144--Why Haven't You?

Addictions are based in pride. The premise is that I can fix it on my own. "I know what to do here." Just a little more of this substance, another round of this behavior and it'll go away.

Denial convinces me it's not broken, Pride allows me to prescribe a medicine. I remember something Terry asked me years ago..."If you know how to fix it, why haven't you?"

End of the day, only God can fix broken humanity. I cannot fix even myself.

Our addictions have become more sophisticated. Some are chemical. Others are religious, spiritual, philosophical. Mind-games and heart-routines by which we convince ourselves we are in control.

It's one of the more frightening aspects of submission to this Christ. The assertion and acceptance that I cannot fix the messes I've gotten into, rewarded by the assurance that He will fix them. Assailed by the unsettling thought that His solution may not be to my liking.

That'll keep you up at night.

Are you feeling, Beautiful?

Are you knowing, Strender?

144--Death and Dancing

Last week I had a wonderful surprise. I sat to lunch with Jim and Penny with whom I am so honored to live in community. The surprise was that Dan and Regina were also at that table. Given that they live in Zambia, it's a most welcome treat to breathe the same air for those two hours.

Dan asked me how music is going. He asked me how things are with Suzanne. He asked me the direct questions a concerned father asks when he knows he's got only minutes to catch up on a year's worth of conversation. I see Dan maybe twice a year. He has been given by God to many people and I treasure any chance we have to connect and sit at the same table.

Reality check. Music may or not be going. I do not know. It is stirring inside me still, distilling always, constantly telling and retelling a story I recognize as it unfolds, yet do not know before it comes to me. My first CD cost a lot of money. I still owe a man $8500 on that project. I feel like a thief as the months go by that I cannot pay this man. I feel like a fool, when I realize how much better I like the cd we made by accident on Isaac's couch for a grand total of $100.

Life is coming full circle, it seems. I began as a man with guitar and grew into various ensembles and configurations. I've been blessed to work with great musicians. Now it's me and this piece of wood again. It's broken. I broke it, stupidly. I was angry at Suzanne and I hit the guitar. That's pretty dumb, right? Yeah, that's me.

Some of you think I'm depressed and you send me "cheer up" messages. I think there's more going on than that. In the same conversations that call me to death, I am also being called to dance. Maybe I am to dance the dance of death? Is there such a thing? Are there cultures that tradition the death dance? Google will know.

When I say I am dissonant against God's will, here's another attempt at conveying my meaning. I love it that He called me to be a musician, but it has caused so much hurt to me. Music is one of the things He's asked of me, and I knew years ago that it would bring about more struggle than I wish to encounter. I would have liked to have a comfortable, predictable life. I did not want this, but I also would not trade it.

The dissonance lies in the discrepancy between what I know and what I feel. I know I make music because it's the way I'm designed. I feel foolish to have created such a huge debt to a man I now cannot pay.

I know the Lord wants me to continue pursuing Suzanne. I feel like it's futile and going nowhere. I'm surrounded by loving friends who interpret the circumstance as God leading me to move on. After all, if it was His will that I be reunited to my wife, then wouldn't it have happened by now? And if He did in fact purpose for me to be a musician, wouldn't I have succeeded by now? Great questions, both.

I do not have an answer. I am alive. I sing because I breathe. I play where I'm invited.

146--Self-Medication

Despair. Lust. Selfishness. Ingratitude. Sugar. Alcohol.

These are what keep me awake right now. I have grown dissonant against God's will. I know better. I was choosing obedience, but grumbling the way my dog does when I tell him to get off the couch. And again I'm reminded how disobedience is progressive, because this weekend I find myself not even choosing obedience.

I cannot sleep tonight because of the thoughts in my mind and the sugar in my body. Had a beer Saturday night. Loved it. I enjoy a good beer, but the thing is, I broke a promise to myself. That promise wasn't about self-punishing purity, it was about rendering optimum performance capacity.

Optimum performance capacity. This is an idea for a winner, for one striving toward victory. Lately here I'm not trying to win. I'm trying to survive. I don't want to win, because I don't think I can anymore. Truthfully, I have lost hope. By a miracle of grace, I still have faith, but hope is gone from me. I believe God's promise at some cellular level and in this moment I'm choosing to believe enough to sweep up the dirt and depression I've lived in the past couple weeks so I can enter this week with renewed purpose.

