"Lord Save Us..." The Movie

Can I just say that generally speaking, I avoid movies made by Christians about Christianity. It is not that I don't appreciate the attempt to redeem the arts and give a talented individual a venue for using his or her gifts. I don't even fault them for using film as a way of espousing a particular theological or philosphical viewpoint...filmakers and screenwriters do that all of the time...as do musicians and authors. I guess that my beef has always been not that it is Christian film-making, but that it is bad film-making. I remember back in the 60's when Pat Boone starred in "The Cross and the Switchblade". Then in the late 70's and 80's there was a rash of rapture/second-coming movies. The "Left Behind" book series spawned an equally insipid movie, and then there have been a few more in recent years that have been more universally appealing and higher quality. I'm not saying that you have to have a big producton budget to have a quality movie. Independent films and documentaries have proven that is not always the case. Last year our friend Justin Dillon did a marvelous job with limited resources and donated talent to make a startlingly beautiful and compelling rockumentary, "Call and Response", addressing he issue of human trafficking in the world.

Well another such noteworth effort by a Christian just trying to raise the valid question about the state of the church and its ineffectiveness in meeting the needs of the world it professes to love is documented in Dan Merchant's wonderful documentary openin in austin this weekend, entitled, "Lord Save Us From Your Followers - Why the Gospel of Love is Dividing America!". I had coffee with Dan a couple of weeks ago as he was making a whirlwind pass through Texas trying to get some inertia for the opening of the moving in the Christian community. The Portland native is funny, down to earth, refuses to take himself too seriously, and has a deep passsion for helping the followers of Jesus rethink the way they relate to culture and to the needs of the world. He began his pilgrimage to engage people on he street with discussing the their perceptions of Jesus, God, followers of Christ and the Church by standing in Times Square wearing a garish jumpsuit (Sorry Dan, you looked like my Grandpa Tony ready to roll up on a creeper under a jacked-up 51' Chevy pick-up) decorated with bumper stickers carrying varous Christian sayings and messages. He gets some interesting and insightful responses, as you would guess. He also interviews talking heads from both sides of the theological and political aisle like Tony Campolo, Michael Reagan, Sister Mary Timothy, Al Franken, and many more.

I believe Dan's movie raises some valid questions about the way we has followers of Jesus are hurting the cause of Christ and not helping. I urge you to take some time to see it this weekend if you are here in Austin (Gateway Regal Cinema)or to check the movie website to find out if it is playing in your area.

"The Bird" Flies...

Mark "The Bird" Fidrych, was found dead at his home today, where he died working on his 10-wheel dump truck. He was 54. Now some of you who aren't old enough or aren't a baseball fan might have no idea who this oddly curious fatality might be. In the summer of 1976 as the Detroit Tigers were mired in futility, this tall, skinny, New England kid with the blond Afro curls and the gawky bird-like delivery (people thought he reminded them of Sesame Street's "Big Bird") began to pitch and began to win. He would go on to win the American League Rookie of the Year Award and a total of 19 games for the Tigers who finished the season entrenched in 5th place. It was not just his appearance though...he was truly eccentric when he got out there on the mound, talking to himself and to the ball. He would also get down on his hands and knees and fix the holes in the dirt by dragging and pushing the dirt around with his hands, and the crowds loved it. Even though Detroit was losing, whenever The Bird was scheduled to pitch, they packed out the house. Most of you know that I am a Cleveland Indians fan, but like everyone else I was fascinated by this soldier in the baseball army marching out of step with the rest of of the ranks, and I, like the folks in the stands, would rise to my feet and flap my arms when he took the mound. It was a bizarre and remarkable phenomenon. Following that incredible year he picked up right where he left off the next season. winning his first six starts and filling the stands once more. In his 7th start he felt a twinge in his shoulder and came out trailing in the 3rd inning. He would make a handful of major league appearance in the next few years. The arthroscopic surgery that so easily takes care of those kinds of injuries now was not available and he mostly labored in the minors for 7 more years before hanging it up.

