A Shot to the Nose

"Erected to the memory of John Phillips. Accidently shot - as a mark of affection - by his brother." - Gravemarker in New England.

In the early 70s my family lived in Aurora, Colorado in a quiet little neighborhood much like many of the older towns here in Alabama. I came across it the other day looking up old places I lived on Google Earth. (The address is 986 Dearborn Street, Aurora, Co if you want to see it yourself.) The center of the neighborhood was Ford Elementary School, which, from our little home on Dearborn Street, was literally over our back yard fence. During second and third grade I walked to school, and went home everyday for lunch.

Next door to us, on the corner, lived the Crofts. Mrs. Croft was a folk guitarist, and, looking back, probably had much more of a sixties mindset than my family had. In my mind I can still hear her playing her guitar and singing "Blowin' in the Wind", and, while at the time I didn't know who wrote the song, stands as my first ever memory of any Bob Dylan song. Her son, Taylor, and I are the same age and played together regularly in those days. Those were the days when G.I. Joes were full size dolls, and, with their great king fu grip, Taylor and I played G.I. Joes for hours like most 6 and 7 year old boys of our time.

However, this quiet neighborhood was broken up occaisionally by the neighborhood bully. I am sure that every neighborhood has them, and this quiet little neighborhood was no different. Unfortunately for us, ours lived in the corner house directly across the street from Taylor. His name was Jeff, and though only a year older, was much, much bigger than either Taylor or me.

I don't know that Jeff was your typical bully. I don't recall him ever beating me or anyone else up. I don't recall him yelling or taunting us. All I remember was being intimidated by him and his size and if he wanted to come and play with our G.I. Joes he did - and we didn't question or fight back. We viewed ourselves as powerless, helpless and weak to his greater power and authority. And I have never forgotten that feeling of intimidation and weakness that Jeff caused just by his presence. Bullies take because they can and hurt because they will. While justifications for their harm may be offered, justifications are not necessary.

Fast forward a few years to another quiet neighborhood in another town. At the end of Hahn Ave, the street where we lived at the time, moved a new family, the Coles. They have one son, Marc, who is approximately the same age as most of the other boys that live in our little section of the neighborhood. Marc wore thick glasses, and was fairly skinny and lanky.

By the time they moved in, the boys in the late pre-teen early teen years were already friends in the neighborhood. There was me, Eric, Van, Chris, Greg, Michael, Rob and Mark, all of us within a year or two of each other's age. For some reason, when the Coles moved in there was some collective consciousness among us that we would not accept Marc into our "group" and would treat him with contempt. And pour it on we did. For absolutely no reason, as certainly Marc had never done anything to any of us other than to look weaker than us, he was chosen during those years to be the outcast, the focal point and butt of our jokes, the target for snow balls in the winter, and verbal assaults in the summer. And, like the immature children we were, we could justify our actions toward Marc if they were ever questioned.

In truth, Marc was a decent guy just trying to get along, and we, me included, were nothing more than bullies, making his like miserable for our own pleasure. In later years, toward the end of high school, Marc, the Van Halen devote', was finally accepted in our "group" of Pink Floyd and psychedelic rock listeners and would hang out and listen to music with the rest of us on Van's killer HiFi. But those early years were clearly hell for Marc, and they were that way because of me.

As I look back on those two times in my life, it is scary for me to see how quickly I went from bullied to bully, not learning the lessons of my earlier days, and forgetting the empathy that adversity and trial should inevitably bring, but for some reason doesn't deliver. But I look back and see, that is how the world works - the strong, by force of might or deceit of mind, prey on the weak as if they are not persons, or at least persons worthy of their presence and friendship. The strong justify their own actions as either being entitled to behave in such a manner, or that the weak deserve such treatment. The weak are something to be used for the amusement of the strong. That is the way of the world. It is the way to hide their other weaknesses and insecurities.

John tells us "But whoever hates his brother is in the darkness and walks around in the darkness; he does not know where he is going, because the darkness has blinded him." (1 John 2:9).

