2025-02-13T21:35:00+00:00

Apple Cider Vinegar

February 13, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Earlier this week, at the end of year basketball banquet, a mom of one of the boys asked me if I had seen the Netflix series Apple Cider Vinegar. I told her I hadn’t, but the picture and title sounded like something I’d like. As a matter of fact, she was right, an Australian woman who created a social media empire based on a complete lie (that she fought with brain cancer and won) is exactly something I’d like.

I am the target market for quirky documentaries and “based on” true stories, the odder the better. A perfect example was one called Chicken People, about farmers/groomers/owners who raise chickens to compete with each other. If you’ve seen Best In Show, the Christopher Guest mockumentary about dog shows, then you have an idea of Chicken People. It was so awesome, and I hoped the algorithm would respond with an endless flow of films about all different types of lifestyles that are a little (or a lot) out of the norm.

This is not that kind of show. Yes, it is quirky. Yes, the main character is an attention-seeking media whore, who will do and say anything for you to know who she is. It’s funny, in parts, and features surprisingly great writing & acting.

The 6 episodes unfold patiently, gently revealing a big beating heart. It gives you a perspective, jarring as it twists into another, then punches you right in the belly with another. Great documentaries don’t take sides, but instead present the people as they are, multi-faceted and complex, leaving us to decide. That way, our judgment exposes us more than the subjects. They’re mirrors. We watch them, but we learn who we are. Can we hold the truth that we are all of these things?

Very rarely are we 100% of anything, and this Belle Gibson isn’t, either. Of course, she’s a monster. Liar. Manipulator. Thief. But she’s also still the 12 year old who ran away from home, broken, insecure, lonely, depressed.

I’d suggest that she is only the framework from which to tell a different story. This is a story about couples, families, deep relationships, and the sharp, wiry tentacles of cancer that hold them (and us) together. It’s a story about hanging onto hope when all strength is gone, amid terrible loss. About death. And life. And especially, enduring, perseverant, love. The kind that isn’t in movies. Not the gauzy romance of meet-cutes, it’s the long, hard, hospitals, funerals and weddings, graduations, Tuesday dinners love that loves even when it’s hard and nobody feels like another step together. It’s about real love, where the roots go all the way down, through the earth into the soul of the divine. It’s about devotion and faith. The joy and gratitude that only comes from the sort of pain that makes you feel like you might die yourself. Where we show up, and keep showing up, forever and ever, amen.

I loved it more than I can tell you. I want you to all see it. I want to write a letter to the creators, or buy them a nice sweater. I cried so hard, so loudly, and so much, it hurt a lot. I’m exhausted and have a pretty vicious headache now.

Then I sent a text to the Angel, and I prayed. I prayed thank you for these gifts, and the tears that come with great, full lives. I prayed thank you for the pain of a broken, totally connected and soft heart. And I prayed that you know true beauty, that you know these kinds of tears, this heartbreak, this gratitude, and this love, too.

Cherry Pie

February 4, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

This will probably be a little lengthy, and might get a little NC-17. We’ll start with the post I just wrote for the church site:

“In the 2nd chapter of Titus, the word sober-minded was used, and that doesn’t sound like too great of a catch phrase. No one is probably getting a “sober-minded” tattoo, or using it on their dating profile. We don’t throw it around easily in conversation, it seems like an adjective that was used often in the late 1800’s, and not much since. See? The Bible is hopelessly outdated, right?

But the term, as it was written, suggests a person that “knows the value of things,” and as I look around, live and breathe, I can’t think of a characteristic that is more necessary and less common.

Have you ever reached out to someone about something that is heavy, that is taking a toll on your heart, that is painful or wildly significant, that we aren’t meant to carry alone? It’s an unbearably vulnerable space, and we wait. Then, the person, obviously uncomfortable, makes a joke. Or answers their phone. Or changes the subject. Your authenticity is discarded and disrespected. That person, who made you so sorry you reached at all out and especially sorry you reached out to him/her, has no idea of the value of things.

Not only do they not know the value of the circumstance you entrusted to them, but they do not know the value of your open heart, not do they know the value of a human being. This last one is, sadly, the real loss. We treat each other as disposable, as means to ends, as items to be used, for what they can bring to us, instead of recognizing who they are for no other reason than who they are. We are, to each other, too often, tools.

We have things to do and boxes to check. We have been sold the idea that our productivity is more important than our relationships. We have lost the value of things.

