Back in the days of Reality Rock Ministries, I wore many hats. DJ, concert promoter, columnist, etc., etc. The one I enjoyed the most, though, was my "fan" hat. The best way I can illustrate this is in the midst of arranging a concert, running around like a chicken with its head cut off for hours before the first note is played, introducing opening acts, asking Jason Dean why the police cars pulled up outside, making sure there's enough water for the bands, etc., in the back of my mind was to get to that special moment where all "work" was behind me and I could become lost in the sea of other fans in the crowd. I would just slip into a row and allow the concerns of clean up, follow up, etc. to temporarily slip away and simply enjoy whatever music was being offered up. Whether for one, two, three songs or more, this was my most rewarding part of the evening. Deeply personal and wholly satisfying.
After Reality Rock faded into that thing we call time, the "fan" hat also began to fade away--for a variety of reasons, which I will return to shortly. Most importantly, though, is recently, I found that "hat" again. How this has happened I am not sure--perhaps a collection of things. During these past 12 months or so, I turned 50 ("time" has a way of messing with one's mind!); Jason Dean returned from two years in Australia and we began (half jokingly--but half seriously) talking about what it would be like if we had another radio program; I joined Facebook and reconnected with a slew of former Reality Rockers; I had to go through some things in storage and was "forced" to deal with literally hundreds of cassettes containing old (really old) Reality Rock programs, some dating as far back as 1982--yes, nearly three decades!
So my laptop iTunes now has been updated, iPod synched and as I listened to The Choir's "Chase the Kangaroo" and The Prayer Chain's "Whirlpool" while driving up to Big Bear Friday afternoon, I wondered (to myself) if there is any such thing as a musical orgasm. I'm sorry, but yes, it was that good! After so many years, I had perhaps a more seasoned perspective on this music that had had such a profound effect on my life. And it feels really, really good to "rekindle" that spirit. The "fan" hat has not only been found, but is now planted firmly on my head.
Now, back to where it went in the first place. After 15 years of Reality Rock, I knew the time had come for me to move on, and the next chapter was to enter the world of education. I became a high school English teacher (as well as tennis coach at the public school at which I taught--Cajon High in San Bernardino). It didn't take long to realize that if I were to be successful (translation: survive) in this new endeavor, it would take 110% of my energy. I dropped my connection with the youth group at my church, dropped anything Reality Rock related, etc. Also, in the process, I slowly began cheating myself of spiritual growth. Stopped going to church. Looking back, it was a slow fade not into disbelief, but indifference. I justified this by thinking, "Well, Reality Rock took 110% from me; now, it's time to give that much to my new career". Poor move on my part. Yes, I have been successful in this new teaching/coaching venture (teaching morphed into guidance counselor about 8 years ago), but at the expense of my spiritual well-being.
About 5 years ago, I realized what had been happening, and began to "right the ship". Fast forward to where things are now, and I feel like I have pretty much come full circle. And am excited to see where this "rekindling" may lead. Stay tuned . . .
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Somewhere In the Middle
"Somewhere between the new and the old - Somewhere between who I am and who I used to be - Somewhere in the middle, You'll find me - Somewhere between the wrong and the right - Somewhere between the darkness and the light - Somewhere between who I was and who You're making me - Somewhere in the middle You'll find me"
Lyrics from Casting Crowns, written by Mark Hall from The Altar and the Door
On many different levels, this song totally resonates with me.
It is so easy to live on one side or the other. The extreme is safe. Red States vs. Blue states. Protestant vs. Catholic. Yankees vs. Mets.
I was at Chilis about 7 years ago during playoff time watching a Laker game in the bar, and I was wearing a Clippers jersey. I like the Clippers--I'm a fan. I also like the Lakers. I'm an NBA fan, period. I like basketball. So there's this one guy sitting at the table next to ours, and he says something like, "Dude, which is it--are you a Lakers fan or a Clippers fan?" The stupidity of this statement still amazes me to this day. But for so many people, in so many areas, this "one or the other, either or" mentality is all they seem to understand.