I've tried to pinpoint what it was about Mark that drew me and so many others to him. He was successful, he was eccentric, he was an icon for a city...but I think for me what I loved about Mark Fidrych was that he was a little boy in a man's body playing a boy's game. You understand that I love the game of baseball...not as a corporate entertainment product or a marketing angle...I love the game of baseball. There is something deep in me that I learned and lived on the sandlots of my childhood that gets great joy at watching this game played with abandon and passion.

I attended a baseball game tonight for 8 and 9 year old boys. David, one of our Journey kids was pitching so I went to see his game. It is his first year playing and David is a good athlete. He has a lot to learn about the game, but what he does already have is a passion and an instinct for the game, and when he threw a strike he would pump his fist and push his hat up to show a tuft of his blond hair. He never looked over to the stands to see if his parents or other fans were looking...he was totally engrossed and present in the game. When he got up to bat he dug in at the plate and took his cuts confidently and aggressively. He made good contact both times even though he was swung at pitches a little high in the strike zone...this kid wanted to hit! In contrast a couple of his teammates in front of him struck out...often while taking decent cuts...hey, it happens...it is part of the game...Babe Ruth led the league in strikeouts as well as home runs. But these two young men cried as they got to the bench. Those who know me know I am an emotional guy and I cry at a lot of stuff...but never at striking out. Baseball is a game...just a game...a profoundly beautiful and complex game with incredible nuances...but it is just a game. Somebody...a coach, a parent, somebody had forgotten to tell those kids that baseball is just a game...enjoy the fact that you can run, and throw, and hit, and slide in the beauty of a spring evening...it is a game. Mark Fidrych was getting paid to play baseball, but he never forgot the sheer joy of pulling on that glove and facing off against 9 other guys who are there to play too...to PLAY...a great game.

One of my musical heroes is a guy by the name of Bob Bennett. A craftsman of a songwriter, and an artisan of a guitar player, he has an obscure little song from back in the 80's about his brief baseball career. Bob did not have the jock physique as a kid, and, by his own admission, was not particularly athletically gifted, (and he lived in the shadow of an older brother that was) but this tune called "A Song About Baseball" is one of my favorites. Here are the lyrics...

"Saturday on the baseball field, and me afraid of the ball. Just another kid on camera day, when the Angels still played in LA. I was smiling...in living black and white. Baseball caps and bubble gum, I think there's a hole in my glove. Three and two...life and death...I was swinging with eyes closed holding my breath...I was dying, on my way to the bench.

But none of it mattered after the game, my father would find me and call out my name... a soft drink a snow cone, a candy bar, a limousine ride in the family car...he loved me no matter how I played...he loved me no matter how I played.

But none of it mattered after the game my father would find me and call out my name...dreaming of glory the next time out, my father showed me what love was about...he loved me no matter how I played... he loved me."

You are gone too soon Mark Fidrych, but you reminded us how the game should be played..like a game...because we have a father that loves us no matter how we play.

So what are ya waiting on...PLAY BALL!

Pling...Pling...

dg

Choosing Love and Light...

I've watched a lot of presidential inauguration ceremonies in my lifetime...twelve or so that I remember watching...and interestingly enough the first one I remember reminded me the most of this one today. In 1960, we elected a young, charismatic statesman who also was a first...in that case, our first Roman Catholic president. He had a strikingly, beautiful, mysterious wife and two adorable children and the country sensed that a page had turned in American politics. What happened today, was, of course, unprecedented as well, as two million people jammed into the tiny District of Columbia to be in the general vicinity of our first African-American President, Barack H. Obama being (sort of) sworn in by Chief Justice Roberts. In all of those past inaugurations, I had never gathered with a group of people specifically to watch all of the inauguration festivities...until today. A number of us were invited to our friends, the Manroe's home, where we had food, whooped and hollered, oohed and aahed, cried and laughed, and eventually toasted with champagne when the oath was repeated as well as noting the individual and collective turns as this epic, landmark moment unfolded.

