted? Am I so backwards?

I suppose the answer would be that they are inseparable, when viewed correctly. We are beings of multiplicity . . . of body, of mind, of will, of emotion, of spirit. . . and all would, ideally, be involved in the truest acts of love.

While I abhor the use of Christ as an example to justify my own ideas, I must say it seems to fit in this instance. Christ, as He died for us, fulfilled all of love. He is Love. He defines it. So, what do I see at the cross? I see a God-man who made the choice to die . . . to give up his body, actively submitting His will to the Father for the sake of the people, refusing to let His mind convince Him otherwise, passionately crying out for the forgiveness of those who pierced Him, even letting His spirit take on ALL eternal consequence for EVERY thing ever done to miss the mark of His Father's perfection. I see Him loving us with every shred of His existence.

Perhaps romantic love is simply a picture that points at this, the supreme example of Love. However imperfect our love is, however flawed, however damaged, however corrupted we have made it, it still points toward the source of what could be. Can I love like Him? Can I put aside everything of me for the sake of another?

Honestly, it doesn't seem realistic. Or romantic.

Set switch time at Rock the Desert

So I'm sitting here at Rock the Desert, Leeland just finished and Chris Tomlin is up next, and I figured I'd give this blogging app for the iPhone a try.

So far, it's been hot and fun. But it's interesting seeing the music from a different point of view... Even last year, I would have been more into the "worship"-focused music, but thus year, for some reason, it all rings false in my ear. That's a strange thing for a "worship leader" to feel. But it seems to miss the point at these types of gatherings even more than typical cheesy christian muisc does.

They say, "it's all for you, Jesus", but logically speaking, how can it be? They receive a substantial check for singing all of these songs, people paid all this money for a show... And they get one... How is that "all about Jesus"?

I don't know, perhaps I'm turning into a cynical old man, but it just doesn't seem like worship at all, at least not of Jesus... It's a monument to something else entirely. I'm not saying that Christian music is bad . . . JI actually like a lot of it... Just be honest about what you're doing and saying.

It's been awhile

Because I realize how long it's been since I've made an update . . . (for those of you that read this. :) ) . . . I have decided to do two posts at once. The previous post is one I wrote for a little thing called the Paradigm Exchange (www.theparadigmexchange.com), something a good friend of mine started, and has asked me to write for. My story hasn't been posted yet (as of the date of this blog), but I pretty much assume that there will not be that much overlap between the readership of said two sites.

As for me, lots has been happening . . . as some of you will already have known, I have left Abundant Harvest Community Church in Brownfield, TX. This is a good thing. A God thing. They actually sent me off with prayer and a gift card to Guitar Center (the prayer being the obviously more important and meaningful than the card, although it in itself, is very much appreciated {grin}). It was not an easy decision to make, but one in which I believe God was leading me. It's hard to leave behind a place and a people you love to serve. But God is leading all of us from that body into a place of deeper trust, I think . . . and who am I to argue?

So . . . yeah . . . now I am jobless and churchless (so to speak . . . it's not exactly accurate but we'll go with it). Who's having to trust on God?

{raising hand and waving} ooo, ooo, I am! I am!

And is He ever faithful? He is indeed. I lack nothing. My freelance business is not exactly "booming", but I always have enough to get by. I've done several small jobs lately, and several more are on my plate.

Speakin' o' which, if you have any friends/family/neighbors/acquaintances/enemies that need Web sites, videos, audio recording, print design, etc. done. . . have 'em shoot me an email. (kris@filament-productions.com)

Musically speaking, I'm extremely proud and thankful to announce that we've finally finished my 4-song EP. After 3-5 years of some of these songs being concepts/demos . . . we have them in finished, studio-recorded (well, home-studio), production-filled form. It (the EP) sounds pretty much fantastic, and I would love for you (yes, YOU) to hear it. Unfortunately, it does actually cost me to produce CD's, so if you would like a CD in a sleeve, they are $5. Let me know, and I can shoot one your way. {cheese} I'm also selling them digitally on our myspace page (www.myspace.com/xhristosphoreoband  - right underneath the music player) for $.99 per song or $3.96 for the whole EP. Also, just for kicks, you should check out our main site (which really only links to our myspace) - www.xhristosphoreo.com. It's not for the faint of bandwidth, but it looks freakin' cool. And if anyone (hint, hint) wants to have my band come play at their church (or anything else for that matter), we would love to. And by "we", I mean, "at least me, and possibly one other person, but probably not a full band." It's very hard to find musicians that will work for free. {sigh}

Please pardon the previous two (or six, depending on how you look at it) shameless plugs in this blog.