When I see people show up to weddings in t-shirts (a more and more common occurrence), I always shake my head. I speak to my boys of “time and place,” and now I know that I actually mean, “sober-minded.” A wedding is different than a ball game is different than bedtime. When we go to the gym and go through the motions, we have forgotten how extraordinary it is that we have been made in such a fantastic way that we are able to do these amazing things with our bodies. Instead of worship, it is a torturous obligation. When we kiss our wives or hold another’s hand without thinking, as simply routine, we have missed the value of this shocking intimacy. What could be more wonderful than the soft, slow, unhurried kiss of your beloved? Or more loving and trusting than another person offering their hand to you, searching for care and closeness?

Right. We’re, of course, talking about Genesis 28:16, “Surely God was in this place, and I was unaware.” When we lose the value of things, we are consistently unaware.

Last night, we drove an hour to what is likely to be the very last away high school basketball game for my youngest son. Do you know how many away games we’ve traveled to? A lot. Do you know how many times they were a nuisance? If that answer is equal to or greater than 1, we were ignorant of the value of things.

I think the concept of “ordinary” is the language of a culture that does not know the value of things. Maybe Paul’s letter to Titus is exactly what we need. Maybe we need more “sober-minded” tattoos, so we can all remember kisses and away games, remember to be grateful, so we can remember to stay present and wake up to our lives and the overflowing blessings all around us.”

Now cover the kids ears. 2 days ago I heard the Warrant song, “Cherry Pie.” True, this isn’t a classic, in the sense that it is a particularly great song. But it is a classic in the sense that we all know it, you probably smiled when you read it, you probably can hear it in your head right now. It means exactly what you think it does, Warrant was never very subtle (not much of the hair band era was) or nuanced. Anyway, there is a line that says, “put a smile on your face 10 miles wide.”

I am a married man, so there is a physical act that my wife and I alone can enjoy (which is the subject of “Cherry Pie,” which is the reason we’re discussing it), and over the course of my life, I have seen, heard, read, and thought more about that act than almost anything. So, one of the things I notice is that there is a certain pressure to, um, finish, and without that… Well, wherever there is pressure, there is weight, which can steal focus and joy. We go somewhere else in our minds, our attention is split any number of ways.

When I marry couples, I give very strict instructions to not try to memorize their written vows. Write them down. Because a wedding is one of the most profound experiences of our lives, and if we drag along the pressure of memorizing the words, the ceremony ends and we discover that we remember little, if anything, of the moment.

The value of the thing Jani Lane of Warrant is singing about is not the finish, it is in the connection, intimacy, love, exclusivity, the dace between souls expressed through our bodies. It is selfless giving & receiving, it is pleasure, this blessing, and to reduce it to (roughly) 15 seconds of release is to miss the most significant parts. And if those 15 seconds don’t come (newsflash for those raised on popular culture and pornography: they don’t always, even in the best circumstances), we can feel other ways that don’t include 10 mile wide smiles. What a sad illustration of Genesis 28:16.

And another illustration of the modern lie: that we are only what we produce. That our worth is based entirely on our performance. That the value of things we have been taught since birth is hopelessly warped and twisted. Warrant had it right, maybe for different reasons than I think they did, but right nonetheless.

The point is to be there. Here. Now. Wherever we are, whenever we are. Whether it’s a cherry pie situation or church, tears or 10 mile wide smiles. This life we have been given is too beautiful to miss.

Gongoosmos-ing

January 30, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

What do I complain about the most? That’s what the site is asking this morning, and that’s almost too prescient. I wonder if the site prompts are different for everyone, and this AI algorithm is listening through my phone/tablet/tv set for who I am and what is, specifically, on my mind. Because I have been complaining this morning, and it happens to be what I complain about the most, in this season of my life.

I’m calling this post Gongoosmos-ing, because gongusmos is the Greek word for complaining, used often in the Bible. (I add the -ing because we can do whatever we want – I’ve never pretended to be a Greek scholar, I just love the word and want to use it.) It’s used to describe the behavior of the Israelites after they have been liberated from Egyptian slavery, and as they walk in the desert, they gongusmos. It’s the words uttered (or muttered) that are simply the outflow of the heart. “We deserve better,” that sort of thing. They lose sight of the blessing, or any hopeful vision for the future, exchanging it for an entitled sense of misplaced arrogance. We have been given less, we are lacking something, it sucks, and I’m going to tell you, tell everybody, about it again and again.

But some things do suck, right? The trick is to figure out the kind of perspective that can see the suck in a redemptive way, looking for solutions (this sucks, what can we do about it to make it not?), instead of just seeing the suck as static and impossible to affect any change (this sucks and will always suck).

