Lent 2020

I'll open this post by sharing this: I'm not the best at year-to-year consistency when it comes to holidays or seasons of discipline.

I've had Christmases where one year I'll send out like 30 cards, via snail mail, to friends, and I'll buy 6-7 close friends/family actual presents; and then the next year, I'll remember that I need to do something on Christmas Eve, which will result in a bunch of e-cards, maybe not to all 30, but perhaps 10 or 15 folks. Maybe one person will actually get a present.

Lent has been the same way: I grew up in a church that was big into the church calendar, so I understood and understand the importance of a season of setting aside things to grow closer to God, to become more like Jesus, etc. But, through my blogging history (I haven't checked to see how many Lent-specific posts I've carried over to the current blog from the previous one), I've often had one year on, one year off, one year on, one year off, when it has come to intentionality with Lent.

Today is Ash Wednesday, and Lent snuck up on me this year. Last year, it didn't, and I was ready for it even before the season began. (I burned out halfway through regarding the daily disciplines, but that's another story for another time...) You can check out my 2019 Lenten devotional series here: (post #1, post #2, post #3, post #4, post #5, post #6, post #7, post #8.)

My excuse this year is I've been stressed, busy, [blessed,] ... and sick. Not the kind of sick that's contagious and keeps me from being able to go to work, thank God. But the kind of sick that, in at least a couple facets, has forced me to begin Lent early, to give a few things up. I haven't had coffee in at least two weeks, and I identify as a morning jolt addict. Without getting too detailed, I've had this precise type of sickness off-and-on for the last couple years, and I'm finally starting to take to mind and heart the reality that I may have to completely give up coffee for the rest of my life. I've also had to restrict my diet a lot, consuming largely only soft food and liquids over the last week straight.

As for blogging, if you saw my post a few weeks ago about lack of direction (check it out here), in addition to not having a plan for Lent, I much less have a plan to blog Lenten devotionals. Not that I won't do it. But, with so many different life things coming to a head (some good, some hard), I'm finding I have much less headspace. That, and I have been remaining in Scripture most days, as well as my own private disciplines of doing regular devotionals, mindfulness cards, and personal prayer art. What was on my blog last year not only during Lent but also during the month when my church prayed and fasted has now been moved to another medium.

So my plan for Lent looks like continuing what I've been doing the last few weeks. I'll show up next whenever it is I feel like it.

Till then, here is today's Biblegateway.com verse of the day:

This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. --1 John 4:9 NIV
A nice parallel to John 3:16.

D-flat major, the key of heaven

When I was in college, I had a classmate in the music department who had perfect pitch and who absolutely adored the key of D-flat major. I know this, because a mutual friend of ours (who also had perfect pitch) had asked me to write a piece for the three of us to play. My D-flat-loving friend was a saxophonist, and our mutual friend was a soprano, and had a range that could take her up into the stratosphere. Think Mozart's "queen aria of the night". So, I wrote a piece for soprano, alto saxophone, and piano, for that is the instrument I play. And, per my D-flat-loving friend's request, the piece was in -- what else? -- the key of D-flat major. Needless to say, we never got around to practicing it, let alone performing it. But it is written to completion; it's in a binder somewhere at my home.

Now, I too have perfect pitch. So I can verify that my two friends weren't lying when they said they had perfect pitch. But for some reason, I just didn't get the allure of D-flat major at the time. To me, it was just another key, like all the other 11 major keys, not to mention the minor keys, let alone the scales in the five other modes.

[Fun fact: in a rock band setting, guitarists for some reason always use the "sharp" system when processing all notes that need an accidental or some sort. In the context of this particular blog post, they would see D-flat major and call it C-sharp major. In fact, for an F major scale, they would see it as F, G, A, A-sharp, C, D, E, F. Knowing how the guitar fundamentally works, I get it; it's just still so weird to me, as it should be B-flat and not A-sharp. The point of this diversion: for anyone who is rock-trained but not Classically trained, know that for your sake, I'm talking about C-sharp major, even though I'm calling it by a different name.]

Growing up in an Episcopal choir setting, one of my favorite pieces of all time was William Harris's "Faire is the Heaven," along with "Bring us, O Lord God." Both of these pieces are about heaven and the eternal life. Both pieces are a cappella, for double choir. And, both pieces are in D-flat major.

I'm currently working on transcribing a piece I improvised for the piano a few years back, a waltz (mostly) in D-flat major. I've only ever composed one other piece in that key, another piano piece, many years ago. I don't know. I wouldn't necessarily say that I have a favorite key above all others; my answer is it changes daily. But, certain keys certainly evoke different senses on the gut level that I can't explain. 

