Garage Band

One of my favorite things in the world is to scour the internet for live footage of some of my favorite musical artists. I especially love the videos that are filmed "in studio" or some obscure location like an apartment or a tiny little nook in an Irish pub or just on the street (or the back of a cab?!). I think it's how music is meant to be experienced. There's just something special and raw about watching someone play music in an intimate place.

You can imagine my excitement when my friend Steve told me that he and Brandon were hosting a house show in Brandon's garage. A friend of theirs is on tour, and instead of playing larger venues they decided to do a series of house shows, hosted by friends all over the country. With a house show, the band have less constrictions on what they can do and how much time they have. They also wanted an opportunity to share their experiences with adoption and justice with a small group of people.

Scott and I pulled up to Brandon's house and walked around back to the garage. It was a chilly, rainy night -- perfect for coffee and hot chocolate. After some time just hanging about and talking, Autumn in Repair (Steve and Brandon) played a few songs, and then Aaron Ivey and his crew took over.

The whole show was amazing. It was a beautiful atmosphere, with a projector flashing picture and video, candles, and great sound for such an odd place. What's more, the personal stories of love and faith and justice that the band told were inspiring and without pretense. They really live it...humbly.


And it truly felt like I was in one of the YouTube videos that I love so much.

I have some very talented, very caring friends.

dave

The Great Debate

No, I'm not talking about the Jayhawks vs. The Tigers or The Roasterie vs. Broadway. I'm not talking about Gates vs. Bryant's vs. Joe's vs. Jack Stack vs. etc., etc., etc. I'm not talking about The Funk vs. his own City Council. I'm not talking about Brian Busby vs. Gary Lezak . I'm not talking about any of that.

I'm talking about The Light Rail.

To Light Rail or not to Light Rail? That is the question (well, not really, but that's what I'm writing about).

I read this article from the Kansas City Star yesterday. To be honest, it struck me as a little bit ridiculous. More on that later. Here are a few fun facts about the Kansas City Light Rail project.

The first proposal was added to the ballot in 1998. It was voted down. In fact, it has been voted down SEVEN TIMES since 1998. Once, in 2006, Kansas Citians actually voted to install a light rail, but things never got off the ground after that. In 2008, Kansas City again said "no" to the light rail plan.

Poor Clay Chastain just keeps on keepin' on, though. I admire his perseverance, and hope that one day it pays off.

Now, why is this current proposal a little bit ridiculous?

First, let me say that I like the idea of a light rail. In fact, I voted for it in '08. I think it's a step in the right direction for our city. That, and improving our law enforcement so people will actually get on the thing.

OK, now the ridiculous part:

This current proposal includes installing a Ferris Wheel in Penn Valley Park. A light rail, and a Ferris Wheel.

A Ferris Wheel?

A Ferris Wheel.

Tax-payers in Kansas City have not been willing to pay for a new public transportation system. But maybe they'll vote for it if the sky-line includes a giant carnival ride perched next to The Scout or the Liberty Memorial.

(Insert Ferris Wheel here)

Here's hoping...

dave

All Of Us

Over the past couple years, I have fallen in love with the book of Genesis. Become addicted, really. A little strange, I know, but I just can't get enough of it.

The observations about humanity are stunning. Are we not all striving for control? Are we not all deceived? Are we not all deceivers? Are we not all capable of incredible good and also incredible evil? Are we not all hiding? Are we not all waiting for something to call us on a journey? Are we not all wrestling with something? Are we not all trying to figure this thing out?

The questions that are asked stop me in my tracks: "Did God really say that?" "Where are you?" "What have you done?" "Am I my brother's keeper?" "Will not the judge of all the earth do right?" These are questions that we all answer in some form or another for all of our lives. There is no escaping them.

Now that I'm familiar with it, I see the Genesis story everywhere. I see it in the books I read and the movies I watch, and in the everyday interactions and transactions of my life. I see it when I read the news and when I take a drive through Kansas City in the fall.

We all have stories that narrate our lives, whether we choose to recognize their influence or not. We all ask these big, huge questions of our world and of our God.

