The Keyboard for Man or Man for The Keyboard?

Well...the past few days have been a pretty intense time of deciding to hunt down some answers, or at least some pointers to answers, about what godly masculinity and femininity are, without settling for any beat-around-the-bush answer that simply construes virtues that everyone should have into "what it means to be a man" (like "responsibility"...I'm looking at you, Mark Driscoll!)

So my mind has been working on that and I'm still at the point where I don't feel I've reached something completely solid in my mind yet, but I have definitely enjoyed the thoughts of Peter Kreeft and John Eldredge on the issue.

Anyway...to diverge a little bit from cosmic ideas and into existential, first world oddities...tonight I had the thought of how weird it is that typing with a keyboard seems so natural for me now, as if I had been born with an innate ability to do it. It's kind of funny how I you don't think about how proficient you are at it until you take a mental step back to consciously observe how your fingers respond to words that are going through your head...and suddenly it's kind of scary, because it's almost like your fingers are robotically programmed, they're moving on their own.

Why does it seem that we have a hard time developing such proficiency at other skills in life? If only my circumstances required me to be a better singer rather than just my will! But would that actually make me a better singer? Or would it rather force me to push my voice unhealthily into making certain sounds even if I could not make the sound with good technique?

Another thing the keyboarding phenomenon brought up: there is a strange righteousness in un-self-conscious movement. (There's an idea that Kreeft gets at in "Sex In Heaven"--self-forgetfulness). Yes, that is something I need much more, to not be so conscious of myself, to experience the fullness of being fixed on something else...like the physical task at hand.

Let's Think About It...

This past weekend I went on a church retreat and it provoked a lot of thoughts...ranging from the monumental to the seemingly trivial (ah, but I would beg to differ that some things that seem trivial are anything but!)...

I've been thinking a lot about Christian-ese in general, things that we in Christian groups tend to say a lot and whether we're actually thinking about them when we say them, or whether we're being earnest...

Here's one I like: "what lies do you believe about yourself?"

Actually, this is a pretty good question to ask yourself. But to be honest, I find it a little unsettling that this is the kind of question that is asked in small groups, and then people answer right away, explaining in detail. I mean...if you believe a lie...then you think it's the truth, right? As in, you wouldn't be able to say, "I believe this lie" straightfaced.

Part of me marvels at the actual possibility of being able to believe something and know it's a lie (and I understand there is some reality to this scenario)...it shows how messed up our minds can be. But at the same time, I don't find it very healing, necessarily, to confess what "lies I believe", because when I search my heart, I can easily identify the things that it feels like I'm supposed to mention, but here's the thing: I have a lot of doubts and insecurities that no one can just wave away with their hand, like there's something written in the Universe that says they can't be true. They will have to be proven to be true or untrue. I don't know if they're lies. Many of the things I fear about myself could very well be true.

Another thing that's been grinding at me a little bit is how dishonest we can be when trying to be gracious...like telling someone that a mistake they made is "OK" or telling someone they did a great job when they clearly failed, however significant or insignificant the task. In both myself and others, I've been starting to pick out brutal dishonesty when it happens. Is this just the result of human limitations in communication and patience? Is it practical to on a regular basis to respond to moderate trespasses, inconveniences, and offenses with super-intentional and clear statements which both establish the offense and offer grace? I mean like someone showing up late for something (which I do way too much and should therefore probably be the recipient of the weight of my own suggestion), or someone paying you back for something an eternity after you lent them money. Typically we would just respond with "hey, it's OK," even if we really didn't feel that way. Is this the most God-honoring response for these kinds of thigs, or would we better serve each other and ourselves to say, "Hey man, I'm really not OK with the way you took so long to pay me back, but I forgive you..."? Hm...I guess you can chalk it up to the classic realist vs. idealist conflict.

One reason I love Jesus is that he was both the ultimate realist and the ultimate idealist.

