My Guitar

So, there are many things to love about life on this planet. It would take a long time to make a list. Longer than we've got. Once you start with the way Aardvarks look (good joke, God!) it's quite a ways to Zebras and their stubby legs, too short under striped bodies. (Did you know I raced a zebra once? Turns out they're pretty playful animals. All you need to know, I guess, is that the zebra won every time. That's probably because I was never designed to get away from lions. Hey, lions! They way lions look and sound are two more reasons to love life on this planet!)

I digress. (Which reminds me of chasing rabbits. Where I grew up there was a big piece of undeveloped land, maybe a half mile square, right next to the jr. hi school. At dusk the jackrabbits would come out from their hiding places under the palo verdes and chollas and feed on the clover that grew on the playing fields. My brothers and I used to go out there, easing up over the hill, and we could see the rabbits - scores of them - sitting in the grass. We'd work our way down and sneak up on them. Then - in bursts of grade-school speed - we'd sprint toward them and try to make a catch. I'm sure the rabbits were nothing but amused, but we always thought we were just so close to catching one. Good memories but, as I said, digression. So back to my intended thought...)

Anyway, one of the things I love about life on this planet is my guitar. My wife would say, "Your guitar? Which one?? Don't you have about seven???" Well, she's right, I guess: 3 acoustics, 2 electrics, and 2 basses. I also have access to a ukelele.

But when I talk about My Guitar, there's only one. I found it in a pawn shop in downtown Tucson in 1978. It's a blonde '73 Fender telecaster. And for 27 years I've poured myself into her, trying to make it sound good. Blues (thank you BB and Eric), rock (thank you Buddy, Bruce, Pete, and Keef), soul (thank you, Steve), even country (thank you, Johnny and Brent) - she produces them all with sweet, sweet tone. The neck is slender and sleek, the body has been "relic-ed" against my skin and sweat and buttons and buckles. She is smooth and tasty, and I love her.

In the mid-70s I had a subscription to Rolling Stone magazine, back when they were about music more than politics and fashion. Covers included The Who, Bruce Springsteen, and Keith Richards of the Stones. And I noticed all those guys were playing teles. I didn't know much, but I knew I wanted to sound like them, so I went hunting, and found My Guitar. The pawnshop is no longer there, replaced by some urban redevelopment. The pawnshop guy isn't either, I guess. But the tele was hanging behind the counter and I paid - I think - $285. That was probably too much (I was way young and didn't know you could bargain with those guys) but I was the happiest kid in Tucson.

27 years ago. That's a lot of notes, and not much money for 'em! But every time I pick her up, pull on the strap, and strum a quiet chord, I smile. I plug her into the '65 Pro Reverb amp (had to throw that in for you gear geeks), wait 20 seconds for it to warm up, and I'm 17 again and off down Thunder Road.

Thanks, God, for My Guitar, and all the rest of the blessings You've given me over the years. When I get to heaven, if You've got a band up there, I hope you'll let me and her audition.

The Little Things

So, Wednesday the rain was pouring. Today it was pouring. Yesterday? Nah... nice weather. A bit cloudy up on top of the mountain, but after switching to some low-light lenses I had a fun day skiing.

Of course, it would have helped if I was more prepared. Going down Widowmaker with 4 inches of powder is about all I can handle. Good thing not many people do it, because the snow was still in good shape. I was laughing all the way. Paradise and Wildcat are more popular, and they were mogled from top to bottom. Yes, they beat me up good, and my quads are telling me all about what an idiot I am.

But I've been called worse, and from bigger muscles than those.

(In junior high I got beat up by a guy who thought I'd insulted him. Well, I guess I had insulted him, I just didn't know the word I'd used was - to some folks - rude. So he jumped on me in an alley until I apologized. See? HE had bigger muscles, and called me all sorts of things. He was the only guy in MaGee Junior High who could grow a full beard - on his back.)

So yesterday I was skiing with a friend named Tim, from out of town. I met him when he was about 10, and he's growing up alright. It was nice to have him along for the ride; we talked about music (and someday I'm going to write about music) and ate great bacon cheeseburgers, and were ready to call it quits at the same time.

Anyway, by the time I got home I was wishing I lived in a jacuzzi, but since I don't I took a long hot shower and let my wife cook dinner (leftover pizza). Thanks, Babe.

Lesson: it's the little things. A day without rain. A change of sunglasses. A few inches of fresh snow. Doing a hard run well. A good conversation. A good meal. A hot shower. A loving wife. Not getting pounded by an insulted adolescent ape.

