Weekend Culture Update.

I finished recording Fairest Lord Jesus. I can't decide if it's decent or awful, but I'm pretty sure it's awful and I'm going to have to start from scratch in order to improve. But you learn a little something more from every recording experience. This one taught me that the chord organ simply isn't as beautiful as I'd like to pretend it to be, and fake reverb isn't very beautiful either.

I finally watched The Thin Blue Line, the classic documentary by Errol Morris. Now that I've seen his most significant work, I feel I can talk about him with some sense of authority and credibility. I love the guy. If you don't know anything about him, get your hands on any one of his films, including his First Person television series, and then we'll discuss.

We went to see The Visitor tonight. It's a charming and powerful little gem of a movie that I'll highly recommend. The only problem was that the audio cut out in the final minutes. It did so in such a way that we weren't sure if it was an artistic decision (which seemed quite odd but somewhat possible) or a technical malfunction. After consulting Neville, it was certainly a very unfortunate technical malfunction.

After hearing our friend Mike play piano in our friend Nate's living room, I decided today to download some of Philip Glass's solo piano music. It's lovely. And of course I also like him because he collaborates with Errol Morris quite often.

Speaking of liking something for not exactly the right reasons, when my family asked me if I liked the Chatham concert, I said I enjoyed it quite a bit. My eight-year-old niece said, "You just like him because he's from Paris!"

What insight. Maybe she's on to something.

Two of Wesley's Chatham photos

While you're at it, click on a photo and check out Wesley's Flickr photostream. The kid's either got talent or an expensive camera that does all the work for him...one of the two.

Checking in...

It's been a blur of a mood-swing of a week with little time to stop and think. Summer is here, no doubt, with late sunsets and singing birds and warm sunshine, and there's only two days left with the kids next week so it's time to get sentimental.

Pitchfork covered the Chatham concert we went to last Friday. It was a really great, fun, interesting experience. I'd venture to say it was even worth the gas money to drive all the way to Williamsport. My photos are sub-par and Wes hasn't sent me his yet, so check out their article here.

To my knowledge, it's really the only significant thing written about the performance. I keep checking YouTube for some footage with no success.

Les 100 Guitares

Tomorrow night will see me traveling to Williamsport with Steve and Wes to see the debut of a new composition for 100 electric guitars by Rhys Chatham.

I have a feeling this will not be so much about the music as it will be about the spectacle (have you ever seen 100 electric guitars on one stage before??) and the cultural experience (I mean, what sort of person is actually interested in something like this??). I'm very intrigued to see how the whole thing will unfold.

I think it's going to be a very exciting prelude to the summer.

"Guitar Centet will not be about brutal intensity, but rather about the fantastic sonority that only an ensemble of 100 electric guitars can achieve, which I have been working with for almost 20 years now. It will be about the sheer beauty and sensuality of the electric guitar."

Leave it to the Diversity Committee Chairman

Yes, let me preface this little story by reminding you that I am the chair of the Diversity Committee at my school.

My nephew graduated from pre-school tonight, and spirits were high as we celebrated this significant moment in the life a bright young mind. The pre-school meets at our church, and Erica and I arrived a bit early and took the lower entrance.

Since we were in charge of bringing the video camera, we decided to capture some melodramatic footage as we entered the building. We were taping as we walked down the hall, and I began mentioning the little generic cardboard pictures of boys and girls decorating the walls.

I was making my typical goofy, sardonic, and borderline-distasteful comments, hamming it up for the camera, when we arrived at the cardboard cutout of a little Asian girl.

Poking fun at our mostly homogenous town and church, I said something to the effect of, "Look! The Pre-School at Calvary is so diverse, we hang pictures of little Asian girls on the walls!"

And at that precise moment, a Dad walked by with his pre-schooler, a little girl quite clearly of Asian ethnicity.

Whoops.

My sister pointed out it could have been worse if I had used the word "Oriental" instead of "Asian." Good point, but regardless, it felt a little bit like a Michael Scott blunder.

Optimus Prime in my Backyard

The Transformers 2 crew is coming to my city.

Unfortunately, they're only looking for extras of Asian ethnicity.

Ryan Seacrest Stole My Haircut

A boy came into the classroom yesterday morning quite proud of his new haircut. It was shorter, and a bit more styled than what he typically goes for.

I came to find out that when he decided to get it cut, he wanted it done like Mr. Shorb's.

And as if that isn't funny enough in itself, because the hairstylist wasn't quite aware of who Mr. Shorb is, his backup suggestion was a cut like Ryan Seacrest.

I'm honored, first of all that a fifth grader thinks I'm stylish enough to mimic, and second of all that I'm being compared to a celebrity.

And after some browsing, yeah, I guess our hair is a little bit similar.

Ha!