I've also enjoyed playing this summer with the Dallas Stevens Band (www.dallasstevensband.com and www.myspace.com/dallasstevensband). I play keys with them, and have a rockin' good time. We've played quite a bit the past several months and have a few more gigs this year. I will also soon be joining the ranks of another friend's band, called Faces for Radio (www.myspace.com/facesforradiomusic) Self-deprecating title aside, it should be fun.

Let's see . . . what else . . . no girls, unfortunately . . . I'm not sure it's time yet. Of course, I actually have to talk to a girl to see. . . but that's another story.

I have a lunch "interview" with a pastor this week in Lubbock about possibly filling their Worship Leader position. We'll see if that's something God wants to work out or not. I'm not sold on it either way. I'm still trying to figure out where God wants me.

Ummm . . . yeah, that pretty much sums up my life right now. 

Dad, You are good!!

You honor those that trust in You.

Thank You so much for allowing the EP to be done.

I'm so excited and I just can't hide it
I'm about to lose control and I think I like it
I'm so excited and I just can't hide it
And I know I know I know I know I know I want You.

Sorry for the random song quote. . . but it fit.

Please lead me in the way of Your will.

Let me not get caught up in my own.

Thank You for Your leadership.

Thank You for Your provision.

You are so good!

I love You, Dad.

So be it.

(in)Significant

In early August, this year, I was privileged to be able to make a trip to Quito, Ecuador with a group of people from my mom's church. They go down every year to help one of several churches that need construction done on their church buildings. You know, the typical church mission trip that makes people think they've really made a difference, when they only really show up for a week, barely get to know anyone (if at all . . . after all, there is the whole language barrier thing), do the tourist thing for a few days, live in comparative luxury to the people they are "helping", and then return home to their cushy lives in America.

At least, that was my impression of most church "mission trips". I'll admit, it's not a very polite or nice or flattering way of thinking about them, especially when most people who go on them really have the best of intentions. And they had gone, and I hadn't. But, now that I've experienced it, it's really kind of what goes on.

In any case, when it was offered that my way would be payed, I jumped at the opportunity, since those sort of trips are all but completely out of my meager salary's reach.

Side Note: I'm aware that I'm showing a bit of my two-faced nature here . . . obviously holding these trips in disdain for the most part, and yet jumping at the opportunity to go if my way is paid. But hey, it's true. Maybe not good, but true.

Now, at this point I could glowingly expound upon the typical "it changed my life" spiel . . . but I won't, 'cause it didn't.

Well, maybe a bit.

Everyone kept telling me that it would be an eye-opening experience, that it would change my view of the world, to really see poverty that close and all that. And, no doubt, I was constantly amazed at the level of it surrounding us as we traveled, and how the people didn't really seem to mind too terribly much that they were that poor. They actually seemed much happier than most Americans, strangely enough.

But it wasn't like this huge realization came over me in this profound way or a light bulb went off in my head, or any other analogy for enlightenment that you can think of. A couple of former missionaries that came with us made comments at the beginning of the trip asking me if it was "sinking in" yet and such things. It never really did. I just knew I was in another country, and simply accepted it. I didn't feel called to give up my life of luxury in the US and sell everything and move to a third-world country. If anything, I felt that I was supposed to actually enjoy the blessings God has given me here.

The only thing that nagged at me was something I started thinking about on the way home. And that was this: I had been visiting a city of 1.5 million people approximately 2800 miles away from where I lived.

That may not have sunk in with you like it did with me. Of course, my trains of thought can tend to jump the tracks now and again.

Here's how it kind of went:
I was in a city of 1.5 million people.
It's a long ways away from where I live.
It's a small country.
There's lots of other countries in the world.
With lots of cities.
With lots of people.

I am insignificant.

And there it is. I am insignificant. I realized that all the things that I think are important in my life . . . movies, eating out all the time, spending time with my friends, making enough money to do the aforementioned things, writing music, volunteering at my church . . . they mean pretty much nothing, in the grand scheme of things.