This is my Father's world, and it doesn't take much to enjoy it.

Skiing

This week I'm working hard on the frustration thing, and seem to be getting a handle on it. For example, you noticed I double posted the title of "Frustrations"? No idea how that happened. In fact, in the weeks I've been doing this, that's the first technoglitch I've had. And it had to happen on the "Frustrations" post, didn't it? No worries, dude, this is the new DH.

Techno-stuff has the potential to be terribly frustrating, because you always expect it to make life easier and it always starts by fouling things up. Hook up the new printer? Won't communicate with the computer. Buy a new camera? Requires an adapter only produced between March 1 and March 12, on the plains of Kuala Lampur, by herdsmen who don't write instructions in English. Buy a new TV? You get Sarah Berhard singing or - as Bruce put it 15 years ago - "57 channels with nothing on", except now there are ten times that many.

So what do you do? Go skiing. Nothing is wrong with skiing. When the snow's good and the sky's blue it's the closest you can come to soaring, without flying. Of course, make a wrong turn and maybe I AM soaring, but that's another story.

But skiing can be hijacked by the weather, and that's what's happened this week. It's been raining (instead of snowing) here since the 20th. Our mountain has been soggy and our snow melting fast. To protect the base they were CLOSED the day after Christmas, the biggest single ski day of the year. But the weather seems to be changing. They got some good snow two nights ago and opened yesterday, but by daylight it was pouring rain so I get dressed and decided to work instead of playing (my office is pretty quiet the week after Christmas).

But today...today...today a peek out the window shows clearing skies, moderate temperatures, and the top of the mountain (just visible from my kitchen window) trying to peek through the clouds. The Rossis are waxed and on the racks, and the rest of the gear is bagged in the back seat. I'm going skiing, and nothing can stop me!

Unless my jeep breaks down between here and there.

Frustrations

I have a frustrating life. I don't think it's because my life is any more frustrating than anyone else's; I think it's because my approach to life is unrealistic: I expect things to work the first time out.

Whoa, nellie. You can't be serious!
Oh, but I am. I am the victim of high expectations.

Here's an example: for Christmas I got a Roadtrip for my iPod nano. It's a car charger that plugs into the cigarette lighter and also - wonder of wonders - transmits your iPod tunes onto your FM radio. This is a GREAT idea. Now I can go everywhere and listen to the greatest radio station on earth (KDBH) and not have to wear the little earbuds.

So yesterday, the 26th, my dear Missus and myself hopped in the car to go return all the other presents (just kidding, mostly). I popped in the Roadtrip, turned up the nano and .... nothing/nada/zilch/d) all of the above. It didn't work. Suddenly the joy and excitement I'd been feeling until 30 seconds earlier was gone - melted like snow in the sahara. Now a gloom hung over my day. And no one at any of the stores we went to was able to help me out. Frustration, with a covering of irritation, topped with a spoiled cherry.

The good news is, when I came home I went to the website, got the fix, and now my Roadtrip sounds great. I cruised around today listening to a shuffle of the Who, Bruce, Casting Crowns, Newsboys, BB King, Van Morrison, and Cajun Christmas (one of the best unknown Christmas CDs ever!). Wonderful times again.

So, I'm no longer frustrated. But the whole experience gave me the opportunity to reflect a little. So now I would like to present the Five Lessons Learned:

1) Earthly things can sabotage my joy just because they will never be perfect. If I'm so invested in them that their malfunctions can crush my spirit, I'm too invested in them.

2) Be prepared for when things go bad. No, don't presume they will; that's negativity. But, if my plans, schemes, dreams, and desires are washed away like deck chairs from the Titanic, I should be flexible enough to deal with it.

3) Use your resources; somebody somewhere must have encountered and defeated the same difficulty.

4) The people working the checkout lines at WalMart really should be more efficient (oops - different-but-related complaint based on standing in line TOO long tonight while the friendly cashier chatted about Christmas with everybody in line. Hey, the OTHER line moved eight people while our line - the 20 items or less line - moved three! Hey, how about 20 pleasantries or less? OK, OK, end of rant on that subject; I apologize to all the CAPABLE WalMart cashiers. Both of them).

5) The Griffintechnology Roadtrip for nano kicks musical gluteus maximus.

