Epic Sunday

I have heard some goooood preaching lately. I must be southern now because I can say that without wincing. The very idea that preaching can be a good thing- not something in my cultural dna.

Nonetheless- Jane Pettit knocked it OUT OF THE PARK this morning with a message on Revelation Chapter 2:8-11."Hang in there, better days are coming."


My mom used to say that to us when we were kids and our domestic life was a horrible disaster. 'It can only get better.' I believed her but I was often disappointed. We didn't have the same concept of hope that I have now. Hope in Someone is a fairly new development. Blind hope has little to recommend it. The law of averages is hardly comforting.

But now I find myself in conversation with the body of Christ about hope. What do you Hope for?

Living for Something not dying for nothing

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

what are we missing?

FYI...(i didn't write this)
---------------------------------------------------------

Washington DC Metro Station on a cold January morning in 2007. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes.

During that time approx 2000 people went through the station, most of them on their way to work. After 3 minutes a middle aged man noticed there was a musician playing. He slowed his pace and stopped for a few seconds and then hurried to meet his schedule.



4 minutes later: The violinist received his first dollar: a woman threw the money in the till and, without stopping, continued to walk.



6 minutes: A young man leaned against the wall to listen to him, then looked at his watch and started to walk again.



10 minutes: A 3 years old boy stopped but his mother tugged him along hurriedly, as the kid stopped to look at the violinist. Finally the mother pushed hard and the child continued to walk, turning his head all the time. This action was repeated by several other children. Every parent, without exception, forced them to move on.



45 minutes: The musician played. Only 6 people stopped and stayed for a while. About 20 gave him money but continued to walk their normal pace. He collected $32.



1 hour: He finished playing and silence took over. No one noticed. No one applauded, nor was there any recognition.



No one knew this but the violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written, with a violin worth $3.5 million dollars*. Two days before, Joshua Bell sold out a theater in Boston where the seats averaged $100.



This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and people's priorities. The questions raised: In a common place environment at an inappropriate hour, do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize talent in an unexpected context?



One possible conclusion reached from this experiment could be: If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing some of the finest music ever written, with one of the most beautiful instruments* ...

How many other things are we missing?

At Last

My dear friend Ryan got married tonight. Matt and I were privileged to provide some music during the ceremony. Something must be said on this occasion but really, for once, I am speechless.

Happiness couldn't happen to a more deserving person.

God is a God of redemption, of second chances.

He loves to blow our minds with exactly the thing we've always wanted, the thing we want so desperately we dare not utter or mention for fear of jinxing it or watching it evaporate before our eyes. Such superstition has nothing on Him. He lives for this stuff. To see lives united and renewed in the promise of His presence and His help in good times and bad, sickness and health, for better or worse. What a blessing. Amen.

Summer Romance II

I just read my entry from the day we got back from Budapest, and am filled with longing for that gorgeous place.

Being oriented to all things Hungarian was no easy task, and it seems that we left just as things we starting to settle in. In a way. In another way, there was no sense of staying- no sense that staying was right- at least then.

It's become so clear to me that God has cleared the decks for us this summer to work on the music. It's painful, b/c Budapest is calling, other things, places are vying for our time and attention, but not now. This is it. This is the time. It's now or never.

We have one song, done- One song, a brand new one, for the worship album, it's called Improvise. It's the best thing we've ever done. Together or separate. So simple. You'll see.

This summer, it's about finding a pool, drinking alot of iced tea, being in Texas, and making blistering rock- Christmas and otherwise.

Can't wait.

I will post the song somewhere they do that sort of thing and will let you know how to find it.

In His Grip,
Cameron

Apology and other news

First, I'm sorry for my last post. No, really I am. I over reacted. Rather than address the person and the comment directly, I hauled off an fired a generalized retort that probably didn't make any sense to anyone. The "comment" wasn't even geared to me, just a generic intolerance that found it's way onto my page- likely by accident- but- nonetheless.

Onto more important things. Brian Mann just returned from India and gave me a sneak peek at the footage he shot for Freedom Firm, an organization that rescues and rehabilitates victims of forced prostitution in India. While looking at the footage Brian suggested I write a song that we could use with his images. I mentioned it to Matt and he is downstairs right now recording it:

Guard my life and rescue me; let me not be put to shame, for I take refuge in you. (Psalm 25:20)

There is an itch in my bones about this issue and I can't even really figure out why. There's nothing in my past or present that would indicate why I have such a burden for this- slavery, forced prostitution, etc. But I do.

We've been invited to Budapest in August to help lead worship for a new Calvary Chapel church plant in Budapest-- out by the airport. We also have a desire to bring a small group of musicians to Nice, France in the Fall and support Jassie and Igor- friends who are pioneering a YWAM base there.

In the meantime we are working- writing and recording- and trying to discern the still small voice. Pray for us- if you do that sort of thing.

He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God; Many will see and fear And will trust in the LORD. (Psalm 40:3)

Why Everyone is Not Your Friend on Facebook

So, I was reminded just now of why reconnecting with a fairly painful past through Facebook, is something that is not for the weak stomached (like myself). There was a section of my life in a place, with people, that is so tied to my parents divorce and all the painful years surrounding it, that since then (1990) I have imagined that it never existed. I have- untruthfully- skipped over it in the cliffnotes version of my life story- or mentioned it briefly- in passing, hoping to avoid questions about it.

Beside it being the site of the painful disintegration of my family, it was where I lived out the awkwardest years of my life- middle school- so until FB, it had been buried in the recesses of my memory.

But God is all about raising the dead, isn't he, and so that's what he's doing in a way, with my life. He's raising the dead parts. One dead part was my relationship with my father. Literally years- sometimes 8 or 9 between sitings. And sitings or visits were always painful, until now. This past summer, after 3 months in Europe, we returned home to two shocks- Matt's layoff and my Father's congestive heart failure.

Nothing in me wanted to drop my life and get on a plane for New Jersey to be with the father who was never there for me. Nothing in me wanted to navigate the streets of that town that has forever been tied with embaressment, rejection and uncertainty. And no one would expect me to. Everyone would understand if I just couldn't go up there. Everyone but the still small voice, the change in me, the wonderful councellor who will not be ignored.

I say all this I guess because my faith is another part of me that seems incompatible with that past place- another thing about me for them to reject, I think. And in many cases I am right, and in many cases I am wrong. A few old friends have become new ones, as we suspend judgement about eachother. But does it matter? Should it matter? Should I hide who I am and what I am because I am still trying to fit in? Should you? Hell no.

But I'm not going to fulfill sterotypes either. I'm not going to judge you, preach at you, or try to convert you. I am going to tell my story, that's all. I am going to provide a platform for others to tell their stories. That's all any of us can do really. I would respectfully ask for the same from you. Don't judge me. Don't assume I'm a republican (I am not), don't assume I think your going to Hell (I don't), don't assume I am ignorant, judgemental, or brainwashed ( I am not). Give me a chance. Have an open mind. Or don't. It's up to you. The minimum of what I ask, is that you maybe just try to have some respect. I will do the same for you, I promise.