Rode Hard And Put Away Wet

A Weird and a Wonderful Show

2006-10-07T16:36:00.000-07:00

I don't know if this has been widely broadcast or not, but we are with child (again!). This one is due March 15 (beware the Ides of March)... Keep us in your prayers.

And listen to this fantastic song from my current favorite non-Mallonee songwriter, Colin Meloy (of The Decemberists) from NPR's Live Concert Series.

Colin Meloy - Baby Song

I couldn't make this up if I tried

2006-10-06T10:47:00.000-07:00

I just got this email at work:

If you would like to have the opportunity to meet Bob Corker, candidate for United States Senate, and the Senate Majority Leader Bill Frist from Tennessee -- stop by for a free bologna lunch next Tuesday, October 10, from 12 to 1 at the I-75 Expo Center at Clinton Highway and Merchants Road.

Truth in advertising, I guess. It's nice to see the politicos admitting that they're feeding us bologna...

Live from the Capeman

2006-10-03T10:49:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite memories is this. Janna and I, in New York City in 1998, married only a short time (did we celebrate our 1st anniversary there - geez, where do the days go?). We were among the fortunate few to see "The Capeman," Paul Simon's Broadway play about Salvador Agron, a Puerto Rican gang member who murdered two people in 1959.

The play is notorious for being one of Broadway's biggest flops - it ran for a mere 14 days before being cancelled. Why did it close? Good question. There were protestors. Well-meaning people who (without actually seeing the show, I'm sure) picketed because they thought Simon was glorifying that horrible crime. That didn't help. Plus, it didn't get the best reviews, although Janna and I loved it. It didn't help either, I'm sure, when Paulie came out and basically gave the finger to the Broadway establishment in return.

I hadn't listened to the CD in awhile, but I came across it a few days ago and have been wearing it out again. This is really vintage Paul Simon stuff. Seemingly contrasting styles melded together well, powerful imagery, seriously interesting subject matter. It's worth a listen - this track is 50's style doo-wop about Agron and Hernandez (the Umbrella Man) and their trial:

Adios Hermanos - Paul Simon

Full Disclosure

2006-09-26T17:22:00.000-07:00

In the interest of full disclosure, I figure I should just come out with it. You wanna know why I haven't been blogging? Are you sure you wanna know? Well, here it is. I am hopelessly addicted to Fantasy Football. Have been for years. I know that makes me a uber techo, wanna-be jock, geek. I understand. And I don't care. I like Fantasy Football. It's fun.

Did you watch the Saints game last night? On one hand, I'm still pretty weary of the Katrina coverage. I know, I'm supposed to be compassionate, but the wall of coverage that's still oh, so helpfully provided by FoxNews, CNN, MSNBC, Discovery, the damn Weather Channel, it just wears me out.

But watching that city last night, I was rejuvenated - kinda like New Orleans. It really is a wonderful city - I've only been there once, but I still feel a love for it. So it feels good to watch it heal. And like it or not, football was a significant part of it. It reminded me a bit of President Bush throwing out the first pitch in New York after 9/11.

So am I justifying my addiction by trying to apply some sort of social good to sports, despite all of the obvious social evils (football players make 8 million times more than school teachers!)? Probably. But it's tough to deny the evidence.

Dee Snyder Loves Me

2006-09-22T19:11:00.000-07:00

So here's another covers post, so that I won't feel as bad about not posting anything real in the last week. These are pretty good. And they're free, so that's not bad.
David Gray - Smile Like You Mean It - Killers cover
Evan Dando - How Will I Know - Whitney Houston cover
Counting Crows - Borderline - Madonna cover

cover me in the leaves of fall....

2006-09-14T17:26:00.000-07:00

You guys know I love covers. Here's a few peachy ones for you. Hopefully, this'll be a regular feature. 'Cause there's nothing I like better than being regular.

Out on the Weekend - Bill Mallonee - Neil Young cover
Sick of Myself - Death Cab - Matthew Sweet cover
Climb On (A Back That's Strong) - Caedmon's Call - Shawn Colvin cover

Sam & the Paperbacks

2006-09-12T18:23:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite memories of my childhood is the Winter Park Public Library. There's a room on the second floor (at least there was a room, who knows if it's still there)in the children's section, full of comfy chairs and pillows, that's just perfect for spending long hours reading. I spent many, many hours in that room reading The Three Investigators, The Hardy Boys, Encyclopedia Brown, C.S. Lewis, and every other book on those shelves.

It's truly great to watch my boy doing the same thing - albeit in a different place. Sam doesn't have a room like that Winter Park Library room, but he does ok. What I struggle with is trying to push off my favorite books onto him, when he's wanting to read something completely different. I have this overwhelming urge to pass on the joy that I experienced, one piece of juvenile fiction at a time. But, since we've been blessed with a strong-willed child, he's not too eager to to read the books that I suggest.

While shopping at the local used bookstore with Sam this Saturday, I picked up a copy of one of my favorite childhood books for 95 cents. Emil and the Detectives was a book I hadn't thought about in quite some time, but it screamed at me from the shelves. I snatched it off the shelf and said, "Sam, you'll love this book! It was one of my favorites!" Sam took a quick look at the back and said, "Nah, not interested."

Since this has happened lots of times, it came as no shock. But I still couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed. There are some ways in which he is so like me that I feel like we should like exactly the same stuff, be exactly the same way, that I'm taken aback when he responds differently than I would have.

No one gives you parental training on this kind of stuff. How to respond when your child does something that kind of hurts your feelings a bit? It's not necessarily sensible, or rational, but I still want to say, "Why can't you just trust me? You'll like this!" As a matter of fact, I have said that. Doesn't seem to help, and yet I keep trying. Maybe I'm the stubborn one.

2006-09-10T13:57:00.000-07:00

Ah, the joys of Wal-Mart. You never quite know what you'll find, or where you'll find it. And, oh yeah, God bless camera phones...

Dr. Jekyll & Mr. Hyde Redux

2006-09-09T17:19:00.000-07:00

The blogging world is a wonderful thing, and I'm happy about it. This week, I've come across two blogs that are just plain gorgeous, and are as different as night and day.

Ken Begg, the High Priest of Jabootu, a fantastic site in its own right, has begun blogging. It's a great examination of really, really, really, terribly bad movies (and other stuff, too). Ken has been my lifeline for years, letting me know that I'm not alone in the world in my love of cinema terrible.

Jabootu's Bad Blogging Dimension

The other site that I just came across today belongs to a young lady who goes by the name of Breezy. I don't know much about her, or the site, but it's good stuff nonetheless. Plus, if you look at her blogger profile, her favorite musicians are Sufjan, Page France, Death Cab, etc. Anyway, it's good stuff. Check it out.

My Tornado is Resting

Concert Ticket Goodness

2006-08-29T19:49:00.000-07:00

Oh man, this is fun! Thanks to Stereogum for the link. I could play with this all night.

What We'll Remember

2006-08-28T17:14:00.000-07:00

Gents and ladies, I humbly submit that while the latter part of the twentieth century belonged to some schmucks named Britney and Justin, the 00s are the purview of Ben and Jenny (and some guy named Sufjan - news at 11).

Ben Gibbard (of Death Cab for Cutie) and Jenny Lewis (of Rilo Kiley) - put 'em together and whaddya get? The Postal Service. Every bit as efficient as their namesakes, but these guys work on Sundays.

I enjoy Death Cab and I like Rilo, but I freakin' adore The Postal Service. I guess it's one of those "the whole is greater than the sum of its parts" things. I also love that these guys aren't afraid to do a cover or two. I've got quite a few live shows now, and it seems like they can't do a show without covering someone - and it's usually someone from a looooong time ago. Here are some goodies for you.

Ben Gibbard - Lookout, Here Comes Tomorrow - a freakin' Monkees cover!
Death Cab - Earth Angel - The Penguins
Jenny Lewis (with Johnathan Rice) - Cold Jordan - The Grateful Dead

Update: Mucho props to Myles for reminding me that Jimmy Tamborello (aka Dntel) is one of the pillars of the Postal Service, along with Ben. Apologies to Dntel. He's wicked awesome. Listen to the groove of The District Sleeps Alone Tonight if you don't believe....