I’m going to be honest with you, here, in a way I may regret. Maybe some things shouldn’t be aired in public. But maybe that’s it’s own form of despair and resignation to the toxic “it is what it is” status quo mentality.

(I’m going to use sports, but as we have learned, this isn’t only about youth sports. Not by a long shot.) We’re at the tail end of my son’s high school basketball season (maybe I’ve mentioned it;). The referees are embarrassingly inept. If the things that happen on the court, the way the players punch and push and harass, are within the rules, they should not be. (To be clear, they aren’t. When I say ‘if,’ I don’t really mean if.) It’s hard to watch a game. I gongusmos about that, and I’ll tell you why in a paragraph.

There are 2 sides of youth sports coaching. First are the x’s & o’s, wins and losses, the actual game, teaching positions, skills, plans, strategy – where the players learn the game and grow in it. The second are 3 C’s: character, connection & care – the players spend so much time with the coach, they are taught much more than the game. They are taught sportsmanship and all of those characteristics that come with becoming men and women. The best coaches have both. They relate and win, the players trust them and play for them. They exit the program as better versions of themselves in so many ways they may not understand. They just know they’ve been cared for. The vast majority of coaches have just one. They either win OR they’re the men/women you’d want your child to spend the time with. The worst have neither… I gongusmos about that.

Woeful officiating and shameful coaches have the same symptom and consequence, they communicate the exact same message: “Who cares? It’s just sports, it doesn’t really matter. We can’t do better, we’ll take what we get, and throw our hands up in a bizarre kind of aggressive indifference.” And maybe. It is just sports. (The fact that it is the American religion is a topic for another day.) Maybe it is so ancillary to the human experience, that devoting an ounce of attention to the (sometimes) miserable state of affairs is misspent energy.

However. The real message we are communicating is that it’s not the sports that don’t matter, it is the kids. (I cringe to say the familiar refrain, “it’s for the kids,” because the people usually self-righteously screaming it are obviously lying. Oh well.) The idea that my son (and your son and the 2 boys that quit 13 games into their senior season and the boys that cried after each devastating loss) deserves whatever we can throw at them is violence to their spirits.

Maybe we’re all so anxious and depressed because the world is a mean place where the people who should be fighting for us aren’t because it’s too much trouble. Maybe our kids don’t trust anyone because we’ve all proven ourselves to be so untrustworthy. Maybe this isn’t gongoosmos-ing, it’s shouting into the crowd in an attempt to incite a revolution. The revolution that reclaims the worth and value of every person. The revolution that stops sending the message that you aren’t enough, aren’t important enough to demand better, and starts sending a different announcement, that you ARE. The revolution of radical love. And maybe we could start to prove it with our skin and bones and decisions.

Maybe this is all gongoosmos-ing. I guess it all depends on if we can turn these warped tables of our own apathy over and rebuild this whole broken system.

Star Wars Or Bust

January 28, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

Amazon has this tv series called Icons Unearthed, where they dig under the surface of some very well loved bastions of pop culture, like The Lord Of The Rings and Batman. I think it’s awesome, because I am a guy that can’t ever get enough of the how’s of creation. (The only thing that I am more fascinated by are the why’s.) The Icon I’m currently watching is Star Wars.

I’m not sure there’s anything from my childhood that has been more influential on me than this saga that took place a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. The characters and their stories captured my imagination in ways other characters had, I am a target market, but to a new, surprising depth and intensity. If you’ve ever been impacted by my life, on any level, you have George Lucas, at least partially, to thank and/or blame.

George Lucas was the science fiction film visionary who conceived the skeleton of the story, a savvy businessman who still rakes in mountains of cash from contracts signed decades ago, for projects and merchandise based on his skeleton. Star Wars also sort of ruined his life. Maybe that’s a reach, a conclusion I arrived at without ever actually hearing from him. He may have always been an introverted curmudgeon who liked processes more than people, Star Wars or not, but it certainly ruined his marriage.

His life led me to think of the warning of Jesus about gaining the whole world but losing your soul. I’m not sure they are connected, and if they are, I think I might have more wrestling to do with the Bible on this.

Have you ever had an idea, or a metaphorical “fire” in your heart? You can act on that, lean into it, or you can not. You can try to shove it way down deep and try to pretend to have never heard the call at all. If you’ve done that, you already know it never stays down and pretending is impossible forever. The spark just gnaws and gnaws at your mind, like rats in the attic.

