Dar

I went to a Dar Williams concert at Harvard last night. It was pretty sweet.

A band named "Girly Man" opened for her. I enjoyed them a lot too. There was three of them and one thing that was cool was that they didn't appear to have a clear leader. They all lead for at least one song. They were quite well-received by the audience. There songs were fun and diverse, but I don't a full enough command of musical lingo to describe them better than that.

Dar opened with a really great cover of Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb (and I found out today that on the album she team's up with Ani DiFranco for that song so I'd really like to hear that). All her songs were great. Her voice is amazing and her lyrics are thoughtful and bold yet simple and direct. She also told some stories about how she used to live in Cambridge after college. ahh, good ol' Cambridge.

This experience made me realize that musicians are incredibly brave people. Obviously, they get on stage in front of large crowds knowing that they are being evaluated for their performance, appearance and stage presence, but there's more than that I think. They're also publicly expressing what often seem to be very vulnerable emotions. Actually, it seems to go beyond just expressing emotion; they're tapping into these feelings right there on stage and living these emotions for consumption by the rest of us.

But I think there's still more than that. Good musicians have the ability to draw the audience into that same emotional space. They create an opportunity for the performer and viewer to connect by sharing the same emotional journey for a time. Yet, by being so vulnerable, accessible and inviting they are also risking profound rejection.

I'm not a musician so all of this is just speculation from an outsider. But I'm an interested outsider so I'd love to hear from some of you musicians out there. Am I on to something with this stuff?

An Illuminating Excavation Attempt

This is a recounting of the dream I had while on our camping trip. I was sleeping in a tent in scandalously close proximity to my friend Andrew. I think he is to thank, in part, for me having this dream. He's a dream expert of sorts and I think just being next to him caused some of his special dream skills to rub off on me.

I don't very often remember my dreams and if I do it's for a time of about 20 seconds, max. However, this dream seemed to be quite clear in my memory for hours. It feels like it's utterly rich in symbolism and just teeming with significance. So here it is:

I was on some sort of excavation expedition. The setting sorta reminded me of the opening scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark. So it was sort of a jungley-hilly sort of place. I was young. It's hard to say how young but younger than I am now -- maybe college-aged.

The other main character was an older man (late forties maybe). He was the one in charge. I think I was sort of his apprentice. He was very a learned, knowledgeable, professorial type of guy. The intellectual, let's-get-down-to-business type.

There was a clearing where our primary excavation effort was taking place. We were digging up the side of a grassy-green hill. (Picture a modest hill with a round crater dug out of it sort of diagonally). Standing in the center of the crater was a dead man. He was standing right up against the earthy wall of the crater with his back to us. He was naked and his body had been somehow preserved -- it had not decayed at all. I never saw his face, but he was an average-sized guy who looked strong with well-defined muscle tone.

I follow the older guy over to the dead man. He takes a knife and carves out a piece of flesh from the man's back. His cutting is precise and skillful, he knows exactly what he's doing and is very intentional about it. After he's finished cutting, he hands the sliver of flesh to me. It's my job to take it away and perform some kind of analysis on it. We are looking for something that we (mostly the older man) believe will be found in the body of this dead man so we are dissecting him in order to find it. I can't say for sure it's an actual physical item or some sort of knowledge.

Before I take the piece of tissue away, I see the man take his knife and carefully make one tick mark in the back of the man's neck. I leave with my first specimen to do whatever and then I come back to receive the next chunk of flesh. Each time the man records our progress my making another tick mark in the back of the dead man's neck. This process is repeated over and over again many times.

After many of these cycles, I look at the back of the dead man's neck and it is full of tick marks (sets of four with a slash through them to denote five). There is a huge crater that has been carved out of the dead man's back, one piece at a time. There is some sense of frustration that we have had to dig this deep and have still not found what we're looking for. Soon, we have worked our way all the way from the man's back to his front and there's only a thin layer preventing there being a hole right through him (I don't remember there being any organs).

The older guy is deeply concerned and cannot believe that we are stymied. It has never occurred to him that that which we seek would not be inside this man. There is confusion over how to proceed or even if we can proceed.

So that was it. It was pretty trippy. All the things written in bold are symbols that I've been able to interpret. I'd like to thank my friends Andrew Weigel, Andrew Snekvik, and Chad Johns for helping me to figure out what this dream meant (dream interpretation can take you far in life). The meaning is a little too personal to write here, but ask me about it and I will gladly fill you in.

Having figured all this out, it feels like this was one the clearest examples I've had in my life of God speaking to me through a dream. It was a pretty neat experience.

