After watching Harry Potter with my parents, I did some driving around tonight. I ended up falling into a Starbucks. It was predictable as a pop song. The crescendo was a hot white mocha that scalded the tip of my tongue just like the night before. Several people from my old high school were there. I didn't recognize a few of them at first. I felt kinda guilty about that for a little bit. Though the feeling was evanescent, it was sharp enough to get me out the door. I wasn't running away, mind you. I just very badly wanted to get out of there. So I finished my Vonnegut and that wretched delight of a mocha and stepped to my car.

On the way to my friend's house, the saddest thought of a smile became bottled up inside my chest. I felt like had done something beautiful but tragic. It's hard and embarrassing to explain. Perhaps I was responsible for the death of the last unicorn? Or maybe you had morphed into a golden statute when I gave you the Midas hug. But that silly sickness evaporated once I got out of the car. After a few rounds of pool, I decided to head home. Then, ineluctably, my arms wrapped around this little glowing mousetrap and told you all about my evening. And now we're friends.

Hey Jude

I am not ashamed to say that I liked the movie Hairspray. It's really true: you can't stop the beat. It feels good to sell back those cursed textbooks.

I've been doing a lot of thinking today. Rethinking actually. Rethinking what I've been fed all my life in church. Now, I'm not talking about truth. I'm not saying that I've been rethinking every piece of good, Biblical doctrine that I've ever heard (although I do think it's wise to examine your beliefs to make sure you understand them). But I've been taking some long hard looks at the slices of folk theology that lines the walls of the churches of evangelicalism today. By "folk theology" I mean the traditions of men that have been souped up to look like the commandments of God. They are tacitly accepted as the Christian cultural norm. Examples would be like what it means to take the Lord's name in vain or whether a building or place can be made holy. Or here's a good one: is church tradition a bad thing? Protestants have been so anti-tradition for centuries ever since God rescued us from the darkness of Catholicism but is it really a bad thing? I believe that liturgy and creedal confessions, when utilized correctly, can be excellent and powerful methods of instruction. I'd like to see a good, Biblical Protestant liturgy. And if it doesn't happen soon, I'll just have to write it myself!

And another thing. Jude 21 tells us to keep ourselves in the love of God. For a stupidly long time I thought that verse meant that I was to somehow make sure that I never fell out of the range of God's love. But that never made any sense to me. As a Calvinist, I wondered how I could ever outrun or unearn God's love (since I never earned it in the first place and since God's love was first big enough to save me). So I tossed the verse aside as a bone, as something I simply was not mature enough to digest yet. But recently, through the preaching of one Charles Haddon Spurgeon, I've learned that it meant for me to make sure that I kept my love for God. It meant that I am to always seek to learn more, to keep warm my devotions, to keep pure my emotions and to keep bright my expectations.

Perhaps as a body, by and large, the evangelical church has missed this. We have not kept ourselves in the love of God. I understand that this verse must be narrowed down to a personal duty, but each of us personally is responsible for lackluster service to the Lord. I'm sorry to critique my own brethren but I think my boiling point has been tapped. Evangelicalism is fast becoming a political movement, stuffed with a prosperity gospel and a bottomless appetite for entertainment. The old guideposts of discernment and knowledge have been discarded for the more attractive fashion of being relevant to a pagan culture. It has become a white American religion and it has never been more comfortable with itself than today. Granted, there are many in evangelicalism who have not compromised the Biblical mandates and are daily seeking to remain in the love of God. But those faithful watch dogs are powerless to stop the bleeding.

Every arena in which the church has been failing, I think, can be traced back to its love for God. The heresy of the Emerging Church, however noble their initial ambitions may have been, is rooted in a distortion of truth. And here is where love comes in. As Spurgeon puts it: "Love God and you will not love false doctrine. Keep the heart of the church right and her head will not go far wrong. Let her abide in the love of Jesus and she will abide in the truth." Evangelicalism's slow surrender to missing the point is killing us softly. As Spurgeon says, "in dull, decaying churches, errors spread like ivy on the crumbling walls of an old abbey."

