On the Road Again.
September 30, 2008
As the smell of cardboard wafts down the halls of my boxed up home, I ponder what the future holds. In a world that is quivering in it’s money-lined boots, I sit and daydream about what strange plan God has that he would call us away from all of the typical benchmarks of security and achievement to pursue a crazy dream. Is there a space for daydreaming in the midst of economic crisis? Can God’s plan reach beyond our cultural structures and our grasp for comfort and familiarity? Hmmm. All in a days pondering.
In this place between the picket fence and the tour bus, I am learning to walk blindly with a stretching demand for patience. Gone are the melodies of daily routine and the familiar rhythms that remind me of who I am and why I get up every morning. Gone are the lazy pastures and countrified mom-n-pop shops. In their place are new smells of big city exhaust and county wide industry. Crowds of strange faces headed to strange places. And yet I know that this is home. So it is okay with me for today.
Along the way, there there have been a million voices on every side telling me to buy or to sell, to move or to stay, to stand up or to lay low. And there have been a million faces friending and betraying, smiling and smirking, supporting and stabbing. Another lesson I have learned along this journey is that friends are earned, both in the giving and the taking, and that sometimes there are lessons that can only be learned on the path walked alone. But better to be headed in the forward direction alone than to comfortably drift with the current further from tomorrow. So this too is okay with me for today.
I am learning to believe. Where once I held my faith in my hand, I now treasure it in my heart. Life may look upside-down and backwards. It may seem like the bottom has fallen out. But I am seeing every day that promises made are kept. That faith nurtured and lived can sustain you through the most difficult of circumstances. And maybe that is what it is all about. Belief. Hope. Faith.
And so I tape up the last of my life’s accumulations. Family pictures. A sonogram video. My killer collection of red shoes. And ponder if these boxes are the measure of a life. When my days and months and years have come to an end, will the net worth be taped up in cardboard boxes? Maybe the longing for more, for substance, for faith, is what has led me to this path at all. Hopefully the pursuit of a dream – of music being the means to reach beyond the picket fence – will yield a result that defines a new benchmark for achievement. Maybe one seed of belief can be used to harvest many lives over time, and at the end, I can say I found security within the hand of the Creator. That is the belief. The hope. And so, everything is okay with me for today.
On the Road Again.
September 30, 2008
As the smell of cardboard wafts down the halls of my boxed up home, I ponder what the future holds. In a world that is quivering in it’s money-lined boots, I sit and daydream about what strange plan God has that he would call us away from all of the typical benchmarks of security and achievement to pursue a crazy dream. Is there a space for daydreaming in the midst of economic crisis? Can God’s plan reach beyond our cultural structures and our grasp for comfort and familiarity? Hmmm. All in a days pondering.
In this place between the picket fence and the tour bus, I am learning to walk blindly with a stretching demand for patience. Gone are the melodies of daily routine and the familiar rhythms that remind me of who I am and why I get up every morning. Gone are the lazy pastures and countrified mom-n-pop shops. In their place are new smells of big city exhaust and county wide industry. Crowds of strange faces headed to strange places. And yet I know that this is home. So it is okay with me for today.
Along the way, there there have been a million voices on every side telling me to buy or to sell, to move or to stay, to stand up or to lay low. And there have been a million faces friending and betraying, smiling and smirking, supporting and stabbing. Another lesson I have learned along this journey is that friends are earned, both in the giving and the taking, and that sometimes there are lessons that can only be learned on the path walked alone. But better to be headed in the forward direction alone than to comfortably drift with the current further from tomorrow. So this too is okay with me for today.
I am learning to believe. Where once I held my faith in my hand, I now treasure it in my heart. Life may look upside-down and backwards. It may seem like the bottom has fallen out. But I am seeing every day that promises made are kept. That faith nurtured and lived can sustain you through the most difficult of circumstances. And maybe that is what it is all about. Belief. Hope. Faith.
And so I tape up the last of my life’s accumulations. Family pictures. A sonogram video. My killer collection of red shoes. And ponder if these boxes are the measure of a life. When my days and months and years have come to an end, will the net worth be taped up in cardboard boxes? Maybe the longing for more, for substance, for faith, is what has led me to this path at all. Hopefully the pursuit of a dream – of music being the means to reach beyond the picket fence – will yield a result that defines a new benchmark for achievement. Maybe one seed of belief can be used to harvest many lives over time, and at the end, I can say I found security within the hand of the Creator. That is the belief. The hope. And so, everything is okay with me for today.
The Indigo Orphan.
September 13, 2008
This is the story behind the band name.
Many cultures consider indigo to be a color representing intuition and spiritual knowledge. It is this association that led us to attach it to Orphan. Spiritual Orphan.
The current generation seems to have lost its way, or at least is searching for a new one. They are caught between a seed of belief in something bigger than themselves and a church that oft casts a shadow of religiosity and sterile conformity. I think that we got so busy abstaining and separating that we have forgotten our call to be in the world. To live among the broken and serve the hurting. It is a bit gratifying to sit on our thrones (pews), draped in our robes (suits and ties) scorning and pitying the sinful and messy world out there. But didn’t Jesus eat and work and fellowship with the prostitutes and money-hoarders and adulterous, broken lives of his community? If this is sounding fuzzy (or blasphemous) to you, perhaps you should review the gospels.
The biggest opposition to evangelism in our day is Christians themselves (ourselves?). If we came down from our pulpits and wandered out into the streets, would we be willing to embrace the lives (and lifestyles) that need God?