Adventures in Backpacking

This weekend I got to go backpacking with some friends. It was me and my friends Andrew, Alissa, Lynn, Laura and Lyzz. It was pretty fun. I don't think any of us had been backpacking before so we were all amateurs. Since we didn't really know what we were doing we decided we had better only do a one-night trip.

Our plan was to leave Boston at 1:30 and hopefully be on the trail by 4:30 so we could get to the campsite before dark. Well, after a last minute run to REI and realizing that we couldn't fit nearly as much crap into the number of backpacks that we were planning to take it was past 2:30. We hit the road with me and Andrew in my car and the girls in Lynn's car.

It turns out that there are some crazy people out on the highways these days. While the girls were driving on the Pike, they were passed by two kooks in a car that were directing some fire-and-brimstone, rapture-warning fanatical propaganda at them. In fact, here's a copy of the sign they saw in the passing car.

We got a little lost trying to find exactly where the trailhead was but we eventually found it... or so we thought. The trail we were looking for was in Connecticut on the Appalachian trail. We found a trail head and started hiking. By this time it was only an hour before it would start getting dark. We hiked for about 45 minutes before we realized that we were heading South when the trail we wanted heads North. So we picked up the wrong trailhead. This meant that our chances of reaching the campsite which was 5-6 miles from the road were bleak (and even if we had found the right trail I don't think we would have made it).

So we decided to just plop down and camp on the trail that we were on. Luckily we were right next to a great campsite. By the time we set up the tents it was getting pretty dark so we got started on Dinner. Andrew brought an impressively compact camping stove called the "pocket rocket." We cooked some hot dogs and veggie dogs and then we roasted marshmallows. You can learn a lot about somebody's personality from the way they roast marshmallows.

After dinner, the girls embarked on what seemed to be a very long, involved, and complex urination expedition. We could hear them giggling wildly from the campsite. Then me and Andrew took the backpack with all our food to hang it in a tree some distance from the campsite. This is supposed to prevent bears and "roaccons" (vicious, nasty beasts) from tearing apart your tent and attacking you just to get to your food. This provided some challenge, but it was readily met with our respective skills.

Then it was bed time. The guys tent was a rather cozy two person tent. Luckily Andrew and I are good friends (and now we're even better friends :). The girls had a large 4-person tent. I think I fell asleep pretty quickly despite have a large sharp rock undneath me. Then I had one of the most memorable and meaningful dreams I've had in years, maybe ever. That dream will be recounted in a later blog entry.

In the morning, we made oatmeal for breakfast. Then I bet Laura ten dollars that she wouldn't eat a (very small) millipede. Not only did she eat it, but she chewed it. Her reaction was worth ten bucks.

We packed up the campsite and then hiked back to the cars (we had to go buy it anyway to find the right trailhead). Then we put all the camping gear back in the cars and set out to find the trail we wanted carrying just day packs. We walked along the highway for a long time but couldn't find the trail. After a while, we gave up, walked back to the cars and then drove until we found the trail. Then the real hiking finally began. It was very pretty.

We saw some interesting sites along the way. For a good part of the hike we were along a large river. Eventually we came to a wide section of the river filled with large flat rocks. We spent a while hopping around all these rocks and then I saw an irresistable opportunity. It was a great "Wild at Heart" moment (alluding to the awesome book by John Eldredge).

I found two big rocks seperated by a fairly sizable distance with the river gushing in between them. I instantly wanted to see if I could make the jump across. It was just far enough that I had serious doubts about my ability to make it, but not too far that it was out of the question. How could I pass this up? In the movies, you always see the protaganist in a situation where he has to jump from one building to another and he has that moment of pause but then goes for it and (usually) makes it. This was like the exact same thing except the consequence of failure isn't death, but the stakes are still pretty high.

So I backed up to the edge of the rock (it was just big enough to allow two strides of a running start), took a deep breath and went for it. The toes of my hiking boots just managed to hit the edge of the rock and I was able to catch my balance on the rock. SUCCESS!! It was a pretty awesome feeling so I think I jumped up and down a couple of times waving my arms in victory. A few people even managed to witness it.

We stayed in the area a bit longer and I made a few other rock-hops (though none as monumental) and so did some others. By the time we were leaving the area, I had just gotten cocky. So when I came to those same two rocks, I arrogantly set out to make the reverse jump. Well as you can probably guess I came up short. My feet landed in the water and my right shin hit the rock pretty hard. Thankfully, I didn't lose my balance and my feet were only in the water a couple seconds before I could hop onto the rock.