There is a whole world of people that live their lives from day to day, not knowing me, not caring about me, completely oblivious to my existence . . . only really thinking about the same basic things I am . . . what it's going to take to get through today and keep on living.

Kind of depressing, no?

But then I remembered the little gem of Psalm 139:13:

For you created my inmost being;

you knit me together in my mother's womb.

Suddenly, I am significant. For the God of creation, who sees the world as it is now and as it has been, with every person of every nation living throughout all of history . . . personally put me together inside my mom.

So . . . I am significant . . . and yet, insignificant. When I think of this, a profound wave of humility sweeps over me. God thinks me important enough to "knit me together" Himself, and yet he thinks everyone important enough to do the same for them.
Who am I, then, to treat anyone, anywhere as anything less than God's personal favorite? For they, like me, are (in)Significant.

Recording / Something else

So we've been recording a guy named Justin Blake (a friend of Brett's) at our house today. He's finishing up a full record that we did several tracks for about six months ago. It's been really fun and good. He actually brought a grand piano into our living room to record it.

Yeah, that's right.

Of course, he's a professional piano restorer/tuner/mover . . . so he knows how to do such things. The piano he brought in has a gorgeous sound to it. I always forget how it feels to play on a real piano . . . especially one that has great action. This particular one is 100 years old, but looks like it could be almost new. It still has the original ivory keys and everything.

It was a beast to mic up right, but once we got it, it sounds awesome. He wanted me to play on one of the songs, and it was really cool to hear it in the studio monitors. It sounded goooooood.

And Justin and I got to talk for a while too, about my time at IHOP, and the common thread of themes that are popping up all around the world (but especially in America) about a re-revelation of both the holiness of God and his desire/requirement for us to be holy, and the absolute passion and intense love that He has for us.

There seems to be a sub-current of people within the church who look at the "body of Christ" and say "there has to be something more". It's not a judgmental thing. We are no better than anyone else, but merely an opening of eyes to see the truth that is written in God's Word, and actually believing it means what it says.

I don't know. It just seems to me that God's doing something in the church. Maybe He's preparing us for something. Something bigger than your average cookie-cutter, smile-and-nod, feel-good, hell-fire-and-damnation, country-club-ish, snake-bitin', seeker-sensitive, post-modern, relativistic, or whatever brand of church this country breeds that picks one thing out of the Bible and over-emphasizes it and forgets about everything else. (I personally enjoy the country-club church. . . it's nice and comfortable, and you have expensive toys to play with)

Maybe He's preparing us for something big. I mean BIG. Something like an old-time revival. I'm talkin' Book of Acts style. The problem/blessing of those kind of revivals are . . . they don't come without persecution. Or being in the midst of it.

Or maybe it's the latest Christian fad. We do have those, after all. WWJD, anyone?

But I don't think so. I think God is calling all of those of His disciples that want more of Him. That truly desire to be men/women after His heart . . . to seek only for the joy that comes from knowing Christ . . . "to know the love of Christ that passes knowledge", as it were.

Lord, let it be.

Dad, I love You!
You are so good to me.
I don't even have any idea what that means,
but I know it's true.
You are truly good to all.
And You LOVE ME.
I can't even fathom it.
Not dispassionate, sterile, cold, analytical love.
But PASSIONATE, FIERY, ZEALOUS, JEALOUS, AWE-STRIKING, HOT-AS-LAVA, COLD-AS-ICE, BEYOND LIMITATION, INFINITELY POWERFUL, STRONGER THAN DEATH LOVE!!!
Even as I write the words I don't understand.
But I want to.
And I want to love You more,
even if it is infinitely smaller
in comparison to Your love for me.
Dad, let it be! Let it be!
Let it be that I am found only in You!
That who I am is lost and is only found in Christ.
That I become worthy of my name.
Thank You, Dad.
You are so good to me.
I love You!
So Be it.

4th on Broadway

So I got to help with running sound for one of the tents during Lubbock's annual free "4th on Broadway" celebration. It was fun. Dolf, the drummer for the Dallas Stevens Band, also is a partner in Runway Productions, which does small venue sound reinforcement.

So anyway, he asked me to help him. It was fun. We were on the "eclectic" stage . . . which is the stage that gets the acts that don't fit in any of the other stages (country, rock, tejano, etc). So we had a wide gamut of jazz, experimental acoustic, singer-songwriter, funk, soul/blues, etc. It was pretty cool. We had to be there at about 7AM, and by the time we finally loaded everything into our trailer it was about 5PM . . . then we had to go unload the trailer.