During the early days of Reality Rock, back in the '80s, preachers would get on their soapbox about the evils of rock music. "You are either for the devil or for Jesus--music is either Christian or satanic--there is no in-between. If you listen to the music of the world, you are a compromised Christian. Burn any tapes/records that are of Satan and the world--only keep those whose songs glorify Christ"
Now, some reading this may wonder what beef I could have with that? Simple: it's not that simple. When I would be invited to speak to youth groups about music, I was very clear about why the above stance is wrong--it's way too simple. Way too easy. Way too wrong! When I asked the kids to raise their hands if they liked to sing "Happy Birthday" at parties, all hands went up. "Ok, is that a Christian song?" I would ask next. "Um, no, not really." How about no, not at all--not even close. It is JUST A SONG. It's a song people sing when it's someone's birthday. It is not satanic. It is not Christian. And, if one would actually take the time and effort to engage their brain long enough to realize that if there is a song playing on the radio about horses, it does not, CAN NOT fall into the "either or" category of Christian or satanic. It is simply a song about horses.
It would be so nice if life were black and white all the time. We really wouldn't have to "wrestle" with those gray areas that don't easily fit into our little boxes.
On my Facebook page, where it asks for my political affiliation, I put the word "hybrid". No, that doesn't mean I'm driving a Prius. It means that I am a registered republican who is pro-life, but against the death penalty. What a terrible republican I am! Arnold is a hybrid. Many republicans feel he is a democratic wolf in sheep's clothing. Bush was a republican, but many republicans called out his immigration policies as being WAY too liberal.
Labels are convenient. Labels are easy. But labels don't always tell the full story.
I am so sick and tired of our two-party system. Yes, there are other parties out there, but let's face it. We have backed ourselves into a corner as a country when it comes to political races. If you're not one or the other, you don't have a chance.
People who attempt to label me usually come up a bit frustrated. I am thankful for that. I am who I am. Somewhere in the middle, you'll find me . . . .
Lyrics from Casting Crowns, written by Mark Hall from The Altar and the Door
On many different levels, this song totally resonates with me.
It is so easy to live on one side or the other. The extreme is safe. Red States vs. Blue states. Protestant vs. Catholic. Yankees vs. Mets.
I was at Chilis about 7 years ago during playoff time watching a Laker game in the bar, and I was wearing a Clippers jersey. I like the Clippers--I'm a fan. I also like the Lakers. I'm an NBA fan, period. I like basketball. So there's this one guy sitting at the table next to ours, and he says something like, "Dude, which is it--are you a Lakers fan or a Clippers fan?" The stupidity of this statement still amazes me to this day. But for so many people, in so many areas, this "one or the other, either or" mentality is all they seem to understand.
During the early days of Reality Rock, back in the '80s, preachers would get on their soapbox about the evils of rock music. "You are either for the devil or for Jesus--music is either Christian or satanic--there is no in-between. If you listen to the music of the world, you are a compromised Christian. Burn any tapes/records that are of Satan and the world--only keep those whose songs glorify Christ"
Now, some reading this may wonder what beef I could have with that? Simple: it's not that simple. When I would be invited to speak to youth groups about music, I was very clear about why the above stance is wrong--it's way too simple. Way too easy. Way too wrong! When I asked the kids to raise their hands if they liked to sing "Happy Birthday" at parties, all hands went up. "Ok, is that a Christian song?" I would ask next. "Um, no, not really." How about no, not at all--not even close. It is JUST A SONG. It's a song people sing when it's someone's birthday. It is not satanic. It is not Christian. And, if one would actually take the time and effort to engage their brain long enough to realize that if there is a song playing on the radio about horses, it does not, CAN NOT fall into the "either or" category of Christian or satanic. It is simply a song about horses.
It would be so nice if life were black and white all the time. We really wouldn't have to "wrestle" with those gray areas that don't easily fit into our little boxes.
On my Facebook page, where it asks for my political affiliation, I put the word "hybrid". No, that doesn't mean I'm driving a Prius. It means that I am a registered republican who is pro-life, but against the death penalty. What a terrible republican I am! Arnold is a hybrid. Many republicans feel he is a democratic wolf in sheep's clothing. Bush was a republican, but many republicans called out his immigration policies as being WAY too liberal.
Labels are convenient. Labels are easy. But labels don't always tell the full story.
I am so sick and tired of our two-party system. Yes, there are other parties out there, but let's face it. We have backed ourselves into a corner as a country when it comes to political races. If you're not one or the other, you don't have a chance.
People who attempt to label me usually come up a bit frustrated. I am thankful for that. I am who I am. Somewhere in the middle, you'll find me . . . .
Saturday, May 2, 2009
cassette tapes
Within the last year I treated myself to an IPOD for the first time, ditching (once and for all) my Sony Walkman. However, on this warm, cloudy Saturday afternoon, I find myself listening to cassette tapes--yeah, those things that replaced 8-track cartridges back in the '60s.