Like a shot to the nose, those words ring out against me. They convict me. They condemn me. They beat me up and bully me, calling me to examine my own heart and attitude and actions, even as I witness the heart and attitudes and actions of others. How quick I am to judge others in relation to myself, all the while over looking my own weakness, failings, and faults. And how blinded by the darkness I am when I fail to love my brothers and sisters in all their weaknesses. When I sit by quietly and permit the strong to prey on the weak.

Often I see, even within the church, the sense of entitlement that strength and power bring. I witness, among my brothers and sisters, and even within myself, an attitude of contempt and derision of those who are weaker in the faith, weaker in the body, and weaker in the soul. I witness the weak bullied by the strong, I know God is not in those actions, and Christ is not honored therein. I see the fragile souls entrusted to our care, and the wreckless and careless manner in which they are treated. And how, like poor John Phillips, they get caught in the cross fire of their brother's "affections". I see how we often suffer it to be so by inaction and inattention.

And I witness how quickly we forget that it is not our strength which unites us, but rather our weakness. How we are each sinners struggling through this world, completely and totally relying on the power of Christ to save us, and not our own. And how we forget how desperately we need the love of each other, as brothers, as sisters, just to find our way.

I am glad to be a part of Community Prebyterian Church, a place where the Marcs and the Jeffs can commingle, and each recieve the care and love of Christian brothers. And hopefully find the peace and acceptance and respect each deserves. A place where we want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, and so, somehow, to attain to the resurrection from the dead. (Phil 3:10-11). And while we are by no means perfect, we are a place where we try not to shoot our brothers, not even by accident.

To the Marcs in my past, my present and in our church, I seek your forgiveness. Both for my actions, and for suffering the actions of others.

To Jeff's of my past, my present and in our church, I offer mine.

And to each know that we have tried to put away our childish behavior and cannot and shall not withdraw our love.

God, help us to continue to learn what it means to love one another.

4theluv

What It Doesn't Take

Critics are like eunuchs in a harem; they know how it's done, they've seen it done every day, but they're unable to do it themselves. -Brendan Behan

As a long time Christian, I have sat through many a "concert" designed to build the self esteem of someone in the church. It is important for us to encourage and support our young people at church. ("Young people" is a much broader term now than it used to be.) However, most such concerts and performances leave you thanking God, either that it is over, or that Tylenol can be bought in bulk at Sam's. But you do it because it is the right thing to do.

With that in mind, and after much ado, I purchased the new CD on iTunes from Act of Congress entitled Declaration. Of course, being the great church member that I am, I did so as a sign of support for one of our own, Adam Wright. I've heard Adam sing at church with Stokes and Connie, and seen him lead us in worship while Stoke has been gone. All-in-all, he's got a good voice and a great attitude. So, I thought, what's ten bucks to show the guy some love?

All I can say is, wow, was I wrong. Ten bucks doesn't begin to reward the talent shown by these musicians and vocalists.

As a church, we are blessed with so much musical talent, which starts with Stokes and Connie. And I knew Adam was good, but before this album, I never fully realized the depth of his talent. As a church, we are fortunate to have him with us.

Now, admittedly, I have an affinity for the more philosophical music of Bob Dylan, Roger Waters, John Lennon, Bono and (more recently) Derek Webb, and the pop music of groups like the Eagles, Rolling Stones, and the song writing of artists like Dylan, Kris Kristofferson, Neil Young and Sam Cooke. But if this first album is any indication, that list appears to have grown by one: Adam Wright.

While not perfect, the freshman CD from Act of Congress is better, deeper, and more aesthetically pleasing than 98% of the drivel that passes for music from many more accomplished and acclaimed bands and song writers.

The band as a whole performs the harmonies and melodies on the album with a tightness that showcase their vocal and instrumental talents. The band, an ostensibly acoustical blue grass / rock sound, is at its best when it sticks to its distinctive sound and stays away from the over produced sounds of "Not Crazy" and "In the Middle (Remix)". These songs are catchy, and likable, but the style and sound is overdone by every upstart band that wants to sound "big time." The rest of the album proves AOC can sound "big time" without changing their musical sound so dramatically. These folks are truly talented.

But what really sets this album apart is the song writing talent of Adam Wright. Adam's lyrical and musical writing reveal a musical maturity and Christian doctrinal understanding well beyond his young years. Adam brings a distinctly Christian message without being preachy, and without targeting the WDJC "God squad" audience base.

