The SPAM Files

Spam is a semi-meat product that many people like cooked and some eat right out of the can. However, many can't stand it. So if you're one of those people who have never tasted it, you have no basis from which to comment.

Nowadays, spam is something you get in your inbox regularly. It's in our email diet. It's a mixture of half baked stories and rumors. It looks like kind of like the real thing, but you just aren't sure. All that to say, I received this in a spam email, but it was so powerful and positive that I think it fixed some deep things inside of me. I hope it does the same for you.


FROM THE SPAM FILES

A well-known speaker started off his seminar by holding up a $20.00 bill. In the room of 200, he asked, "Who would like this $20 bill?" Hands started going up. He said, "I am going to give this $20 to one of you but first, let me do this. He proceeded to crumple up the $20 dollar bill. He then asked, "Who still wants it?" Still the hands were up in the air.

Well, he replied, "What if I do this?" And he dropped it on the ground and started to grind it into the floor with his shoe. He picked it up, now crumpled and dirty. "Now, who still wants it?" Still the hands went into the air.

"My friends, we have all learned a very valuable lesson. No matter what I did to the money, you still wanted it because it did not decrease in value. It was still worth $20. Many times in our lives, we are dropped, crumpled, and ground into the dirt by the decisions we make and the circumstances that come our way. We feel as though we are worthless. But no matter what has happened or what will happen, you will never lose your value. Dirty or clean, crumpled or finely creased, you are still priceless to those who DO LOVE you. The worth of our lives comes not in what we do or who we know, but by WHO WE ARE. You are special- Don't EVER forget it."

Sometimes spam is good!

Suspicious Minds (Free At Last?)

So I'm sitting there feeling guilty.

My boss is looking around the room. Not at anyone in particular... Just around. "Someone has stolen our company laptop."

Of course I hadn't stolen the laptop. But I felt guilty. Anyone else ever have the problem? Well, I had another problem, too. Here I am, a black guy amongst all these other colors... I, interracially married Brad Irons. Me, Mr. Black worship leader for a majority white church. Me, Mr. have acoustic guitar, will travel. I felt defensive. I felt nervous. Surely, my mind said, they would suspect me. Why? I'm black and I like computers. We don't have a butler so they can't say he did it. That just leaves me.

I took a deep breath. I wanted to say it wasn't me. But, isn't that what guilty people say? So I didn't say anything. Guilt, guilt, go away. Come again some other day.

Then our local business bigot walked into the room. No secret there. We all know it. I think I'm the first black person he's ever liked. He looked at me, ready to say something he thought would be funny. But I am sure my look gave him a reason to return to the department he had come from.

Why am I struggling with this? My boss is not prejudice. He's a very reasonable man. The people there don't seem to have a problem with me (maybe one or three exceptions). There was no evidence for my irrational fear of being accused. But it was there. Especially when my friend Larry (remember him from previous blogs?) came up and said, "Hey, Brad. I hear you have a laptop for sale." I knew he was kidding But I was suddenly aware of all eyes on me. But... wait... it's not accusation. That felt bad for me. They felt it too?

One person jumped immediately into the conversation. "Like Brad would do something like that." She was offended for me. Defensive for me. I thought about that. IT wasn't just me.

So over 30 years after MLK, I'm still sitting here wondering if I will be accused of something based on my color while my co-workers noticeably try not to look at me because they think I may feel... uh ... like I feel and they don't want to hurt me.

I am amused to say the least. But I still feel guilty.

Two flats...

One flat, easily fixed. Two flats leave you dumbfounded. You have one spare, two flats. Neither tire is fixable. So you're stuck.

Remember HALT? I see now that this is a very good thing to pay attention to. I understood it as I swerved. Didn't hit anyone, but I did find the curb. It was a nice high curb. But I prefered it to hitting people who felt they could survive a one on one with a car.

But I have to ask my self if I reacted slowly because I was tired. They came out of nowhere? Or did I just take a while to realize that they didn't see me coming? I guess I came out of nowhere.

And mentally nowhere is where I was. Listening to Bill O'Reilly, generally letting my mind flow to whatever and whenever. Not being an alert driver. Flat number one.

And there they were, walking, not being alert pedestrians. Flat number two.

Tragedy almost ensued.

Two wrongs led me to a right... I took a right turn to miss them and... BOOM!!! Hit the curb. Two flats! So what do I do? I went home. It was two flats. There was no other real answer for me
!
Is there a moral? Maybe. It goes like this...

We have dreams, and they survive a hit or two. But one day we look and our dream has two flats. We can't move it. We can't drive it. It is stationary. Frustration may try to set in. We may find ourselves walking home as people speed by us on the way to their dreams. It does no good to stay at the car and try to fix it because we can't. Not by ourselves. It's gonna take more than faith. It will take help from others. IF we are prideful, we will waste time wrestling the impossible. But if we give it up to God quickly, He can orchestrate the answer. Not give up our dreams. Give up our plans and solutions.