The occasion--celebrating the survival of old Reality Rock program tapes!
A couple weeks ago, I reconnected with a friend of mine from Atlanta who is a college Chemistry professor. He asked if I kept any program air-checks from KLRD or KUOR. When I told him they had been in a storage unit in Yucaipa since last spring, he grimaced. "Was it air-conditioned?" Well, no. He told me there was no way they had survived the summer heat.
So today, while moving some other stuff, I was determined to take a sampling from the unit back home, pop them into the cassette player and see what I found. Lo and behold, chemistry professors aren't always right, I am happy to say!
Since joining Facebook, I have reconnected with many of the Reality Rock listening/program staff family over the past few months; this listening experience sort of completes the walk down memory lane. Mike Stand, The Call, King's X and Violet Burning are taking me back to some of the best 15 years of my life. Almost makes me want to hop back on the airwaves again--almost . . . .
The occasion--celebrating the survival of old Reality Rock program tapes!
A couple weeks ago, I reconnected with a friend of mine from Atlanta who is a college Chemistry professor. He asked if I kept any program air-checks from KLRD or KUOR. When I told him they had been in a storage unit in Yucaipa since last spring, he grimaced. "Was it air-conditioned?" Well, no. He told me there was no way they had survived the summer heat.
So today, while moving some other stuff, I was determined to take a sampling from the unit back home, pop them into the cassette player and see what I found. Lo and behold, chemistry professors aren't always right, I am happy to say!
Since joining Facebook, I have reconnected with many of the Reality Rock listening/program staff family over the past few months; this listening experience sort of completes the walk down memory lane. Mike Stand, The Call, King's X and Violet Burning are taking me back to some of the best 15 years of my life. Almost makes me want to hop back on the airwaves again--almost . . . .
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Transitions
Tomorrow morning, a friend and co-worker will be notifying her boss that she is retiring in June. During the final weeks of school, she will be clearing out her office, saying "good bye" and riding into the sunset of retirement.
A few days ago, I received a text message from a close friend whose mother had just arrived in heaven.
All over this nation, millions of people are experiencing intense, unexpected transitions--jobs being lost or hours cut, homes being lost or in negotiations to be saved--in so many ways--good or bad--transitions become defining moments in our lives.
Over the last 3 and a half years, I have experienced what has been--and surely will be--the most difficult transition of my life. Losing my mother, sister and father in such a short span has not been easy. Some days are better than others. I am a changed person. My world has truly been "rocked".
This summer I will spend in Pasadena removing my parents' lives from the house in which I was raised since I was 5 years old. In the meantime, I continue to press forward in the "details" of settling estate issues.
When a spouse dies, the survivor is faced with a choice: remarry or remain single. In much the same way, I have chosen to become "readopted". Before you ask what I was smoking for lunch, let me explain.
The day after my father passed away in January, I received an email from a very good friend. His family had, over the years, already become like an extended family. The email was basically explaining that his family (his wife and four children) had decided they wanted to "invite" me to join their family. Up until that time, I had been "Uncle John" to the kids. But they voted, and decided I would become their older brother. This is amusing, in that their dad is two years younger than I am.
To try to explain in words what it meant to me to receive an email like that would be impossible. I am SO incredibly thankful to God for blessing me with friends like this--and others--who are helping me through this major life transition.
No, nothing, no one could ever come close to "replacing" the family I grew up with, who adopted me as an infant. But I do know that my mom and dad would be thrilled to know that I will still have friends I can now call family, that I won't be "stranded" on holidays, that this transition is just that--a transition from one period of life to another.
"Life is what happens while you're making other plans" . . .not sure who said it, but my favorite quote by far!
A few days ago, I received a text message from a close friend whose mother had just arrived in heaven.
All over this nation, millions of people are experiencing intense, unexpected transitions--jobs being lost or hours cut, homes being lost or in negotiations to be saved--in so many ways--good or bad--transitions become defining moments in our lives.
Over the last 3 and a half years, I have experienced what has been--and surely will be--the most difficult transition of my life. Losing my mother, sister and father in such a short span has not been easy. Some days are better than others. I am a changed person. My world has truly been "rocked".
This summer I will spend in Pasadena removing my parents' lives from the house in which I was raised since I was 5 years old. In the meantime, I continue to press forward in the "details" of settling estate issues.