2006-08-22T10:31:00.000-07:00

I’ve spent the better part of the morning at work listening to Mark Heard music. Especially beloved by me is the tribute album, called Strong Hand of Love, that Mark’s friends made for him. This particular album is one of those mile-marker records for me. Every time I listen, I think about combing the shelves of Long’s Christisn Books and Music in Orlando, looking for the 77s or Rez Band or, yes, Vigilantes of Love or Steve Taylor or a million other artists. I found Strong Hand of Love because VOL was on it, and I would have bought anything with them on it, but I had no idea what I actually had in my hands. Not only was it my first exposure to Mark Heard, which is remarkable enough by itself, but it was also my first exposure to Bruce Cockburn, Victoria Williams, Pierce Pettis, and the fabulous Buddy and Julie Miller, who these many years later have become all-time favorites. Also, with tracks by Rich Mullins, Tonio K, The Choir, Kevin Smith, and Chagall Guevara (among others), this record really helped direct my musical taste. The real beauty of it is that it is a record made, not just by artists who were influenced by Mark, but by his friends.

Last Wednesday was the anniversary of the death of Mark Heard. It was also the day before my birthday. Every year, on August 16th, I’m keenly aware that I’ll soon be adding a year to my life, and Mark will not (August 16th is also the anniversary of Elvis’ death, BTW). Mark died in 1992, after suffering a minor heart attack onstage at Cornerstone (he finished the set). He had another heart attack two weeks after his release from the hospital and could not recover. He, along with Rich Mullins, will always be the musical Poet Laureate of Christianity.

Download Orphans of God by Buddy and Julie Miller
Download Strong Hand of Love by Bruce Cockburn

2006-08-21T17:59:00.000-07:00

Brilliant! This has been a good year for movies, but as of this weekend, my favorite so far is Little Miss Sunshine.

Imagine, if you will, a movie that has intelligent writing, positive character development, and downright guffaw-inducing comedy. I know what you're saying... "In Hollywood? Come on, John. Surely you jest." Well I'm here to tell you that such an animal does exist. Yes, Virginia, there is good filmmaking!

Steve Carrell is brilliant. Toni Collette is fantastic. Alan Arkin is legendary. Greg Kinnear doesn't screw it up. And the kids... well, they're the stars of the thing.

Talledega Nights was funny - very funny, but Little Miss Sunshine was drop-dead classic. Go see it. Let's see if we can really drum up some support for this thing. Write your Congressman!

2006-08-15T18:46:00.000-07:00

Thank me now. Remember before, when I said that one of the greatest things in the world is on of my favorite bands covering one of my favorite songs?

Well, what's almost better is one of my favorite artists performing a classic '80s blallad. This is beautiful. I'll tell you that it's Ben Folds and Rufus Wainwright, but I'm not gonna tell you which song it is. But don't worry, download and listen. The first few notes will give it away.

I'll say it again. Thank me now. This rocks.

Ben Folds & Rufus Wainwright

(and yes, you can just look at the file name - but that would be cheating, now wouldn't it?)

2006-08-12T13:13:00.000-07:00

I'll post some more pictures soon - including the one with me and Bill rocking the mic together, but for now I just have these. Here you go, Myles!

Bill and Muriah

Bill and Muriah playing

Here's the set list from the Bill Mallonee House Show:

Holy Mother Mary
Nothing Like a Train
Solar System
High & Lonesome
Goes Without Saying
After All This Dust Settles Down
November Ghost
Knockin' At Your Door
Lucifer
If I Saw the Light (not sure of the name of this one - never heard it before)
Great Reservations
Cinnamon
Here Comes Heartache
Good Luck Charm
Bank
Otherwise
Rationale
Who Will You Love?
Parting Shot (yay!)
Muriah's Song (Muriah wrote and sang this one - very awesome)

The high points for me were some of the new tunes - November Ghost, Otherwise, and Rationale really stood out. And, of course, hearing Parting Shot live was a bit of a religious experience.

2006-08-09T07:21:00.000-07:00

You can tell a lot about a man by the Play Count column in his iTunes library. For instance, if you look at mine, you’ll see:

Wilco, David Crowder Band, Page France, Kite Flying Society, Colin Meloy, Bill Mallonee, Warren Zevon, Andrew Peterson, Ben Lee, The Postal Service, The Refreshments, Sufjan Stevens – and that’s just on the first page.

What’s in your list?

2006-08-03T19:30:00.000-07:00

A Catalogue

I’ve got this playlist on my iPod called "All Time," and because I’m the kind of guy that makes lists out of everything (I loved High Fidelity), I’ve been slowly creating a list of my favorite songs of all time. I know, it’s vain and self-indulgent, and nobody but me cares a lick, but what the hell is a blog if not self-indulgent?

There's no methodology here, no rules. Just the ones I like best. I've had this list going for a few months now, so these aren't off the top of my head.

So here they are, my Top Ten Favorite Songs of All Time. In order, from 10 to 1. You’ll notice that I have a thing for live tracks and covers. There is no greater joy, in my opinion, than when one of my favorite bands covers one of my favorite songs (see number 3). If I heard Wilco covering a Bill Mallonee song (or vice versa), I think I could very easily die of pure giddiness.

10. Least Complicated - The Indigo Girls

I was given this song on a mix tape in 1996 by Allison Semones, who I worked with at Steak and Ale in Orlando. Man, I dug that chick (she smoked and played the guitar). That mix tape had a diverse and edgy feel to it - it felt subversive to a kid who grew up with Billy Joel and Steven Curtis Chapman. "Least Complicated" was the star of the tape. After listening to the mix about a thousand times, I went out and bought 1200 Curfews, the IGs live record. It's been a staple ever since, and this is my favorite track. Plus, Amy’s story at the beginning is absolutely priceless.

Least Complicated

9. Goodnight, Elizabeth - Counting Crows

This was a tough one. If I were doing a favorite bands list, they'd be number 3 - right behind (who else) Bill Mallonee and Wilco. So it was tough to pick just one song. "A Long December" has special meaning to my bride and I, and I leaned toward that one, but there's something about "Goodnight, Elizabeth," and especially this kick-ass live version that sold me. Give it a listen.

Goodnight, Elizabeth (with Postcard from 15 alt)

8. Best Imitation of Myself - Ben Folds Five

Man, it was hard to pick my favorite Ben Folds song. With five or six albums of fantastic tracks to choose from, I had to go back to the first. Back when it was Ben Folds Five, and the music felt more… rebellious – which is a big thing when you’re at Ouachita Baptist University and a prospective religion major. I think Mr. Folds is partially responsible for me not being a paid member of the clergy right now. Thanks, Ben. Seriously.

Best Imitation of Myself

7. Tear Stained Eye - Son Volt

If you ran a family tree type diagram of the music that I listen to now, a lot of it would trace (no pun intended) back to this song. This was the first alt-country song that got it’s hooks into me. Back then, I thought that Son Volt was the better half of the Uncle Tupelo split. Who knew? Also, it was this song that gave this blog its name.

Tear Stained Eye

6. Holy is the Lord - Andrew Peterson

You remember that song, “One of these things is not like the others / One of these things does not belong”? I realize that Andrew Peterson kind of sticks out like a sore thumb here, but I can’t help it. This song is everything I love about AP and exemplifies what contemporary Christian music could be, if it wanted to. AP takes biblical characters and makes them people that struggle with faith and God and everything. This song is special to me because of the subject matter – anyone who has a son can’t possibly listen to this without being affected.

Holy is the Lord

5. Not for the Season - Wilco

This one is typical of one of my other fetishes – non-album tracks (so, for that matter, is the Peterson song, which only shows up on a City on a Hill record). I tend to be such a completist that I have to have any and every song by these guys. Fortunately, thanks to iTunes, I no longer have to buy the entire CD to get the one song. I heard this one first on the Wilco movie “I Am Trying to Break Your Heart.” I found it floating out there through the tubes of the Interweb, and it’s a freaking staple now.

Not for the Season

4. Oh My Sweet Carolina - Ryan Adams

This song.. oh, this song. This song has my all time favorite lyric. Plain and simple – I think the last verse of this tune is the best thing ever laid down on tape.

Up here in the city, feels like things are closing in
The sunset’s just my lightbulb burning out
I miss Kentucky and I miss my family
All the sweetest winds, they blow across the South

Plus, that piano and Emmylou’s BGVs make this one an all-time gem. It was in serious consideration for the top spot.

