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“Each Passing Eternity”

Beyond graceless mistakes

Past the faithless falls

There’s a place for all who wait

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Weary with each passing eternity…

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“Genesis House”

The final notes rang out minutes before 11 PM. The gear is packed away, and the band and I have driven our separate ways. I’m down the road a little ways and my favorite playlist on Spotify is streaming into my ears. Yet tears stream down my cheeks as I remember the words and stories recounted tonight.

The words ring over and over in my mind. “He was hungry for my pain and suffering…
I was determined to survive.”

Right now someone is attempting to ward off blows that should never fall.

Someone is begging and pleading for it all to stop.

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Statistics were shared tonight how relatively few in number decide to survive. The rest believe they deserve whatever they receive. It’s a hell storm that they long to flee, yet fear holds them hostage. They convince themselves it’s not the abuser who is wrong, but it’s them. Somehow they have failed and are worthless…yet worthy of any punishment rained upon them.

Father, protect your children tonight. Give courage where fear reigns. Give strength to the weak, and let your mercy flow…

“God… Shape a genesis week from the chaos of my life.”
Psalm 51:10 The Message

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“The Hand and the Heart”

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While I love the technology of iPads and laptops, I have rediscovered the immediacy that comes with connecting my head and heart to my pen and allowing that to spill out onto a blank page. It seems more real, though no less difficult.

Typing onto a screen is clean and neat, but writing by hand is chaotic and mesy. But it’s more like real life…like my life at least.

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Fear has always been my greatest enemy. Praying for freedom from fear, and for the courage to trust in the One who is always trustworthy.

GV

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“Listen and Repeat”

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“Let everything with breath praise The Lord.”

Psalm 150:6

It has always been my intent for Project Onefifty to be the artistic expression of this passage, for this verse to live and breathe in the everyday through music and media of all kinds.

So what does it mean to praise the Lord during seasons good and bad? Is it to ignore pain and pretend all is well? Is it to embrace joy when others are lost and alone?

Todays post does not attempt to answer these questions despite needing them in my own heart and life. Today is just about the thoughts and feelings of the morning, a gentle wrestling, with a greater match sure to come…

* * * * *

I am not inspired.

The dawn was once again beautiful, the morning star shining in its loneliness against the background of the coming day. Hours later the crispness of the early hours still lingers, more a foretaste of the fall than in truth a midsummers day in the South.

I sit on my smallish porch in one of two weathered white rocking chairs, a faded pillow against the small of my back. A gorgeous river birch is shading my eyes from the overt glare of the sun. The prevailing sound is that of the wind in the front maple tree, green and full on this July Monday. In the fall it glows a fiery red before letting go of it’s glory, always reaching heavenward even when I do not.

As usual my thoughts stray to music…

But these days music is not the balm it has been. There’s certainly no shortage of great music to enjoy, despite all those people prophesying it’s death. There is more great art to be found now than I can ever remember. My memory is not great for certain things, but it’s filled with a lifetime of music.

It’s not that music no longer holds me in gentle thrall…far from it. It’s my passion as well as my chief (better make that only) export. I hear music even now in the whispering wind and the birdsong from the woods behind my house. Even the occasional shouts of kids playing at the big hill provide accents of sorts.

I still live and breathe and dream in notes and rhythms.

For all the sensory input of the morning, I am not inspired. Yet the fire to create burns as red as the fall maple.
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They say that only amateurs wait for inspiration, and that ‘real’ artists and writers simply get up and go to work. I live in the Nashville area, a city built on music built from 9-5. But hey…I have no hits, so who am I to knock the work ethic of those who do?

So I sit here on my porch with my pen and journal, doing the work of a writer…recording thought and feeling, digging for truth in spite of myself. My dog Farley is here with me, sniffing the breeze like he knows something is up. Today I wish I had his instincts.

For some reason I think of my time growing up. Where did that come from?

Back in the ancient days of the 20th century, a diploma demanded two years of a foreign language. The choices were few: German (hard), Spanish (who wants to be called Jorge? ‘hey Whore-Hey!’), and French. Despite being born in West Germany, I chose French. That’s still Europe, right? Little did I know I would be ‘Monsieur Georges’ for the next two years. Sure, it looks innocuous enough in print, but try being a freshman and sophomore with a name pronounced ‘zHOrsh.’ Not the manliest of names for an emergent nerd.