Perhaps it's a privilege that only people with perfect pitch can understand. Then again, one time I tested a couple friends who I knew didn't have perfect pitch by playing Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" (the first movement) in a bunch of different keys. When I finally got to the correct key, one of my friends (who's a drummer, no less), shared with me that even though his ear doesn't know what the correct key is to anything, he was somehow able to sense when it was "just right."

With D-flat major, there's something about not just where the first note is on the scale, but really where all 7 tones on the scale sit that feels "just right." It's hard to explain. But immensely satisfying to listen to.

Revisiting my mission statement

I don't even know where to begin with this. I am in a much different place with the blog than I was a year ago. As I look at not only my mission statement, but also the things I listed that I would and would not do on the current re-start of this blog, I find myself wanting to write about things that I said that I would not use this blog to do, and not wanting to write about the things that I said I would use this blog to do.

Back in 2012 and 2013, what afforded me to step away was the fact that I had places to share my thoughts and my struggles, as well as my hopes and dreams, and that continuing to blog at that time was more detrimental than beneficial. There is a point where one's writing can become self-indulgent. And in the years leading up to my sabbatical, my overall writing certainly did become that.

I'm starting to recognize that writing -- the literary kind -- is one of my artistic giftings, along with music, drawing, and photography. It doesn't feel strange saying that now, knowing that I've done a lot of literary writing on the side as an adult (the world doesn't know about it yet -- shhhh!!). But it feels a bit strange when I reflect on my school years. Although I generally got good grades in most every class in the second half of my educational career, I wouldn't consider English class as one of my stronger classes. In high school, I regularly got C's on my papers. It wasn't until halfway through college, through one of my music history professors, that it finally clicked. Writing term papers finally made sense, thanks to this professor. It also helped that I took four semesters of musicology courses with her.

Early on in the relaunch of this blog last year, I received plenty of encouragement from my then-girlfriend to post devotionals and reflections around my faith. First, it was devotionals that I felt God using to minister to me during the Lenten season last year. Then, in May and June, when my church was going through our monthlong fast as we welcomed our new associate senior pastor, I was encouraged by her to rise up to the challenge of posting something of quality every day that also tied into my faith and reflecting either on scripture or on God in my life. At that point, it felt clear to me that perhaps the primary mission was to share Jesus in boldness and in truth. For that, I was perfectly willing to stash my mission statement, on account of God interrupting me and wanting to use my blog for His kingdom.

The last six months or so since have felt kind of like a wandering in the desert. The motivation for the next step that this blog was intended to lead towards has been dormant for quite some time. The vision isn't there. What then tends to happen is I'll find a substitute. Usually that means talking about myself. Which is ok as long as I'm sharing something about myself that points to or highlights something about Jesus that might not otherwise get noticed by a potential reader or follower.

It's a quandary. Life is on the move again. Has been since last summer. Hasn't really stopped, except for little pauses here and there. Kinda like the pillar of smoke that led the Israelites in the desert en route to the land of Canaan from Egypt--the long way.

So my mission statement is kind of on hiatus. I haven't really gotten a sense from God to completely stop blogging. But I also don't want to turn this into a public personal diary.

How then to glorify God with this blog and in my life when it has become obvious to me that I don't want to die to myself? Is that even possible?

Postcards From The Fringe

Tom Dyson is one of the most interesting men I'm aware of. The guy just spent a year-and-a-half traveling the world with his family (wife and three kids), living out of a suitcase, spending nights in cheap hostels in strange towns in foreign countries all across the world. I'm not really sure how I originally came across these emails, but I picked up on his travels toward the end, last fall sometime. They were taking a train westward through China, from town to town, and really city to city. About a month ago their travels finally hit an end (they spent about a month visiting relatives in Canada and England), and only about a week or so ago returned to the US to plot out a new life as they re-enter society (somewhat).

Prior to reading about this man's adventures, the previously most adventurous person I knew was my friend Kevin from college. As far as I know, he didn't put all his money and resources into gold like Dyson has, but he has biked across the United States and Europe, and over the last year when we've checked in, he's been sharing about new and fresh dreams to travel and explore, while also making it work with his work life.

What jumped out to me the most about Dyson, though, was his story. Like most Westerners, he was struggling big-time from anxiety and depression, largely as a result of his dependency on technology. A myriad of personal issues and challenges in his life also didn't help matters. His way out was to "go off the grid." Following along with his travels and the daily adventures, it's clear that this is what cleared Dyson's mind, not only as a form of detoxification, but also as an opportunity to give him a chance to cogitate on how to do life differently from here on out. I admire his guts on all sorts of levels. And as a disclosure, I actually relate to a lot of the struggles Dyson has periodically mentioned. While I cannot compare our situations, I see a lot of common threads, not only in our struggles but also in our personalities. Seeing him overcome many of these things holding him back gives me hope, even if the measures he took in my opinion were drastic.