This is a young man going places. Like the true artist he is, Adam has the ability to paint deep doctrinal truths in pithy lyrics.

Starting with "In the Middle", Adam sets the stage for much of the rest of the album. In it, Adam conveys the idea that when we take an honest look at our own hearts, we really are unlovable .. at least in our own minds. And letting someone in, even Christ, leaves us vulnerable. "What kind of person do you see / when peeking into this heart that is brutally / Beaten down with failures, taunts and insecurities / I'm cynical it seems these days. .. Hearts of stone will never get it / Love will find us if we let it .."

It is the human condition to search for ultimate meaning while pursuing the mundane things of life, or, as Adam says, "I just want peace of mind / and coffee with my cream." (A line, I am sure, that will make Starbucks happy and is somewhat reminiscent of the way Mrs. 4theluv drinks her morning java.)

In "Love Comes for Free," Adam throws you back to the simple sounds of 60s folk music while retaining a distinctly Christian and gospel oriented message. Without a doubt, everyone knows both the "Used car salesman who works around the clock / Selling lies and cashing checks of the people on the block" and the "Wealthy preacher who knows just what to say / and if you give him cash and coin he'll help you find your way". Their "crooked grins" and "hearts of stone" belie their selfish motives. Adam juxtaposes this greed with the selflessness of the man named Jesus "who loved until he died / And after doing nothing wrong took a bullet for his bride."

Ultimately, Adam accurately points out that love is not the response to what others can give you, rather, selfless giving is the response to those you love.

By far, though, the showpiece of Adam's clearly God-given talent is his song "The Well." It is the song of Christ, lovingly calling us to himself. However, it does not typecast Christ in the role of sickeningly sweet but ultimately impotent beggar just hoping we will come to him to solve our problems and make life rosy, but rather as a Parent/Savior to walk with us through the terrors of this world, warning us of its dangers but loving us in our sin. Sung as a ballad, the song tells the story of the fall in the garden, and Christ's redemptive call to his people.

Its richness is evidenced throughout. Consider these words: "I've loved you as long as I've known you / and I've known you as only my own / But you traded my love for watered down wine / And a burden to sleep with alone." Those phrases are so tightly packed with truths that when you contemplate exactly what is being said, you understand the self-imposed isolation of your own sin -- and you can't help but cringe at the truthfulness and isolation it causes.

But Adam doesn't let you off the hook, as he proves he has mastered the one-two punch. He follows those lines, in haunting a cappella, with, "Do not be afraid, your fragile and trembling hand is no burden to hold / For your sins as red as a sea of scarlet, I'll wash 'em whiter than snow." The mental image of holding the hand of my own children as they were scared, crying, and alone, for me was no burden, and for them, a lifeline of safety and comfort. How Adam, a young married man with no children of his own yet, can capture such imagery is beyond me.

From there, Adam moves right into "The Nature of Things." At first blush, the song is about seeking forgiveness for harsh words to his wife, but Adam adeptly understands and conveys that our broken relationships are due to our fallen nature, and they can't be fixed by firm resolve to do better. "Pride has scarred these lips ever since they touched that damned fruit on the tree / and blinded me / Wrong is how my life began / and right is something I have never been".

But once again, Adam does not simply spell out the problem, but leads the listener to the solution, a cry to Christ: "You're telling me that this is normal now / You're silencing fear with your voice in my ear / How can dead men live again? Save me I am yours."

AOC finishes the album with "I Disagree." Though not explicitly Christian, it is a tribute to the value of relationships that are built solely on love. Harkening back to the isolation themes of "In the Middle" and "The Well," Adam writes of longing to let someone in, and the comfort that comes with that action. "Love is something I believe in / 'Cause it makes lonely disappear" is a great statement of what true love does for us.

Now all the accolades on Adam Wright might lead one to believe that the writing of Chris Griffin on the album is somehow deficient. This would not be the case. "Not Crazy" and "When We're Through" are in the pop mindset, and their genre a bit out of step with the rest of the album, but the songs are memorable, well written, well sung, entertaining and fun to sing. Further, "When We're Through" accentuates the bands harmonies and musical abilities, and from a purely audience delight standard, has the "pop" that makes it one of the best songs on the album.