I remember saying to the Angel, “maybe this thing we’re starting (which happened to be a church), maybe it won’t work, but if we don’t try, I’ll never sleep again.” Maybe that was true.

But what if it costs everything? What if it would have cost me The Angel and my sons – how would I have slept then? But could I have actually given all of me, the best parts of me, to my wife if I suppressed that impulse? Could I have become who I am created to be without taking the shot? And how many people, like me, have have their lives changed by Luke Skywalker and his dad? How much beauty has had it’s genesis in Lucas’s films? What is the “whole world” gained, and what is the “soul” lost?

I know the verses are talking about faith, and the context is about choosing selfishness over God, but in this case (in most cases), it’s not so clear. “What can anyone give in exchange for your soul?” But maybe the “soul” is the art, in this case. Maybe Star Wars is the mission, the blessing to be given through this person, and to ignore it is to “forfeit” his soul, and the “whole world” is his relationship with his wife and family. Maybe they are the sacrifice of faith, in his life.

What if the Angel had said no, said I needed to keep the comfortable, secure job I hated? She might have been married to a shell of a man for the rest of her life. In a vacuum, I think George Lucas would have been happier with her, rather than with his wealth. She was, by all accounts, an absolutely lovely woman. But life isn’t a vacuum. So, with Star Wars inside of him, would he have ever been content?

Maybe he wrote it, gained all the money (among many other things), and blew up his marriage (among many other things), only because he had to prove his worth to his own father, or only because he wanted a few more dollars. That’s an easy application of the words of Jesus. But how many choices in your life have ever been 100-0? Not many. And for us, we’ll never know what actually went into his decision. We can believe it was for unimaginable wealth, but maybe it was faith, an offering of selfless service. When maybe all he really wanted was his wife. Then what?

On screen, Star Wars is a story of good persevering, the triumph of light, hope and love for each other. It’s a hugely successful franchise that may never die. And maybe off screen, it’s an epic tragedy. Our lives are complicated. We’ll never know the why of George Lucas, it’s just vital we know our own.

Complicated

January 7, 2025/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site prompt is, ‘What could you do differently?” And I LOVE that question. It’s not what I’m going to write about today, but I imagine I will soon. Today, instead, it’ll be about 2 complicated documentaries that I recently watched.

A British Horror Story is the account of Jimmy Saville, a British celebrity for 40+ years. I don’t remember ever hearing his name, though I think that’s impossible. As you know, I am somewhat of a pop culture aficionado. Maybe I did, but not remembering someone as odd looking as Seville is equally impossible. That someone this unappealing was a star in a visual medium is quite unusual. Anyway, appearances aside, he was as odd and unappealing in his life, as well.

A woman who knew him guessed that she had never seen someone do as much good as he did. He had given years and years, with much fundraising and publicity, for English hospitals, detention spaces, and mental health centers. Of course, he also sexually abused the patients in those facilities, more than 400 formal counts. There’s that.

The Curious Case of Natalia Grace is far more difficult to explain. Natalia is a little person who is either 22 or 35 years old. Either she is a psychopath who tried to murder her adoptive parents without any cause whatsoever, or the victim of horrific physical violence. No one is particularly likable in this series, and it’s totally probably that no one is telling the truth. I haven’t finished all of it. Maybe there is a resolution in the end, but so far, the Angel and I change our opinion on who the real villain is each episode. Is there a villain? Are they all villains? Are they all victims, too?

Now that I’m on this, a really good friend saw the Dylan biopic (featuring the alleged, noted STD super-spreader and terrific actor Timothy Chalamet) and has been obsessed with listening to old records, while trying to reconcile the fact that Dylan was, perhaps, not the nicest person.

I went to see Morrissey in November, and walked around the hotel, wanting him to sign my t-shirt. But only sign my shirt. I don’t want to have a conversation with him, or sit down to dinner together. He and his music absolutely changed my life, but personally, he is widely known as holding many of the characteristics that I actively avoid in others.

This is why I wrote ‘complicated’ documentaries, earlier. People are rarely just one thing. The woman in the Saville doc was right, he did an amazing amount of good, for many people. And he was a complete monster. He, likely, did those good things for one reason: to gain access. All of this is true. In the Natalia Grace series, are they all victims, or are they all villains? Yes. Chalamet is an STD farm (allegedly) and a brilliant artist. Dylan was a genius and a jerk. Morrissey is both the guy you want to listen to on your headphones, and the one you don’t want to talk to in person.

