Final Post

I'm closing out this blog and hoping on the WordPress train (woo! WOO! - train whistle onomatopoeia). I have grand hopes for being a more frequent updater and contributer to the blogosphere at my new home. Only time will tell!

Come find me at: benjaminfike.wordpress.com

First update on this site coming Monday!

Good riddance blogger, I wish you all the best!

Ben

Lenten Hymn

A few weeks ago, I attended a Sacred Harp singing with a professor and couple friends from school. Sacred Harp is true North American religious folk music. I was struck by the sound and the style of singing, but also by the method of writing. Many of the hymn lyrics were taken from older songs and a new melody was added to them. Sometimes this created an interesting juxtaposition of melody and lyrics, some of which worked better than others. However, it often caused me to pay attention to the lyrics in a new way hearing them housed in a new melody and harmonies. I've wondered ever since this gathering how this concept might translate to my own seemingly-conflicting loves of older church hymns and contemporary rock and folk music. Additionally, I have long found myself dissatisfied with the current state of "Christian" Music, especially as it filters into the churches life of worship. I'm not entirely convinced that "Christan" should ever refer to a sub-genre of music. Many folk and blues songs are "Christian" in their content. Why can't Christian artists just make music? A Christian sister a several years ago caught me in a moment of complaint about this state of things and challenged me to do something about it. So here's an early attempt at doing just that.

The lyrics are from a hymn I found on the public domain written by George Hunt Smyttan in 1856. I was attracted to these lyrics as the church enters into the season of Lent, and as I've been preparing a sermon this week dealing with Luke's account of the temptation of Christ. I do not think I have ever heard the original hymn sung, so I wrote my own melody and accompaniment around the lyrics. Hope you enjoy it as much as I've enjoyed working on it.

The Rocketboys - 20,000 Ghosts

Seven years ago, this writer packed out the 1983 GMC pick-up he inherited from his great-grandfather to trek across the great, brown nothingness between Houston and Abilene, TX. Four years of undergraduate course-work, falling in and out of love, mischief making, caught in the liminal space between the Saturday morning cartoons of my childhood and the Wes Anderson films of my young adulthood, the best moments in the soundtrack of my life were provided by a little student band called The Rocketboys. Their melodies swept as wide as the sprawling Abilene skyline, all awash in the reverby glow familiar to any who have driven sun-visor down into the West Texas sunset. Their reso

nating guitar lines and sing-along choruses from their extended ambient rock anthems filled the enclosed walls of my shower. The wizardry of then-drummer Philip Ellis was tapped out between my steering wheel and gear shift, as their songs played out in my mind as a holdover between shows.

Fast-forward selector: present day. This writer is still caught in the nethe

rworld between Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and The Life Aquatic, and still in Abilene working on a graduate degree. Meanwhile The Rocketboys moved on to Austin, TX about a year ago. They’ve been busy. 20,000 Ghosts, their first full-length album, has a late September release. The move to the “big city” noticeably affected their song-writing. Gone are the lengthy, etherial opuses I remember from the Abilene days. In their place is a collection of 11 new numbers to add a welcome edition to the growing ambient indie rock hymnal. The songs are shorter, but do not suffer for it. And there is just enough wideness and wash to remind you that, despite the album cover, this band cut their teeth in the land of no-trees and the see for miles blue sky.

20,000 Ghosts is an album for those caught in between. These are songs for the sailor lost at sea, and the sojourner who has left a comfortable, dying past for an uncertain, but living future. “I am a boat on the shore, but no wave is coming to take me home,” sings lead vocalist Brandon Kinder on “Take it From Me.” These are songs sung on the road between. For those of us who have choked out gospel songs through tear-stained cheeks (as in “Nineteen Twenty Nine”), for the prodigals calling to a god they do not know exists (as in “Islands”), for those gathering stones in attempt to construct a new place to settle (as in “All the Western Wind”). The road travelled on 20,000 Ghosts may sometimes be lonely, it is never travelled alone. I’m not thinking of the 20,000 ghosts haunting our sleepless nights in “Endings”, but of The Rocketboys themselves. These are songs of hope for the weary traveller. These are songs that dare to look at the bleak thunderstorm of the unknown and trudge on with only umbrella and a vague sense that things will work out for the good. This is gospel music, although it’s sister, the blues, never wanders too far away.