Then, 'cause I didn't feel like going home, and there were still more festivities for the "4th on Broadway" . . . the BIG show down at the park . . . I call up my roommate Justin to go find him at the park. He'd been setting up this show since Monday (He organized the whole thing, too, since he's the production boss guy at Miller Pro Audio), and it was pretty impressive. He let me have a backstage pass and I hung out with him and the Miller Pro crew either at the Front-of-House area or backstage at "Moniter-World" the whole time.

The show was . . . . interesting. The singers and musicians were all very talented . . . but everything seemed to lack any substance. It was all fluff.

Oh well.

So then, after the fireworks show at the very end, they needed to tear down and load out all of the audio and lighting because it needed to be on its way to Austin the net morning. I didn't feel like fighting the masses to leave (there were probably about 8,000 people there) . . . so I decide to help. 

Wow. I had never seen such a mass of power, lighting and audio cables. It was impressive.

It took us about 2 1/2 hours to wind up all the cables. There had to have been 30 or more people working.  Then we had to load up everything in the trucks.

So Justin and I got home around 3AM. It was a long day . . . but fun. 

Forging our own trail

So Dallas (the frontman and namesake of the Dallas Stevens Band) and I made a fun little trip tonight. We just had one of the most fun (albeit sloppy) sets we've had since I've played with them, and it was really a tiring set.

Then, since we can't get cell phone coverage in the camp, we all decided to take a hike. Apparently, if you go up a certain trail, a little way up you can get spotty cell phone coverage. They neglected to mention that AT&T doesn't really work. So Dallas and I made the trip all the way to the top, thinking maybe, just maybe, we'd be able to get some coverage. 

We were mistaken.

Ah well. It was a nice view. . . the stars were really cool in between all the clouds. . . I could almost forget the burning in my lungs that told me how out-of-shape I am.

Then, we decided to head down, except down the other trail (there were apparently two trails that led up there. 

Yeah. We couldn't find it.

It was dark.

So we made our own trail. It was fun. 

First day of camp

So, leaving IHOP has come and gone, and Curtis is now blissfully married.

So, it's time for camp. I'm in Sacramento, NM this week playing keys in the Dallas Stevens Band as we lead worship.

It's fun . . . but I'm really really really tired.

I've actually been drifting off as I write this. So, yeah, sleepy time.

It begins . . .

Tonight's the last night with one of the guys in our apartment. Josh is going back to Lousiana tomorrow, and it's really starting to hit me that I'll be home in just a few days.

I didn't really think that it would be that big of a deal, but it's crazy how much I'm really going to miss these guys. For 7 guys to live in a small apartment together for 3 months, you really have two choices, fight or become best friends. Then, add that to "relational wholeness"(crying in front of each other), and you take it up a notch.

So it's going to be hard. I honestly was pretty broken up about it tonight in the prayer room. These guys know me in some ways better than anyone, strangely enough, and I know them in the same way. We've all grown a lot in the last 3 months. We've all grown together.

{sigh} Sentimentality. Poo.

Dad, I love You.

Help me to lean on You when things hurt.

Help me to know You are there when I need You.

Help me to know myself as "Kris whom Jesus loves."

Help me to know I am not really alone.

Thank You, Dad.

I love You.

So be it.

One week left

Crazy. This time next week I'll be back in Lubbock. 

I can't wait, and/or am very apprehensive about going home. It's strange, really.

I really miss everyone, and can't wait to hang out . . . but I know God has called me to some probably very "radical" life changes that may or may not be very palatable to some people . . . and that will most likely cause some friction . . . . :(

I don't know . . . we'll see.

It's been an interesting week, with a lovely night with Stuart Greeves on Sunday night, which we have come to call "Weekly Conviction with Uncle Stewie", followed by some lovely times of offending my mind with healings on Tuesday, and many interesting conversations about who our "6:01" is . . . a peculiar tradition among Fire in the Night . . . it relates to the time when the track is over when the "dating" rule no longer applies.

So . . . yeah. It's been an interesting week. It will be good to be home. No doubt different, I'm sure, but good.

Dad, I love You.

You've given me a lot to think about lately.

I honestly get very tired of thinking, sometimes

but I know I need to . . . so thank You.

Please help me to work through these things

that You have been talking to me about.