I used to have a need to know which one. Things and people needed to be black or white. Heroes or heels. Good guys or bad guys. Dallas Cowboys or New York Giants.

One of my first idols was, baseball pitcher, Roger Clemens. His stats are nearly unparalleled, and he’s not in the Hall of Fame because he cheated, using truckloads of steroids, and is still lying about it. Now what? Is he the best, or the worst?

The truth is that the answer is neither. We’re all very complex, beautiful and flawed. We’re all capable of great evil and the most selfless love and kindness you’ve ever seen. The inmates in the scariest prisons are someone’s mommy or daddy, another’s son or daughter. I didn’t understood the phrase, “there but for the grace of God go I,” when I was younger. I sure do now.

This is why I watch these documentaries, to hold contradictions and complications, to care well for the flesh and blood people in my own life. To make me a soft place to land.

Pains of Nostalgia

December 31, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The site prompt is, “What makes you feel nostalgic?” And, on New Year’s Eve, that feels appropriate. Or at least connected. The truth is, I feel nostalgic quite a bit. Nostalgia is defined as “a wistful or excessively sentimental yearning for return to or of some past period or irrecoverable condition also.” It’s a “feeling of pleasure and also slight sadness.” I don’t think it’s an entirely positive emotion. Nostalgia can be another way we are absent from the present, and there are too many of those.

I get nostalgic for the ‘90’s, even though, if I’m honest, that decade didn’t love me nearly as much as I loved it. I was lost and confused in my personal life, rudderless in my career path, generally hopeless and drifting in a sea that obviously didn’t care if I would swim or drown. Everything felt totally meaningless and random, there wasn’t anything that connected me to the world around me.

But I sure LOVED the music. I still do. I remember hearing the Counting Crows first album, August & Everythng After, for the first time. I cried when I heard “Round Here,” and I still do. I have no idea if any album will mean that much to me ever again. Maybe that’s a good thing, but it makes me sentimentally yearn for that irrecoverable condition. It makes me slightly sad.

I used to buy cds, go home and lay in my bed and read the liner notes/lyrics as I listened through a few times. I knew Sting and Bono’s real name and all of the members of the Goo Goo Dolls. I knew all of the track 9’s. Now, I barely know track 1, or what the album is titled.

That’s good, because I have the Angel and 2 sons, youth sports, and I absolutely know my purpose. I belong, am loved, and am deeply tied to this wonderfully beautiful creation. But all change, all growth, comes with loss. I am listening to a great song that I really like and would have to look to see the song title or artist’s name. (Incidentally, it’s “Bound To You,” by Jocelyn Alice, and I first heard it on an episode of Catfish. I have no idea what Ms. Alice looks like or if she has any other songs I’d like.) I miss knowing those things. I miss the simplicity of college and irresponsibility. I am still quite simple, but I am not at all irresponsible. I wouldn’t change a thing, not one.

This year will be rich and thick with wonder and meaning. I know this, because all days and moments are charged with wonder and meaning. That doesn’t mean they’re good, or feel particularly pleasant, but that sort of knowledge comes with age and attention. Blessing is for those who are aware & awake to see it and be grateful, so I am overwhelmingly blessed.

Anyway, back to the prompt. This is actually a question I have thought about, and the thing that makes me feel nostalgic, far more than anything else, is “Fade Into You,” by Mazzy Star. I have no idea why. I mean, it’s great, but it was never my favorite song. It’s not tied to treasured memories. It’s just awesome and it makes me feel awesome. And slightly sad.

Beautiful Things

December 18, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I am hesitant to write yet another post about high school/youth sports, and I am especially hesitant to comment on the officiating in these contests. (I have written them, but have not posted them. I usually like to be a positive voice in a sea of increasing vitriol.) However. There will be a point that is much bigger than one game or season, right in the middle of a loooong silly rambling treatise.

I had a very elementary, yet personally profound, realization. You see, the officiating at these contests is generally, with few exceptions, abysmal. It’s simple incompetence. I don’t think these people are bad people (I mean, there are psychos walking around, so there are probably some in every field…and sometimes, they are quite rude and condescending), it just appears that they are overwhelmed by the speed and physicality of the game. But big deal, right? It’s high school sports. It’s just a game. So what if some middle-aged, overweight guys in stripes can’t manage to control the kids?