For those of us who face an uncertain future (and let’s get real, who does that actually exclude?) 20,000 Ghosts is shot full of a cautiously optimistic hope. I expect these infectious pilgrimage songs will be gracing my stereo (and soon enough, the walls of my shower) for a long time. This album is a welcome companion for this sojourner wondering where and what is next. It seems to say, maybe home is something that we can actually find again someday. Or even if we only find ourselves waiting for the elusive “by and by”, that the journey is one worth taking. Either way, this is an album you need by a band you need to know.

Don't (Always) Believe the Hype

Has it really been a year since I updated this thing?  I really like writing, I should update it more.

I got a dog.  That's something new in the year since I updated.  His name is Hank and he is mostly a menace to my furniture, but I like him.  When I got him, one thing I decided not to do was to get him all excited before I took him on a walk, or put him in or out of his crate, or fed him or whatever.  You know how some people talk to their dogs in that high pitched voice that gets their tail wagging and the dog just goes crazy?  "Does my little doggie woggie want to go on a walkie?"  "Are you hungry for a little foodie woodie in your tummy wummy?"  You know what I'm talking about.  There's usually a lot of rhyming and making up words that goes along with it.

It's not that I'm above talking to my dog.  I talk to my dog all the time.  But we usually talk politics or theology or movies.  And I'm really talking to myself.  Deep down I know this, but somehow addressing my comments to Hank makes me feel less weird about speaking my thoughts out loud.  It's not really for Hank's benefit.  Like he really needs to know what I'm going to buy at the grocery store, or my opinion on Frost Nixon (which is a fantastic movie, and not as boring as a movie about a television news interview sounds like it would be.  Ask Hank, he knows what I think about it).  It's for me.  And that's the same reason dog owners hype up their pets before walks I think.  It makes it a lot easier to go walk around the block if it seems like your dog really wants to go.  It's nice to come home and your dog gets really excited.  So we condition them to respond in the way that we like.  Then we get mad at them when they get so excited they won't sit down and let us put the leash on, or they relieve themselves all over our area rug.

I think parents might do this sometimes too.  It makes me wonder, was Chuck-E-Cheese pizza really all that fun?  Does the pizza actually taste good?  I doubt it, Little Caesars definitely isn't as good as I remember from childhood.  Aren't talking mice with a huge plastic head, always smiling, dancing on stage and screen with unidentifiable creatures more than just a little scary for a kid?  Were the games that fun?  I mean clearly the Ninja Turtle arcade game I played as a child was a fine piece of entertainment artistry, but I'm talking about the others.  Maybe it actually is a really fun place inherently.  But maybe a lot of it is the hype.  I don't know for sure.  But sometimes I think maybe going to the assisted living facility to visit Grandma could be the cause of excitement if it got the same hype Chuck-E-Cheese did.

So people talking to their dogs and "Las Vegas for Kiddos" style pizza places aren't that big of a deal.  No, they are not.  But when the same principal starts to get associated with church I get a bit more worried.  Maybe I'm stepping out on thin ice here, because I feel my opinion might be a minority voice, but some things I've seen and heard about at (mostly bigger) churches makes me scrunch my face up, turn my head a little to the side, and say, "Really!?"  One of the things is when church gets compared to sporting events.  You know, if people really loved God they would cheer and yell like they do a for a touchdown or something.  I guess i just don't quite get it.  Going to sporting events is fun, but it's also a little manic and crazy.  A lot of people seem to go to the game to lose themselves for a little while.  You can forget about your problems and just live in the game for a couple hours.  Everything else will still be there when you finish.  And to me, church seems like maybe it's kind of a different sort of thing.  But some churches seem to want to compete with sporting events.  So they get the loud speakers and bigger, louder bands, and big hype.  Video technology, too.  Then they get disappointed when the crowds move on the next big thing and they can't keep up.  Is that really what it means to worship God?  We worship God the same way we "worship" a football team?

I guess I have a different vision for the church.  Not as a place of escape, but maybe the only place where real life can truly be engaged.  Like all the ugliness, messiness, joy, mystery, pain, beauty, wonder, simplicity, and complexity of life can be acknowledged and embraced in that place.  Like the arms of Christ stretched out on the cross reach around and hold it all together.  The triumph of resurrection kisses the darkness of crucifixion, just like it always does.  And I don't think crucifixion is really something to get all hyped about.  I think to preach Christ crucified keeps us pretty grounded in the nitty gritty of real.  And joy of resurrection is less like a touchdown and more like a family being reunited, or a storm being calmed, the marginalized finding their voice, the friendless finding friendship, years of suffering being ended - the kinds of things that are hard to depict on the jumbo-tron.