When a spouse dies, the survivor is faced with a choice: remarry or remain single. In much the same way, I have chosen to become "readopted". Before you ask what I was smoking for lunch, let me explain.
The day after my father passed away in January, I received an email from a very good friend. His family had, over the years, already become like an extended family. The email was basically explaining that his family (his wife and four children) had decided they wanted to "invite" me to join their family. Up until that time, I had been "Uncle John" to the kids. But they voted, and decided I would become their older brother. This is amusing, in that their dad is two years younger than I am.
To try to explain in words what it meant to me to receive an email like that would be impossible. I am SO incredibly thankful to God for blessing me with friends like this--and others--who are helping me through this major life transition.
No, nothing, no one could ever come close to "replacing" the family I grew up with, who adopted me as an infant. But I do know that my mom and dad would be thrilled to know that I will still have friends I can now call family, that I won't be "stranded" on holidays, that this transition is just that--a transition from one period of life to another.
"Life is what happens while you're making other plans" . . .not sure who said it, but my favorite quote by far!
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Home for Christmas
This phrase has taken on a wide range of meanings for me this year. The first Christmas didn't even take place in a home, or an inn--happened in a manger . . . .
For the last decade, "Home for the Holidays" has aired on TV the week leading up to Christmas, and highlights the importance of adoption--giving children a "home" not just for Christmas, but for life. As someone who was adopted as an infant, this type of program hits pretty close to home.
Last Friday night, my friend Chris invited me to join him at a homeless shelter in Redlands. For three hours I basically helped set up cots, pass out blankets and fellowshiped with about 15 people who had become pretty down on their luck. For that night, at least, what used to be a Smart and Final warehouse was their "home".
A few nights before Christmas, I was driving around town listening to KSGN, and a Steven Curtis Chapman song came on I had never heard before--"Home for Christmas". It started out pretty sappily (is that a word?!?)--typical "feel good" Christmas tune. But the second verse had a twist--it was about an elderly person in the hospital who was seeking to be "home" for Christmas--home with Jesus--in heaven. Wow. That stopped me in my tracks. This year, I literally spent Christmas Day in the hospital with my 87-year-old father. One day we, as believers, will all be "HOME" for Christmas--forever.
For the last decade, "Home for the Holidays" has aired on TV the week leading up to Christmas, and highlights the importance of adoption--giving children a "home" not just for Christmas, but for life. As someone who was adopted as an infant, this type of program hits pretty close to home.
Last Friday night, my friend Chris invited me to join him at a homeless shelter in Redlands. For three hours I basically helped set up cots, pass out blankets and fellowshiped with about 15 people who had become pretty down on their luck. For that night, at least, what used to be a Smart and Final warehouse was their "home".
A few nights before Christmas, I was driving around town listening to KSGN, and a Steven Curtis Chapman song came on I had never heard before--"Home for Christmas". It started out pretty sappily (is that a word?!?)--typical "feel good" Christmas tune. But the second verse had a twist--it was about an elderly person in the hospital who was seeking to be "home" for Christmas--home with Jesus--in heaven. Wow. That stopped me in my tracks. This year, I literally spent Christmas Day in the hospital with my 87-year-old father. One day we, as believers, will all be "HOME" for Christmas--forever.
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
lunch
A spirited discussion over lunch yesterday with my "on air" buddy, Jason Dean. We were all over the place, talking about politics, the economy, and somehow we got into people's rights. Not sure about Jason, but it was one of those conversations that I was still having in my mind as I drove away from Citrus Plaza--and it's still percolating.
One one level, the history of mankind has to do with rights. Starting with Adam and Eve--they, at some point, decided they should have the "right" to live their lives without the interference of their Creator--"free" from His authority. We all know how that one ended up . . . .
Since then, it's just been one battle after another. When America was founded, the settlers believed Britain no longer had the right to rule over its new colonies. The settlers also felt they had the right to wrestle whatever land and livestock they needed away from the native Indians.
Then came the slavery issue--they felt they should have the right to be free. At some point, women stood up for the right to vote. In the 60s, the civil rights movement would begin to bring equal rights to blacks. More recently, a battle over immigrant rights has been brewing, and currently, the question of who has the right to legally marry is taking center stage.
Several years ago, the rights of the unborn seemed to be center stage. During the eighties and nineties, I remember intense debates, picketing and even violent protests defending the right of babies still in the womb to see the light of day. Lately, it seems as if the war in Iraq, the economy, gay rights, etc, have stolen the spotlight. How tragic.