The above thought also kind of goes with blind encouragement...like "you're so awesome!" or stretching to compliment someone in organized encouragement activities that we as Christians like to do. How many times can you say generic things like "I just see so much life in you!" to each person before it starts to lose its meaning?

I don't say all this because I am gagging on the idea of grace, or at least I don't believe that to be true. I guess I just have this dream of wondrous depth in the things we say...I long to see grace and truth kiss in our speech the same way mercy and justice are to kiss in our actions, the way they did on the cross.

Spiritual-Wrestling Music

The other day a friend of mine posted an article on Facebook that Marcus Mumford of Mumford & Sons made a statement that the groups just-released album wasn't intended to be an assertion of Christian faith, and that he "doesn't even call [himself] a Christian."

Though those who aren't Christians would probably naturally find it strange to be disappointed at such an announcement, to me, this is pretty disappointing, because I felt a sense of camaraderie with this singer in all the depth of his words. The imagery he used in his songs seemed so overtly Christian to me that it seemed almost impossible for him not to be a believer in Christ himself, plus there were the connections to the UK Vineyard Church through his parents and the fact that someone in my church said they had a connection to him through his family and knew that he was a Christian...but at the moment, it seems like it's not the case.

This was the response I posted on my friend's wall, the result of mulling over Mumford's statement:


This kind of reminds me of Amy Lee from Evanescence saying "I'm a Christian, but that in no way influences my work." There's obviously some element of dishonesty somewhere. 


I find it interesting that Marcus Mumford seems so bent on downplaying the role of Christianity in his band's music, yet he is also so bent on writing music that is overtly infused with Christian themes. Some people would say that the lyrics don't really have to do with Christianity in particular and are just vaguely spiritual, but I would disagree. Several songs on Sigh No More deal with the concept of grace, which is a distinctly Christian idea. There are also songs that very clearly seem to point to Jesus' parables, like the parable of the prodigal son in "Roll Away Your Stone" and the parable of the seeds in "Thistle & Weeds".


So what's going on is that Mumford's songwriting is actually hitting on some large Biblical truths, whether he likes to emphasize it or not. Part of me refuses to believe that the man who wrote all these songs could not have Jesus in his heart, and that he is at the moment only making a confused mistake (albeit a very public one) in expressing himself, or he is overdoing it on trying to align himself with the I-love-Jesus-but-hate-religion to the point that he's forgetting to acknowledge Jesus. I HOPE that's the case as opposed to the alternative.


I know I once wrote a song and before singing it to someone, I said, "This is a song about God but it isn't a Christian song." I was trying to keep my listener from disengaging, but in the process I was suggesting it didn't have to do with my Christianity, when it did, and very strongly so, and thus I was downplaying the very thing I ultimately hoped would shine through. After that incident I felt horrible--I felt like I had denied God. From now on I try to let my songs speak for themselves and I answer openly when asked about them...let my yes be my yes and my no be my no.


Does that mean I'm not a Christian, or that I wasn't a Christian? I hope not, or else the gospel isn't true. And so I hope is the case with Mumford. In fact, I see a large value in trying to deflect people's conceptions of what they think you are when they think you're a "Christian band"--because there are all sorts of things associated with that that would prevent people from actually being affected by your music. But ultimately you have to stop dodging the truth.


I wish someone would just ask Marcus Mumford, "OK, so your band isn't a 'Christian band'...but what do you believe about Jesus?" That's the heart of the matter. I hope he sees him as more than just another spiritual guy, because I definitely have formed a spiritual attachment to Mumford's songs in part because I thought they were inspired by the same beliefs I have. I'm arranging "The Cave" for [my university's Christian a cappella group, which I used to be a part of], and I was previously rather confident that there was some solidarity between the original songwriter and [the a cappella group's] purpose...now I'm not so sure, and that bums me out...but the fact of the matter is, as much as songs are subjective, there is also a certain objectivity to them. They must mean something, even if their writer didn't know what he was getting himself into. So I'm going to try to continue to enjoy Mumford & Sons' music for all that it is and hope that it communicates eternal truth to others, even if Marcus Mumford himself doesn't believe in that truth.