Please help me to dive into Your Word

and into . . . You.

Thank You. I love You.

So be it.

Encouragement / Mandatory "Fun" Day

So last night was really cool. I had the most fun so far playing a set. It was in the JPR, and we had a good team . . . albeit, a lot of subs. We had two acoustics, electric, keyboard, bass and drums. It was a blast. And everyone was really encouraging afterwards . . . it was cool . . . Sometimes I don't like such things, because I don't want to get a big head, but sometimes it's nice to be encouraged.

Then there was today . . . Mandatory "Fun" Day, as my buddy Josiah and I call it. It was actually the "Fire In the Night Outing". . . a required time of "fun" at the park early in the "morning" . . . 3 pm . . . which is usually when we are getting up. The park was pretty and all, and the sky was overcast and there was a cool breeze blowing, which was nice . . . but potato sack races and organized games? C'mon! Bleagh!

All of these memories kept floating to the surface the whole time . . . none of them good ones. I don't think I've ever liked those kind of games. Or organized sports in general. Even when I played soccer as a kid, I never really enjoyed it as much as everyone else. I always played the kid back by the goalie that just had to kick the ball as hard as he could so that all the players would run away down the field after it. We called it "fullback" back then . . . I think it's just "defender" now. Then there was the memory of dad making me join little league when I was a kid, and I didn't want to. I remember the first game, when they tried to get me to go bat, and I just sat in the dugout and cried, because I didn't want to be singled out like that and fail in front of everyone. I didn't mind playing outfield . . . I just didn't want the pressure of being at bat. I quit after that game. . . . actually in the middle of it, I think. 

That whole thing translated itself into an intense distaste for any competitive sports after that, because the only message I've ever received while attempting to play is one of anger or frustration at me because I'm not as good at it as they are. . . so I've, for the most part, avoided such things, and stuck to things I knew I could do. . . music, academics, etc.

Wow . . . fun revelation times . . . just so anyone knows, I'm not asking for pity or encouragement about this whole thing . . . I'm just talking about how something so simple brought up issues that I had completely forgotten about. . . Most people seems to not have the same issues with sports that I do. I have almost never found them encouraging in the slightest though . . . it's all about performance-based affection . . . I probably need to get over this, though . . . . it was strange, though, I reverted to old habits, today, though, in that while a bunch of people with whom I normally can have good conversations with and hang out and whatever, I just wanted to have nothing to do with them when they started playing sports. . . it was weird.

Anyway, enough with the rambling. blah.

Dad, I love You.

I don't really know what I'm supposed to do with all this.

Today made we want to just curl up in a corner

Or run away.

I felt no kinship with anyone.

I don't know.

Help me understand what You're wanting of me

by showing me these parts of me.

Thank You. I love You.

So be it.

Pluggin' Along

It's strange, that little desire you have when you know something's almost over(2 weeks and 2 days 'til Lubbock) to just kind of skim along happily and coast. . . instead of actually pressing on 'til the end.

It's quite irritating, really, especially when you see it in yourself. It's one thing when you don't really realize it, but when you get convicted for starting to be lazy in prayer . . . yeah. Not cool.

So. . . while everything is dry right now, while I don't feel anything, while I am absolutely bored (although, it's not God that's boring, I am) . . . I still am trying to plug along . . . hoping that at some point it will feel refreshing, and not like a job.

Bleagh.

Dad, I love You.

Even when I can't feel it,

And everything seems so dull,

I will still follow after You.

Please give me the strength to keep on keepin' on.

I know You are drawing me to Yourself.

Please don't stop,

But, please, come and find me.

I want to be with You where You are.

I love You.

So be it.

The Foolish things instructing the Wise

Let me tell you about the time SlapBall almost died.

So there was a game. It was glorious, it was filled with joy, and it brought our entire apartment together in the way only a little rubber ball flying around the room could do.

It was called, simply, SlapBall.

It had a single rule: All you gotta do . . . is slap the ball.

And oh, how we would.

There were some problems, though. It tended to be quite a rambunctious game, so noise levels quickly rose, and the ball had a nasty tendency to hit things that it probably didn't need to hit.

But it was so much fun. It was so joyful. You could see the joy evident on every face. Our step was lighter after every game.

So we continued to play, in spite of the possible rule infractions.