All of us.

dave

Manna on Main

What would it be like to rise in the morning, wipe away the remaining fragments of dreams, stretch out your tired frame, pull on your work clothes, shuffle your feet down the hall, past the bathroom, through the kitchen, out the back door, across the basketball court, and into the street - breakfast is waiting.

It's always waiting, and it's the only thing on the menu. You can't grow food. Anything you raise slips through your fingers before it can create sustenance. This is it. Your daily bread. It's always there. You can't stop it from coming. You can't create or recreate the meal that fills you.

This food provides life, and you are dependant on its provision.

It's a scary thought. Being dependent.

A few weeks ago I was talking to a lady about Sseko, a company Liz, Tyler, and I started in Uganda. We employ some awesome young ladies so that they can go on to University. Sseko is a means to an end for these girls. And the end is changing and shaping their reality, it is being empowered to make choices, live with dignity, and have the freedom to dream.

The lady had a funny response, "Good for them. Earning their own way."

Their own way. This is important.

With the rise of prosperity, comes choice, freedom, and seemingly individuality. You can define your space, time, and friend group when you can move anywhere, eat anything, and form your living habits around the clock. There is a defined system of belief in this country, a religious belief, a political belief, a cultural belief that tells us that it is best to go at it alone.

It just makes me wonder about the manna. It makes me wonder if the Lord saw us when he said, "otherwise, when you eat and are satisfied, when you build fine houses and settle down, and when your herds and flocks grow large and your silver and gold increase and all you have is multiplied, then your heart will become proud and you will forget...who brought you out of slavery."

How did we get here? Wherever here is.

Are we supposed to go at it alone? Are the girls in Uganda making it on their own? Are any of us?

benjamin

Places

The Basilica di Sant'Ambrogio was originally built in the year 379 under the leadership St. Ambrose, Arch Bishop of Milan, Italy. In the 1100's it was rebuilt. During WWII it took on some serious damage from Allied bombings but has since been restored. So, if it feels like you're going back in time when you walk under those Roman arches and into the courtyard, it's because you are.

A few years ago I spent a semester living in Milan, and I discovered the Basilica just down the street from my school. Almost every day after class I would wander over to the old church that had been there for longer than I could imagine. I would walk through the courtyard, imagining myself in the same place many years ago, walking on the same timeless stones as so many others.

And then I would enter the church. There is something very powerful and surreal about entering into an old church. It feels old. The steps leading to the door are concave and smooth because of the countless feet that they have supported. The doors are heavy and creaky, and the handles have the same smooth characteristics as the stairs. The place is a little bit chilly and drafty because 900 years ago they didn't put insulation in giant stone buildings. Ancient frescoes, sculptures, and relics fill the walls and nooks and hallways throughout the building. And there's the silence. The cavernous atrium hears every footstep and every cough and every shuffle and every silent prayer and echoes them into eternity.

I grew to love my afternoon visits to the Basilica. There was this small chapel on the south side of the church that was reserved for silent reflection and prayer. It became my spot. Almost every day I would walk in and sit down in the pew and just breath. Sometimes I'd listen to music. Sometimes not. Sometimes I'd journal. Sometimes not. The point was that in the big, loud, polluted, bustling Italian city that was Milan, I had found a place where I didn't have to be big, loud, polluted, bustling...or Italian.

I need a place in my life. I need my Kansas City version of the Basilica di Sant'Ambrogio - A place where I can just be, where I can journal or not journal, listen to music or not listen to music. A place that exists to center me, silence me, allow me to listen to my heart and soul.

There's a little chapel that I've found right down the road from my house. It doesn't have almost 1,700 years of stories and people under its belt like my place in Milan did, but it does have some history. It was built in 1942 as a church for the hearing impaired. It looks more American than Roman, with rafters and floors made out of wood instead of stone. Its not as drafty and not as elaborate as the old Basilica, either.

But I still felt that shock of silence when I walked through the doors this morning. More than anything, it was quiet. And the walls were listening for footsteps and coughs and shuffles and prayers to echo into eternity.

dave

Shuffle vs. Control

Right before I went for my run tonight I added a new song to my little IPOD shuffle. I do the same run, or a variation of it, almost every time I go out (twice a month). It's great. I head down hill, hit the park, circle a beautiful fountain, and climb back to my house. I love the run. And I was so excited about this new song.