Oh My Sweet Carolina

3. Return of the Grievous Angel - Gram Parsons

This is the All Along the Watchtower of alt-country music. You ain’t nobody ‘til you’ve covered it. I have versions of this song by Ryan Adams, Gillian Welch, David Crosby & Lucinda Williams, and Counting Crows. There’s a reason for it. It’s a perfect song. It’s simply the greatest country song ever written. This version is (of course) the Counting Crows, making their second appearance on this list. This is fun stuff. If you don’t like this, I don’t want to be your friend any more.

Return of the Grievous Angel

2. Nothing Like a Train - Bill Mallonee and/or Vigilantes of Love

I heard this song live in my living room last weekend. If you are someone with kids, with a family, with anybody that you love, this song is a powerful one. It should say something that out of Bill’s 23 albums (yes, really) and, literally, hundreds of songs, this is the one that made the list. This is the album version, with Julie Miller’s beautiful background vocals. Now go buy some of his music! You can buy it a la carte from his website now. Go here.

Nothing Like a Train

1. Thunder Road - Bruce Springsteen

Here it is, my favorite song of all time. It had to be somebody pretty impressive to move ahead of Bill Mallonee, but The Boss is up to the challenge. I love every single thing about this song. From the simple piano & harmonica combo beginning to the Roy Orbison reference to “roll down the window and let the wind blow back your hair” to “ohhh come take my hand, we’re riding out tonight to case the promised land” to Springsteen’s gravelly delivery to the gathering sense of urgency to well, you get it.

Thunder Road Live with The Boss & Melissa Etheridge

So there it is. And since I had a hard time limiting it to ten, here are the honorable mentions:

Waterdeep – At Least I Got a Car
Marc Cohn – Walking in Memphis
Andrew Peterson – Canaan Bound
The Gourds – Gangsta Lean
The Monkees – Listen to the Band
Pearl Jam – Black
Wilco – When the Roses Bloom Again
Vigilantes of Love – Certain Slant of Light
Caedmon’s Call – Somewhere North of Here
Toad the Wet Sprocket – Fly from Heaven
Simon & Garfunkel - Evey freakin' song ever

Now go and buy their stuff. Now. Go. Really. Now. Go.

2006-07-23T14:21:00.000-07:00

Man, it's been so busy around here lately that I have had nary a chance to get psyched about the Bill Mallonee show that's going to be here on Friday! Between Janna's parents moving to town, my sister having a baby, working on a video for a local church, moving into a new house, and Sam's birthday being last Friday, I haven't had time to think, much less plan for the concert. I have everything in place - the hotel room is booked and the PA is in place. Now I just have to get my mind ready. My all-time favorite musician is coming to my freaking house to play!

Did I mention that Bill has a new record out? It's called Permafrost - go here to buy it. It took a few listens to grow on me, but now that it has, it's really grown on me. Jangly guitars, check. Gut-wrenching lyrics, check. Sweet harmonies, check. It's really excellent. My favorite track is called "Threadbare," and it is anything but. From the heart-breaking guitar intro, to the intensely personal lyrical content, it's vintage Mallonee.

The "single" (whatever that means anymore) is probably Poor Kid (or Pour, Kid, depending on where you look). It contains the most head-on, tough as nails, diss that I've heard since the Counting Crows "St. Robinson."

Listen to "Pour, Kid" and love it:

Pour, Kid

2006-07-15T09:35:00.000-07:00

We ate here last night. Let me tell you about it.

I had shrimp, stuffed with a blend of cheeses and jalepenos, then wrapped in bacon and grilled. Let's say that, last night, my tastebuds truly were my buds. It was quite simply the most wonderful thing I've ever placed between my teeth.

To drink, Dos Equis, served over ice with extra lime and salt around the rim of the glass. If you've never had a beer this way, I highly recommend it.

2006-07-06T18:29:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time (well, really, about four years ago), I was a leader for the youth group at church. Our youth group, which consisted of about 10 kids, was pretty rad. We had some unique teenagers. The hip thing among the hip kids was emo. They've long since stopped being emo, of course. The last thing I knew, they were "hardcore." I'm not exactly sure what that means, but there was a lot of screaming. A lot. I'm an open minded guy, but there was a lot of screaming. Really. A whole lot.

Anyway, one day, at church, a couple of them gave me a burned CD with no writing on it. I was told to go and listen. That CD held an album by a band that has since become very famous and, coincidentally, much maligned by the snobby music-types out there (of which I usually am one). So, here am I to admit something that may not win any brownie points with you guys.

I am a Dashboard Confessional fan. I like the stuff. Carabba can flat-out write a tune. Hands Down is a fantastic song. The Places You Have Come to Fear the Most is a great album. I know, I know, emo has come and gone (not that I was ever hip enough to latch on to the term - I'm an old fart, plain and simple). In fact, Borders puts Dashboard in the Adult Contemporary section! And the kids that turned me on to DC, well, they aren't kids any more. They're in college, and I'm still old.

So they have a new record, Dusk and Summer, that's excellent. Here's the star track, for me (it doesn't hurt that it features Adam Duritz, my one true man-crush - take that Jack Johnson, Mr. I Don't Return Phone Calls...):
So Long, So Long

(bonus points if you know who the picture is of - "Just call me Mr. Butterfingers..")

2006-06-27T11:16:00.000-07:00

Ok – we’re back from the third world. Whenever I go anywhere like the Dominican Republic, I feel a constant tension.

Now, we stayed in a very lovely resort, replete with gorgeous beaches, swimming pools, and topless women. We had a very relaxing time with our good friends. The resort also, conveniently enough, came equipped with enormous walls surrounding the perimeter.

On our way in and on our way back out, the neighboring poverty was evident. Seemingly complete destitution in an area that contained 50-plus all-inclusive resorts for fat cats (like me).

The last time I ventured to the DR, the question that we asked ourselves repeatedly was, “What does the story of the rich young ruler mean for us in America?” You remember that one – it’s the one from Luke 18 where the rich young man goes to Jesus and says basically, what do I have to do to get into heaven? Jesus says to sell everything you have and give the money to the poor, because it’s easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get into heaven.

I’ve tried to look at that story from every angle I could think of, and I just can’t wrap my head around it. I’ve become a fan of Dave Ramsey these last few months, but I’m finding it harder and harder to jibe his philosophies of saving money with the Luke 18 story. Is accumulating money a sin? What about retirement accounts? College savings accounts? 401ks?

Then, to add another wrinkle to it, is it irresponsible to spend so much money going to a place where poverty is rampant, for no other reason than that they have a nice beach? I mean, I can justify it by saying that tourism is a huge pillar of the local economy, and while that’s true, it seems a bit weak. Is it being a bad steward (to use a truly churchy word) of what God has given me? Is it sin?

Well, am I making too much out of this? Is it much ado about nothing? Your thoughts?

2006-06-21T19:00:00.000-07:00

Sorry for being AWOL lately, kids. At the moment, we´re chillin´ in the Dominican Republic. Here´s a pic to make you sufficiently jealous:

2006-06-12T18:21:00.000-07:00

How's this for a prince and a princess?

2006-06-12T17:32:00.000-07:00

you ask me why i love Him? He gave riches to the poor.

Just for the hamster (or anybody else who wants to hear a truly life-altering song of epic proportions):

Doublecure - Live at the North Star Bar by the man himself, Bill Mallonee

2006-06-08T18:24:00.000-07:00

Seems like a strange guy to have as a hero, huh?

I recently finished "Fear No Evil," the autobiographical story of this fellow - Natan Sharansky. His is a story of faith and sacrifice, persecution and brutality. He is a Russian Jew and I wish to God that I was more like him.

Sharansky was thrown into the Russian Gulag under Brezhnev in 1977. His crime? Telling the world about the KGB's persecution of Jews in his homeland. He'd spend the next nine years in and out of work camps, punishment cells, and maximum security prisons. He underwent countless hunger strikes and mental battles with the KGB, all the while understanding that there was no actual evidence that he'd committed any crime.

It seems like men like this, like Jim Elliot and his friends, are the last of their breed. Why are the most famous Christians dickheads (see Robertson, Pat; Falwell, Jerry)? Does it require martyrdom for someone to rise above that? Yes, I know, Billy Graham is a stud, but he's long since out of our daily parlance.