Last year, I posted about my Meyers-Briggs personality test results revealing me as an Adventurer. I believe it; regrettably, I don't travel much. In fact, I rarely travel. While I don't consciously think day to day about how much I want to go explore, I do think deep down inside I yearn to. It mostly comes up when I hit a proverbial fault line or potential proverbial fault line in life that tells me it's time to move from one season or era to the next. Really, over the last year, I've been feeling that a lot more than I have in quite a while. Primarily, I've been looking to change jobs as a way of getting myself out of the financial gulag that I've been in over the last few years. But, because I don't get paid to take a vacation, I choose not to take time off work so as to earn as much as I can, so as not to sink further into the pit.

One of my hopes I would get to do, either before I change jobs, or not long after I change jobs, is to take a week or two and get outta Dodge. Go see something completely different. Go do something completely different. (Go visit people I haven't seen in a while...) I don't foresee myself doing what Dyson did -- or even some of the things my friend Kevin does, as much as I admire him and his guts, also -- but I have been looking up train trips to California. (Who would've thought it takes longer to get to or from San Francisco by Amtrak than it does Los Angeles?)

By the way, if any of my California-dwelling friends are reading this, I don't have any concrete plans yet to visit. (Sorry!) I'm still at the conceptual/dreaming stage. But I am dreaming of a reset button as I pray and strive to clear out the gunk that I've somehow accumulated over the last few years and move toward another new clean slate. The possibilities are endless, proverbially.

My experience with POF.com

I recently tried my hand at online dating again. Long story short, it didn't go well. I was in and out in a day and a half.

Deep down, I didn't want to believe a few of my friends who, months ago, in passing opined that that dating website was trash. How bad could it really be? was my internal response.

Over the last month, I had received (and, after this episode, still am receiving) a few various mild nudges to get back into dating. Money has been tight. POF.com is free, which was the draw. After all, I felt good about my ability to hold the line when I needed to, but still engage and be present and try to get to know someone.

The first night I signed up, I received a flirty message from one person that caught my interest. I messaged back. She wanted to move our conversation to text. She gave me her number and asked for mine. She was cute, but yikes. I didn't want to give her my number. Not yet. She also lived in Wyoming. I moved on.

The second night I messaged a few people, practicing beginning a conversation with low-pressure small talk (not my forte, but I'm getting better at it). There was one that caught my interest. Unlike the first, she was here in Chicago. I messaged her. She messaged me back: "snap me", followed by her Snapchat handle. Long story short, the way Snapchat works makes absolutely no sense to me. After creating my own username and eventually finding where I can look up people, I typed in her username. No luck.

I wasn't ready to give up, so I messaged a third person that caught my interest. She responded back, asking if we could move to text. This time I decided to say yes. I figured, just once. Turned out she was only interested in sex, which was very different from what she had put on her profile! I had a brief lapse in judgment, naively thinking I'll agree to meet her and somehow convince her instead to consider a real dating relationship, instead of what she wanted. All I know is, Holy Spirit saved my butt. There was a series of interruptions as we were trading messages that gave me an opportunity to slow down and look at what I was getting myself into. Enough wisdom eventually set in, and I backed out. I'm really glad it didn't work out.

The next morning, after a friend of mine shared his reaction to my overnight text to him and a couple others that I was "contemplating" shutting down my profile, I went ahead and did just that. It wasn't just because of woman #3. My experiences with all three of them simply hit dead ends, either with logistics or with my own boundaries. In retrospect, it was blazingly obvious: it may be that I'm being nudged to get back into dating, but it's sure as heck not here. So I wait.

Very brief backstory: I am addicted to obsessive thinking. In my teens and most of my twenties, I obsessed for a romantic relationship. The thought of waiting was torturous. Flash forward to the present: although I still struggle to choose to trust Jesus with many things, particularly with reconciliation, personal justice regarding wrongs others have done to me, financial provision, and vision for my life, one thing I am grateful to say is that I have complete peace in trusting Him when it comes to my prospective life partner. (That, and grieving/mourning pain and loss.)

Today, I have no problem waiting. I would like to get back into a relationship again. But, considering that I waited as long as I did before my first one, and also considering the healing and growth Jesus has taken me through prior to it, I've seen enough in my experiences with Him that I've seen Him present such wonderful opportunities. I will happily choose that over rushing and ending up with someone who would be less than His best for me. The tricky part of the challenge for me is knowing when I'm no longer called to wait and instead called to act. I haven't figured that part out yet.