Frustrations

Christmas

I'm about to go to bed. Christmas has been wonderful; couldn't have asked for better. Last night we had a candlelight service at our church - beautiful (you really shoulda been there!) This morning we got up and dug into the stockings we'd hung by the chimney with care, then went to church and worshipped for awhile. Back home we opened the presents, then went to my brother's house for food and games. Now it's closing on midnight, and I'm ready for bed.

All my presents were great; all you who gave them to me were great; life was pretty great this weekend. So let me just say one more thing before I close.

John Lennon sang "And so this is Christmas, I hope you have fun." Deep, eh? And popular, too! But compare that with a little poem by Charles Wesley:

Hark! the herald angels sing, "Glory to the newborn King!
Peace on earth, and mercy mild,
God and sinners reconciled!"
Joyful, all ye nations, rise!
Join the triumph of the skies!
With angelic hosts proclaim,
"Christ is born in Bethlehem!"
Hark, the herald angels sing, "Glory to the newborn King!"

Hail the heaven-born Prince of Peace!
Hail the Sun of righteousness!
Light and life to all He brings,
risen with healing in His wings
Mild, He lays His glory by;
born that man no more may die.
Born to raise the sons of earth,
born to give them second birth.
Hark, the herald angels sing, "Glory to the newborn King!"

I'll take Charles. That's what it's allllllll about, and compared to that song the rest of our songs don't really amount to much. Not even songs by Beatles. So, my friends, my wish for you is that there will be peace in your corner of the earth, that God's goodwill may rest on you, and that you may sleep well tonight, safe in the arms of Jesus.

The Night Before Christmas

'Twas the night before Christmas... and almost no one knew what was going on.

Sometimes a group will conspire to buy one special gift for someone. Or, maybe send the "lucky" one on a treasure hunt through the house to find their gift. Last year, someone gave each member of the family a big gift - just to share the wealth. So, it's not unusual to find there's something happening that's not public knowledge.

But the first Christmas? That tired, dusty couple from Nazareth, out in the barn - yeah, the pregnant girl! - in all the world, they were the only ones who had a clue what was about to happen.

Even they couldn't really know. It's one thing to hear a prophecy, see an angel, quite another to deliver the Creator as a squalling, bloody, baby boy. Then care for Him as He grows to manhood? Watch as He performs miracles and teaches with authority no human ever possessed? See Him rejected, beaten, tortured, mocked, and killed? Hear - stop! can't you leave a sobbing mother alone? - hear that He's not dead, but has in fact conquered death? The young man and his girl-bride had heard what would happen, but it was like they were standing in a small room with their hands on the knob of a closed door; on the other side of the door was a world they could not imagine.

It was Christmas Eve, and no one knew....

2 Days Before Christmas

2 days before Christmas and what's going on?

Bethlehem is bustling with travelers, every one of them unhappy at being there. "It's all about taxes, you know," says one to another.

The motel owners are gleeful, making a killing.

The motel maids are dead on their feet - haven't had a day off in ....?

The shepherds have more important things to worry about; they're watching the sheep (and trying to avoid the whole mess).

Mary feels her body getting ready to give birth, far from home and surrounded by strangers...and animals? It's all she can do to keep from crying.

Joseph is looking at his espoused wife, worried for her, irritated at the insensitive innkeeper (but what, really, could the man do?) and angry at himself for not having made reservations. At least the stable is relatively warm and dry.

Herod is in his palace, dining and drinking with friends, making plans for a new villa and telling jokes. He's confident, full of wealth and power, and plans to be for a long time.

Heaven is a-buzz with excitement....

1 Step Back, 2 Steps Forward

I'm a little under the weather today; my annual pre-Christmas congestion and froggy-throat have struck, so I'm staying home and doing health-care. It's a drag, but something I've learned to live with. On the positive side, it never knocks me out, just down for a bit. As long as I can finish shopping for my Missus before Christmas, I'm good (still haven't found the Lexus in the perfect shade of yellow).

But two cool things have happened to me. First, my wife and I went caroling with some Christian friends last night. We traveled through the rain to the VA hospital, went round and round trying to find the wing where people were waiting for us, finally found the door (right next to the "Smoking Room"; you know, the one that all the people on oxygen go to to get their tar and nicotine), and discovered - yep! - we were the first ones there.

