From Genesis to Miles Davis

In our little two bedroom apartment just north of Greenlake, my wife and I have this room that models a creative playground of sorts. This is what I mean… The space is no bigger than 15 square feet, yet it stretches as wide as we let our imagination reach and as steep as our dreams will go. It’s a room without limitations… no right or wrongs, no fears, no judgments, and certainly no rules. In fact, the slogan of the room is written on a white board in bright pink fluorescent ink: a Miles Davis quote that reads, “Do not fear mistakes… there are none.”

His words can feel wrong in so many ways. Do not fear mistakes, there are none? NONE?! That logic doesn’t even qualify as reason. Of course there are mistakes. Three years ago I was making a left hand turn onto Mercer Street in downtown Seattle when out of nowhere I clipped a man with my side view mirror who was kindly passing in front of me. I’d love to tell you that it took place in a hail storm with limited visibility but the fact of the matter is that I was paying no attention to where I was going. That is called a mistake (and luckily the police officer believed it was, as well). Then there was the time I was driving in a convertible with the top down to pick up my prom date and out of nowhere a gust of wind picked up my date’s corsage off of the seat next to me and flung it into oncoming traffic, only to be crushed under the tires of a passing truck. Again, a mistake indeed. Well, actually, that was just my own stupidity but you get the point. Mistakes happen.

Whether intentional or not, I think what Miles was referring to was more about the imagination of God the Creator than the limitlessness of the human condition. Perhaps the greatest jazz musician of all time was talking about the miracle of creating the way God did at the beginning of time… creating something undeniable out of nothing. I can only imagine that God was not editing himself much as he made the heavens and the earth, the fishes in the seas, and the birds in the air. I don’t think He had some holy eraser, wiping out anything that didn’t resemble a Thomas Kincade painting. In fact, God looked at what he created and called it good… including man and woman.

I wonder how our lives and our communities would change if we looked at the things we know as mistakes and instead, believe that they are good. And not good by comparing ourselves with others, but good because we have this supernatural ability to channel the acoustics of heaven through our every being. What if we cherished the fact that we come in all different shapes and sizes, big and small and by all means, call it good? And what if we lived every day believing that life is a big blank canvas desperate in need for the ink of our souls? Would you dare risk the predictability of your life for the knowledge that you are not a mistake?

Whether in the mind or in a house, we all need that 15 square foot space to allow our wild imaginations to become significant realities. We need to risk losing the fabrication of our adulthood and learn to play in the sandbox like children again. We need to let the lion out of her rusty cage so she can explore the forest once more. And by all means, we need to listen to Miles Davis’ famous recording Kind of Blue and find out just what it means to be of no mistakes.

Beneath the Holy Used Car Lot

At the beginning of the show "Cops" (which is my favorite show of all time, second being "Three's Company"), this creepy moviefone voice says "Viewer Discretion is Advised." Please use your viewer discretion while reading this blog. Understand that as blogs go, this is one interpretation not the interpretation. I have raw and very painful experiences that are carefully interpreted here, but I do not expect everyone to see them as I do and I certainly do not intend to hurt anyone or cause division with my opinions. This is very subjective; as goes the lense of an individual. Capiche?

Onto the blog!

I think that when the smoke clears- when the goals, the dreams, the fears, and the memories vanish away- we will only stand with one question (THE question)… am I loved?

The church has in many ways become the greatest detractor from this core question and it has accomplished this through avenues that CAN be used to project artificial authenticity (but not ALWAYS). In some ways, they can be a protection against intimacy with each other and God...

Sunday staged emotions, activity-driven youth groups, adorable kid programs, and song lyrics that bastardize the pain of human life.

At the same time, we fervently involve ourselves in ego-laced theological debates; that which I refer to as Holy Roller dog fights. Michael Vick, watch out!

Whether the intentions are pure or not, we are consistently doing everything we can to avoid remaining in our most painful spaces… the crevices where years of neglect and abandonment have been treated by Scooby-doo Band Aids and Flinstone vitamins time and time again. The pain is so raw, yet there are no shortages of supplies to numb the nagging reminder that indeed something is missing. Some may believe that vanilla icing on top of feces may just be chocolate cake. Grotesque, but you get my point.

Many of us find our niche in Band Aid treatment and child vitamins by sufficing our extracurricular hours to church volunteerism and/or social justice issues. There’s something about doing “God’s work” that affirms our wholeness. And then some of us go a step further and become church employees; guaranteeing ourselves that not only are we complete, but we are now called to complete the world. This just may be the reason why for many outside of the church, the Christian church is nothing more than a world-wide used car lot business trying to gather more pushy salesmen (Christians) all while selling crappy vehicles (salvation).

** Now before I go any further, I would like to make a "however" statement. HOWEVER...

I am also a big fan of the church. In fact, I'm part of it. Like any relationship, the church and I have had amazing times and tough times. It's the essence of trying to be intimate, isn't it? Church isn't all destructive and much of my wounds from the church were brought on by my own lack of having boundaries. You will understand by the bottom of the email. Read on...