And that’s true, to a certain extent. But last night, as it was happening, I was wondering why we all (and myself in particular) get so invested in fairly trivial things, and why this inadequacy is so maddening. Of course, none of this is an excuse. Parents are much of what broke youth sports, and there is no space where a human being should be screamed at or publicly belittled, especially not in a high school gymnasium. These are human beings with families and maybe find themselves here, over their skis, ostensibly because they see a need and want to see the games played. I wrote last year about why it is that I get so excited (or what I like to call passionate;) and why it’s such a bad look for a man, regardless of that reason. This is not that post. This is a post with some observations, and the last one will be the “personally profound realization.”

*We like the illusion of fairness. We want to pretend that the ground is level and everyone gets an equal opportunity. We believe in justice and that we all get what we deserve. This is, obviously, not true anywhere. The best songs are almost never the most popular. Sometimes the most horrific things happen to the best people. Innocent people sit in prison while the guilty walk free. But we want it to be true in sports. And we’d really like it to be true for our children. It’s not, and evidence of that can be wildly frustrating.

*The most common excuse given for the state of officiating in all amateur sports is that “it’s hard to find” willing participants. I hear and can understand that argument (after all, parents are not the easiest to handle), while dismissing it as hollow. It is a paid position. This isn’t volunteerism. (But even then, if you help at the hospital information desk and consistently send people to wrong buildings and floors, maybe a change is in order.) But paid positions require a certain base level of competence…

…and to offer such a flippant excuse, is, essentially, an assent that youth sports, and by extension, the athletes, really aren’t that important to us. Maybe this is actually reasonable, but considering that sports are religion in America, it’s a mixed message. We either care or we don’t.

Now, the much bigger societal issue is what we’ll call the “It Is What It Is” mentality. It’s the language of despair, and an convenient escape hatch for the risk and responsibility of growth or change. We excuse any and all behavior, filing it under the category of “this is just who I am,” forgetting (or ignoring) that we don’t have to stay that way. Marriages, jobs, faith, habits, generational curses, whatever. Is our destiny really to just get by on the same path, walking the same steps we always have, accepting everything because “it is what it is,” while throwing our hands up in the air? And the arrogance of this stagnant position does nothing but assure more stagnation. Sports officiating might be the least important of all of the symptoms of this disease, but it is a symptom, nonetheless.

There are 40 year old boys I know that have no expectations whatsoever placed upon them. Oh well, shrug, he’s just that way. This lack of hope is depressing, and the next time it is helpful will be the first. Maybe if we stop accepting the lowest possible outcome, we’ll begin to get something different.

The truth is, whether I should or not, I care a lot. About the kids – I don’t want anyone getting injured simply because an official is under qualified and overwhelmed. I want them to enjoy sports and all of the great effects of participation, at all age and skill levels. That is my main interest, honestly. It’s not just the right thing to say between games on a blog so I don’t sound like a raving lunatic with poor priorities. Having said that, my profound epiphany is:

*I love beautiful things. 3 weeks ago, I attended a Morrissey concert. What if the sound engineer was ill-equipped? What if he didn’t know how to operate the board, and was a little tone deaf? The guitars might be too loud, the bass overdone, and the vocal mix out of balance. We may not be able to hear Morrissey, instead getting too much of the keyboard or rhythm guitar. Let’s say Brene Brown was giving a talk on relationships, and the microphone kept cutting out or the lights were flashing because the ones who should check batteries forgot. Would that be an obstacle to her brilliant talent? Would we accept it as “just how it is?” It’s hard to get sound guys, why bother to train them or hold them responsible for sub-par performance?

Basketball is an absolutely lovely sport, full of creativity and athleticism, as well as sharply choreographed cooperative movements. It can be an awesome display of the dance between giftedness and hard work. When a game is poorly controlled, this dance becomes a scrum. The inherent beauty of meaningful brushstrokes becomes a chaotic mess, noisy and disconcerting.

I’m not sorry for loving beautiful things. I’m not sorry for my passion for art (including sport). I’m not sorry for wanting all interested kids to be able to play, if they want to, without extra risk of violent injury. I’m not sorry that I value excellence, in any and all fields. And I’m nowhere close to sorry that I wholeheartedly reject the desperate “Is What It Is” nonsense.

What I might be sorry for is that “middle-aged, overweight” comment earlier.

Am I Woke?

December 9, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

The Star Wars films ranked: 1. Episode 8, The Last Jedi. 2. Episode 7, The Force Awakens. 3. Rogue One. 4. Episode 5, The Empire Strikes Back. 5 (tie). Episode 4, A New Hope. Episode 6, Return of the Jedi. Episode 3, Revenge of the Sith. Episode 9, Rise of Skywalker. 9. Solo. 10. Episode 1, The Phantom Menace. 1,000 (to just list it as last underestimates just how bad the actual movie is. The story is fine, it’s ok in theory, but in reality, it’s just an epic load of garbage.) Episode 2, Attack of the Clones.