I took my guitar along, and about 15 of us spent two hours singing to our veterans. They've done a good job for our country, and we wanted to do a good job for them. We got a lot of appreciation, and it was time well spent. After all, giving a blessing is always a good thing. And the coldish symptoms held off long enough for me to belt out Joy to the World and Feliz Navidad (thank You, Lord!). One lesson learned? Don't try to improvise The Christmas Song ("chestnuts roasting on an open fire..."); it's a lot trickier than it looks.

Second cool thing was an e-mail I got from Sancha, my globe-trotting friend. She got ahold of Musings and found something in it worth sending to a friend in Holland. Woo-hoo, we've gone worldwide! Hello to all in Spain, China, the Congo, England, Holland, and yes, the USA. Hope you each have a blessed day!


PS - note the options over on the left side. You now can sign up to be notified whenever Musings of a Small Town Christian has a new post.

The Lion

My wife and I saw The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe last night. Good movie. Maybe not great, but a good movie. Go see it. Eat a bunch of popcorn. Hit the bathroom before it starts, though, cause it's about 2.5 hours long.

It's good, but I was a little disappointed. Maybe my expectations were a little high. Maybe it's just me knowing and loving the book. But I think there's a limitation movies are always going to have.

You see, Aslan (C.S.Lewis's lion who represents Christ) is VERY well done. He's animated but looks like a lion. His mane? Perfect. (Did you know I touched a lion once? Yup, snuck up behind him at the zoo and stroked him with one finger through the double fence. Since then they've planted a hedge right there. I wonder why.) Anyway, Aslan looks great. Big, furry, and majestic.

Like Christ, Aslan is forced to deal with a traitor. The law requires he be killed, but Aslan knows a deeper law - if one who has done no wrong will willingly die for the traitor, the punishment will be lifted and death itself reversed. That's what happened at the cross, friends - we were all in rebellion against God, and Christ died in our place. He carried our sin, removed our guilt, took our punishment and made it so we can live forever in His kingdom.

And as Christ died for us, Aslan died for Edmund. And as Christ rose to life again, so did the lion. Great. Wonderful stuff! Yes, I did cry.

BUT... in the book, Aslan comes to life and lets out a joyful, resurrected shouting roar that shakes Narnia from one end to the other. In the movie it's a BIG roar, but not a divine roar. It's BIG, but it doesn't let you know all is right with the world. It's a BIG roar, but it doesn't carry the weight of all life and death and love and joy.

The problem is, Hollywood can't do that. It would have helped if the director had pumped the volume right then and shaken our seats. But even then it would have just been cool. It takes God, or a mind that can imagine God, to try to do justice to a roar like that. Only a limitless imagination can reach far enough to describe God. Once it's taken from the realm of imagination to the land of mere movie physics, it HAS to be less than it should be.

God is simply too great to be captured on film.

Michigan

After three days of blogging, it's time for me to clean up my act, and I'd like to start with Michigan. To the best of my knowledge I am not now, nor have I ever been in the great State of Michigan. I know I said that I had been in all the States. By that I meant the contiguous ones, so don't give me flack about Alaska. But in the interests of full disclosure I must admit I overstated my resume: I haven't been to Michigan.

I've missed the home of the pro-baseball Detroit Tigers, the pro-basketball Detroit Pistons, and the semi-pro-football Detroit Lions. (hey, I can crack about the Lions because like I said, I cheer for the '49ers, who this year probably couldn't beat a decent college team, and you'd probably get bets on a game with a great high school team). I've missed the Upper Peninsula and the Lower part, too; I've missed bunches of forest; I've missed - what I'm told - is the highest ski hill in the midwest at about 150 feet. I've missed Michigan. Oh, how I've missed it.

But, in my defense, I've got friends from Michigan. I've seen the University of Michigan football team on TV. I've also stuck my toe in Lake Michigan (which is technically too cold to be called a "lake" and really should be known as a semi-thawed glacier). So, I was close. But no Michigan. As far as I know. So, my apologies to anyone who gave me full faith and credit because I'd been to all the contiguous states (plus Hawaii, which really should count for two).

But speaking of too cold, I have another confession to make. It WASN'T too cold to go skiing this past weekend. The weatherman was wrong! And because of his error, my wife and I were forced to stay in bed till about 10:30, watching movies and saying, "Babe, why don't you get up first and turn on the heater?" "No, YOU get up first and turn on the heater." "No, YOU...." Until we finally had an 11:30 breakfast at the Kneadery in Ketchum, followed by two of the best lemon cookies I've ever tasted.