It hurt a lot so had to spend a minute or two walking back and forth saying "oww." The pain subsided a bit and I figured I was ok because walking didn't make it hurt more and it didn't feel like anything was broken. At first, I didn't bother looking at it, but then I notice blood starting to seep through my pants so I figured I should give it a look.

The cut wasn't particularly bloody nor particularly deep but the swelling was... dare I say grotesque. It looked like there was half of a tennisball inside my leg. Luckily, Andrew brought a first-aid kit and nurse-in-training Lyzz was on the scene. She cleaned with some stuff that felt like clorox and then bandaged it up and I was good to go.

Other notable events of the hike included Laura's determination to go swimming. Even though she spent the entire trip trying to convince the rest of us that we wanted go too, she was the only one who was brave enough in the end. The rest of us were game for watching the display of shivering though.

I think that was pretty much it. We headed back to beantown not too long after that. All of us except for Lynn (who drove home to Connecticut) piled into my car for the return trip which was nice and cozy. I'm writting this blog entry more than a month later and pre-dating it so I may have left out some of the details that were actually interesting.

Also, the swelling on my shin stuck around for a couple weeks and really freaked out my physical therapist who was irresistably drawn to squeezing it to push the fluid around inside my leg (it was really freaky, you could hear the fluid moving around). OK, now I can blog the dream I had.

What then shall I do?*

I got baptized this Saturday. It was a pretty cool experience.

I was baptized as a baby, but I decided that I wanted to be baptized again because I didn't have any ownership or memory of that first experience.

A lot of my friends showed up to watch which meant a lot to me. I got to share a little bit of the story that brought me to the point of baptism. I've included it here for anyone who wants to read it.

I only had a few minutes to speak and my story is long so I had to leave out most of the details, but if your curious about it, just ask me and I will fill you in. Oh, and I'm hoping to have pictures up soon.

I’ve never been a very emotional person. I think I decided that emotions were unsafe at a young age. So I focused on what I could achieve. A constant stream of impressive achievements got me lots of affirmation and built my ego. I figured if I could get enough of those two things then happiness was guaranteed.

I worked hard and even achieved some pretty lofty goals, but satisfaction was always short-lived since there was always some new ivory-tower goal to give myself to, all the while keeping a cap on my emotions.

I had nearly perfected the illusion of the life I thought I wanted when things started to crumble. Suddenly I was bitter and angry all the time. I assumed an attitude of utter self-centeredness to ensure that I could continue to achieve my goals. I began to systematically sabotage all the relationships that were really important to me.

Soon all the towers of achievement I had built up for myself were torn down and I was miserable and very alone. I couldn’t think of a reason for why I should be alive.

There was no way out that I could see. Then I received a postcard in the mail. It was a postcard for the Vineyard. To be honest, I was really suspicious of it, but I was desperate so I decided to check it out. During the service, I was thinking to myself “what a weird way to do church.” But everyone seemed to be so genuinely happy. At the end of service a pitch was made for small groups. At that moment, I knew in my heart that that’s what I needed. I signed up to be in a small group and committed to myself that I would go every week.

That was two and a half years ago and my life is utterly different now. I had know idea that when I came to that first service that the people I was meeting were my new family. They eagerly took me in, cared for me with extravagant love and help me put my life back together.

I also met a man named Jesus. He helped me to see that I had been living my life in a prison. I was bound by so many chains that freedom seemed impossible. I didn’t even have the courage to try. But he was unflinching. He was determined to break every chain, one by one. He would stop at nothing – he would literally stop at nothing to break each one. There was nothing he wouldn’t do, there was no sacrafice he wouldn’t make, and there was nothing he wouldn’t endure to make sure I was truly free.

And I want to be honest with you. There are still some chains. Jesus still has work to do in me so it’s a good thing he’ still alive. You’re looking at one sheep who gets lost pretty often. But each time I do Jesus, my shepherd, leaves his flock to come and find me and bring me back.

* The title of this post is a clever allusion to a Biblical account that gives an amazing image of what would make someone want to get baptized. It's from Acts 2.

Unclehood

I just got back from seeing my sister and her husband and my Mom in Texas. I went because my sister just had her first baby! I'm an uncle now!

His name is Matthew. His hobbies include eating, sleeping, and pooping -- oh and screaming really loud at night! :)

He's sorta funny looking right now, but we think it's just a phase. His skin is a little big for his body at the moment. sometimes his face gets all scrunched up and he opens one eye and does a really awesome Popeye impression.

