A Prayer For the People

It truly is amazing how many things I take for granted. When I went to Virginia back in 1995 with my uhaul and big ideas, I went with a lot of ignorance. You see, I was going to Virginia when they had been predicting that Hurricane Felix or Humberto…or Tropical Storm Gabrielle…one of those would hit in Virginia Beach. I took it in stride though. Having never realized the magnitude of a hurricane I quietly got out my Masking tape and put two big ‘X’s’ on the windows to keep them from shattering. Yes…masking tape against 139mph winds. That’ll hold. I even went to the market to get some supplies. Rows and Rows of where water and canned goods once stood were, at this point, completely empty. So, scrounged for some large containers of water, some canned beans, chili and chef boyRdee products. I found a flashlight and some batteries and considered myself prepared. I was ready for Mother Nature.

What I didn’t realize back then was just how treacherous nature could be. I was spared that fateful August, because the storm never hit us. So, I was stuck with all these canned goods and masking tape on my windows. I do, however, still have that very same flashlight. I keep it as a reminder of what ignorance will buy me - a cheap plastic flashlight.

Even when in Houston during Tropical Storm Allison, I had no Idea that this constant pouring of Rain would lead to the destruction that it did. Again, ignorant. Now, looking at these poor people, I am struck again by the shear magnitude of the power God unleashed in this world. I wish it wouldn’t have happened and I pray against those things. My heart goes out for those few who were like me - those who didn’t see it coming. I pray that God found mercy and spared them. I pray that He brings this country together for a quick and meaningful restoration. I pray that Christians will act in the face of such blatant opportunity. I pray that I will be compassionate and responsible with my fortune and help those who are stuck, some completely alone, in a strange place with little food and nothing but a cheap plastic flashlight.

It's Still Rock and Roll to Me

I was thinking about my days in 6th through 9th grade. I was really a bit neurotic because of what I was taught about certain things. Rock and roll being one of those ‘hot button’ issues. I was told that Rock music was evil and straight from the devil. (Whether it was the beat or the lyrics I don’t know.) Of course being a ‘younger than the rest of my classmates’ kind of a guy I wasn’t really informed on what ‘rock music’ really was.

One particular day as I was at baseball practice standing in the outfield I’ve got that Darrel Hall and John Oates song “Kiss is on my list” going on in my head. Over and over it played. I tried my best to get it out of my head because of the guilt I was feeling for even thinking of such evil. But as I practiced and the words came out of my mouth, “(Because your kiss) Your kiss I can't resist. Because your kiss is what I miss when I turn out the light,” The Guilt…Oh The Guilt! Besides, Darryl Hall and John Oates…not the coolest group in the world.

I do remember one day as I’m riding with my brother to school. He had a friend with him in the front seat…Mike. He was a no-nonsense kind of a guy who found out about my little ‘Rock-n-Roll’ phobia. We’re sitting in my brother’s 67 mustang listening (not by choice) to that evil musician Billy Joel. Mike turned to me, noticing my disdain and sympathy for the two of them, and said, “You don’t like rock and roll huh? Well…you will!” I just brushed him off thinking, who’s this guy to tell me what I will like? I might as well marry Satan.

But later…he was right. I realized that some things aren’t as evil as I was told. I eventually got into some groups, but didn’t really have a group with which I could associate. You know a lot of my friends had their bands that they would promote. I had nothing. So I decided to start looking. That’s when I discovered The Police. Sting’s really cool band that I didn’t really care for all that much, but I liked being able to sound like I was into a band. So, when people would say, hey, what band you like? I’d respond, The Police. Yeah, they’re awesome. And that was that. Of course Now...I really like Sting...but that's a whole different story.

It’s funny how I feel the need to have something with which to associate. I can’t just be myself. I couldn’t just tell everyone that I really did like Hall and Oates. And that Adult Education was one of my favorite song ever. No…I just told them that I liked the Police…even though the only song I knew them to sing was Roxanne…that was them…right?

