Quito

As goes on there seems to be a heavy dividing line in the arena of sophomoric humor. I mean who ever thought the day would come that I would cringe at the word, “Schwing!” Truly a new era has dawned. I bow my head in confusion, nostalgia, and almost disbelief. Thus is the way it goes with being renewed and growing up.
Today was an odd day. Often I have only a few options and today I had even more. Something hit me and I decided to slink away into retrospection, never a good place for me. A Mountain Goats mix and a black and mild cream (huge mistake) later I made my way towards the Justice Prayer Room. There were three others in the crowd, a sound tech and the team. It was stripped down and raw. No flashy lights, no cameras, just a few people doing there thing contending for the kingdom and loving God. I enjoyed it. About half way thru the set Dave Sliker kicked Josh Forrey off of the drums and totally mellowed out the solid groove that was going on. It wasn’t bad but I mean, you have got to love a drummer whose main influences are that of the prestigious hardcore bands of the day.
I have done a lot of searching, thinking, smarting off, jamming to tunes, and questioning without getting answers to wind up at the same place…. the place of prayer. True this is the guy who could not even make it thru half of Fire Within or even feels entirely gung ho with the current movement in which I am a part of, but I know that the place of prayer and intercession is the only place I can really find solace these days. People come and go, some linger and others merely drift. The same goes with ideas. But God will never change, He is the same yesterday today and forevermore.
In regards to prayer, it is ridiculous to know that God actually hears every prayer and does in fact have deep compassion for the seemingly weak words thrown up into what sometimes seems to be mere oblivion. I mean if you could only imagine the things I have asked for, concerns and other such whatnot I mean I would seem either crazy, mental or devoted. If you continue to hit your head against a wall long enough you will begin to ignore the deepening wound and become more intrigued about the rhythm and get lost in wondering how your head can make a sound like a coconut.
I honestly type this hoping for something profound to protrude from these dashing metacarpals of mine but will most likely meander for a wee bit before coming into rest. Being familiar with the works of Pablo Neruda my soul seems to be doing decent, I mean but laughter has never been a biblical standard for anything. I use it in terms of Guffaws, Chuckles, Chortles, and even on occasion Snickers but the higher ups have yet to set a precedent. I appreciate the family that is coming around me, I mean the prayer room team has a definite chunk of real estate in my heart, some more than others but we’ll see how things go as time progresses. It’s like they all have a manifest destiny for my love, I dig it.
As I listen to Lenny Smith right now I wonder if good music will ever be implemented into worship. I mean real creative and innovative music, maybe something with an edge or something just gritty. Mind you Lenny Smith was an ex-hippie and this music predates even Keith Green, but I long to encounter God in ways my heart has been moved so many other times.
Well this wraps up tonight’s post. It was brought to you by the letter “H” and the number (one, two, three, four, five) (six, seven, eight, nine, ten) (eleven) “12.” God bless!