The brightest and best political and social commentators have chronicled every second of this historic event, so I don't imagine I have much of value to add except that my favorite moment of the day was when Barack entered the landing adjacent to the speakers platform to thunderous applause, he passed by his family and his daughter Malia stuck out her arm and gave him a huge dramatic thumbs up gesture. Obama who had been stoically, expressionless as he walked the ramp to the platform burst out in an irrepressible grin...That's the response not of a commander-in- chief, or leader of the free world...that's the response of a daddy who loves his little girl. The good thing to me is that I have my highest hopes of my lifetime that the daddy of those two girls also is a commander-in-chief and a leader of the free world that leads with love...not wimpy doormat love, but compassion that sees all of the world as God's creation... a leader of the free world that knows that he is called to lead with light that casts out darkness and exposes injustice and suffering. In his speech I heard a man who will take the high road of integrity and strong compassion that will not be compromised or diluted. He called on each of us to be a part of that mission...Sorta sounds like the words of that first inauguration call I remember from 48 years ago, "Ask not what your country can do for you...".

One of my favorite newly discovered music groups is a band called The Submarines, and their song made famous because of its use in the iPhone commercials is called "You, Me, and the Bourgeoisie" which frankly, is a tad ironic because the message of the song is about curbing materialism and waste, and disdaining hate and apathy. The chorus begins with these words that reminded me so much of the message of hope soaring in today's events.

"Every day I wake up, I choose love, I choose light..."

Let it be.

Pling...Pling...

dg

Love's Gonna Carry Me Home...

It doesn't happen frequently, but for me there are distinct times when it feels like my heart swells up, and it moves up so far that it is jamming my Adam's apple up my windpipe...and it moves down so far that it is just sitting like a rhino on the top of my stomach. Sometimes I'm pretty sure it is the Carne Asada plate from Taqueria Arandas down on Burnet(my latest favorite hole-in-the-wall Mexican food joint in Austin), but most of the time it has to do with a readily identifiable, yet rarely explicable heaviness about life in the chaos lane. I say rarely because this happens to be one of those instances when I know what watering hole in the jungle this rhino drip-dried out from. I know, in this case, that part of it is very very good. I'll get to see all three of my beautiful daughters in a couple of weeks as they make their way home from Portland, Nashville and Arlington. They are all grown-up, independent women at 20, 21 and 24, so I am a realist about the eventuality of their taking their places in the world geographically separated from where my place in the world is... so, I genuinely treasure the times we can be all together. Like last September when they all came in to attend the Austin City Limits Music Festival, and like this holiday season when they will be home for Christmas and for two weddings shortly after Christmas... Hannah's life-long best bud, Katelin Calvert... and our dear friend and traveling guitar hero, Randy Williams.

I also know the other reason for the heaviness is my prayer and concern for my friends Scott, Sarah and Thomas Bickle. I tried to talk about them Sunday as I shared with our faith community, and had to stop several times to compose myself...Thomas, some of you may recall from earlier posts is two years old and has been courageously battling brain tumors since he was 7 months old...the tumors have the upper hand at this moment. Sarah and I talked today and I know I bored her to tears, but I didn't want to let her off of the phone (which is a shock to many of you who know that I am a terrible phone conversationalist...just don't do well on the phone). Somehow her voice kept me connected to the three of them. They are amazing people...

So anyway...I came across this video of one of my favorite singer/songwriters, Pierce Pettis (also famous in my book for being sweet Grace's dad). Watching and listening didn't budge the rhino, but I kinda reconciled his presence there as a deep heaviness that made me swallow harder, breath freer, and trust a little deeper.

And I really do believe Pierce...LOVE's the only thing that can carry us home.

Pling...Pling...

dg