Moving forward

So, what exactly does it mean to keep on running? In life I mean. Or Moving forward? You really can't help but move forward. If you're still alive, then there's still movement. This is proven fact. I guess it's a figure of speech-you're not dwelling on the past or something similar.

Why is it so important that we move forward? Why is it that we have to be moving at all? To be honest, sometimes I need a little rest. I push myself really hard to make sure that I have projects and things going on at any given moment so that I can have some sort of reference point for accomplishment. My whole life is an attempt to be like Jesus, and to be honest, he really didn't look as if he was moving forward. ( In the broadest sense of the word.) He kinda looked casual about it all. The only time I really sensed him feeling hardpressed was toward the end, when he was telling his friends about what was going to happen to him and they just weren't getting it...after three years of conversation! I wonder if he thought, "well, I've just gotta keep moving forward." I'm not sure.

I once heard that Sharks don't sleep. They rest, but are constantly on the move. I don't know if it's true, but I also heard that if they stop moving then other sharks may think that they're dead and go after them. I think that is how we have conditioned ourselves. To be constantly on the move forward or otherwise. If you're not then you others pounce in and devour your character or motives or just dismiss you as uninspired.

Lately, I've felt like I've been moving, but am not really sure which way I've been going. Sometimes things look familiar...like I've been here before. But mostly, it's just a blur. I rely on those moments where I am almost forced to sit and rest. Whether it's storytime with Liv or before bed when my wife and I play cards or talk. But you can't have too much of that sitting around...I mean your not going anywhere.

Then I think about it and...well Jesus moved through relationships. That was 'how' he moved. It was through people. He had nowhere else to go...because he specifically came 'here' for us. Basically he spent 3 full years in storytime. He focused on everyone else.

I think the moving forward I do, whether emotionally or professionally - well, it happens during those storytime moments. I guess those times when I'm focusing on someone other than myself, that's when it happens. So...it's home I go...for storytime.

Making My Way

It’s Tuesday. Here I sit, making my way in the world. My schedule is periodically hectic, but lately, it’s been rather slow. I guess it’s nice though, to have some time to get my thoughts together and plan my next life-changing project. It seems that I’m just starting to get my creativity back.

Artists and writers call it different things. I’ve just called it 'the funk I’ve been in.’ It started about a year ago when things seemed to be looking up. I had a relatively new Job. Shelly decided to stay home for a while with our Daughter...and we had a new baby on the way. She was about 13 weeks pregnant. I was writing consistently…journaling, which I don’t do a lot of, but I had just started. Things were going really well when the ‘emotional bottom’ fell out.

Shelly noticed something wasn’t right. After going to the doctor we realized that we had miscarried at 14 weeks. We were stunned. There is a scene that happens in some war movies when a bomb goes off near a soldier. He is thrown some distance, but he’s still alive. Only everything is disoriented. He can’t hear. He can’t see well. He’s obviously hurt, but is still trying to go…somewhere. That’s exactly what I felt like.

They always say that people, suffering from shock, tend to focus heavily on one thing. I stopped by a traffic accident once and the lady, obviously in shock, kept asking me to get the keys out of her car. “Get the keys out of the car! Get the keys out of the car!” I got them and gave them to her and she just sat there, not knowing what else to do.

I guess my ‘thing’ was that I stopped creating. Almost completely. Creativity was the farthest thing from my mind. What kept me going was the fact that through it all one of my best friends would sit and talk with me. He didn’t want anything, except what was best for me. He would just sit, sometimes talk, but mostly listen. It is because of this that our friendship went to a whole new place. That’s one thing that allows me today, to continue to make my way in the world - because my friend decided to be Jesus instead of himself. (Actually, God allowed him to do both.)

For now…the ringing has died down…a little. I think I’ve seen a few positives come out of this. Although, I still think about our child, but know that I’ll never understand why he/she was taken away. I just have to go on making my way, and trusting that God’s going to make the best of it.