Pride. I get to where I think I'm doing pretty good and then I start thinking I can autopilot this thing. I start thinking I can do this by myself. My reliance on Christ doesn't disappear instantly, just gradually and subtly until again I wake up with my hands on the wheel and my fender in a ditch.

Let Forgiveness be quick and Mercy at my side. Lord, forgive me for taking matters into my own hands, for doubting your promise, for giving in to despair. I am still sad, but also grateful. Again I remember your kindness. Sweeter than sugar, and better for my sleep.

151--Perfection

...so last night in the worship community conversation, Dawna said that we are working towards perfection. a comment sandwiched in the middle of other thoughts.

I just had a time of worship, at 2 in the morning, singing to Jesus about whatever came to my mind. Don't worry, I'm going back to bed. I have a cold, and in the middle of vibrant dreams, my stuffiness woke me up. I'd love to be done with this quickly, so I'm gonna juice some carrots and get back to bed, hoping for another two hours of sleep before I have to go to work. But as I'm sitting here praising and offering my services, insignificant as they might be, that remark of Dawna's comes back to me and I want to say something about it.

We are not called simply to Excellence, but to Perfection. Excellence can be accomplished by human effort. I know excellent people, lots of them, and in common they possess certain traits, not the least of which is commitment.

What's tickling my mind right now is that Excellence is the outer limit of human effort. We must push towards excellence, believing that at the edge of our finest efforts, we'll be met by Grace, which bridges the gap into a fairer land, Perfection. We cannot build perfection, we can build excellence, a rhythm of disciplines, a commitment to believing and becoming. We can practice scales and we can sing together and seek the deep wisdom of the dance. There is much we can do.

The word did not say, "be ye therefore pretty good."

Nor did it say "Be ye therefore great at some things, average at others, and sucky at some."

It says, "Be ye therefore Perfect, even as your Father in Heaven is Perfect."

That cannot be accomplished by human engineering. And we can get lost in the semantics of what it means to be Perfect. Maybe it doesn't really mean perfect. Maybe it only means to be mature and fully-fashioned. OK, by whatever measure we approach the word, it remains we cannot be this thing to which we are called without the intervention of the Master craftsman.

And this is the good news. Put in the work. Practice those scales. Learn those harmonies. Sing them again. Now another time. Push when you're tired. Learn it the right way. Don't learn the tricks of the trade--learn the trade. At the end, as in the middle, Perfection will be His addition of Grace to our offering of Excellence.

I'm gonna take some juice and go back to bed.

Goodnight, Beautiful...

Goodnight Strender

153--Monday

"...No son, a woman belongs to no one. Maybe one day if you're lucky and eat all your vegetables, you might belong to a woman..."

154--crash and go

concert went very well. Every one did an amazing job! Maria, Brian, Libby, Isaac. I'm honored to have shared the stage with such incredible musicians. Then a bunch of us went to Denny's for dinner and some laughs.

Now we're back at Wanee's catching a couple hours of sleep before we hit the road again for the 16-hour trek home. My sinuses are inflamed and I'm wondering if it's a cold knocking at my door or is this my respiratory reaction to smog.

155--editing

when I started this journey, I said I'd think out loud. I promised to share what's going on inside without editing. Leslie said, "we're always editing..."

So true, Leslie. So true. Last night I let myself speak unedited. I ranted at a concert audience about the things I feel and fear. In the middle and at the end, I am sure that I trust God to see me through or to bury me well, but I am struck with the reality of opposing forces catching me in a crossfire. Large supernatural entities both want me dead. And I don't feel like fighting anymore. I preached a sermon on warfare a month or 6 weeks ago. Then I spoke about forgiveness. Today I feel like neither. I'm going to lead worship in 3 hours and then 10 hours after that, I'll be part of a concert featuring also Libby Sturtevant, Isaac Sturtevant, Maria Papazoglou, Brian Lauritzen. I've become more aware of my feelings. Interestingly, as that awareness grows, I also find I'm more aware of my knowledge. I know what I know. Can't explain it. Doesn't make sense to anyone when I try. But in all fairness, doesn't make sense to me either. Last night I said to my brother David, I have thoughts every day of calling up some girl and using her for my comfort and attaching her heart and dumping my pain on her so I can enjoy the illusion, even for a few moments, that I'm happy. But I know better. Even though I feel like quitting three or four or all of my highest callings, I still know better. I know that a man like me came to the crossroads 2ooo years ago, and made the choice to die by what he knew, rather than live by what he felt. I don't feel like I can make that choice, but I know I have to. It's what He would do--It's what He did. And I feel something stronger than my pain. In this my feelings and knowledge come to unity. I want to be like that man. I've not met another that I believe in as much. Come to think of it, I haven't met Him either. Funny. But I believe He did this, and it's the best example I have of manhood, tested, tried, consistent. I have a horrible sore throat and my spirit is weary. I want to quit. I'll be careful not to speak today as I lead worship. My feelings may get in the way of the job. I am made to worship, whether I feel like it or not.