Here's some pictures of uncle and nephew, united at last:




You can see that I'm giving him a subconcious lesson in the value of cool t-shirts!

If you look carefully at the picture where he has the yellow shirt, you can see that it's a crew shirt! I also bought him a Texas hat.


It's all about enjoying all of the perks of the 'miracle of life' with none of the responsibilities.

Fast-track to living bread.

So last week I did a little experiment. I chose to purposefully not eat during the week and drink only water. Now why would somebody do this? Well I had a couple of reasons.

Jesus makes the weird statement (one of many): "I am the bread of life." He goes on to say that following him means to eat his body and drink his blood. I had been thinking about what on earth this meant. Was he serious? Was he being literal? Is it a metaphor of some kind?

I'm not a theologian (and don't want to be) but I thought about it and here's my best stab at what he meant. We eat and drink for nourishment. Our bodies need to digest food in order to replenish energy stores so we can walk around and think and watch movies. But humans are made up of more than just a body, we also have a spirit. So I think Jesus was being serious and he was being literal. He was saying that he can be food for our spirit.

OK, but does that actually mean anything in the real world? If I'm "feeding my spirit", is that just some intellectual/emotional thing that takes place in my head that I could have made up anyway? Well this is where my experiment came in.

If I'm not taking in any physical food and only spiritual food then maybe I can actually see the effects of focusing in on the spiritual. It seems like that's a way to make it more real.

Plus, Jesus says (along with the rest of the Bible) that there's all this spiritual power in fasting. So during this time I was also asking God to help a bunch of people experience all the same great things I've experienced.

Well I'm very happy to report that it was a really awesome experience! I never really felt that hungry which seemed pretty miraculous to me. In previous attempts to do stuff like this, I would normally be ravenously hungry, but not this time. Not only was I not starving, I actually felt really good. I think Wednesday was the best day, especially during and after small group.

The other interesting thing is that I actually felt like I was getting fed. I felt like the time I spent talking to God by myself and with others was my food and that it was actually sustaining me.

The experience was so powerful and encouraging that I'm planning to try and develop a lifestyle that includes more fasting.

Good books lately

I've found myself reading a lot of really interesting things recently (all at the same time).

First off, I've been going through this riveting study guide on the life of Moses. Turns out Moses was just a normal dude who, through much persuasion, decided to say yes to the life that God had for him.

Then, every week has held several hours of reading for my Perspectives class. We read from many different authors and that keeps it varied and interesting. The reading has been really interesting and it's sure helped me to get a better grasp on the overall story of the entire Bible. Rather than seeing it as a collection of loosely-related, disjointed, and out of date theological essays, I've started to get a clearer sense of the big picture. It's neat to see how into stories and storytelling God is.

Which brings me to the book I just finished reading, Epic: The Story that God is Telling and the Role That is Yours to Play, by John Eldredge. This book's really awesome. The idea is that God is and always has been telling one story. It's the story we love to hear and long to be a part of.

The interesting thing is that all these different readings have turned out to be closely related. The also tie in closely with a talk (Be the Hero of Your Own Life! 02/13/2005) my pastor gave a few weeks ago. The idea is that people love stories and this is true of all cultures throughout history. We love to hear them, we love to tell them and we also have a longing to be in them. What about stories is so captivating to us? Can this universal affinity for stories tell us anything about the way we tick?

It turns out that there is one type of story structure that has seemed to pop up in every culture in history: the hero myth. It's almost as if this flavor of story has been hard-wired into our mental taste buds. There's something irresistable about a great hero/heroine story.

Looking at all the different incarnations of hero stories, we start to notice a few common elements (turns out some people [including J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis] have thought about this stuff very carefully):

• Ordinary World - the hero starts out in typical mundane circumstances
• Call to Adventure - out of the blue, something unbelievable interupts the ordinary world and calls the hero out into a larger adventure that is already underway.
• Refusal of the Call - at first the hero does not feel up to the task
• Mentorship - an older, wiser character serves to call out and train the hero
• A few other stages which ultimately lead the hero to kicking some major bad-guy butt and winning the affections of a rather attractive life partner.

It's easy to see all the elements of this pattern if you think about characters like Luke Skywalker from Starwars or Neo from the Matrix. Perhaps, humanity is so entranced by the hero myth because we all secretly want to be the hero (I know I do). Or perhaps it goes even deeper and we all resonate with the hero myth because we were designed to be the hero of our own lives. Incidentally, the Moses study guide mentioned above, examines the story of Moses on these terms -- very cool.