Routine

My daughter and I have this ritual before bed. Shelly or I will read her a story. Then we’ll say our bible verses, (she’s memorized three so far) and then we say our prayers. We blow out the light, although lately she’s found it funny to ‘sneeze’ out the light, and then she immediately raises her right arm and says, “Rub my arm please.”

The rubbing of the arm started when she was a child and I would try anything to get her to go to sleep. I started rubbing her face and then arms. That seemed to really calm her down. Now, it’s routine. But, of course, it has evolved into a toddler massage of sorts. First the arm then the other, then the tummy and the back and the feet, to which she always says, “that tickles.” When she’s stalling she’ll start thinking of other things like fingers and eyebrows and neck and ears.

Yes, I sit there and I do it. I really kind of like it. I mean after all, she just wants to be with me. How long will that last? Maybe in her two and a half year old mind she considers me or shelly the only ones who could really help her rest. But, sometimes the tired side of me says, “Ok, this is the last time.”

Last night I was in the middle of the routine when it hits me. How many times do I do this with God? How many times have I put God through the routine? Sometimes it’s positive, but mostly it’s not. How many times have I committed the same offense and said, “God I’m sorry, I really don’t want to be this way. Please forgive me. I promise never to do it again!” Then I’m fine for a while until it happens again. And then I sink into the same routine. It’s maddening really.

Albert Einstein once said, "Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."

That pretty much says it all. You know George Castanza of Seinfeld fame once decided to do the complete opposite of what his instincts told him to do. When he wanted to lie, he told the truth. When he wanted to order one thing, he ordered another. He was amazed at the results. He was liberated.

I question that. But then again, I question most everything. I didn’t used to. But I’m learning that not everything is as it seems. People aren’t as well intentioned as I once thought. I used to be naive and think that people were thinking more of me than of themselves. That’s hardly ever the case.

So, today, I sit in the midst of routine attempting to break out of the ruts I’ve created in my thought process. It’s insanity trying to become better by oneself. This is why my attempt at reconciliation with God becomes so tedious. Because deep down, somewhere, where I lack a confidant center, I feel that I’ll do it again. And this makes me sad, because alone, I really am powerless to defeat any of this. But while I pray, God remains. Maybe He’s thinking the same thing that I think while rubbing Liv’s earlobes. Maybe He likes the fact that I consider Him the only one that can help me get some rest.

The "C" Word

I just found out that a friend of mine has cancer. I’m not sure of the specifics yet, but I’ve known people with this type and they’ve survived quite well. But the news, for me, was hard to hear. I can’t imagine his thoughts. I know for a moment, he must have really felt alone. Hopefully not.

I was just reading in a book called, “Blue Like Jazz” and in it he talks about a speaker who discussed metaphors for Cancer. He asked the audience and they kept coming back with war metaphors. You know, they're fighting cancer…battle with cancer…etc. He said that many people consider the “C” word as something to fight. Because of this thought process, many people give up initially because they don’t want to have to go through something like that. They don’t want to fight. He went on to discuss how somewhere around 90% of people who have cancer are surviving. The cancer is either manageable or curable. He says that many people survive because they choose to look at cancer differently.

I thought this was encouraging, but didn’t think about it when I found out about my friend. I went right to the negative and then started looking at myself. My High School friend LeighAnn wrote in her blog ‘Cancer Chupa.’ Chupa is Spanish for ‘sucks.’ Sometimes there’s just no other way to say it.

I pray for my friend. I know that he is not alone. But I know that he may feel that way. At one time or another, we all do.

Computers...blogging...this is truly an orwellian fantasy we've gotten ourselves into. 1984 is now. Of course that summated that we've got to be careful when big brother is watching. What we're doing now is asking big brother to watch us. We're gladly opening up our lives and thoughts to the world. We're becoming vulnerable because we want people to know us. We want to be known. Funny how in this world of constant connectedness, we are becoming increasingly disconnected with the souls of people.