Years ago I began detaching myself from the church used car business for a number of reasons. For one, I hate being pushed into buying anything (I’m trying my hardest not to say I despise salesman, but I do) and two, I’m not sure selling salvation like used cars is what Jesus meant when he said, “Go make disciples of all nations” and “love your neighbor as yourself.” In drawing myself away from the used car vision, I began to experience the friction between believing that I was a rebellious out of placed church nuisance and knowing I was starving for so much more than the happy church musical (figurative) in which I was an actor, a director, and a playwright.

What I came to understand is that the church (its people, its functionality, its vision) can look a lot like love when in many cases, it is not (or at least not the satisfying love that we are talking about). And of course, anything in the world can appear to be the embodiment of love (a rule of thumb- do not try to cuddle with adorable jungle cats). It’s only when you give yourself to an apparition of love that you once again try to heal a wound with a Band Aid, believing that this time I will be complete. And that’s what I did with the church for 15 years. I married something that I thought would completely love me and when it didn’t, I resented it. Truly, it’s no one’s fault but my own. And here's what I mean by that...

God uses every aspect of our life (family, friends, spouses, desires, failures, dreams, jobs, community, churches, etc.) as an avenue to tell us that he loves us completely. It's never about the "avenue" as much as it is about that truth he gives to anchor the soul. Although this blog focused only on my painful experiences with the church (that some of you can certainly relate to), any avenue can be drenched in pain. Thus is the result of a flawed world with flawed people. The point of this blog is to encourage you to journey to that pain; to tend to it. There's a lot of redemption there and as you will see in the next paragraph, much much more.

The fact of the matter is that among all of our differences in beliefs, theology, and ways of life, we all share the same desire as I’m finding out: to be loved completely. This sort of love whispers truth into our pain like a flickering light in a dark cave.

You are cherished. You are delightful. You are known. You are important. You are unique. You are forgiven. You are endless.

And beyond your own doubt, you are loved completely.

The Murky Lake and Snapping Turtles

I'm in that really weird position right now of not really knowing what I'm supposed to do next and currently, I'm not really doing that much. It's that uncertain place of not really knowing who I am anymore. I've been a leader in the church for 15 years and now that I no longer have that pasted on identity, I'm not quite sure of who I am.

I've been a musician, a pastor, an artist, a student, a visionary, a desperate/horny single man [these all being my adult years] and now I'm also a husband and a bearer of a ridiculously enormous vision (starting a pub) that's unbearably overwhelming. And yet, I'm still struggling to find that foundation to stand on. I guess it's like being in the shallow end of a murky lake, all the while you are stretching your toes in order to find the bottom but cautious enough that you won't get bitten by an angry snapping turtle.

And that's just it- I'm not really searching for what to do next, but rather reaching for the foundation on which I'm stranded above. I'm a little embarrassed that I've spent 15 solid years dedicating my everything to God yet at the bottom of it all, I'm not sure if I have ever actually trusted that God is there for me. Maybe this is why I've struggled with the reason to pray because to me, prayer has felt more like an expected action that an intimate necessity. I mean, do we talk to our pillows?

I guess that at the age of 30, I'm tired of living without a solid foundation. Without the foundation, I'm constantly afraid and when I'm constantly afraid, I'm paralyzed from living. And I know that I'm paralyzed right now because I'm highly uncomfortable leaving my own house. I'm afraid of looking stupid, afraid of being unimportant, afraid of abandonment, afraid of failing, afraid of getting abused, afraid, afraid, afraid. Sadly enough, my entire life I've been told that to escape your fear, you just need to do something. The problem is, I've done that and when you're a person who struggles to find a true and solid identity, you live to get the world to give it to you. It's a life plan that no longer works (as if it did in the first place).

I love my wife for many reasons, but one of the biggest reasons is that she continually encourages me to stop trying to follow expectations (such as "go get a job" and "be more creative") and begin nurturing my pain and emptiness. Just today, while she was going off to work her butt off (and I was feeling guilty for that), she insisted that I stray from the "should's" today and just enjoy being who I am. She's more concerned that we build a strong foundation of who we are individually and collectively rather than do everything we can to avoid looking like deadbeats. She knows that I won't really be a healthy influence to the world until I understand why I'm in the world in the first place. That's my wife for you.

There's an old adage that says, "It's not about who you are but 'whose' you are." If you go to a church with the baby boomer generation, you've heard that line a thousand times. But when you are at the bottom of your bruises as I am right now, you come to the realization that the old adage is indeed true. Because when you find out where you came from, you begin to understand who you really are. I think this is why many adults who are adopted try to go back and find their birth parents. There is some inner completeness in doing so.

**

This is the last thing I'll say and then you can go on with your day. We, as an aspiring generation, need to pause and engage in the art of listening. And to do so, we need to face the uncomfortableness of silence. I know that my story is also some of your own stories. Indeed, we live in a deafening noisy chaotic world that fills the soul with a lot of lies (i.e. "you're not good enough"). Hearing truth will silence the lies and burst forth the complete self that we are all dying for. I'm convinced of it.