So I walk home. I sit here. I pray. And the phone rings. It is a friend calling to tell me some news. I immediately seize the day and ask for help. And lo and behold. I get it. I wouldn't have been here to get the call if I had been out there fighting my two flats. Instead, God let me come home, pray, and be available when the phone rang. Sometims it's not who you know, or what you know. Sometimes it's simply if you're home when opportunity knocks.

"Good things come to those that wait. Not to those who hesitate. So hurry up and wait upon the Lord." - Petra, "More Power To Ya"

Sock Heaven - lyrics and music by Steve Taylor

Ok, here's the song I promised. Most people probably won't get it. But misfits lost in the dryer, take heart. God has got a place up in sock heaven. I'll explain later, but feel free to write what you think it means. Hint: The second verse is about the band he played in, that did well but broke up because something just wasn't right... he couldn't put a finger on it. I love parables and allegories! My favorite line is when they tell him, "If you can't act it Misfit, you don't belong here" Definitely have had that feeling before.

Verse 1
Out of the wringer, into the dryer
Spins the clothes higher
Squeezing out static and shocks
Little stockings tumbling 'round together
Couldn't cling forever
Now I'm missing one of my socks

Lord, where do they go?

chorus:
One pile waits with their god in a box
The other pile nervously mocks heaven
Misfits lost in the dryer, take heart
Maybe there's a place up in sock heaven

Verse 2
Out of the wringer, into the dryer
Couldn't just retire
Had to try tempting the fates
One little band spinning 'round together
Couldn't cling forever
God, I think I'm losing my mates

Seven good years, followed by a feeling I'd hit the glass ceiling
Maybe I'd best disappear
Pick any market
Pick a straitjacket
If you can't act it
Misfit, you don't belong here

Lord, where do we go?

(chorus)
Didn't want a platform to build a new church
Didn't want a mansion in rock heaven
Didn't want more than to be understood
Maybe there's a place up in sock heaven

Lord, where do we go?

Verse 3
We're gathered here to ask the Lord's blessing
Maybe not his blessing
Maybe we're not asking at all
Out of the box with every good intention
Did you fail to mention
This time we were destined to crawl?
And every day that we died just a little more
I was sure you were sovereignly watching us dangle
I don't get it now
But I'll get it when
In sock heaven I see it all from your angle

(chorus)
God's got his saints up in sock heaven

Editing the book of Psalms...

What an idea for a song...

When the spirit of the Lord moves upon my heart, I will cry like David cried...

Nope... not going to be popular.

I found out from my last post that people actually read this thing. So the temptation is to not say things that might be true but not politically correct. To only express joy, never sadness or insecurity or doubt.

But I like that hymn. Yield not to temptation....

No one said anything bad about the blog... in fact,I really appreciate some of the comments made and emailed to me personally.

But this is not a blog with five steps for living the victorious Christian life. It's a place where I can ramble. And maybe, maybe... someone will read it and relate, maybe not feel so alone. Maybe someone feels like me sometimes and prays there's a place up in Sock Heaven. I'll post those lyrics so that people understand.

Life is like a box of chocolates. Actually life is like the book of Psalms. Up. Down. Sometimes almost manic. Maybe being a musician, or just a creative person in general, I understand the swinging tunes David writes. Swing to depression, sing of God's love. God bless the people. God wipe out my enemies. Mercy and Grace... all under the eye of God. Safe in His arms, still afraid of the night.

Some people might want to edit the book of Psalms. Let's keep "How Majestic Is Your Name" and toss "Have mercy on me O God!" I like both. I need both. I need them all. I am them all. Maybe that's why I write. To chronicle a walk of mercy through a land of Grace... Amazing Grace... Amazing Graceland... Sounds like a song...

HALT

Never let yourself get too:

Hungry, Angry, Lonely, or Tired.

These are the signals to watch out for. Ignore them at your own peril. Close your eyes to them as you walk across the landscape of life and you will find yourself looking up from the bottom of a well.

This week, I was hit by the L-train.

It's funny when you think about it. I have only a few people in my life I consider really good friends, but tons of people who consider me a good friend. But I talk to few people on a deep level. Usually there's not enough time. I haven't had time to talk to many people this week. I can feel the dangerous insulaton of isolation.

So I don't talk much past the surface. But like many creative types, I think so deeply that if I am not careful, I can wrestle with depression. And that makes me not want to be around people, so I won't bring them down. And that makes me lock myself inside of myself and lock others out... which begins the spiral. Next thing I know, I hear an echo of my own voice... and the dripping of water.

Wells are good if you want to hear the echoes of your own thoughts, but bad if you actually want to go anywhere or do something about them.

So this post is the first step out. It's the first foot on the brick. It's the grip on the rope ready to pull myself out of the dark of the well. And ready and pull and pull and pull.

Staying down here is not an option. I hear snakes can fall in wells at night.... scary!

Pull faster pull faster