All is not serious on the album. AOC does prove their lighter side with "Five Minutes of Fame", a light hearted look at the popular phenomenon of "American Idol" type shows.

Self-indulgent? Yes.

Fun to listen to? Absolutely.

As I said, these people are talented. The only thing that would have made this album any better would have been to end it with AOC covering Dylan's "I Believe in You" or "You Ain't Goin' Nowhere." They would rock those songs.

Paul said, "Just as each of us has one body with many members, and these members do not all have the same function, so in Christ we who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others. We have different gifts, according to the grace given us." Rom. 12:4-6.

In many ways, AOC has pulled off the improbable: blending good music with a good message as freshman band mates. They are nearly everything I am not: talented, smart, and gifted. They are a part of the body I wish I was. And, in the end, AOC took my feeble nod of support and countered it with great music, with a great message.

Take my recommendation (for what its worth): this album is worth owning, and even more than that, worth listening to on a regular basis. It is in now on one of my regular playlists.

Its an easy album to like. And $9.99 on iTunes is all it takes to own such a great album.

But what it doesn't take to like this album is an Act of Congress. And for that, you can thank Adam.

4theluv

P.S. - Adam, the "good, bad and gross things" is just a little too pithy.

Failing Up

“Marriage is three parts love and seven parts forgiveness of sins.” - Lao Tzu

Wednesdays are garbage days around the Luv house. That is a special day in our lives, as it is the day that Mrs. 4theluv and I get to review the evidence of our passive aggressive natures. You see, to ask Mrs. 4theluv, it is a constant and continual failing of mine that I don't take the garbage out of the house near as much as needed, nor near as much as Mrs. 4theluv desires.

Now understand, the right time to take the garbage out is the source of debate in many households, not just ours. I am sure many husbands face similar failures in their own lives. But that is only the beginning. See, I am a morally conscious individual. I believe that taking out the trash is not just the man's job, that just about anyone is capable of doing it. The skill set required to take out the garbage is fairly limited, and definitely not gender specific. And, being the politically correct and socially conscious individual that I am, I graciously allow Mrs. 4theluv ample opportunity to prove the equality of the sexes by taking out the trash. Its technically not rocket science. If you see it needs to be taken out, you pull the strings on the bag, and walk it the 40 or so feet to the big garbage can outside.

But Mrs. 4theluv takes an opposite position, at least when it comes to regularly taking out the trash. Now she will take it out on the days that she cleans the refrigerator, particularly if broccoli or some similar odoriferous content needs disposing. Then she will bag it, but set it just outside the door in the garage so that as I pass by it in the morning on my way to work I will carry it the other 30 feet and put in the can which is outside.

Normally, though, she just ignores the need to take out the trash (a trait which I allow to take place)and instead just keeps throwing things away in the garbage by balancing various rubbish on top of other rubbish, creating an almost Dada"esque" creation worthy of Kurt Schwitters. The balancing act is always very delicate, intentionally so, I think. She knows eventually I will take out the trash, and that trash sculpture will crumble like a house of cards.

So, come Wednesday morning, as I am trying to get out the door for work, I will always remember the trash has to go out. I will turn to our leaning tower of refuse that is our main garbage area and try to bag it. Of course, looking around, Mrs. 4theluv is nowhere to be found, but as things scatter on the floor I am certain a smirk crosses her face, as she has once again shown her superiority in this game of oneupmanship (oneupwomanship? oneuppersonship?).

So I get the garbage out, saying a few words I probably shouldn't, and spend the rest of the day feeling like the loser that I am. And, like Lucy pulling the football from Charlie Brown, Mrs. 4theluv gets to enjoy the rest of the day knowing she got me one more time. I wish I would at least get a "thank you" but I am sure that would spoil the fun.

As I reflected on the battle this morning, I began to sense the frustration that Christ must feel with me, with the sin that so easily entangles me, and my refusal AND inability to take it out. And I began to sense that Christ does what he does with me, not for the "thank you", and not out of a sense of waiting to see if I will do it myself, but rather because he loves me, and gave himself for me.