 I recognize that my faith is slowly becoming something more cerebral rather than experiential, and there are others whose relationship with Christ leads more to ecstatic experience and genuine excitement.  And I don't ever want to discredit that.  I just don't really understand it.  As for me, I have a tough time sorting out the genuine ecstasy from the more manipulative and fabricated kinds of excitement I see in some churches.  So maybe I'm just boring.  Maybe that's why I attempt to discuss stories I heard on NPR with my dog instead of jumping up and down holding his leash.  Or maybe I'm not alone in this.

For Grandma

This is a sketch of a devotional I did at our family reunion last weekend. My grandma asked me at that reunion to post more on my blog and specifically to post this. It is to be read with Deuteronomy 6:1-9.

Two of my fellow classmates at ACU took it upon themselves (as part of their formation into Christian servants and leaders, living out ACU's mission to "Change the World") to learn how to do impersonations of everyone of our major professors. They were quite good at it - the voice, the mannerisms and gestures... I had the good fortune of being in preaching class with these two fine, upstanding gentlemen. As a part of their continued pursuit of mimicry greatness, they extended their repertoire to include each of the students in our preaching class. In my case, I think they really nailed me. They got all of my ticks at the time - scratching my arm, gripping the podium. They even got my voice pretty well.

But what they really nailed me on was my family. You see, it seemed that every text that I preached in that class reminded me in some way of my family - memories, stories, legends, etc... Whether it was the Psalms of Ascent (songs sung by pilgrims making trips to Jerusalem to worship in the temple) - sounding much like the songs that I sing as I road trip back and forth from Houston to Abilene. Or Moses at the base of Mt. Sinai being reunited with wife and sons and visited by his Father-in-Law - it felt much like family reunions from my own memory. Or perhaps most of all, Caleb - 85 years old, going to Joshua and asking for his inheritance of the land, saying I still feel as strong as I did 45 years ago - he reminded me a lot of my great-grandfather - even in his old age coming to his great-grandchildren and holding up his cane - asking us to try to hold it up as he pulled it down - showing us that he still had it. Yes, they really nailed me on my family. It was almost like I couldn't help the memories from flooding in as I sat down to move from text to sermon.

Although it did get me thinking about correcting some of my distracting behaviors that they mocked so well, it also got me thinking - talking about my family is not a bad way to be remembered, is it? When I think back on my journey of faith so far, I don't know how it could be divorced from my family. They've been so integrally tied to it. This family has been such a tremendous blessing in my life. It's been such a blessing to be tied to such a rich tradition of faith, spanning back years and years. It's been such a blessing to be connected to something, and to "someones" all over the country - always having a place to stay, a friendly and loving face always seems within driving distance. It's been such a blessing to have support and love from all of you.

And it's also been such a tremendous blessing to hear all the stories...wonderful stories, funny stories, sad heartbreaking stories. Stories that over time become legends and myths - too good to be true. Old stories, new stories - but most importantly the stories of God's faithfulness to this sometimes wandering and sometimes lost tribe, always striving to be faithful and always growing and being disciplined in God's faithfulness.

Our family finds ourselves in a place that is not unlike Israel during the time of Deuteronomy. After the Exodus, being released from slavery under Pharaoh's cruel and oppressive reign, Israel found themselves standing on the bank of the Jordan River, looking towards the Promised Land. But she got scared, there were giants in the land, surely God had led them out in the desert to die. And so God led them back into the desert, wandering for forty years, becoming disciplined to become better His covenant people - the people of the promise. And forty years later, they found themselves yet again on the bank of the Jordan, looking towards their future in the Promised Land as Moses addressed them one last time.

They were plagued then with the question that has plagued every generation of God's people since then and plagues us still - will the future generation keep the faith? And that's the question that drives Deuteronomy. Will Israel choose faithfulness or disobedience? Will she choose the one true God or the gods of the nations? Will she choose life or death? These are the same questions we ask of ourselves today. Will we be defined by the failures of our family's past or by God's gracious action on all of our behalf? God has chosen to be in relationship with us, will we choose him? And so here we stand, with the generations of God's faithful from all time - feet muddy in the Jordan's bank wondering which way we will go.