This is the same boy who, I was told, when his sister asked why teachers didn't have to wear uniforms at school, he proudly bragged, "Well, my teacher wears a tie every day!"

"Staring Contest of the Century!"

A certain 5th grader and I always end up randomly staring each other down in the hallways, I guess in some sort of an attempt to intimidate each other. He's quite good at staring, actually, and I finally decided the only way to properly settle the matter was to hold an official staring contest. I'd see him on the playground, I told him. He welcomed the challenge.

So before leaving the dining room, I made an announcement to the fifth grade. "Today on the playground, [insert name here] and I will be having the staring contest of the century! If you are interested in seeing [insert name again] defeated, please feel free to come and watch!"

With that, we marched to the playground, he with his posse of supporters and me with mine. We walked to the middle of the fenced-in area and I got everyone clapping on beat to build excitement.

We laid the ground rules: First one to look away loses. Smiling is fair, blinking is fair, talking is fair, but no looking away.

A boy announced each of us and we came out of our corners staring.

We were surrounded by people, his posse trying to distract me, mine trying to distract him, but we were quite focused.

He lasted much longer than I ever expected. Despite all of my shenanigans, trying desperately to get in his head, psych him out, or tempt him and peer pressure him into giving up, he stood completely firm.

We were twenty--yes, twenty--minutes in when I heard my co-teacher say something close by. It was at that instant that my concentration broke and I ever-so-naturally looked over to hear what she was saying.

I immediately realized what I had done and screamed in agony. My opponent cheered in victory and ran off with his posse to enjoy his last few precious minutes of recess.

Sanctified by His ____?_____

I'm not very eloquent, and that makes me wonder why God wants me to be a teacher. I'll do my best, but my fumbling attempts get to be a little exasperating.

I tried to open class with the Oldheads by driving home an important point, but I think it got lost in translation. Plus, they all looked a little sleepy at the start, which didn't help matters.

I pointed out to them that, throughout the 10 weeks of studying Isaiah thus far, neither Carl or I had ever given them an instruction on how to live. Sure, there's been a little application here or there, but not a single, "Go and do this" or "Go and do that." Instead, we're learning about God and his character, and how he worked in the lives of the Israelites.

For some people, this is enough to drive them crazy. "But what's all this have to do with ME? How does it help me live my life, work at my job, interact with my family and neighbors? Isn't Christianity about being a better person? And isn't church about learning how to do that?" We grow impatient with studies like these, and that's undoubtedly one reason why we avoid the Old Testament so much of the time.

I tried telling them that expanding one's view of God--what a study of Isaiah will ultimately do--will have direct implications on how one lives, whether knowingly or unknowingly.

It's not about teaching what to do and what not to do, and it's not about teaching how to do those things and how to avoid the other things. No, it's about who God is and what he's doing.

In John 17:17, Christ says that we will be sanctified, or made holy, by his truth. He doesn't say we'll improve by following his instructions, no, but rather only by getting to know him and his truth.

We get this wrong a lot of times.

And it's admittedly a hard thing to comprehend, a hard thing for our flesh and strong wills to understand and try out. We'd prefer to get the instructions, grit our teeth, and work hard in our self-sufficiency until we get the job done. And if you're anything like me, that won't last too long before you realize how often you continually fail. But if instead, you start encountering God in all his glory, and those truths start echoing in your mind throughout the week as they've been doing with me, it's hard not to live a little bit differently! You'll start seeing things with an eternal perspective, which begins to prioritize everything in the right order. With a proper perspective of who you are before the eternal, sovereign Lord, things begin to change.

And alas, even now I think I'm failing to make this rather clear. Hmpf.

"We need a husband!"

Isaiah 3:24-4:1
Instead of fragrance there will be a stench;
instead of a sash, a rope;
instead of well-dressed hair, baldness;
instead of fine clothing, sackcloth;
instead of beauty, branding.
Your men will fall by the sword,
your warriors in battle.
The gates of Zion will lament and mourn;
destitute, she will sit on the ground.
In that day seven women
will take hold of one man
and say, "We will eat our own food
and provide our own clothes;
only let us be called by your name.
Take away our disgrace!"

Isaiah 54:1,4-5
"Sing, O barren woman,
you who never bore a child;
burst into song, shout for joy,
you who were never in labor;
because more are the children of the desolate woman
than of her who has a husband," says the Lord.
"Do not be afraid; you will not suffer shame.
Do not fear disgrace; you will not be humiliated.
You will forget the shame of your youth
and remember no more the reproach of your widowhood.
For your Maker is your husband--
the Lord Almighty is his name--
the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer;
he is called the God of all the earth."

Ephesians 5:31-32
"For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh." This is a profound mystery--but I am talking about Christ and the church.