It’s possible to disagree, I suppose, with all but the first and last, and that’s up to you. But last weekend, as I was watching Force Awakens for the 20th or 30th time, I now know why that last trilogy is the best. It’s obvious, and probably nothing new to you. You’ve surely known this for years. It’s Daisy Ridley, and her character, Rey.

What’s odd is that, when I told my family in this personal eureka moment, they called me “woke.” Am I woke? What’s woke? I mean, I think I know what “woke” is, I’ve heard it in all sorts of contexts. But here, stating a clear fact, what could it possibly mean to be woke? My son said it both ironically and derisively, so I think he meant it AS ironic derision, like he was poking fun at the common online trolling of this perspective.

But what does that mean? Am I a part of the “woke mob?” What does it mean to be “woke?” Is loving Rey more than Luke Skywalker the first sign? The only sign? You know, now that I think of it, I even liked The Acolyte series…a lot! I thought The Marvels was flawed, but fun. Same with Agatha All Along and Echo. Is thinking that a female can be the protagonist in a story that’s not about motherhood or romance “woke?” I hated Episode 2, but in my defense, I thought Natalie Portman (a usually terrific actor) was horrible in it. Now that I think of it, is it particularly woke to call her an actor instead of actress???

I didn’t mind that the love story in Frozen wasn’t romantic, was between sisters, and the males were ancillary characters. I didn’t even care too much that the women saved the day, and the guys.

I didn’t think it was pandering to an agenda when Agatha kissed Rio, in Agatha All Along. I simply thought more women kiss other women nowadays, and art (especially popular art) reflects the culture. I also thought NWA used explicit lyrics because people they knew in the lives they led used explicit lyrics, not because they had a far-reaching villainous plot to turn us all into gangstas.

Rey is funny, real, scared & surprised at her power and very, very strong. Oh boy. I think its possible that I might be woke. Think? I didn’t even mention her looks. SMH. And, and, and, I thought Rose was awesome. “I saved you, dummy.” So good. They were right, I am totally “woke.”

So, what does that mean? What do me and my mob have to do? I don’t really want to boycott anything (except episode 2) or remake old Disney movies with flipped gender roles. I don’t even know how to create memes. I just want to watch great films with well-written characters I care about. And I want to see everything Daisy Ridley is in. If that’s the hidden agenda of my mob, I guess I’m in.

Under The Covers

December 3, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

I’m listening to “Good Luck, Babe!” two times in a row, once by Postmodern Jukebox and the other by Chappell Roan. Later, I’ll listen to “Too Sweet” two times, the original by Hozier and the cover version by the Macarons Project. Earlier, Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” by Susanna Hoffs, and The National’s version of “Never Tear Us Apart.” There is a playlist on my music app called Prime Covers. (I use the word “prime” in each of my playlists, thinking it’s equal parts clever and commentary on the ubiquitous nature of the Amazon brand. It’s probably neither, it’s probably just dumb. Same goes for the title of this blog, which could be clever but is probably just dumb.)

I love cover songs, have always loved cover songs.

I do not, however, like too faithful note-for-note replays. Why? I didn’t like Van Sant’s Psycho shot-for-shot remake, either. The current exception is “Right Down The Line” – original by Gerry Rafferty, cover by Local Natives. Maybe that’s because the song/lyrics remind me so much of the Angel (“It was you, woman, right down the line.”) I could hear either one and be very happy. But usually, I can’t enjoy it because I’m waiting for something new and interesting that never comes.

I want completely different imaginings of these songs. My example of a perfect cover would be Danzig covering Pat Benatar’s “Love Is A Battlefield.” Danzig is not Pat Benatar, but “Love Is A Battlefield” sounds like a sentiment he could get behind. Everything would be perfect. Postmodern Jukebox’s “Good Luck, Babe!” sounds like an early ‘60’s b-side, and is better in every way than Chappell Roan’s. “Too Sweet” is different enough, but Hozier’s version is the alpha. This is usually the case, original’s are mostly indispensable, with the cover being a quirky distraction.

I suppose “All Along The Watchtower” is the best example of the new absolutely replacing the old. After Jimi Hendrix played his, no one would ever purposefully listen to Bob Dylan’s again. This is a very very rare phenomena.