Why don't we have any more heroes? Sure, there are Christians all over the world that are doing amazing things for the cause of Christ, that are sacrificing themselves every day in the name of our Father. I wish their names were on our tongues, rather than Falwell and his ilk.

This may be crude, but does martyrdom have its place? I mean, is it necessary? Nathan from Reformation Theology says:

The famous observation of Tertullian that, “the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church,” has a depth of insight which is all too often lost on believers today. We have no trouble thinking of persecution and martyrdom as a great obstacle to the spread of the gospel which will not, however, be successful in hindering Church growth. We would have no problem affirming that the blood of the martyrs is a hurdle which, by God’s grace, can be overcome. But to say that the blood of the martyrs is the seed of the Church is an altogether different concept. If martyrdom is a surmountable obstacle to the growth of the Church, then the Church might advance just as well, even better, without it. But if the blood of the martyrs truly is the seed of the Church, then without it, the Church does not grow.

Men like Polycarp aspired to martyrdom. They considered it the ultimate blessing.

I know this post is all over the place, and for that I apologize. But I get so worked up about this stuff. I started a Church History class at our church last night, and martyrdom was one of the main topics of conversation.

Yes, Sharansky was a Jew, not a Christian. And yes, he wasn't actually martyred. But had it come to that, he would have considered it an honor. He spent nine years with the threat of rasstrel, or a firing squad, hanging over his head. It was always a reality. He may not have been actually shot, but he certainly was willing, and he certainly suffered.

2006-06-08T18:16:00.000-07:00

Let me tell you about June 2006 for the Barbers.

1. We've bought a house! We settle on the 26th - pay attention to these dates...

2. My lovely and talented wife started a new job this week. She's the new assistant to the pastor at our church. She has her own providencechurch.com email address and everything.

3. Sam had Cub Scout camp all week. Today, for example, he got a bullseye with a BB gun! I'm really not supposed to say anything, but let's just say that a certain armed force was going to let him drop a certain piece of armament on a certain notable fellow (let's just call him al-Zarqawi Doe), but Sam had Cub Scout camp. So they made other plans.

4. In two weeks, Janna and I are going here: The Majestic Colonial. We've had this trip planned for 6 months and I CAN"T WAIT!

Of course, we get back from the Dominican Republic on the 24th, then have to settle on the house 2 days later.

It's a crazy month around here...

2006-05-31T18:32:00.000-07:00

...and we'll bring you love, you'll be one of us when the night comes...

I am indebted to this phenomenon known as the mp3 blog. I had never heard of such an animal a scant four months ago, now I'm heavily addicted. Much of the tuneage that takes up my iPod was first listened to as a result of a fantastic mp3 blog.

So I thought I'd share the wealth a little. These are some of the bands that I found through mp3 blogs.

The Decemberists
I actually first heard these guys on Relevant's site, but I quickly found their huge following in the blogosphere. I've since purchased every thing they've put out. Lead singer & writer Colin Meloy has a literate, yet self-effacing style that I find endearing.

Here I Dreamt I was an Architect

Page France
These guys are my current obsession. I first heard of them through eMusic.com (a fantastic bargain if you like music that doesn't suck), but again, quickly got up to speed via some mp3 blogs. Again, I've since purchased everything I could get my hands on.

Jesus

Kite Flying Society
This is the newest band I've come across - they're building up a ton of buzz, and with good reason. Tight harmonies, innovative instrumentation, and cachy hooks. What more can a man ask for? They don't presently have a record out, but one's coming out soon.

6000 Shipwrecks

I'm from Barcelona
You're gonna hate me if you download this one. You'll never get it out of your head. Them Swedes know a hook when they find one. Thanks to What Would Jesus Blog? for this one. The video is priceless. F-ing priceless.

We're from Barcelona - Movie
We're from Barcelona

Sufjan Stevens
I know, I know. He's only the most popular guy in the universe, but all the same, I first heard him on an mp3 blog. And he's quite simply the most brilliant musician that I can think of. He's probably not for everyone, but he's certainly for me.

Adlai Stevenson

Jon Black
It's nice to find a Christian artist that doesn't feel out of place next to these other names. I'm indebted to songs:Illinois for this one. He's a great find.

Glory, Hallelujah

Check these guys out, please? And then go buy their records!

Here are some of my favorite mp3 blogs:

songs:Illinois
An Aquarium Drunkard
Everybody Cares, Everybody Understands
..good weather for airstrikes
I am Fuel, You are Friends
What Would Jesus Blog?
rbally

Go ye therefore and listen to good stuff.

2006-05-29T07:28:00.000-07:00

Don't mess with the bull, son. You'll get the horns.

I worked on the tech team at church this Sunday - I was on lyrics. You know, the guy that makes the words on the screen fit with what the band is doing? That was me. The guy you only notice when he screws up. Fortunately, no screw-ups this week.

Anyhoo, before church starts every week, we have a little meeting with the pastor, the band, and all the tech guys (we have a video guy, a lights guy, a lyrics guy, and a sound guy - well, all usually guys, sometimes gals). The conversation revolves around the order of worship, who's doing what when, etc. And invariably, there's the following exchange (or a reasonable facsimile thereof):

Pastor: Ok, do you want to pray at that point, or do you want me to?
Band leader: It probably makes more sense as a transition for you to do it...
Pastor: Sounds good. You come on up during the prayer. Lights?
Lighting guy: Ok, I'll drop the lights when the prayer starts, so they'll be down when the band starts playing.

I always get a little fidgety at the point. I know that that stuff is important. I do. I understand that excellence in doing church includes being polished and ensuring smooth transitions, etc. But, when we start talking about prayer as a transition, it gets under my skin a little. It's a real struggle for me, because I'm a behind-the-scenes guy and I get it. But it always feels like dangerous business.

And I'm reminded of a couple of things. The first is the story of Uzzah in 2 Samuel 6. When the Israelites, led by David, are taking the ark of the covenant to Jerusalem, they don't follow God's instructions for how to transport it. And then, when the oxen pulling the cart stumble, and the ark starts to fall, Uzzah reaches out to stop it from falling. Verse 7 says, "The LORD's anger burned against Uzzah because of his irreverent act; therefore God struck him down and he died there beside the ark of God." It's dangerous business, messing with the ark of God.

Andrew Peterson (yes, I know) uses an interesting metaphor. He's got a song called "Mohawks on the Scaffold" that compares the way we do church to the building of the first American skyscrapers and the legend that Indians were used to build the highest parts, because they weren't afraid of the heights. The chorus goes, "Like Mohawks on the scaffold, heedless of the danger/Don't look down at the city, brother it's a long way to fall/Like Mohawks on the scaffold, strolling on the I-beams/Hallelujah, Praise the Lord, He's a puzzle that I've solved."

So where's the line? When does the business of church cross into irreverence? When does being concerned with the atmosphere and the content of church become too much about the concern and not enough about the church? Does it even matter? Am I too sensitive? Is it just part of the deal?

In the Peterson song, when he does the chorus the last time, he ends it with "Hallelujah, Praise the Lord, He's so patient with us all."

Lord, I hope so.

--------------------------------

Rest in Peace, Paul Gleason. You will always be the ultimate authority figure to an entire generation of us. That's no small thing.

2006-05-27T15:54:00.000-07:00

and even though you take him, still I ever will obey...

Here's the hard part about the Bible (well, one of many). The stories are so well crafted, so perfect in their analogy-ness, that it's damn easy to forget their realism. I have such a hard time divorcing Bible stories from Aesop-like fable thinking. When things are drilled into your head from birth, every Sunday morning, they tend to lose some punch.

What I find amazing, truly astounding, is the ability of an artist to give humanity to the stale. Those stories that have become nothing but object lessons - parables. The artist that can breathe life into those stories is truly remarkable.

Rich Mullins was one of those. Mark Heard, another. I think Andrew Peterson is the chief of the new breed. He has a knack for personifying people - not an easy task.

One of the most re-told, recycled tales is that of Abraham and Isaac. Well, AP does it better than me. So here you are:

Holy is the Lord

2006-05-27T13:05:00.000-07:00

You want fun? I’ve got fun for you. Imagine, if you will, your six year old son running though the house screaming “I hate daddy!” at the top of his lungs. Now, that’s fun.

Yeah.