Paul reminded us well. Be imitators of God, therefore, as dearly loved children and live a life of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us as a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God. [ ... ]Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, (Eph. 5:1-2; 25-26)

I can't get out of mind today how it is that Christ puts up with and carries out my garbage that I pile up for Him. He taught us so many lessons about true love. Forgiveness is an act of love. Service is an act of love. He does it simply because He loves me, and for no other reason. And it is that same love that he calls me to love my wife.

Like many men in our church, I married waaay up. And in that relationship, like every other relationship I am in, like parent, son, sibling, friend, co-worker, I fail consistently. But with relationships built on love, forgiveness is a routine part. And for that, I am the luckiest man alive.

I have received that forgiveness from so many in my life, perhaps I should return that same love. Perhaps I can learn something from the battle of the garbage.

4theluv

The View from Below

"Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world." - John the Baptist

STABAT Mater dolorosa iuxta Crucem lacrimosa, dum pendebat Filius.	AT the Cross her station keeping, stood the mournful Mother weeping, close to Jesus to the last.
Cuius animam gementem, contristatam et dolentem pertransivit gladius.	Through her heart, His sorrow sharing, all His bitter anguish bearing, now at length the sword has passed.
O quam tristis et afflicta fuit illa benedicta, mater Unigeniti!	O how sad and sore distressed was that Mother, highly blest, of the sole-begotten One.
Quae maerebat et dolebat, pia Mater, dum videbat nati poenas inclyti.	Christ above in torment hangs, she beneath beholds the pangs of her dying glorious Son.
Quis est homo qui non fleret, matrem Christi si videret in tanto supplicio?	Is there one who would not weep, whelmed in miseries so deep, Christ's dear Mother to behold?
Quis non posset contristari Christi Matrem contemplari dolentem cum Filio?	Can the human heart refrain from partaking in her pain, in that Mother's pain untold?
Pro peccatis suae gentis vidit Iesum in tormentis, et flagellis subditum.	Bruised, derided, cursed, defiled, she beheld her tender Child All with scourges rent:
Vidit suum dulcem Natum moriendo desolatum, dum emisit spiritum.	For the sins of His own nation, saw Him hang in desolation, Till His spirit forth He sent.
Eia, Mater, fons amoris me sentire vim doloris fac, ut tecum lugeam.	O thou Mother! fount of love! Touch my spirit from above, make my heart with thine accord:
Fac, ut ardeat cor meum in amando Christum Deum ut sibi complaceam.	Make me feel as thou hast felt; make my soul to glow and melt with the love of Christ my Lord.
Sancta Mater, istud agas, crucifixi fige plagas cordi meo valide.	Holy Mother! pierce me through, in my heart each wound renew of my Savior crucified:
Tui Nati vulnerati, tam dignati pro me pati, poenas mecum divide.	Let me share with thee His pain, who for all my sins was slain, who for me in torments died.
Fac me tecum pie flere, crucifixo condolere, donec ego vixero.	Let me mingle tears with thee, mourning Him who mourned for me, all the days that I may live:
Iuxta Crucem tecum stare, et me tibi sociare in planctu desidero.	By the Cross with thee to stay, there with thee to weep and pray, is all I ask of thee to give.
Virgo virginum praeclara, mihi iam non sis amara, fac me tecum plangere.	Virgin of all virgins blest!, Listen to my fond request: let me share thy grief divine;
Fac, ut portem Christi mortem, passionis fac consortem, et plagas recolere.	Let me, to my latest breath, in my body bear the death of that dying Son of thine.
Fac me plagis vulnerari, fac me Cruce inebriari, et cruore Filii.	Wounded with His every wound, steep my soul till it hath swooned, in His very Blood away;
	*
Christe, cum sit hinc exire, da per Matrem me venire ad palmam victoriae.	Christ, when Thou shalt call me hence, by Thy Mother my defense, by Thy Cross my victory;
Quando corpus morietur, fac, ut animae donetur paradisi gloria. Amen.	While my body here decays, may my soul Thy goodness praise, Safe in paradise with Thee. Amen.

When he had received the drink, Jesus said, "It is finished." With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit. (John 19:30)

Would it be that we not forget, the sin that cost us God, nor the God who bought us back, nor the price - His Son, our Lord. Amen.

4theluv

* Stanzas removed by 4theluv for doctrinal reasons.