Our family is on the cusp of a new generation. One only has to look around to see that Jeremy and I are no longer wearing matching tank tops and matching shorts, scampering along the dirt on Ball Road, trying to stay out of the ant beds. There are new faces coming into the family. New lives and careers and paths are emerging from us. And as we find ourselves yet again on Jordan's banks this new generation is looking towards the future - towards our own giants, our own paths and own ways. We know that some of it will look the same as those who have gone before us, and we thank God for the trails that have already been blazed on our behalf. But we know some of it will look quite different.

But as we gaze and dream of what is ahead, I would like to say, on behalf of this new generation coming into adulthood - Thank You. Thank you for the stories, the memories, the conversations we've shared while travelling on the road, or at night being tucked into bed. Thank you for things said in the day time and in the night time. Anytime that you who have gone before us and loved us since we were young have told us and showed us God's good and faithful deeds on behalf of our family.

And as for my generation, as we find ourselves looking ahead, I'd like to charge you as Moses charged Israel. There are two ways before us, two roads. One leads to death and destruction, the other leads to life and faithfulness. Choose life. Choose to remember the stories of old. Choose to be defined by the faithfulness of God and not marked by the sins of those who have gone before us. Choose to live into the story of a God who chose us, who rescued us from bondage and who is leading us to a new land of promise. Choose to follow him. And if history proves true, then we will one day find ourselves here again on the bank of the Jordan with our children and our children's children and we will once again face a point of decision. And I'd like to think that they too would choose life.

In Defense of Martha

"Martha, Martha, you are worried and upset about many things, but few things are needed--or indeed only one. Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her." - Luke 10:41

The scene is all to familiar to us: Martha in the kitchen while her sister Mary sits listening to Jesus. Martha, Martha, we say, why are you such a workaholic? Why don't you take a seat and listen with your sister? We know that is what we would do. If Jesus shows up to eat in our house, you'd better believe we'd be feasting on the words of Life before us. Sitting, listening, learning, watching, drinking deeply from the Living Water. Oh Martha, Martha - dinner can wait, the dishes can wait - would you turn off the vacuum cleaner? It's just that it makes it a little difficult to hear the Son of God speaking - in our living room. Do you really have to do the wash now Martha? Just settle down, kick your feet back, enjoy life for a while. We all know the scene, many of us have heard the sermons - "quit being a busybody, because Jesus is the only thing you need". But I think Martha may get a little more flack than she deserves. And maybe we should be careful not to read our own, crazy, North American, work-a-holic tendencies on her too quickly.

My family spent last Thanksgiving at my Uncle and Aunt's house in Canton, TX. My Uncle preaches for a church up there and so when Wednesday Night rolled around, although he did not have any set responsibilities, we loaded the family into all available mini-vans and went to the pre-Thanksgiving devotional. It was what you would expect - Thanksgiving is a good to time to be thankful and be with family, etc... The thing that struck me this time was when the gentleman leading the devotional talked about Thanksgiving how relaxing Thanksgiving could be, my Mother, being in one of her unusually saucier moods, leaned over and whispered to my Father, "Relaxing unless you're a woman!"

The questions of gender politics aside, she had a point. In our family, most of the men sit around, play games, watch football, and...well, relax. On the other hand, those in charge of preparing and serving the meal are busily and hurriedly rushing back and forth from stove top to oven to refrigerator, a pile of dirty dishes rapidly stacking in the sink, the whole house filling with delicious aromas as wonderful, steaming dishes are laid upon the layer of pot-holders that have been placed in the center of the table. And as the heat rises out of the kitchen, so often can the frustration. Especially in between the loud cheers that rise from the Lazy-Boys and sofa recliners as some team that none of us truly care about scores on some other team that none of us truly care about. And, sensing the frustration during commercial breaks, we say, "Martha, Martha, you are worried about many things... Why don't you come take a break, enjoy yourself, be with your family who loves you. Don't be worried and frazzled, just relax."

And if we're not careful, we can trick ourselves into thinking that this is great advice. But what if we were taken seriously? Well, I would imagine that it would be a good idea for a while - the whole family together, enjoying each other. But around 3:15, when un-lunched stomaches began to make themselves known audibly...well then we'd get a real taste of family togetherness, if you know what I'm saying.