While life with French I & II teacher Madame Gobeill had its moments, I sadly remember few words and phrases. But one still comes to mind from time to time:

‘Ecouter et répéter’ or ‘listen and repeat.’

There’s a lesson here. The great writers are constantly listening to the world around them, soaking in life and revealing it as it is and as it should be. The great musicians listen intently to the music in which they willingly drown, looking for just the right moment to add to the magic their own insight and vision. There is simply nothing else like these moments…

Listen and repeat.

The maple is still reaching toward heaven even as the wind rustles a rhythm for the still-singing birds. Music and magic and inspiration abound.

Father, thank You for the gift of this day. Help me to listen and repeat and follow the song You placed within.

 

 

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“Time”

‘And then one day you find
Ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run
You missed the starting gun’

-Pink Floyd “Time”

I woke up this morning to find a message in my inbox from a music biz friend. He was wishing me a happy work anniversary.

Since I had left my job back in Birmingham in 2005, I was a bit mystified. Upon closer examination (I read the email) I saw where it’s the tenth anniversary of the launch of Project Onefifty.

For those of you new to the program, P150 is the music missions non-profit ministry we began in Birmingham in 2004 after a tour of Italy and Switzerland.

Ten years gone. Hard to believe. But when I look in the mirror and see the streaks of grey in my hair…and the lines in my face, reality hits.

From the beginning Project Onefifty was to be the musical proclamation of Psalm 150:6, “let everything with breath praise The Lord.”

It is a story too long to tell how P150 migrated from Birmingham, Alabama to the outskirts of Nashville, Tennessee. There are many tales to tell indeed…

Ten years is a long time and a perfect time to look back. I can say that we never really became what I thought we were supposed to be. But instead we did apparently what God intended.

In ten years we played to folks all around the world. We partnered with other missions groups to sing the Good News in Ireland and Japan and Oman. We played coffee shops and churches and retreats and house concerts back home in the US.

We helped orphans in Africa learn that ‘Grace brings Good News,’ and contributed ‘Hope’ to disaster relief when the fury of storms ravaged the Gulf.

In the strangest turn, the song “I Will Trust in You” was published world-wide by LifeWay to teach kids about missions and how God is trustworthy.

Our music literally reaches around the world.

Please forgive me if it appears that I am boasting. I am not. I am just as shocked by all this as you, if not more so.

I am grateful to all the people who have supported this dream and helped make it a reality.

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It is time for changes for Project Onefifty. While there are still projects that can be achieved no other way than through P150, there are some places and projects that require a new vision and a new way.

I haven’t got a clue about what’s next.

All I know is that the times are a’changing, and things that live and grow change along with the times.

Change is not easy. It’s difficult and terrifying. But needed and necessary.

In the coming weeks and months, this new way will have made itself known and we will certainly shout from the rooftops when we figure it out.

I’ll end with a brief story. In the days before P150 I found myself in New Orleans with my church worship team. I was the tech director and we had come to the Baptist seminary to lead worship during their daily chapel services.

At that point in my life I had all but given up playing. Church tech work is a consuming fire and I was crispy on both sides.

During our off time, we made our way to Bourbon Street. Let me go on record that I LOVE N’awlins. It is a place rich in history and culture, and unlike any place on the planet.

I ducked into one of the many music joints when I heard the most terrifying sound. A guy was playing a blues so dangerous and electric…I could not help but fall under it’s spell.

On that day a fire long-dead burst into flames. I wanted to play again. I wanted to feel the fiery wash of sound from a too-loud amplifier. I wanted to coax tender notes from a steel-strung acoustic. I wanted the power and joy that is music to be front and center in my life.

The trip came and went and I reverted to the status quo of church music.

But I never forgot the blue fire of a guitarist in a nasty club on Bourbon Street.

Anointing is not exclusive to the house of God. I felt it wash over me in that club. And I’ve felt it a few times since.

God, send me the fire again. I want to be immolated in the sound of Holy Spirit blowing like the wind through hearts of cold stone like mine.

“Let everything with breath Praise The Lord”
Psalm 56:3