Furthermore, I'm no longer convinced that all we need to do is elect a "pro-life" president and that will take care of the issue. Roe v. Wade is nearly 40 years old, and we have had plenty of pro-life presidents. Perhaps God would have His people adopt a different "strategy"; perhaps the political solution may not be the right solution. Not by might, not by power, saith the Lord. Of all people, as someone who was adopted at birth, I have a very personal stake in this issue. And I am as guilty as the next person to be getting all caught up with these other more "loud and urgent" issues over this past election year. The voice of the unborn is a still, small voice--a silent voice.
I stand convicted for not continuously, fervently praying. I stand convicted for not more consistently supporting my community's pro-life pregnancy counseling center. I stand convicted for worrying more about my rights than about the rights of those who have no rights, no voice, no hope.
One one level, the history of mankind has to do with rights. Starting with Adam and Eve--they, at some point, decided they should have the "right" to live their lives without the interference of their Creator--"free" from His authority. We all know how that one ended up . . . .
Since then, it's just been one battle after another. When America was founded, the settlers believed Britain no longer had the right to rule over its new colonies. The settlers also felt they had the right to wrestle whatever land and livestock they needed away from the native Indians.
Then came the slavery issue--they felt they should have the right to be free. At some point, women stood up for the right to vote. In the 60s, the civil rights movement would begin to bring equal rights to blacks. More recently, a battle over immigrant rights has been brewing, and currently, the question of who has the right to legally marry is taking center stage.
Several years ago, the rights of the unborn seemed to be center stage. During the eighties and nineties, I remember intense debates, picketing and even violent protests defending the right of babies still in the womb to see the light of day. Lately, it seems as if the war in Iraq, the economy, gay rights, etc, have stolen the spotlight. How tragic.
Furthermore, I'm no longer convinced that all we need to do is elect a "pro-life" president and that will take care of the issue. Roe v. Wade is nearly 40 years old, and we have had plenty of pro-life presidents. Perhaps God would have His people adopt a different "strategy"; perhaps the political solution may not be the right solution. Not by might, not by power, saith the Lord. Of all people, as someone who was adopted at birth, I have a very personal stake in this issue. And I am as guilty as the next person to be getting all caught up with these other more "loud and urgent" issues over this past election year. The voice of the unborn is a still, small voice--a silent voice.
I stand convicted for not continuously, fervently praying. I stand convicted for not more consistently supporting my community's pro-life pregnancy counseling center. I stand convicted for worrying more about my rights than about the rights of those who have no rights, no voice, no hope.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
A Blended President
No, I'm not talking about some new smoothie concoction. I'm referring to Barack Obama. And I'm not really comfortable with the way the media (and just about everyone else) has chosen to label him: black, african-american, etc.
Isn't he also white? Wasn't the mother who raised him white? And her parents who also helped raise him--both white (caucasian). He spent a couple months with his dad in Kenya--that's it! So, biologically, he's half white and half black. I will argue, however, that because he was RAISED by his white mother and grandparents, that makes him about 75% white.
Ok, take Tiger Woods. Dad is black, mom is Asian. So, he is equally 50-50. But isn't it true that whenever you hear someone describe his background, he is almost always referred to as black or African American? Wonder how that makes Mom feel? Wonder what Tiger feels about it . . . .
Now, does the media lean towards that half of one's DNA because it is the father's side in both cases? If so, that's pretty sexist, no? In any case, America is becoming more and more "blended", and we certainly need to start coming up with some more accurate terms to describe "what" people are. Because to call Barack or Tiger "black" simply does not tell the whole story.
Isn't he also white? Wasn't the mother who raised him white? And her parents who also helped raise him--both white (caucasian). He spent a couple months with his dad in Kenya--that's it! So, biologically, he's half white and half black. I will argue, however, that because he was RAISED by his white mother and grandparents, that makes him about 75% white.
Ok, take Tiger Woods. Dad is black, mom is Asian. So, he is equally 50-50. But isn't it true that whenever you hear someone describe his background, he is almost always referred to as black or African American? Wonder how that makes Mom feel? Wonder what Tiger feels about it . . . .
Now, does the media lean towards that half of one's DNA because it is the father's side in both cases? If so, that's pretty sexist, no? In any case, America is becoming more and more "blended", and we certainly need to start coming up with some more accurate terms to describe "what" people are. Because to call Barack or Tiger "black" simply does not tell the whole story.
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