Every Sunday as I walk the halls of our church asking people, how are you...the answer is rarely a deep one. Maybe that's because I give off an air of not really caring to begin with. That makes me sad. Because I know what it's like when people don't care about you. In the movie 1984, society got to the point where nothing was intimate anymore. The society had become somewhat sterile and controlled. (sounds like many of our churches today.) People were together, but they were alone.

It never ceases to amaze me how people cope with pain. Hidden pain. They sometimes don't talk about it because they think that it's a burden to other people. Can you believe that, they don't want to burden us? They're the ones in pain and tragedy. What is it to us to listen? Maybe that means we'll have to do something. And frankly, someone telling me about their cancer or the problems with a friend or the massacres going on in the Sudan or the problems with war...I don't really want to have to listen to that...I feel pushed to take action. And honestly, that's encroaching on my personal space. Besides, I have other things to think about you know? Reruns of The Apprentice are on and I forgot to set the TIVO.

But we all deal with it. We all have pain, addictions, anxiety and fear. And sadly enough, most of us hold it in. What would happen if we had a unanimous data dump? What if we all found someone we cared about and told them everything? Hmmm. I wonder how that would turn out? I know God's there to take it and Listen. King David Did it in the Psalms. and Psalm 88 isn't a nice little talk about how nice life is. It's pretty depressing. But, then so was 1984...the movie I mean, not the year...I liked the year 1984, but the movie...well, I'd rather ask someone how their doing.

Living In The Past

Last night, for some reason, became an evening of memories. As I sit in my mini driving with my wife and daughter, something triggers a past memory and we begin talking about college and a bit after. (Oh, by the way, by ‘mini’ I mean ‘mini-van.’ Sorry if I pretended to be cooler that I actually am. It does have a personalized license plate if that makes any difference.)

So we’re telling each other some things that we haven’t talked about in years and wondering if the choices we made were wise or not. Moments we would have changed - You know, asking what we would do differently if we had the choice. I talked about past girlfriends and the fact that my choice of majoring in theatre and minoring in music may not have been the most lucrative career path. I said, you know, if I had to do it differently I would have…and I would have been…you know how the story goes. We all do it. Maybe it’s a form of regret, maybe it’s just a way to make yourself feel better that you could have made a better choice. For some people, I’m sure that they would go back in a second.

But as I drove with my wife and my two and a half year old, I began to realize that everything I love and hold dearly has been an outcome of those decisions. Those horribly selfish, but sometimes good decisions have placed me where I am today. I’m not convinced that it’s all worked out like it was supposed to have, but what does that mean anyway? Who knows how things were supposed to have worked out? All I know is that I was lucky enough to land a ‘red-headed’ wife who, for some reason, loves the fire out of me. And because of that love, I have a little girl who thinks I am the greatest man on the planet. How could I want that to change? Just so that I could have majored in business and maybe have a few more bucks right now? No…I think I’ll trust that God, my God has created this place for me to be. I realize that my decisions are who I am. Good and bad. And I kind of like to think that God’s been fixing this life as I go through messing it all up. I’m sure he’s tired by now… “Scott, just make a good decision…just one…please…I’m tired here.”

You know, His choices determine where He is too. He could have chosen not to love me anymore. But that wouldn’t have been true to who he was either. So…I guess that I’ll live in the today…not the yesterdays…and hope to come to a place where the past doesn’t haunt me…it teaches me.
By the way…my daughter loves the mini. So, I guess that was a good decision.

What I do...One More...

This is becoming a life story. Once more and then I'll begin to get to the point.

I walked away. Sort of. I tried to do something spectacular. I tried to take a strong step of faith that would have landed me on the cover of Christian inspirational books worldwide. What did I do? Go to Haiti? No. Go to Russia? No. Did I become a native American monk? No. I went to Virginia. And not even because I was following God's call. I went for Film school and for a girl.