It's here that I'm reminded: Luke describes Martha as being distracted by all the preparations, the service or ministry, that had to be done. The work is not bad. The service, the ministry, is not bad. No, on the contrary it is necessary. The in breaking of Kingdom of God is not a leisure activity, a hobby or pastime. It takes work! It takes dedication. It means being a good neighbor, it means preaching the gospel even when your rejected. The cost of discipleship is high, and it requires your very life and all you do. So be careful what you say about Martha, because the ministry she does is important.

But neither should we be hard on Mary, because the work is never as important as the Lord who gives it. Sometimes I am guilty of treating the work of Christ like a hobby or a service project, and I need Martha to show me that the work is necessary. But sometimes in the midst of that important work, of that ministry, when my mind is consumed by the dishes that need washing, the meals that need to be prepared, the money that needs to be earned, the families that need to be provided for, the ministry and service that need to be done -- sometimes in the midst of it all, I lose sight of Jesus, and I can't hear what needs to be said. And even worse, I try to distract those who are learning and listening to the still, small voice. I tell them that the work I am doing is more important, I tell them that they are lazy, and I pray to God to send me some help for the good work I am doing. But I am forgetting, I am only a participant in the work that HE is doing. And when this is the case, I would do well to ask Mary, "Is the seat next to you taken?"

A New Journey

A few days ago I had an anxiety attack. What I've been doing to cope with the pressures of life is not working as well as it once did. My parents and a good friend invited me to take this time to take a step back and reflect on life and what is and isn't working. This is part of that reflection. It may at times be sappy, discombobulated, and whiney. Read at your own risk.

So much of what I do is influenced heavily by what other people think I should be doing. I crave compliments and pats on the back like an addict. More than anything, I desire to be great. The strange thing is, I've grown up with a value set that is very different from many people around me. Thus, my pursuit of greatness does not come coupled with illusions of illustrious monetary grandeur or great positions of power and influence. No, I want to be humble, self-giving, honest, and loving. Part of the problem is that I want to be more humble, more self-giving, more honesty, and more loving than you. In truth I am more often prideful and arrogant than humble, more self-serving than self-giving, more deceitful than honest, and not very good at loving.

I think I'm going for the right behaviors, but my motivation is all wrong. I am scared of people not liking me. Sometimes scared to death. I want to do well at everything I do so that people will think, "Ben, now that guy is really something". In my secret thoughts I want to be a really big deal - make a big difference - be well-liked and famous. But in reality I am afraid of so much. I'm afraid of failure - so I just don't do much. I'm afraid to meet new people - and I don't really know why. I guess I just think they won't like me or sometimes I just think I am better than them. Anyways, enough self-disclosure, I think I've made my point - to you the reader and myself.

I started reading the Gospel of John two days ago. I really wanted to hear a word from Jesus, and I wanted to start at the beginning, but I didn't want to start with the Little-Lord-Baby-Jesus-no-crying-he-makes. I wanted Jesus as an adult. That's why I started with John, maybe not the best motivation, but I'm just taking what I can get at this point. I'm only a few chapters in, but I'm really falling in love with Jesus all over again. I want to be just like him someday. I also really like John the Baptist. Here he has this great ministry, and he's crazy and radical and all that, but as soon as Jesus shows up he's all about "More of him and less of me". He's so ready to step down and let Jesus do the work. That's the kind of minister I really want to be. I just want to learn how to get out of the way. I want to learn how to put my ministerial/seminary student ego to death.

The thing that really got me excited about Jesus last night as I was reading was in John 3:17. John 3:16 gets a lot of press and I guess it's a pretty good verse, but really anything Jesus says is pretty great in one way or another. But John 3:17 is where Jesus says, "For I have not come to condemn the world, but to save it." I almost cried I was so happy when I read this last night. He hasn't come to condemn the world! I feel like a failure so much of the time. I feel like I let down God and Jesus by what I do. But Jesus didn't come to condemn the world, he came to save it. That's one of the things I really love about Jesus, he's not here to torch us all for being sinners. He didn't kill anybody while he was here. That sounds like an obvious thing to say, but I've needed to hear that. Jesus wants me to have life - even eternal life. Full life. Anyways, I don't know where this is going, so I'm going to stop. And it's my reflection so I can do that if I want.