As it is an individual duty, I think the best way to recover and keep ourselves in the love of God is to daily seek more and more of the love of God. Never spend a day without seeking out the Master's voice. Don't leave your room to meet people head on until you have first met God head on. The church in all her beauty will one day be presented before the Father. We should have no doubt of that. But while we're on this side of heaven, we should be diligent to keep ourselves in the love of God, tossing aside error and distraction so that we can carry out our main purpose: to bring the Gospel of God to the unbelieving world.

V for Victory, S for Sweet

This couch likes to eat my phone. I think it's developed a fine taste for Sprint over the years. But I'm totally recumbent here and my phone has a tendency to slide out of my pocket and down between the cushions. I'm pretty sure I could drown on this thing. You need a life jacket to lounge.

Life is officially no longer in slow motion! I played my jury today and it turns out my chops were good enough to pass. Honestly, didn't see that coming. But by the grace of God, I earned the right to continue education in Texas. Praise the Lord! So, can I relax now? Perhaps not. But can I breathe now? Oh yes. And breathing is a nice reward for slow motion pain.

I've fallen in love again with words. It's a shame how quickly I fell out. Maybe I'd merely forgotten it. But I was able to treat myself well after I got the happy news of my passing the jury. I just sat down in a Starbucks with my ipod, my little ESV Bible and my little notebook and had a grand, beautiful time. I'm excited to find some new music this Christmas. I can tell you for sure that Shostakovitch's 3rd String Quartet is thrilling.

I played hide and seek with pleasure and found it set in stone and covered with life.

Your PB from J for today: "She kissed me!"

What a Day

The sky was beautiful tonight. Driving home around 6:30 PM, I happened to gaze up at the horizon. A huge swath of cotton clouds were wrapped around the moon. The moon wasn't visible but you could see its pale light just seeping out from around the edges of the concealing moisture. For some reason, it seemed like the clouds were trying their best to keep the moon modest. It was as if they were indignant at the thought of such a brazen, unbridled display of beauty.

Thanksgiving was beautiful. I got to spend time with my family. Had eggnog and ice cream for breakfast. I also got to see some friends that I hadn't seen in many long, melancholy moons. And it's always good to hear a sermon from the pastor. Such a faithful expositor. Bought myself Ingrid Michaelson's CD "Girls and Boys". Go buy it. And now I'm back in Texas.

Here is an excellent article entitled "Polemic Theology": http://www.founders.org/FJ33/article3.html. I recommend it if you are particularly ardent about the truth but can't seem to keep your pride in check whilst in passionate debate. But even if that doesn't describe you, please read it. It's very good.

Traffic jams, missing socks and runny noses are the quotidian calling cards of life. I think that's what bothers me so much about any given moment. There are just so many hangnails in this world and they all pull a nerve at the slightest provocation. But what can you do?

Go listen to the Brahms Double in A Minor for Cello and Violin. If you can find the version of Pablo Casals on cello, blessed are you among the barren hearts. That piece will slay you!

Your words were on the tip of my ear but it was too stuffed with wishes that I couldn't hear you say them. Perhaps time and wisdom will clear my head of silly woolgathering. Until then, hold that thought.

Your PB from J for today: "I thought I was going faster!"

Deeper Things are Inbound.

I was recently introduced to the music of a beautiful and amazing woman. Her name is Ingrid Michaelson. I strongly wish that you'd check out her music at www.myspace.com/ingridmichaelson. It's honey. She's like a cleaner Regina Spektor. I think I like Ingrid's voice better though. It's the difference between strolling and prowling. And thanks to Blake for tipping me off to her. You're a bread line for the bored.

I spent this last weekend back home in St. Louis. It was good to see my family again. I even saw some good friends I hadn't seen in many moons. I'm glad I'm not a rich man. I flew in to play for my friend's parents' auction. Good food. And I got to see Fredbird up close (he's the mascot of the Cardinals). I must say, he looks taller on TV.