Here’s how that happened. It’s a gorgeous day and Sam and Laney were playing very nicely outside. Sam came in to ask me something - I forget what. I answered him and told him to go back outside and play some more. He said, “But I want to stay inside.”

So I said, “No, you guys have been in all day - you need to go play outside for awhile.”

So he began screaming and saying, “I hate daddy!!”

Yeah.

Well, all the parenting experts say that you shouldn’t try to be your kid’s friend…. Mission accomplished, I guess.

2006-05-25T20:05:00.000-07:00

Old Before My Time

“You and I have memories longer than the road that stretches out of here…” - Paul & John

Eight years and change. Seem like a long time?

We are old in the ways of marriage. Oh, I know that we’re not; not really, anyway. There are plenty of people around who have been married for decades. Decades! And we’re just knocking on the door of our first 10 years (it’ll be 9 in December).

But when it comes to the people we’re around mostly, we’re practically Jessica Tandy and Hume Cronyn (ask your parents). Not only do we have eight years under our belts, but we have two offspring (offsprings?), one of whom is actually in the second f-ing grade! We’re practically ancient.

I only drink expensive beer and/or Scotch. I smoke a pipe. My favorite concert last year was Simon and Garfunkel. I make a funny noise when I get up off the couch. I’d rather read about matchbook art than delve into a hot button political issue - reading DailyKos just makes me tired. In about a month I’ll have bought my second house!

I guess it should come as no surprise that I’m old - the oldest 28 year old on the planet. I think I’ve been old my whole life. Forgive me, Janna, for dragging you into this.

2006-05-25T20:04:00.000-07:00

Slowly, slowly, at first. It's been a while, and this might hurt a little.

2005-09-20T05:57:00.000-07:00

Sam and I went to the Baltimore Comic Convention this weekend - one of those great father/son bonding experiences. I'm glad that there is something that we both enjoy, that we can do together. My dad was great about that as well, when I was a kid (although it was Star Trek conventions then - I know, I know, I'm a geek).

We took the Light Rail into Baltimore city. It was Sam's first ride on the Maryland Light Rail (and only my second or third).

We played the Sam-invented game of "What would you do if you didn't have any senses?" on the train. Well, it doesn't work to yell at me if I can't hear, Sam.

This one was better. Strange thing, though. The guy sitting directly in front of us had a stack of comics a mile high, but he didn't get off at the convention center stop... Guess he was just taking them out for a train ride.

Sam took one look at the table of free stuff and freaked. Who knew there was such a wonderful place in the world as the comic book convention, where, not only do they have great things to look at and buy, but they also give you free stuff? Utopia, I tell ya.

That Batman is one big mother... Sam also met a traveling caravan of Wolverine, Marvel Girl, Rogue, and, for some reason, a Stormtrooper. Go figure.

It was a good day. I'm training the boy up in the way of the geek. And that's ok.

2005-09-15T08:17:00.000-07:00

Ok - I officially need some help from the blogverse. I know we've all been through this at some point, but I'm on the verge, and I probably need to be talked down.

Should I get rid of all of my CDs (after, of course, ripping the hell out of them onto the PC)? Then, sell the discs, and perhaps, buy a iPod? I have well over 500 CDs stacked up, getting in the way (or so my lovely wife thinks.. I think they're elegant).

Thoughts? Help!

John

2005-09-12T10:51:00.000-07:00

Taken from the fantastic Ship-of-Fools.com...

St Peter decides to take the day off to go fishing, so Jesus offers to keep an eye on the Pearly Gates. He is not sure what to do, so Peter tells him to find out a bit about people as they arrive in Heaven, and this will help him decide if he can let them in.

After a while, Jesus sees a little old man with white hair approaching who looks very, very familiar. He asks the old man to tell him about himself. The old man says, "I had a very sad life. I was a carpenter and had a son who I lost at a relatively young age, and although he was not my natural child, I loved him dearly."

Jesus welled up with emotion. He threw his arms around the old man and cried, "Daddy!"

The old man replied, "Pinocchio?"

2005-09-10T08:05:00.000-07:00

Isn't Photoshop great?!? I can erase my own child from existence! Plus, isn't Laney the cutest thing ever?

2005-09-06T12:01:00.000-07:00

I guess the reason that I've been so loathe to post this last week was just that I had nothing to say. I can't really add to the feelings of sorrow and dismay posted on other blogs, written by better writers. This blog is apolitical, so I can't add anything there, and I think that we are all inundated with pleas for donations, etc.

But more than that, I'm tired. I'm tired of the news, of the finger-pointing. Sure, I guess it's profitable, but it makes me tired and I don't want to talk about it. But I can't talk about anything else here without feeling like a schmuck, so I've just shut the hell up. My contribution... silence.

2005-09-03T07:30:00.000-07:00

Complete and utter helplessness. That's all we have here. We want to help. We want to get on a plane. We want to distribute food. We want to minister to brokern families. We want to do SOMETHING.

So we donate. We give some money to the Red Cross, or to World Vision (I chose the latter). Or maybe we donate blood. We call our friends and families and tell them that we will do whatever they need. But we really don't do much.

Why is it, that in the 21st century, we can put a goddamn robot on Mars, but we can't do a damn thing about starving people in the most advanced country in the world? Why can't we do anything?

Yes, we're thankful for what we have here. We hate ourselves just a little bit because we're secretly so glad it wasn't us. We wish that our children cared. We wish they knew what need was. We complain about gas prices. We watch CNN and check Drudge 10 times a day for the most current news.

But what can we do? Yes, we didn't get hit by the hurricane, but we have a curse of our own - helplessness.

2005-08-18T11:06:00.000-07:00

Born before my time... or after my time... or... whatever

I generally find myself trapped in this Bizarro-world in which I'm surrounded by people who are always saying how young I am, and yet, at the same time, I feel ancient. I am tragically unhip.

For my birthday yesterday, I got a couple of CDs, a book, and a DVD - all stuff I wanted very much, stuff I really love. But how many other 28 year olds would ask for The Killing Fields on DVD, the newest Hugh Hewitt book on blogs, a John Mellencamp greatest hits CD, and The Killers CD (which, by the way, is awesome - been listening all day). Then, I'm going to use the rest of my birthday money to buy Madden 06 - a video game.

Plus, I really want to go get my ears pierced (again) and Janna and I are planning on tattoos.

Am I just eclectic, or am I having my mid-life crisis way early? Or, maybe I'm only going to live to see 56 - then I would be right in the middle... hmm...

John

2005-08-16T12:13:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the programming gurus at TV Land, the nation was treated to a marathon of Night Court this past weekend. Being inundated by Bull Shannon, Judge Harry, Dan Fielding, Roz, Mac, etc, I was reminded that when I was a young man, I had a hell of a crush on Markie Post.

So I got to thinking about my other TV crushes. As a very young man, there was Erin Gray from Buck Rodgers – who, incidentally, I saw on an airplane a few years ago.

There was Stephanie Zimbalist from Remington Steele…

Janine Turner from Northern Exposure (who now looks strangely freakish on those Restasis commercials)….

When I got older, Jennie Garth from 90210 (if you can find me a guy my age who wasn’t a little bit in love with Jennie Garth, I’ll show you a liar).

Anybody else have some adolescent crush you’d like to share with the class?

2005-08-09T08:02:00.000-07:00

I was born the day after Elvis died. The King passed away on August 16, 1977 and I was born August 17, 1977, so I’ve always maintained that I have a little bit of The King in me. Janna and I visited Graceland a few years ago, and it’s one of my favorite places in the world. The level of kitsch is so ridiculous, it’s impossible to describe well.

But even before I saw it with my own eyes, I loved Graceland. And my mental picture came completely from Marc Cohn and his song Walking in Memphis.

I saw the ghost of Elvis on Union Avenue
Followed him up to the gates of Graceland
And I watched him walk right though.
Now, security, they did not see him
They just hovered ‘round his tomb
But there’s a pretty little thing
Waiting for The King
Down in the Jungle Room.

Marc Cohn, the man with the golden voice and the sweet piano, was shot in the head yesterday. During an attempted carjacking, a man fired into Cohn’s band’s van, and a bullet struck Cohn in the temple. He appears to be ok, though. He was released from the hospital and the doctors say that he will make a complete recovery.

I own his first two albums (although I really only love the first one). But, man, that’s a good record. Even if he never records anything else worth listening to, that album is a masterpiece.