When I first began to write songs a couple of years ago, they came out in simple worship songs, easily transferrable to a congregation, widely accepted among church-folk. But the further I ventured into this path God was ordaining, the more I realized:
1) There are plenty of talented people in the church penning their praise to the Father and providing beautiful worship for believers.
2) The skills, desires, passions and persuasions that God has given me are much more effective when translated beyond the walls of the church
3) There are in fact a group of people who are earnestly seeking the heart of God and reaching a hand to those around them, but their faith (both internal and lived out) is not rooted in the local church. As George Barna puts it, “They desire to be the church rather than just go to church.”
And then there are the masses of Generation X that are wandering through life, wondering what it is all about, and who they really are and who He really is. But they’re determined not to go back into the church where they were betrayed or abused or ignored or rejected. These are the spiritual orphans of the Body of Christ.
And it is for them that God has ignited a passion in me. The music is only the means to the end. If loud guitars and rockin’ drums and energized music can snag someone’s attention. (just loaves and fishes, folks) If songs about the destruction of divorce or the illusions of satisfaction can open dialogue and begin a relationship. (like discussing water at a well?) If the dysfunction and brokenness of my life, worn for the world to see, can allow someone else to lift the mask from their face and begin to find healing (um…drawing in the sand…) Isn’t it a worthwhile pursuit?
One of the tracks on this album is titled Disenchanted, and you will find that to be a common thread through the songs. Having spent the last ten years serving in the local church (or perhaps banging my head up against the wall), I am indeed disenchanted. I have been disappointed by the unwillingness to partner across the Body to reach out to others. I have been disillusioned as I have seen behind the velvet curtain of church politics. And I regret that church officials are offended by this new revolution of faith in America.
But I have in turn found a gnawing hunger in the souls of my neighbors and coworkers. A curiosity and fresh openness to redemption and renewal discussed over hotdogs and potato chips. An acceptance in Jesus that is not exclusive to church rosters or brick buildings. And adulterous lives that are still being transformed, one day at a time.
The ironic beauty is that by experiencing rejection within the church, I now understand fully where the orphans have walked, and am myself one of them.
It’s not bad living in an orphanage. The fellowship is sincere, the work is gratifying and God shows up often out here, which is more than any girl could ask. Maybe I’ll see you around. I hope you enjoy the music.
For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship.And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Romans 8:15-16
The Indigo Orphan.
September 13, 2008
This is the story behind the band name.
Many cultures consider indigo to be a color representing intuition and spiritual knowledge. It is this association that led us to attach it to Orphan. Spiritual Orphan.
The current generation seems to have lost its way, or at least is searching for a new one. They are caught between a seed of belief in something bigger than themselves and a church that oft casts a shadow of religiosity and sterile conformity. I think that we got so busy abstaining and separating that we have forgotten our call to be in the world. To live among the broken and serve the hurting. It is a bit gratifying to sit on our thrones (pews), draped in our robes (suits and ties) scorning and pitying the sinful and messy world out there. But didn’t Jesus eat and work and fellowship with the prostitutes and money-hoarders and adulterous, broken lives of his community? If this is sounding fuzzy (or blasphemous) to you, perhaps you should review the gospels.
The biggest opposition to evangelism in our day is Christians themselves (ourselves?). If we came down from our pulpits and wandered out into the streets, would we be willing to embrace the lives (and lifestyles) that need God?
When I first began to write songs a couple of years ago, they came out in simple worship songs, easily transferrable to a congregation, widely accepted among church-folk. But the further I ventured into this path God was ordaining, the more I realized:
1) There are plenty of talented people in the church penning their praise to the Father and providing beautiful worship for believers.
2) The skills, desires, passions and persuasions that God has given me are much more effective when translated beyond the walls of the church
3) There are in fact a group of people who are earnestly seeking the heart of God and reaching a hand to those around them, but their faith (both internal and lived out) is not rooted in the local church. As George Barna puts it, “They desire to be the church rather than just go to church.”
And then there are the masses of Generation X that are wandering through life, wondering what it is all about, and who they really are and who He really is. But they’re determined not to go back into the church where they were betrayed or abused or ignored or rejected. These are the spiritual orphans of the Body of Christ.
And it is for them that God has ignited a passion in me. The music is only the means to the end. If loud guitars and rockin’ drums and energized music can snag someone’s attention. (just loaves and fishes, folks) If songs about the destruction of divorce or the illusions of satisfaction can open dialogue and begin a relationship. (like discussing water at a well?) If the dysfunction and brokenness of my life, worn for the world to see, can allow someone else to lift the mask from their face and begin to find healing (um…drawing in the sand…) Isn’t it a worthwhile pursuit?
One of the tracks on this album is titled Disenchanted, and you will find that to be a common thread through the songs. Having spent the last ten years serving in the local church (or perhaps banging my head up against the wall), I am indeed disenchanted. I have been disappointed by the unwillingness to partner across the Body to reach out to others. I have been disillusioned as I have seen behind the velvet curtain of church politics. And I regret that church officials are offended by this new revolution of faith in America.
But I have in turn found a gnawing hunger in the souls of my neighbors and coworkers. A curiosity and fresh openness to redemption and renewal discussed over hotdogs and potato chips. An acceptance in Jesus that is not exclusive to church rosters or brick buildings. And adulterous lives that are still being transformed, one day at a time.
The ironic beauty is that by experiencing rejection within the church, I now understand fully where the orphans have walked, and am myself one of them.
It’s not bad living in an orphanage. The fellowship is sincere, the work is gratifying and God shows up often out here, which is more than any girl could ask. Maybe I’ll see you around. I hope you enjoy the music.
For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship.And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Romans 8:15-16