A perfect night. A perfect run. And a new song. This is going to be incredible.

And then it happened. As I was walking down the stairs, I was cycling through the songs on my IPOD to hear the song, and I did it.

Shuffle.

For those of you who don't know, shuffle is the option that creates a random play list, the machine takes control, you get what you get.

As soon as I hit play I was anxious. I mean, what if I don't get my song?

This got me thinking. I was driving in a car last week with a friend. I was spilling my guts about how my mom has Lymphoma. She's battled it once before. And she beat the hell out of it.

But then it came back.

And this time it's getting a little scary. I was telling my friend how I want my mom to be better. I want her to smile. to laugh. to be beautiful. Because she is.

And I asked the Lord to do that.

To heal her.

And then I told my friend about how I sat at my kitchen table the other night and wept. I wept because I didn't think the Lord was at the table with me. I mean, I was there. All of me. My tears, my frustration, my desires, my frustration. But I didn't know if he was there, and if he was, I didn't know if he really wanted to know what I wanted.

I told my friend I didn't know how I was supposed to relate to this man anymore. Can I ask for things? Can I tell him my heart? Does he want us to ask for healing, for change, hope, love? I told my friend I was confused. Why did Jesus speak with such provocative language?

Ask. Seek. Knock.

If he doesn't show up when we are the most raw?

My friend looked at me. He was at a loss for words. But then he said this before we sat in silence.

What you really want...is control.

I did/do want control. I want this life, and the people's lives around me to play out as I see appropriate, fair, and life giving. I want the things that cause me pain, that cause my family pain, my friends pain...to go away. Is this so much to ask?

Which takes me back to the IPOD. I begin the run. I hit play and my favorite song on the list comes on, it wasn't the new song.

And this shuffle, it just kept playing the music that spoke to my heart. I ran through the park tonight. And i wept. It was beautiful. My heart was singing.

And then I turned home, up the big hill, past Broadway Coffee, and around the Catholic church. And I began to notice my song hadn't come on yet. I had worked pretty hard to get this song on the list, why hadn't it turned up?

I thought: Be patient. This shuffle has been incredible.

But I wanted to hear the song. So I did it.

I hit next. And then again. And again. And i took control.

As I was cycling through the songs, I passed over a number of tunes that seemed to fit the evening perfectly, but I was on a mission to get what i wanted. Finally after every song had cycled through, it began.

And it wasn't what I was hoping for. It just wasn't the song that I needed this night.

It just made me wonder - What if I let the shuffle play out? What if I gave up control? What if my picture of what I need, what my mom needs is too small?

What if the Lord was helping me understand how much I love my mom, and what if he was really helping me understand how much his heart is in this thing?

I haven't figured this one out...but I'm willing to let go. I think. As long as You take me.

benjamin

Why I Love Kansas City: Expensive Art & Cheap Beer

Last year, Ben and I went to The Plaza Art Fair late on Sunday afternoon, hoping just to catch the tail end of the event and enjoy the day. Instead, we discovered a gold mine.

Besides the amazing artwork and gobs of people filling the area, almost all of the restaurants on the Plaza set up booths and serve food right there on the street, so it's also a great opportunity to try some really good food.

It wasn't at all surprising that we found ourselves eyeing the food just as much as the beautiful photography. An already great experience became the stuff of legends when we realized that these restaurants didn't want to haul all of the left over food and beer back to their buildings at the end of the day. So what did they do? They started selling it at HALF-PRICE. We're both pretty big suckers for anything that's on discount, especially when it's food and drink.

The real fun started when we began doing price comparisons and trying to haggle. "Oh, what's that, UNO Pizza? Two bucks for a 20oz Boulevard? The same Boulevard that we just had at the PF Chang's booth for a buck seventy-five? How about I give you a dollar fifty?"

My suggestion for Sunday? Catch the Chiefs game, as bad as they may be, take a quick Sunday afternoon nap, and then head to the Plaza for a beautiful day and some cheap food and beer.

Dave