Best wishes to Marc and his family.

2005-08-01T08:52:00.000-07:00

Tiptoeing Through Father Time’s Tulips

Dateline: Nov. 19, 1998. I was a Senior in college at the prestigious Ouachita Baptist University. In order to fulfill my communications practicum, I had started writing editorials for the newspaper – The Signal. I’m going to reproduce in full one of those editorials here, for reasons that I can’t put my finger on.

Janna and I were going through some of my old stuff the other day. I came across my stamp collection from when I was a kid, some elementary school papers, a Golden State Warriors banner (who knows why I had that – I’m from Florida), etc. I also found this issue of The Signal. Without further ado – here it is:

A Time to Heal

By: John Barber

On October 11, 1998, Matthew Shepard was severely beaten, burned, and tied to a fence post for 18 hours in freezing temperatures. After being pistol-whipped with the butt of a .357 Magnum, the attackers lashed Shepard’s body to a fence in a rural field. Then, they set him on fire. He was found the next morning by a passing bicyclist. The man stopped after realizing that Shepard was not a scarecrow.

On October 12, Matthew Shepard died from his injuries. It was truly a tragic event for the students at the University of Wyoming and the residents of Laramie, Wyoming.

Shepard, according to his friends, family, and classmates, was a peaceful, loving, quiet, and sincere man. He was a junior at the University of Wyoming, a political science major who had aspirations of engaging in politics someday.

So, why did this happen? Why Matthew Shepard? It happened because he was gay. Or, more to the point, it happened because two of his classmates believed that because he was gay, his right to life was revoked. He died because of homophobia.

What exactly is homophobia? It may sound like the state of being afraid of homosexuals, but that’s not it. Homophobia is a hate directed at gays or lesbians based on their sexual preference. It can also refer to behavior or acts based on that hate.

Violence toward homosexuals is not nearly as rare as you would think. In 1997 there were 2,445 reported cases of anti-gay violence in America. Nineteen percent of gays, lesbians, and bisexuals report having been physically abused at one time in their lives, due to their sexual preference. This hate is manifested in many forms, from murder to simple assault.

Where does this hate come from? Well, it’s not only radicals who practice homophobia. Often it’s not quite as radical as we might think. Sometimes it’s a little closer to home. For instance, a Baptist church.

The Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas, operates a website with the address www.godhatesfags.com. The purpose of this web site is to inform the public about the opinions and activities of the church and its congregation. Specifically, Westboro targets the issue of homosexuality because of the “hot-button” nature of the issue. It is imperative to act on the issue of homosexuality because, according to their website, “Fags march up and down the streets, demanding that we accept their filth.”

Why does Westboro use the word “fag”? The web site’s FAQ (Frequently Asked Questions) says: “A ‘fag’ is a fire brand. A ‘fag’ is used for kindling – it fuels fire. ‘Fag’ is a metaphor used in the Bible, for example, in Amos 4:11. Just as a ‘fag’ fuels the fires of nature, so does a sodoite fuel the fires of God’s wrath.”

One of the church’s main activities is picketing funerals. Usually they carry signs bearing slogans such as, “GOD HATES FAGS,” “AIDS CURES FAGS,” or “FAGS BURN IN HELL.” Not surprisingly, the church was on hand for the funeral of Matthew Shepard. Westboro chooses to picket funerals in order “to warn people who are still living that unless they repent, they will likewise perish.” Funerals are specifically targeted by the picketers because, “When people go to funerals, they have thoughts of mortality, heaven, hell, eternity, etc. on their minds.”

The church isn’t the only place to find homophobia. It doesn’t just thrive among the Ku Klux Klan or the Skin head community; it exists among normal, everyday people. Russell Arthur Henderson, 21, and Aaron James McKinney, 22, seemed to be perfectly normal college students. Now, they are awaiting trial for the brutal murder of Matthew Shepard.

Homophobia doesn’t have to evidence itself in violence or picketing. It’s in your thoughts. It’s in the jokes you tell at lunch. It’s in the way you look at somebody you pass on the street. It’s in your heart.

Matthew Shepard was a 21 year old college student. He had blond hair and brown eyes. He had a loving family and faithful friends. He isn’t some nameless, faceless queer that you hear about on the news or in class. He’s just like us.

For the sake of people like Matthew Shepard, homophobia must be treated just like any other form of discrimination. People get hurt; people die because of homophobia. Homosexuals aren’t animals. They aren’t sex-crazed maniacs. They are people like you and me.

Homophobia is hate – just like racism is hate, just like religious intolerance is hate. I hope Matthew Shepard’s story makes you check you heart. If it doesn’t, look at his picture. Imagine he was in your Western Thought class, at your lunch table, or sitting next to you in Tiger Tunes. Then think again. He’ll make you check your heart. He made me check mine.

2005-07-28T08:18:00.000-07:00

This month is the 13th anniversary of the death of a hero of mine. September is the 8th anniversary of another hero of mine. Mark Heard died of cancer in 1992 and Rich Mullins died in a Jeep accident in 1997. Heard was 41, Rich was 41. Two songwriters who were fundamentally opposite in style, yet exactly on the same page when it comes to purpose: revealing the mystery of God.

I count myself lucky to have been exposed to them. There are lots of people who haven’t.

“I think that of all the diseases in the world, the disease that all humankind suffers from, the disease that is most devastating to us is not AIDS, it's not gluttony, it's not cancer, it's not any of those things. It is the disease that comes about because we live in ignorance of the wealth of love that God has for us. What a great message we in the church have. It's relevant to people with AIDS and people without AIDS. It's relevant to homosexuals and to homophobes. It's relevant to Republicans and Democrats, to abortionists and anti-abortionists. It's relevant across the board.”
-- Rich Mullins

2005-07-26T05:51:00.000-07:00

My apologies for being largely absent these last few days. What with multiple video side projects, Sam’s birthday, life, et al.

Anyhoo, I promised myself that if I started this blog back up (my old one was here: Barberman), politics would be off the table. Nothing political in the new blog. Well, I’m going to keep that promise. Scouts’ honor.

On a completely non-political note, I’ve discovered of late that I am enamored of the early Elton John stuff. I’m listening to Tumbleweed Connection at the moment. There’s poetical beauty somewhere in Elton John (Elton John!) writing a whole record about gunslingers.

His early records seem to be much more melodic than the mid-80s, early 90s albums – which were generally angry or overly schmaltzy. Cameron Crowe and I seem to share the love, because he finds a place in all of his movies for an early Elton cut. With Almost Famous (my favorite movie, by the way), it was Tiny Dancer. With Elizabethtown it’s My Father’s Gun.

Anyhoo, I’m gonna do some work, listening to Captain Fantastic, and thinking of cowboys with huge, glittery, pink glasses.

2005-07-21T05:30:00.000-07:00

Sam turns six today. Six! He's having a sleepover birthday party tomorrow night with some of his buddies. Not to get too sentimental, but I remember a time when he would have said that I was his best friend. Even if he still said that today, I'd have to wonder if he has just humoring me... trying to make an old man feel better, you know?

Last night, I overheard a conversation that he was having with my mom on the phone. He said, "Grandma, can I tell you what the word 'insouciant' means?"

Well, do you know what insouciant means? I had to have my six year old explain it to me.

2005-07-15T07:08:00.000-07:00

This is Part III of my Dominican Republic journal. I traveled there for five days.

There are few experiences that all Americans have in common; few things for which one or two words will evoke a common memory. For instance, if I were to say “wardrobe malfunction,” every single person in America would know exactly what I was talking about. Another such shared experience is this one: “Sally Struthers.” Now, does everyone have the same image in his or her mind? Little Ethiopian boys and girls, flies, tears, “for the price of a cup of coffee a day”…. Everybody on the same page? Good.

After Peralta, we few, we proud, we band of gringos traveled to a town called Bani, and a suburb called Santa Rosa. Remember Sally Struthers? That was Santa Rosa. Houses made of concrete with corrugated tin roofs. Children bathing in the same water that women were cleaning their mops in. Filth and dirt as a way of life.

In the below picture, can you see the concrete trough running through the center of the street (the man in the white shirt and blue jeans is sitting on the edge)? That trough carries the neighborhood’s water. Water for bathing, cleaning, etc. comes through there. (By the way, that’s me with the video camera, if you didn’t know).