Revelation 21:2, 9-11
I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband.
One of the seven angels who had the seven bowls full of the seven last plagues came and said to me, "Come, I will show you the bride, the wife of the Lamb." And he carried me away in the Spirit to a mountain great and high, and showed me the Holy City, Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God. It shown with the glory of God, and its brilliance was like that of a very precious jewel, like a jasper, clear as crystal.

--

There is something about reading truths like these early in the morning, alone, accompanied only by a good cup of coffee and The Six Parts Seven, and the Holy Spirit, too.

On Being Published

One of my New Year's resolutions (or aims, if you prefer) was to "explore the possibilities of becoming a published writer."

I recently told a room full of strangers that the top item (or at least the first to come to mind) on my "bucket list" was to become a published writer.

This morning at breakfast, a friend told me I should write a book on the importance of art in the life of a Christian.

I feel as though I've done enough work to fulfill my vaguely worded resolution by submitting a few short stories to Reader's Digest in order to get some easy money. That might be letting myself off a bit too easily.

And admittedly, I have quite a bit of work to do if being published is the one thing I want to accomplish before my death.

But perhaps my biggest obstacle, which showed up with my friend's suggestion this morning, is overcoming the little voice in the back of my head that says, "That book has already been written. The world doesn't need your book on top of it." Maybe an even bigger obstacle is deciding if this notion is indeed an obstacle that needs to be overcome. In other words, maybe it's not an obstacle: maybe it's true. The piles and piles of books that are being published these days is absolutely staggering (well over 150,000 each year in the US alone), not to mention the amount of which are rather mediocre and/or unnecessary. My typical run-the-other-way attitude asks, "Do you really want to add to that?"

Once I get past that, the next obstacle will be mustering up enough motivation and interest in one train of thought to develop it fully enough to fill the pages between covers. I think I like to simplify my ideas. After thinking about them for so long, they begin to look like common sense. I don't feel the need to elaborate so much. The idea of writing a whole book seems a little like overkill. And that's why most of my writing is limited to this little blog. I can write one post on an idea and then it's done and I can move on to something new.

And so, I'm not even sure why I'm writing all of this now, but I guess all this to say it will probably still be a little while before anything of mine gets published.

From the trees a great parade,From the hills a band was made...

I guess I haven't mentioned that I've been helping to teach a Sunday school class on the book of Isaiah. I've tried to blog about it in the past but haven't felt like anything I've written is close to doing justice to what's been studied and learned. I have several fragments of writing still saved as drafts. Perhaps I'll focus on refining them in the coming months. It can be a summer project.

My co-teacher is the much-to-my-elder Carl, who asked me to teach with him. We are teaching in the room that is mostly claimed by those I endearingly refer to as The Oldheads, the class that I sort of described here a little while back. The change in teachers and the subject matter has drawn in a few Youngheads, and this has led to some funny overheard comments like when my sister overheard one lady mumble on a morning I was teaching, "I feel like I'm at a youth group meeting!"

I can't blame them really, as it must be quite a bit odd to be taught by someone most of them remember as the bratty 3-year-old that showed up in the sanctuary not too long ago. It's been a humbling experience for me, too, for that reason, but they've been gracious, receptive, and even quite encouraging.

If I had to sum up my challenging study of Isaiah, I would simply say that my view of God has increased dramatically. In seeing God's wrath and judgment side by side with his love and compassion, you can't help but admit our finite, natural, man-centered view of God is incredibly small. And in seeing this radical story of redemption unfold, and how it all ties together, you can't help but be astonished at the magnitude of it all. The many idols we set up for ourselves pale in comparison to this glory that's being revealed.

(And this is what happens when you read the Old Testament! My level of OT literacy, like many Christians, is pathetically low. I haven't recognized the depth of its importance until now.)

And now that we've been exploring chapters forty through fifty-five, this becomes all the more true. Just when the Israelites began to think that God had given up on them for good (and he had every right to do so by this point), he reminds them of who he is and tells of his plan for earthly deliverance. But this is only a shadow of what is to come. In the same way that the ark delivered Noah and the ram delivered Isaac and Moses delivered the people from Egypt and now like Cyrus has delivered the people from Babylon, there will be deliverance in a much greater magnitude. There is a Servant coming who, after taking up our infirmities, carrying our sorrows, being pierced for our transgressions and crushed for our iniquities, will provide eternal deliverance and redemption.

This is what, I believe, leads to the two verses that are quite possibly the climax of all sixty-six chapters. They are verses of beautiful, intense rejoicing when everything will finally be right again. They are the verses that make my heart leap in joy and rest in comfort, knowing that one day all the earthly turmoil and confusion and wrestling we face here and now will--praise the Redeemer and Holy One of Israel!--be a distant memory.

Isaiah 55:12-13

You will go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
will clap their hands.
Instead of a thornbush will grow the pine tree
and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.
This will be for the Lord's renown,
for an everlasting sign,
which will not be destroyed.

Come, Lord Jesus!