I arrived stepped out of my truck and took a deep breath. "New Life," I thought to myself. "Ok God. I'm here. Let the blessings commence!"

(silence)

"Um...Hello?"

So, there I was. In Virginia. It felt a lot like Texas. Same air, same grass, same trees...and the same me. Only now I was alone. So to make a long story short...I couldn't really pay for Film school so I dropped out. I couldn't really handle the girl so I dropped her. I couldn't really handle myself, so I just...dropped. I ended up selling cars for the next 5 months.

I had quite a bit of time to examine the pathways I had chosen. Then God gave me a little help...through phone calls with a sensitive red-head who would end up becoming my wife. I learned a lot in that time. One thing specifically was that I needed to serve. My calling was service to God. How I wasn't sure. But, all my training and experience led me to this. Recently, my wife and I were talking and we both realized how we had kind of 'Gumped' our way through the last 8 years. You know, Not really knowing where we were going, but responding to each new turn with a sort of ignorant audacity. No matter what was thrown at us, we just kept on running...together. That's where the Children of God seem to fair best. Together.

So, it's been a while, but I've finally discovered that my experience has become my biggest reference point. God has me here, attempting to communicate his truth and love to a world who isn't really wanting to hear it. (They want to, they just don't know it yet...at least that's I feel now...it could change. ) Using creativity to turn these truths into bite-size theology. Images and situations in which most everyone can relate. I feel honored that Jesus has allowed me to do the thing that he practiced when speaking. Stories...helping people imagine without them realizing it. Honestly, I'm sure I'm still Gumping through it. Of course now, I realize I'm Gump. It's a nice feeling. So for now we'll just keep running... Until we stop.

What I Do...Continued

What I do. Professionally, it's been a long road. I guess "professionally" didn't really begin until a few years ago. Before then I basked in the world of the irresponsible - tossing unopened bills to the side and ordering cheap luggage from 2nd rate mail order catalogs. I would walk about as if the 300.00 I just earned for 1 day's work was worth a bit of admiration.

In those days having just finished college, I selected an almost perfect job path. Comedian. Finally I could remain that feelgood, carefree man-boy who really wasn't ready to leave college in the first place. I could associate with younger more vibrant people and...At times...Make them laugh. Guys would envy - girls would dream and I would get paid. All for talking in a French accent or pretending to be funny. It was great! Until I started realizing that the 300.00 I was getting was in fact, hush money. Money meant to keep me eternally irresponsible and naive.

Even then, when I knew that I was enabling my own de-construction, it took me a while to break away and into the world of the living. Now, for others, who are solidly responsible comedians (if there is such a thing) I know this will not be true, as they are solid and...well...responsible - fully integrated adults in a world for the perpetually young. But for me, I was buried under a mound of inaction. All the while hoping I would one day stumble or happen upon that thing or idea or world view that would make me spiritually rich. As it was, all I had to show for my life's work was a bucket of half truths mixed with tradition and religion...oh, and a kickin French accent. Yet, there was something missing - Me. I had become the jokes I was telling. So, I finally stood up and walked away. Sort of...

What I Do

It's interesting to see and hear people's reactions to what it is I do. I guess the title alone needs a bit of explaining. In a way, it does sounds kind of flaky anytime you have the words creative and arts in the same sentence. Creative can really mean most anything. "He's a creative accountant." "He's an administrative arts minister." When you use the word creative, you throw out most absolutes. College for a creative type...we aren't right or wrong. It all depends on how we 'feel' about our answer. That's the key.

Yeah...maybe I need to rethink it. However, there is a certain striking nature to the sound of it. Especially in ministry. But honestly, the bottom line is that titles are always a bit more glamourous than the actual nature of the work. The nature of my work is communicating with people. That's pretty much it. Hmmmm. To put it like that...It doesn't really sound that glamorous.

Regardless, what I do isn't that different from what anyone else does. I just get to do it with high tech equipment and cool music...sometimes.

more later...