In this place, we met a man in a Hawaiian shirt. His name is Esdras Kelly. Esdras felt the call of his God to create a church in the dirtiest place in the world. A large part of Esdras’ ministry is a youth center with a basketball court, a small gym, and a library where the kids can do homework. The gym charges 10 pesos (about 50 cents) a day.

Santa Rosa is infested with dirt, disease, and drugs. But, among the infestation, there is a glimmer of hope. It’s not quite shining through the darkness yet, but it’s starting to. People, the lowest of the low, who would have otherwise never understood their worth as a being created in the image of God, are beginning to see that they carry a spark of the divine inside themselves.

Esdras works for a couple of thousand dollars a year.

2005-07-14T11:56:00.000-07:00

We arrived in the Dominican Republic late last Thursday night. We were treated to a lovely dinner of chicken, yuca, boiled green bananas, rice, and El Presidente beer. Then off to our hotel for the night.

The next day, the first destination for our traveling troupe of gringos was a community up the mountains. Peralta, a place unlike anywhere I had seen before, was a good two hour trek for us. A trek through the country, the city, and a startling level of poverty and desolation. I am constantly curious about a man's perception of himself when he is so firmly ensconced in poverty. Does he see hope? Has he resigned himself to this life of scraping and scratching? Does he believe that he or his family is somehow responsible for their condition? Is there any pride or self-worth at all?

Peralta is a kingdom of rubble. Desolation left over from Hurricane George still has the town scarred and seemingly more than in a physical sense. The king, or rather the saint of Peralta, is a man named Francisco. Francisco is, to put it quite bluntly, the most amazing human being God ever made. I didn't realize it at first, but as I sat in his house and ate lunch prepared by his family, and drank the most heavenly coffee, and I listened to his story and the story of Peralta, I came to that obvious conclusion. Of course, his story and the story of Peralta are one and the same.

When Hurricane George hit the town, Francisco, already a fixture in the community, first led the prevention effort, helping people off of the mountain before the worst of the storm hit. But, when weather wants to destroy, it destroys. And when all of the bridges to your town are washed away and there is no hope of escape, it takes a man authentically anointed by God to become Christ in the flesh - a savior in the most literal sense. And listening to the story of how Francisco and his team walked down the mountain, across flooded rivers, and through thick bush to get help for his people, I was truly aware of those whose presence I was in. On one hand, there is no doubt that Almighty God is present of the side of that mountain. On the other hand, there is no doubt in my mind that the man who was sharing his living room with us was a hero. Not a "Johnny saved the kitten from the tree" type of hero, but the Oskar Schindler type of hero - a man who's sole purpose is the salvation (not just spiritually, but literally, physically) of his people.

Some six years after the Hurricane desolation, Francisco decided that God wanted him to provide healthcare to his community. So, after hitting a one in a million shot for an International World Fund grant, Francisco has instituted healthcare for all of his people, for essentially 65 cents a month per person (think about that the next time you drop $3.50 on a Starbucks coffee - healthcare for 5 people for a month). In the four years that the system has been in place, infant mortality has dropped from 35% to 0%. The same for maternal mortality. People are being treated for tuberculosis, HIV, diabetes, and hypertension.

Funding for the program runs out in two months. Please pray that the money shows up, somehow.

-- More stories from my trip to follow--

2005-07-13T13:25:00.000-07:00

I made it back from the Dominican Republic, safe and sound. I'll spill my guts on the whole trip soon enough, but for now... Some Photoblogging, anyone?

2005-07-05T06:41:00.000-07:00

If you've got a mind for it, I could use some extra prayers this week. I leave on Thursday for the Dominican Republic. I'm going with a local church (not mine) to do some video work for them. Imagine creating a partnership between a small Columbia, MD church and an inner city Santo Domingo church. It's the future, man.

The beauty of this trip at the moment for me is that I essentially have zero idea of what we're going to be doing. I know I'll be slinging a camera for the duration, but beyond that, I'm clueless. And I find myself locked into this mindset of the ingorant American. What will I need? Should I take a sleeping bag? Where are we staying? Should I exchange some money for pesos before I go, or can I do it there? I have to know EXACTLY WHAT I AM WALKING INTO.

Then, I take a breath. It's going to be an incredible trip and the little details will take care of themselves. Anyway, like I said earlier, I could use an extra prayer or two this week. And, don't worry, I'll post pictures when I get back.

2005-06-28T06:42:00.000-07:00

Man, old folks can dance. Anne Lamott reminded me of this today, and it's a memory I hope I don't ever lose. I was in Philly with some teenagers and my homie, Nels. We were doing ministry work in the city, and of all the things we were doing, the old folks home was supposed to be the most boring. Sing some little songs, smile real big, get through the day.

Nobody told me we were going on Square Dance Day.

Anybody that knows me knows that I am terminally white. Now, square dancing may be strictly the purview of white folk, but there's white and there's white, get me?

Now, I have trouble finding joy just about every day, and I have the blessing of being able to come and go as I please. Anytime I feel like it, I can drag my ass out the door (under my own power, thank God). Where in the world would I find joy in a place that held me captive? But that's what these old folks have every day. Captivity. You might as well call it a zoo for the elderly.

But here's the rub: once we walked in the door, there was joy to spare. And, once the music started, the joy increased exponentially. Not just from the dancers - even the folks who couldn't get out of their chairs for one reason or another were full of it. But those dancing ladies... wow. They may have been in their nineties, but I felt like I'd run a marathon that day, and they hadn't broken a sweat.

That was one of my best days. It's just too bad that I had to go all the way to an old folks home in Philly to find it.

2005-06-23T19:38:00.000-07:00

God bless me, I've joined Gold's Gym. My first workout was today - a mile on the treadmill. I've said my goodbyes to my beer gut (but not, thank goodness, to beer). I already feel thinner.

Pray for me.

2005-06-23T06:01:00.000-07:00

So, the boy started Karate lessons last night... or is it Tae Kwon Do? I can't manage to keep all that straight. Anyway, I sat on the bench and watched as his instructor made them do things Sam has never even dreamt of before. Things like stretches. The concept of stretching, for a boy who has, for his entire life, been automatically limber, is a foreign one. Of course, the stretching would be fine if, say, it didn't hurt like you-know-what.

But here's the part that surpised me, the part I didn't see coming. Sam had never done these things before, ever. So he had simply no idea of even how to begin to do them. I never thought about neednig to be coached to do stretches. God bless him, Sam's instructor was very patient in helping him to stand the right way for knee-bends, to get into push-up position, etc. Now, I'm no athlete, but I've played my share of sports so that sort of thing comes completely naturally to me. I guess that I went through the same learning process when I was his age - but I sure as hell don't remember it. So it caught me off guard.

The other thing that I wasn't prepared for was how proud I would be watching my boy doing something so simple. There was a time, during one of the stretches, that he was obviously hurting. He hadn't felt pain like that before. But he didn't quit. He pushed through it and finished the stretch. I'm not sure I've ever smiled so big.

Anyway, all that got me thinking about how everything we do is based on these tiny things - things that we don't even remember learning. Church comes to mind here - when did I first take communion? Dunno, but it seems natural now, it seems basic. It seems elemental. So it's strange for me to think of the folks out there who are just learning all this stuff for the first time. Like Sam, they're undergoing the pain of stretching themselves. Why are we doing this? How is this helping me? Why am I putting myself through this church business when I could be out on my boat?

You know what Sam's instructor told him when he asked why they needed to stretch? He said, "Sam, what if one day you're fighting someone who is very, very tall? You're going to need to be able to kick very high, right? That's why you stretch."

2005-06-21T07:15:00.000-07:00

They don't give you a book when you have a kid. My manual for Photoshop is the size of my head, but for a child? Nothing. Nada. Not even an online Help resource. I can't look up "Training Wheels" in the Index, flip to page I-187, and read, "Training wheels should be left on the child's bicycle for no longer than x weeks, but no less than y days." There is no Chapter entitled, "The Various Bugs that Will Stick Themselves to Your Child." So, when Sam has a tick (and he's had three in the last few months), we're calling every relative we can get a hold of to find out what to do.