I'm going to start playing my upright bass on the side. I mean, I'm going to be on the side of it as I play. I think it will solve many things about my playing. And apparently raw Texas honey will help me as well. I don't know why but my teacher thinks it's true. So, I went out and bought some to put on my Cheerios. Go figure. It tastes good though. I realized that I really love finding out about good music.

I still want to be a rock star. Just melting from the inside out with a smile on my face. I read the sign and I'm prepared to stop. Lock and load!

Deeper things are inbound.

Your PB from J for today: "My way's not very sportsman-like."

Speak Up or Shut Up..Please.

I've been thinking about enemies lately. I'm really not sure why. Maybe I've been thinking about love too much. But anyway, I've been wondering if I actually have enemies. I know that there are people who annoy me. There are people that I plain just don't like. (Hushed disclaimer: this post may not sound very Christian-like.) And I'm positive there are people, near and far, who just don't like me. But what defines an enemy? Is it merely someone who is against what you believe? Or is it someone who actually acts as your antagonist? What about in wartime?

I realized that I wasn't sure if I had an enemy. It was a rather alarming discovery. If an enemy is deeper and darker than an unlikable person, I'm not sure I could point you to one. Now, is that a good thing? If I have no enemies, then I'm forced to conclude at least two reasons. 1.) I am compliant with every one's beliefs and and expectations or 2.) I've never stood tall enough for anything I believe in. I know that the first reason won't hold. I'm too stubborn or too arrogant to be compliant. And on a theological level, I'm too much of an orthodox watchdog. But then what about reason number 2? How can someone hate you if you've never displayed any true colors for them to hate you for? A spy is only attacked when he is discovered.

I'm not going to go pick a fight with the most vocal atheist on campus. I'm not going to ransack a Buddhist temple. But when was the last time I stuck my neck out and didn't flinch? When Christ said "love your enemies", the disciples could point them out. They knew just what an enemy was. When the early church heard Paul's letters read aloud: "if your enemy is hungry, feed him, and if he is thirsty, give him a drink", they knew exactly what men kill them without a moment's hesitation.

The point is, they had enemies to love. I'm not sure that I know what my enemies look like. I mean, I can't see them in my life. Am I complaining? Not exactly. But I'm questioning. If I reach the age of 60 and I don't have anyone who hates me because of my convictions and my faith...then what was I doing all that time? I'm just so tired of trimming my sails and keeping my mouth shut when I'm out in the world, on campus or in houses. The problem with bricks and a cross is that I never see the sky. I never become aware that there are people out there who won't say "amen!" whenever I affirm Christ's deity. Life is too few of days and too full of trouble for weak inclinations that glow and fade. I want them to hear me burn!

Your PB from J for today: "I wonder if he is using the same wind we are using."

Mumbled and Jumbled

I've felt very paranoid lately. I'm not sure why. I hope everyone had a delightful Reformation Day. My bed is so comfortable. It's incredible. The burger I had tonight just wasn't that awesome. I was kinda hoping for more. I don't think I come off as trustworthy. Maybe it's that dangerous glint in my eye. It's been stuck there for months. Quite the hassle when I try to put in my contacts.

Recent mind games (inclusive but certainly not exhaustive):
-Thoughts are the great purveyors of the soul. When they bring back filth for me to ingest, my sight becomes a bit darker and my heart crystallizes just a little more.
-How can I encourage openness and kindness in others when I can't admit my own private, snobbish judgements?
-Remember that little 7Up Spot guy from the commercials in the late 80s? Did he ever talk? Or was it more like little squeaking noises, kinda like the Cheat?
-I wish I could write smiling melodies to all your sad words but I just can't find the right key. It's fantastically frustrating. But every time I give up it just makes me want to try again. It's a cycle of backward steps.
-What's the appeal of "going clubbing"?
-I've become less tolerant of silence and solitude. It's a little disappointing really.
-Remember when we got kicked out of Expo for playing hide and go seek around the expensive lamps? What a bad influence you were! Oh but I still love ya buddy.

If I were to name something after you, what would you like it to be?

I fly home this Friday. I'm 6 pages from the end. Just don't give it away. Go read some Bradbury and everything will be okay.