Usually when I feel this way, I simply retire to solitude and tell God how I feel so that by the time I come back to tell you guys what's going on, He's lifted me back to my feet and I'm ready for another battle. And I realized the injustice of that. If I only communicate when I'm Strender, I'm allowing the illusion that I'm always strender, which is not true. It would take energy to edit my thoughts right now and I don't have that energy, so I'm just letting my fingers think out loud and then I'll post.

Feel what you feel, Beautiful...

Live what you know, Strender

156--peace

You preserve the mental assurance, the unwavering confidence, the undisturbed calm of the one whose mind is locked on you, because they trust you...Isaiah 26:3 (Lennox Revised Version)

Just woke up. Gonna go put my mind where it belongs.

Good morning, Beautiful...

Rise and shine, Strender

155--safe

Wanee's place. A home away from...away from what? I've been homeless so long now. When Suzanne found out I had moved out of my apartment to sleep in my car, she was concerned that I was homeless. I said "I was homeless when I lost you; now I sleep outside."

My home is with those who welcome me, who create safe spaces where I can rest and enjoy the company of the blessed.

The trip was so much fun. Hilarious stories of naughty childhood from Isaac and Elizabeth. A splendid detour through Montague to dispatch my tax returns from the nearest post office.

Wanee, thank you for dinner. And a safe place to lay our heads. Thank you for home away from...

home

Goodnight, Beautiful...

Goodnight, Strender

156--rollin'

there goes my alarm. Time to get up. Still raining, like it was when I fell asleep at midnight.

Isaac should be here to pick me up in 10 minutes and we're off to CA. 16 hours of driving each way? Why do we do this? To play two concerts and lead worship one time? I'm going to need a more compelling reason than the love of music. I can love music just fine on my patio once the train rolls by.

162--red on one

Brown on three sides, red on one. Kelly was there when I signed the papers. Different colors summon different emotions in me. Or does the emotion summon the color? I choose my socks not as randomly as it might appear. I said once to a friend..."you're not random; you're non-linear."

I like my new house. It's brown on three sides--red on one. Slept there last night on the carpet with Vegas next to me. He hardly ever barks, but he did when the train went by. Chased that one off. I get the impression he'll see to it none of them hang around.

Entertained my first guest. Rafael gave me a few hours of his time and we shared tea brewed from lemongrass that I plucked from my mother's garden in Grenada. For the record, way better than the flavor from a lemongrass teabag.

Back at it this morning. Almost done with the move. Stopping now to meet with Jim for an hour. Little musical project we're cooking up. Back to cleaning, 2 more one-on-ones this afternoon and then a movie with the worship team tonight. And of course, unpacking in between.

Last 20 minutes ran errands to get electricity, water, sewer, and internet lined up. Coming out of City Hall I saw my landlord driving by so I flagged him down and handed off some money. How convenient that he was driving by as I was coming out of the building. Now I don't have to track him down. Love the freebies when you get 'em.

163--on the move

12:13pm

moving today. Right now I'm sitting at Nick's shop, Slow Train. One of the first things I need to accomplish today is scanning a document into my computer. I have not been able to do that yet. Funny how I've come to take technology for granted. It's a simple thing, scanning and emailing a document. Until you're in a place where that's not readily available and you find yourself spending 2 hours to accomplish what takes 5 minutes in a different location with different tools.

12:31pm

back at my place. This would be my old place. My old new place. The one I've lived in for the last almost 4 months. loading the car. Stopped to laugh as the hail came down. I love it that there's hail falling on a bright sunny day. I love it that hail and snow come here to visit, but they don't stay long. Just the way I like it.

1:19pm

yes!!!! got the scanner to work. Nick's suggestion was to download a driver for my laptop and try the office all-in-one machine. Worked like a charm. Thanks, Nick.

Multi-tasking: 40 push-ups and 40 sit-ups while software installs on your laptop.