So...right now that is my outlook. One thing that has encouraged me in the fact that I have felt such a spiritual connection to Mumford & Sons' music and sort of reaffirms whether it's worthwhile to arrange an a cappella version of "The Cave" is a little bit of consideration of the philosophy of Eugene Peterson, who wrote The Message paraphrase translation of The Bible. One quote that kind of helps give an idea of his philosphy: "Every time a story is well-told, the gospel is served." This whole life we are living is an arena from which we understand what a story is, and all stories point to the greatest story ever told, the epic of God and the people he created, and his quest to redeem them. A song doesn't have to be overly churchy to point to that story, that story called the Gospel, or to point to the deep subplots within it that we encounter as the ins and outs of spiritual wrestling. When I listen to Mumford & Sons' music (which has helped me in my struggle to make sense of a deep internal conflict dealing with the debate of Calvinism and Arminianism) I conclude that it has arisen from a healthy wrestling with true spiritual matters, even if that wrestling has not yet borne fruit in the writers' hearts. I pray that it still will if that is indeed the case.

That One Thing You Bought That One Time For That One Thing

I haven't posted on this site in almost TWO YEARS? Looking back at old posts, I feel like I wrote them when I was a kid.

I guess I kind of gave up on this for a while because school. And because I thought, oh, I want to write songs now, that's the cool way to communicate your thoughts, that's the way culture gets its poetry today, I wanna be a part of that, yada yada...I still do. I'm still trying to write songs. I've written a few that I think are pretty good. But I feel like I haven't been nurturing my writing abilities a ton and I think part of that is that I've ignored the extended form. Plus there are some things I'll never find a way to say in a song, as much as I have the vague ambition of turning every thought that strikes me as unique into a song...

So, going off of that, I thought maybe I'd just spill some things that have come to my mind recently that seemed interesting, and that may eventually turn into a song. Or may not.

Isn't it odd how much stuff you own that you never use, or that you only use once a year? I don't mean the kind of stuff that's comprised of all those Christmas presents you asked for so eagerly, but then you got and never played with. I mean stuff like a camera tripod, a volleyball, a two-way tv cable splitter, those random office supplies you have so preparedly made sure to stock in your desk drawer...I've found it interesting as I've moved here and there as a college student the number of things I "need" by some vague notion of "good-to-have" or "wouldn't-want-to-be-without-if-the-situation-came-up-where-I-needed-it"...I also noticed that this problem compounds when you actually own a home because you aren't forced to slim down from moving so much...and at that point you kind of think of yourself as an estate, like, shoot, if this is a real household, it's gotta have a full stock of oven mitts and a fondue machine for every fifth year the family Christmas party is at our place and everything...

I kind of mock this mentality but I know I already kind of fall into it from time to time. It's almost like I imagine a neighbor knocking on my door, like people did in the old days, and asking me if I have this or that item because their item has either been depleted in supply or has ceased to be functional, and I dread being the guy who can't help out the dear neighbor because I don't have a USB-to-whatever converter but I KNOW I have a USB-to-whatever converter back at my parents' house.

It's just kind of funny in general to think about things every household has but that rarely get used...all the old wagons and tarps and wrench sets sitting in garages across the country.

I think as a society we could be more efficient if we had groups with whom we shared these kinds of objects rather than owning them...that way when we end up in a bind and needed some particular tool we didn't have, we would be covered because groups like that could afford to be more exhaustive with what tools they owned and lent out to its members. And of course, people who needed their own tools on a regular basis could simply have their own their tools just like before.

But then...where would the nostalgia be for the time my bike lock decided it was done unlocking if I didn't still have the bolt cutter I had to buy to remedy the situation?