Which really brings me to my point. Michigan or not, skiing or not, spending time with your spouse is a pretty good thing. Leave your laptop, your remote control, your kids, and even your skis every once in a while, and devote a day or two to strengthening the first human relationship God created. That's right, marriage was instituted before jobs, governments, or the Detroit Lions, and that tells you how special the Lord thinks it is. If you will follow His plans and build a good one, your life will be better. Guaranteed. And I'll never have to apologize for saying so.

Too Cold to Ski

It's too cold to ski.

Amazing. You never thought you'd hear me say it, but it's true. It's too cold to ski.

Oh, not around here. Here in my office it's a toasty 70 degrees (actually too warm to ski). And outside the window it's balmy at 20. But where I'll be this weekend it's supposed to be -3, and that's too cold to ski.

It's a shame. The snow is good, and the skies are blue. Even my wife said that she'd like to take the skis with us on what was supposed to be a romantic 2-day getaway. What a woman! But at -3, I don't want to do anything but stay in bed with the blankets up to my ears. I hope the condo has a bed-side hot chocolate dispenser.

But even if it doesn't, that's OK (though not as good). Cause I've got plenty of blessings without the skis and without the b.s.h.c.d. (which is now on my Christmas list, Hon). I have a car that will (probably) get me there, good scenery, enough money to buy a few meals, and a pretty wife to share it all with. By any measure that's not a bad way to spend a weekend.

But Chip or Eddy, if you can send me some of that Arizona heat I'd appreciate it.

Women!

Last night I was in a discussion group talking about two women named Elizabeth and Mary. They were pretty amazing people!

For example, Elizabeth was elderly and without kids. She'd reached the age when becoming a mom wasn't only unlikely, but impossible. Yet by God's grace she became pregnant and gave the world John the Baptist. Her prayer (recorded in Luke's Gospel 1:25) was The Lord has done this for me. In these days He has shown His favor and taken away my disgrace among the people. Elizabeth knew Who her Source was.

Mary was very young - only an adolescent - and a virgin. Yet by God's grace she became pregnant with the child of the Holy Spirit and gave the world its Savior, Jesus Christ. Her prayer (recorded in Luke's Gospel 1:38) was I am the Lord's servant. Mary knew Who was God, and she knew she was only here to do His will.

I'm impressed that these women would have the spiritual character to fully accept God's plan, and not only accept it but run with it I mean, who wants to have morning sickness and stretch marks at age 73? And who wants to explain to her godly fiance "Uh, Joe, I don't know how to tell you this but...."

Great women. Today, I want to be like them. I want to remember Who my Source is. I want to remember Who God is, and that I am blessed just to be His servant.

What I'm About

Welcome to my blog. The name - Musings of a Small Town Christian - sums up what it's about. You may not find anything profound (I can hardly spell profound!) but you'll get some insight into what God has done and is doing in one life.

I'm 43 years old, although that hardly seems possible. I've lived in 4 states, but visited all the rest, along with about 15 foreign countries. Got a fine public-school education (where I learned to spell profound), a BA from the University of Arizona, and attended a seminary in California. I cheer for people doing what's good, and people doing what's right. And the San Francisco 49ers, who could really use your prayers.

I'm married to a woman too good for me. I've been a cook, a pastor, a coach, and a teacher. Earned a few bucks making music. Play my guitar too loud, too long, and probably not as well as I think. My band, Bright Red Tie, is spending the winter learning new songs to play in the spring. Sometime I'll post some recordings which you can download for free, or pay me (whichever you'd rather!).

Now for the big stuff:
I became a Christian when I was 13, when I came to understand that all roads do not lead to heaven. Jesus said that He is the way, the truth, the life, and that no one comes to the Father except through Him. So (to quote C.S. Lewis), Jesus is either a liar, a lunatic, or the Lord He says He is. I choose "C".

For 30 years I've tried to be a Christian. That doesn't say anything about my political party (but it does say I try to vote in a way that pleases God). It doesn't say anything about my clothing or music (although I want to present my Lord through my life). It doesn't even tell you what church I attend (but it does believe and practice the Bible).

Do I consider myself a good Christian? Hardly. I'm so flawed my flaws have flaws! But I'm trying and, in the grace and power of the Holy Spirit, I'm making progress. God is good, and faithful, and I expect that progress will continue until the day I see the Lord face to face and He says
"David, is that you? I thought you'd be a lot farther along by now! But come on in - you're family"

I hope you're making progress, too. And that's enough for today.