this one truly stunned me. how often do I give thanks for the Giver of good things?

depending on your theological reasoning, I was or was not saved as a young child. I understand this profundity will stupor you, so I will pause.  there we go.

regardless, what I plan to share in this series truly surprised me. around the age of 12 or 13, I wrote a string of devotionals fashioned after Oswald Chambers’ classic work. I remember doing this as clearly the day I received my first bike. very interesting work of the Spirit, indeed.

they’re not dated, so feel free to use them on any day of the week, morning or night, and at anytime of the year. I would love to hear your comments.

(yep, that’s personalized stationary. totally rad.)

like something out of the Old Testament, Dalí smote canvasses with his brushed brilliance. wholly 105 lithographs in 5 volumes, his Biblia Sacra stands like a pile of stones in the Jordon, testifying to his genius.

to the right you see “Vanitas Vanitatum,” or “Vanity of Vanities.” this piece commands my devoted attention every time I happen upon it. powerful.

I first encountered Dalí in college - of course, with his timeless “Persistence of Time.” ironically, the lightning strike of appreciation reeked collegiate. the actual title is “La Persistencia de la Memoria” or “The Persistence of Memory.” oh well. I also prided myself on a sweatshirt with the single word COLLEGE printed on the front. yet another genius artist.

a few years after college I visited St. Pete (the Rays playing the Phillies for the World Series?) and wandered upon the Dalí museum there. according to most, it supercedes the one in Spain. on my first trip, I saw “Persistence.” the MoMA loaned it for a season, and I saw it. cool, it was, but not nearly as impressive as “The Hallucinogenic Toreador.”

then, in the spring of 2007, a 2-day trip took me back to St. Pete, and back I went to the Dalí museum. almost accidentally a friend and I lumbered into a back room where a special exhibit opened just that week. the Biblia Sacra sat on display, stunning every visitor…for the first time since its creation by Dalí himself.

“The Hallucinogenic Toreador” stops you in your tracks. the crucified Christ puts you on your knees.

you can see 53 of the prints here, listed with titles, or all of them here sans titles. this site stores the best digital copies, and this one translates the original titles.

have a nice quiet time, everybody.

Project 86 has cranked out killer album after killer album for the last 10 years. just when I turned the corner on faith, they showed up on the scene and gave me the grace to be me. i.e., having sobered up and settled down, I feared my faith embrace would force me to hold hands with the characteristically pathetic CCM.

thanks be to God I was wrong. hardcore wrong.

each album displays explosive growth and an appreciation for intelligent music. on top of their tight theology and stunning instrumentation, they’re literate. “Hollow Again” from Truthless Heroes gives a growling nod to T.S. Eliot.

their last release, Rival Factions, masterfully studies the various angles on family feuds. within Christendom, that is. one particular song simultaneously grieves and relieves me - “Sanctuary Hum.”

the song pictures the pain of the oppressed suffering from silence. in other words, church is often the last place on earth that we feel comfortable bearing our pain. or shame. or anything that doesn’t fit into a CCM video.

by God’s grace, my church is a safe place, and our pastor models integrity, grace, and compassion. but I still fear being real. it hurts to hurt publicly. as I’ve mentioned before, we’re studying Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell. movement four: tassels, calls us to come out of our darkness and be real. Andrew Schwab, lead singer and poet for Project 86, says of the following song:

And when violence prevails in the hidden sanctuary of the church, it can cause the followers to cry out for relief from heaven itself. But when those who have been oppressed find meaning not in secrecy, but in revealing their dark secrets, there is healing. No matter the wound.

tune in, rock out, and be free.

Smile, wave
Convince the sanctuary, our charade
Though you’re the object of my deep rage
Just counterfeit this holiness for me
And everything will be OK…

My sweet one
You tell no lies
The greatest reason to be despised

But we must pretend
Your broken wrist
Just happened when you fell off your bike

So this is
The reason
The sanctuary hums
God save us
God save us
From your chosen ones

Smile, wave
Protect his pulpit from all suffering
He’ll make celebrity the end game
So much more valuable than family
Not even violence can betray…

As long as
You keep your lips
Locked up til the end of this age

And even
If you won’t
It’s your word up against what he’ll say

So this is
The reason…

Cry, Girl
Become the wails of victims unheard
Your tears have given you the calm nerve
So if they’re asking you to hide your bane
You just keep screaming to the grave…

So this is
The reason…

You’ll be
The reason
The helpless celebrate
He takes us
He takes us
From our violent shame

within the span of 10 days I have had to digest a massive pile of painful conversations. more than any other time in my life. realities from every realm of life. and while the grief grinds my soul raw, it strangely gives me the sensation of being alive. in a twisted and indecipherable way, the circumstances trotting through my daily life cause me to wince. and grin.

somehow, experiencing heartache makes me feel more human than ever. walking with others through their heartache even more so. I think it’s because when two souls meet, unguarded and unadorned, they connect at the core. in a twisted and indecipherable way, entering someone’s tragedy excites me because of the prospect of knowing them through it…in a way that the good times never afford.

from personal hurts to family anxieties to professional challenges to ministry anguish, my emotions have far passed snapped. they’re defunct. and in a twisted and indecipherable way, this grief has reawakened me to the reality of our humanity.

we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing.

here’s one I’m proud of. after a week in Colorado, my truck was dusted, splattered, and variously caked in mud. it’s absolutely beautiful because it reminds me of how much fun we had, and also because that’s what it’s designed to do.

upon arrival at work this morning, I parked it front and center, street-side, so that everyone could see. I don’t sense this as an obnoxious pride, just joy. I suppose there is a bit of “nanny-nanny-boo-boo” to all those SUV driving Dallasites that have never seen a dirt road.  not too much “nanny-boo,” however, as this is the first time we’ve taken the truck muddin’.

the more I look at it, the more I see it representing another truth. this is what we’re designed to do. explore life. with friends. get muddy.

(the picture does not adequately capture the true level of dirt sprayed across the truck. that’s part of the genius of the gray color. and I washed the windows…)

sometimes, in the secret place of my soul, the ache of anxiety bores so deeply I can only beg God for true thoughts to fill the tunnel left behind. the only poultice I possess to get ahead of the devil’s drillbit is truth. whether I believe it or not.

tonight, this song sat on repeat.

I AM

I am more than you think
I am more than you know
I’m as black as the darkest night
And whiter than snow
You’re tripping through wires and words
And spires and tombstones
I have burned with desire
Felt the air become fire
Buried Myself with stones
Given lions my bones
And I love you whether or not you believe Me
I’m as swift as an arrow
But I’m slow when you stray
I’m as calm as the waters
That we walked on that day
And I love whether or not you believe Me
If you ask Me again My reply still will stand
I am who I am
And I love whether or not you believe Me