Now, I've been a parent for nigh on 6 years, and I feel like I'm doing ok. I have my bad moments, some good ones, too. I think my kids are turning out ok - that I'm not screwing them up too bad. Yes, I let my 5 year old son (and, for that matter, my 2 year old daughter) watch The Incredibles, despite what www.youreabadparentifyouletyourkidswatchthismovie.com said about it. Violence! Suggestivness! Bad guys get beat up! Your children will imitate what they see! Well, I haven't seen Sam try to pick up the family car yet, despite how much he likes Mr. Incredible, or stick a tack on his teachers chair, despite how much he idolizes Dash. So, I think we're coming out ok.

I digress. Sam has been riding his bike a lot - something you couldn't pay him to do a year ago. He's keen on getting the training wheels off and I can't decide if he actually needs them on for a while longer, or if it's just the dad in me that wants him to not grow up yet.

I was reminded yesterday of an incident we had with him when he just little - probably a smidge over a year old. He was sick - real sick. Puking his guts out, fever, the whole bit. You know. Now, keep in mind that I was all of 23 and Janna was 24. Talk about being completely unprepared for a situation. We had no idea what to do.

In the middle of the night, he woke up and was much, much worse. He was stark white. Printer paper white. WordPad background white. We brought him into the bathroom, and Janna was sitting on the toilet with him in her lap. Sam, who had been falling in and out of sleep, opened his eyes just a little, pointed his finger, and said, "Mommy, look - an angel." Janna lost what composure she had at that point and started sobbing, completely believing that our son was dying. I was on the verge (I think I was just a little slower on the uptake than her, or I would have freaked out, too) of doing the same. Had we had the manual, we would have flipped to the index, looked up "Angel Sightings," turned to page II-134, and read, "When your sick child sees an angel, make sure that he/she is not simply pointing to a piece of artwork you have on the bathroom wall before losing your mind." See, that would have saved us a lot of grief. But, no, we freaked out, and then we saw the angel on the wall that he was pointing to. Ha. Easy to laugh at now, right?

I guess all parenting is On the Job Training. Unfortunately for Sam, his role is that of guinea pig. We get most of our screw-ups out of the way at his expense. I guess that's what they have professional therapists for, right?

Anybody know when the Training Wheels should come off?

2005-06-16T12:01:00.000-07:00

Beatles or Rolling Stones?

That's the question as I always heard it. Those were the two biggies. How you answer that question demonstrates everything about you. If you pick the Beatles, you're the artistic, deep-thinking, type. Choose the Stones, and you're a working-class rock & roller at heart.

Well, my lovely bride always said there should be a third choice. As a music purist, I always disagreed. "The Stones and the Beatles are the two greatest bands of all time!," I would bellow. Well, as usual, it turns out she's right.

Add Elvis Presley to the equation, please. You pick Elvis? You're probably just a hard-ass redneck.

Well, which is it for you? Beatles, Stones, or Elvis?

Me? I'll take the King.

2005-06-13T10:28:00.000-07:00

I'm tired of the public perception of Christianity. I'm especially tired of blaming CNN and Howard Dean for it. What does it say for Christianity that the most recognizable face of it is Jerry Falwell? Why are there no more real heroes of this faith? Or, are there and we just never hear about them? Is it the media's fault? Is it Christianity's fault? Does it matter? Should we care? Should we just suck it up? Does it go with the Christian territory?

Anybody out there know of some Christians that deserve some ink?

2005-06-08T12:59:00.000-07:00

Grief, she holds you captive
In a well as dark as night.
And that ladder of composure you built all day
Crumbles in a certain slant of light.
And it’s leaving you reduced
While you try to catch your breath.
And every tear we cry for our lost loves
Is really for ourselves.
- Bill Mallonee

Let me pass on a word of advice – free of charge. When you’re dealing with someone who’s had a tragedy in the family (and make no mistake about it - for us, a miscarriage is a dead child - period), don’t ask, “How are you doing?” Just don’t ask. Unless you truly desire to become an active participant in the grieving process, keep your trap shut. All that question does is force us to think about it. We spend all day building up that "ladder of composure," and then, when you ask, we have to answer that question.

Also free of charge, here’s a peek into my head: when you ask me how I’m doing, I take one of two approached to what I say next. The first is the truth – I honestly tell you how we’re doing. This is, by far, the lesser used of the two. Mostly, I go with the second option. I simply say, "Oh, we’re doing ok," or, "we’re getting by," or some other nonsense – whatever will get you away from me the fastest. So, just don’t ask and save us both time. Ask me about the Orioles, or how I liked Star Wars. It’ll make for a much better conversation, I promise.

by the way, this was not directed at any of the three or so of my readers… it’s just a general rant

2005-06-07T18:16:00.000-07:00

I have the blessing / responsibility / opportunity /luxury /benefit / hardship of being part of a church plant. Now, we've around for about seven and a half years, so I'm not sure we technically still count as a plant. But here's the main difference between a church plant and an established church: at New Hope (and churches like it), you can get as involved in the church as you want to. Churches that have been around for awhile have people firmly ensconced in positions, plants don't. You want to be a ministry leader? You're hired! You want to lead a small group? We'd love to have you! You want to preach every once in awhile? Sure!

Actually, that last one is the position in which I find myself. Over the last few years , I've preached at New Hope 5 or 6 times. And, I'll be doing it twice more next month. Why am I bringing this up? Who knows. But do you know the odds of a schmuck like me, with no seminary training, let alone much experience, being allowed to preach at any kind of established church? I'm guessing it probably wouldn't ever happen.

Now, as to whether or not that's a good thing, I guess we should ask the folks at New Hope after I preach.

2005-06-06T19:00:00.000-07:00

My two lovely children love to put their fingers in things - their ears, their noses, their mouths... you get the idea. Anyway, after putting those fingers in such dank and dark places, the fingers inevitably end up touching my computer screen. The result is, as you can imagine, a cloud of mucus that has to be physically scraped off. Otherwise, whatever is behind the scum cloud gets obscured - making it damn hard for me to do important work, like dowloading the newest tunes from Billtunes or perusing Drudge's latest gossip.

Most of you know what's happened around here these last few weeks. In case you haven't, let me sum it up by saying that May was a bad month for the Barbers. One of my sisters had carpal tunnel surgery (successfully, thank God), my mother had double knee replacement surgery (also successful, thank God), and my other sister was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and in the last few days had her thyroid removed. And, the coup de grace was that about three weeks ago, my wife, who had been about three months pregnant, lost the baby. Like I said, it was a bad month for the Barbers (especially the women).

Before all of this happened, and even more so since, a hot topic 'round here has been this business of God's plan for our lives. Where does He want us? What does He want us doing? Does my job fit into it?

I've been reading a lot of John Eldredge these past few months, and I've bought into the idea of our lives being meant for something huge - not just a humdrum existence, but something really meaningful to the kingdom of God, in a big way. God's plan for our lives is way bigger than we can even picture, you know? And, when we do get a bit of clarity about it, it tends to be fleeting. So it makes sense to look hard and pay attention when we get the chance.

But when a month like this past May happens, it's like some little hands run their fingers, wet with spit, all over that clear image of God's will. The parts that looked so clear a few minutes ago become smeared and smudged and it gets hard to decipher. And, man, it's going to take a long time to scrape all that off with these short fingernails... Anyone got some Windex?

2004-08-22T06:21:00.000-07:00

This is a post to see how the comments work.

2004-04-24T19:24:00.000-07:00

Tear Stained Eye

Walking down Main Street
Getting to know the concrete
Looking for a purpose from a neon sign
I would meet you anywhere the western sun meets the air
We'll hit the road, never looking behind

Can you deny, there's nothing greater
Nothing more than the traveling hands of time?
Sainte Genevieve can hold back the water
But saints don't bother with a tear stained eye

Seeing traces of the scars that came before
Hitting the pavement still asking for more
When the hours don't move along,
Worn-out wood and familiar songs
To hear your voice is not enough
It's more than a shame

Can you deny, there's nothing greater
Nothing more than the traveling hands of time?
Sainte Genevieve can hold back the water
But saints don't bother with a tear stained eye

Like the man said, rode hard and put away wet
Throw away the bad news, and put it to rest
If learning is living, and the truth is a state of mind
You'll find it's better at the end of the line.

Can you deny, there's nothing greater
Nothing more than the traveling hands of time?
Sainte Genevieve can hold back the water
But saints don't bother with a tear stained eye.

--Son Volt

2004-04-24T18:28:00.000-07:00

First shot at it