Then someone brought up their conviction, asserting that he felt we could no longer play, since he felt it was infringing upon the rules. He asserted that if it was something we were afraid to tell our core leaders about because we didn't want them to tell us we couldn't do it anymore, then it was something we probably should not be doing in the first place.

And, quite literally, all hell broke loose . . . in each of our hearts. While he was simply voicing something we had all considered, whether or not we had squashed it down, the mourning and anger that arose in the room was almost ludicrous. It was, after all, just SlapBall. But, oh, how attached we were to it. How mad we were that something so stupid and fun, something we loved so much, God wanted to take away from us because of a few stupid rules. 

It is similar to the meat-sacrificed-to-idols issue in I Corinthians. There was nothing wrong with the game in and of itself, just that in playing it, we were rebelling against our authorities, and not acting in love, in taking care of the property of others and in possibly disturbing their peace and quiet.

So, after much anger, harsh words, pouting, etc. . . the ball was slashed, then ripped into two pieces, and taped to the wall in memory of the beloved game.

As we were getting ready for bed, and various people were dealing with extreme anger, asking for prayer and such, we came across a startling realization of what was going on: "God uses the foolish things to confound the wise". (I Corinthians 1:27)

Holy cow. We all started laughing, and started to actually deal with everything. We still went through mourning, and a song was even composed: "Requiem for a SlapBall". And we all, while sad at giving up our personal rights, had come to grips with the fact that we should not play it anymore.

But, as I said in the beginning, this is a story of the time Slapball almost died.

You see, we decided to tell one of our core leaders about the game, and about what we had learned. He was astounded at how serious we were about it, and how it had affected us so to quit it.

He then started talking about why we had rules . . . the reason and spirit behind them. That fun is not forbidden or bad, and that as long as we stay within the bounds of love (respect for neighbors, respect for the property, respect for each other) there was really nothing wrong with it.

So, released by our authority (with some general guidelines and suggestions to follow) the genius and joy that is SlapBall was raised from the ashes, and lives again.

only 3 weeks left

It's crazy . . . I only have 3 weeks left before I make the 10 hour trip back to Lubbock, just in time to make a rapid change in sleep schedules so I can be a part of one of my best friend's wedding, just in time so I can lead worship on Sunday morning, just in time to get ready and leave for a week to a summer camp where I'm playing keys for worship with the DSB, just in time for . . . oh wait, that's right, that's it for a little bit.

And I still have no clue what I'm doing when I get home. I have no idea what God wants me to do.

Fun times.

Ah well. I'm sure I'll figure it out. . . or maybe not. 

Crazy. It's almost over.

Dad, please help me to know

what Your will is for me.

Help me to be a good follower and follow Your lead.

Help me to listen to Your voice.

Thank You for the good, refreshing time

I've been able to have while I'm here.

Help me to hit the ground running.

I love You.

So be it.

{sigh}

So I'm not doing too good at this blogging every day thing . . . :(

Oh well . . . it's been an intense and tiring week.

And the only wireless network that we can get internet access to in our apartment has been going out lately . . . as in, not giving us enough reception to get on the internet to check email and such. Very frustrating.

I suppose we are not really entitled to it, though, since we're bumming off of the neighbors.

Anyhoo . . . I don't have much to talk about . . . I've been having a bunch of dreams lately . . . crazy weird stuff that seems very prophetic and significant, but I have no clue about what they mean.

So yeah . . . I can't think of anything else.

"Relational Wholeness" / "Inner Healing"

I know what you're thinking.

No, seriously.

Everyone crying, hugging, blah, blah, blah.

OK, you're right. But it was seriously good. I feel . . . lighter . . . about certain things, about things I've carried around for years and never told anyone about . . . about wounds that I've received from various people that I've never fully let God heal because I wouldn't admit they really hurt.

It's not like it's an "OK, I'm instantly a completely new person" or whatever . . . it's a process . . . but I definitely confronted a lot of things I had just shoved down.

I seriously recommend it to anyone. . . if you ever have a chance to go to one (of course, one from a God-centered perspective. . . the one we went through is called "Foundations", and IHOP subsidiary).

Anyway . . . yeah . . . it was good.

Dad, I love You . . .

thank You that You love me

and want me to be whole

You love me the way I am . . .

You built me the way I am . . .

Help me to give up the things that aren't me . . .

And turn to You for my real identity.

Thank You . . . I love You so much!

So be it.