5:43pm

got most of the stuff moved. All the big stuff. Dugger came and helped. I call him Dugger. Full name Christopher Dugger, but you see what I mean? So not only did he help me trucking boxes to the car, he phoned a friend when it counted. He called his buddy Jason to lend a hand with an especially heavy item, and that's how I met Jason. Thanks fellas. Jonathan from LTG helped with that too.

Speaking of LTG, we met by the fire this morning. I love fire. Just gotta slip that in there.

Darlene made me lunch and dinner (vegetarian and all) so I could work uninterrupted and get closer to my goal of moving everything today so that tomorrow is for cleaning and unpacking and I can look at Sabbath with nothing on the slate but rest. Thanks for the assist, Dar.

165--Discipline

I'm failing at Discipline. Woke up exhausted. That's cause I stayed up too late. I saw my bedtime coming and watched it go past. Why do I let simple choices like that trip me up?

For some reason, self-care is an actual battle for me. I know what I need to do; it's not for lack of awareness that I watched it go by.

I need a more compelling reason than discipline. I've believed that once you know the "why".... "how" will present itself.

Maybe this is linked to my latest instructions?

So here I sit, facing 15 hours of tired to which I could have supplied more energy simply by turning off the machine earlier. Now the grueling is my choice and I must face it with all that I can muster.

On a different topic, I miss having someone here when I get back. General stayed with me for two months! What an amazing brother! I'd come home and he would have made tea already or done the dishes already. He'd ask me about anything that looked suspicious as far as time spent alone with a woman. That's probably the thing I value most about our friendship. He was like a bodyguard in that way. Lots of friends say they'll hold you accountable, but when it comes time to ask the hard questions, they hem and haw, at best. Usually it's after the fact when one thing has led to another, that's when they pipe up that they knew all along this was coming. At which point I'm thinking two things:

1. Why didn't you say something?

2. Ultimately it's my choice and I made the wrong one, so I feel guilty and can't say anything to you about not holding me accountable since I didn't hold myself accountable, so at this point I'll just be quiet and say nothing at all.

Weird how my mind works. So random. Right now I'm thinking of a friend who died at 38 of a heart-attack. Very healthy looking. By all appearances, in the prime of good health. But working too hard and sleeping too little.

I'm going to work now. I'll be praying for a stronger "Why."

I need a better reason to be in bed at 9 tonight.

Have a good day, Beautiful...

Do what you know is right, Strender

169--it is finished

an email from my friend, brilliant cellist, KUSC radio personality, and wearer of funky socks, Brian Lauritzen:

"we just got back from the h'wood sda good friday service--my favorite religious service of the year. i like it more than easter, more than christmas, more than lent, more than second coming, more than anything. i used to think i was strange, because i thought i should've loved easter more: the resurrection, joy, triumph over satan, etc. but now i get it: i love leaving Jesus in the grave a while. not because i'm a depressed person or i like to kill Jesus, but because i think everyone around me has always been so quick to just raise Him up again, i've never felt like i actually got to contemplate the sacrifice. and isn't the sacrifice of more value than the raising up? good friday. we put Jesus in the grave. we stop.

and listen.

and sometimes it sinks in. it was more than humiliation and rejection. it was more than death. it was eternal separation from His Father. Jesus didn't know what came next because, in that moment, there was no next.

and as much as i love the mournful, dolorous music that we play at good friday services. as much as i love the somber pall cast over the room as, one-by-one the candles are extinguished until finally, we're left in complete darkness...and silence. death. as much as that's an overwhelming emotional experience for me, i also love to think about what that moment (the real moment, not the representation we've created) was like for Jesus. how is He not smiling a little bit? nails and thorns and lashes and splinters all cause physical pain. rejection causes emotional pain. but beyond that, He's saying, "fine. you can have me. my Father gets anyone throughout the entire history of the planet who claims my sacrifice. i'm just one guy. they're tens of millions. it is worth it. it is finished."

it is finished. without a resurrection, it is finished. without "arise, my love," it is finished. without our pathetic definition of a happy ending, it is finished. death, sacrifice, darkness, it is finished.

and so i get to mull that over in real time once a year. good friday. holy saturday. it's not a fist-pumping, easter sunday kind of a celebration. but there's hardly more joy in my life than during those 36 hours or so when Jesus is dead. and i just had to share that with you."

that was amazing, Brian. thank you.