One Sunday morning, in our church service, I played “Be My Baby,” by the Ronettes and then again by Bayside. Nobody actually thinks the Bayside version is better, but there are people who would, at certain times and places, rather hear a catchy pop punk tune than a classic piece of Heaven, with a transcendent Ronnie Spector performance (is there another kind???).

The point was, we have a Gospel that is the most amazing, awesome Truth, and there’s a Great Commission that asks us to take this Gospel everywhere. Not everyone likes Chappell Roan, or Danzig, or Bob Dylan, but these songs need to be heard, the audience needs to grow for beautiful things. And not everyone likes my face or voice or shoes, but everyone desperately needs this Gospel of grace, peace, and love. Maybe they need your version, instead.

Pop Songs

November 25, 2024/The Bridge Faith Community/Leave a comment

There is a song called “Cinderella Snapped,” by someone named Jax. I don’t know much about Jax, because we live in a mostly post-artist world. We choose songs instead of albums and are loyal to no one. Maybe Jax will have another good song (and, in fact, she does, called “Victoria’s Secret.” Maybe there’s more, but nobody really cares. If she does, the algorithm on my Amazon music app will make sure I hear it. My favorite song on Nevermind is “Drain You,” but album tracks are a relic of ancient times, so we’d never hear it today), but that’s besides the point. This one is perfect. It’s about Disney princesses opening their eyes and moving on from the common narrative. (I’m not sure, maybe I’m “woke.” I’ll think about it later.)

The 2nd verse is one of the most perfect examples of what popular music can be, what a beautifully transcendent medium it is. “When the smoke cleared, every girl in the whole land. Woke the f- up and started making demands. Rapunzel shaved their head, so there was nothin’ to climb on. Jasmine made out with Mulan. Sleeping Beauty sued the dude who kissed her while she was asleep. And Ariel was confident without any feet. Tiana went and got a Biomedical Degree. And Beauty realized that she was the Beast.” So good.

Jax is a former contestant on American Idol. Does this say something good or bad? Who knows? There was a time I would have said it’s the worst thing, but now? Whatever.

There’s another song called “Beautiful Things,” by Benson Boone. “Crazy In Love,” by Beyoncé, “Never Tear Us Apart,” by INXS, “Rebel Yell,” by Billy Idol are perfect radio songs. “Beautiful Things” is also perfect. I might say “Too Sweet,” by Hozier is, too, but maybe not. Probably. Anyway. I’m not perfect, by any measure, but I think if I were a pop song, this is the one I’d be.

It’s sweet and romantic, he’s found a girl his parents love, and when she comes and spends the night, he thinks he might have it all. He thanks God every day for the girl He sent his way. Swoon. Me too. I’ve been married to the Angel for almost 25 years and I told her again last night that I can’t believe I’m the only one that gets to kiss her like this. I am truly grateful and thank God every day for the woman He sent my way.

There are some questionable ideas: Does God “take away” blessings? Do I really need her? But this is a pop song, after all, and it’s pretty fun for there to be anything interesting to discuss in a 3 minute song about love. I do hope I don’t lose her, though, need or not.

But then the song builds quickly and gets loose. He wails to “please stay,” and asks that God would not “take these beautiful things that he’s got.” (Does “got” imply ownership? I bet Jax would have thoughts.) The verses appeal to everyone with ears and a heart, but the chorus is risky, with sharp edges. (Just an fyi, the Angel hates this hook. She’s wrong.) I am leaving behind my overwhelming need for people pleasing, and instead embracing my sharp edges in the service of authenticity in my own divine creation.

Then it slows and finishes. The only negative to this gem is the same as “Never Tear Us Apart” – it’s too short. It’s in and out, changes you, nothing is ever the same again, and you are left wishing you had more time with it. I would like it if you said any of those things about me.

The truth is, these 2 songs are exactly what they are, without apology. They’re exactly what they’ve been created to be. And maybe that’s the coolest thing about them. “Cinderella Snapped” doesn’t want to be Bob Dylan or Taylor Swift, it isn’t afraid to be as deep as the sea while sounding like the sky. “Beautiful Things” knows it’s the Beast and is willing to scream out loud about it. Maybe we can see ourselves in them, and maybe I see the me that I’m finally stepping into. We’re not “Beautiful Things” or anything else. I’m just me, you’re just you, and that is enough. In fact, it’s much, much more than enough.

Love With A Capital L

A journey towards living an inspired life of love in the modern world

Tag: culture