Enjoying reading.

Ok. So if I'm being totally honest, I read only what I had to in high school. I did enjoy some of the books we had to read; To Kill a Mockingbird, Of Mice and Men, Lord of the Flies, and Fahrenheit 451, just to name a few.

Since I graduated high school in 2001 I don't recall reading a single book except the Bible; off and on. Beginning in May of 2009, some things began to change. Spiritual transformations mostly. I had been searching and seeking a change for about 9 months already. May was here and the school year was over, I was a substitute teacher at the time, working almost everyday. With the end of school around the corner, I was left looking for work or a career. With some help from a friend, I ended up working at this Christian camp and retreat center. I was surrounded by a handful of good people, one of which was my long time but not always so close friend, Zack Jones.

I say not always so close friend, but I'll have you know it was all by my doing and not his. There was some distance both literal and metaphorical that existed between us for a while, not for any reason really, but regardless it was there. After moving back to Texas from New Mexico I began having great conversations with Zack. It left us both energized and feeling a little mixed up about what to do next in life. At that point, I began a quest. Not necessarily a quest for knowledge as much as a quest for God. I realized that you can't know someone unless you spend time with them. I had some knowledge of God but not enough knowledge about how I should interact with Him, I wasn't sure what was supposed to be happening in my life, or what role He played in my story. To be honest, I'm still not sure if I fully understand it, but I feel a heck of a lot closer now. One of the main things that changed was me realizing that He doesn't have a role in my story, I am lucky to have a role in His.

After many changes in my lifestyle, and re-prioritization, not only am I reading the Bible almost everyday but some other books as well. I now have gained some interaction with God as well as some knowledge of who He is and how He interacts with others based on their experiences, both written and verbal. There is more to this story of transformation as it is ongoing. Perhaps I share more some other time but for now here are some of the books that aided me along the way.

Here are my current (September 2009) reading lists:

Some Books I’ve Read:

Wild at Heart by John Eldridge
The Irresistible Revolution by Shane Claiborne
Blue Like Jazz by Donald Miller
Messy Spirituality by Michael Yaconelli
Crazy Love by Francis Chan
Sex God by Rob Bell
A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller


Currently Reading:

Through Painted Deserts by Donald Miller


Sporadically Reading:

Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster
The Way of the Wild Heart by John Eldridge

Want to Read:

Forgotten God by Francis Chan
Follow Me to Freedom by Shane Claiborne and John Perkins
Prayer by Richard Foster
Fear and Trembling by Soren Kierkegaard
Velvet Elvis by Rob Bell
New Monasticism by Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove
Freedom of Simplicity by Richard Foster
Red Letter Christians by Tony Campolo
The New Conspirators by Tom Sine
From Union Square to Rome by Dorothy Day
Chasing Daylight by Erwin McManus
Streams of Living Water by Richard Foster
Jesus for President by Shane Claiborne
Punk Monk by Andy Freeman
The New Friars by Scott Bessenecker
Prayer by Richard Foster
Searching For God Knows What by Donald Miller
Becoming the Answer to Our Prayers by Shane Claiborne & Jonathan Wilson-Hartgrove
Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis
Life With God by Richard Foster

So apparently I've started writing.

I'm not sure why. Everything I've written so far is true, non-fiction. I guess it could fit into a book about myself, there are plenty of stories, but it is highly unlikely that I will write a book. Maybe devotionals or just blogs. Some stories are just funny and some have a point, like this one, but either way I guess I'll share some of them...or at least parts of them. Here is an excerpt from my latest.

...I took off my glasses, placed them on the nightstand, and crawled back into bed after finishing one of the most inspiring books I had ever read, and all I could do was sulk. I wanted to know God more. I wanted to want Jesus more. I know that prayer is the most effective and most underused way to achieve this, so what am I to do now? So I buried my hands in my face and asked God to teach me how to pray. I know Jesus already taught us how in the gospels, and that there are plenty of examples all throughout the Bible but I wanted to know. To really know.

“I want to know. Right now. Teach me how Lord.” I kept on crying out with my watery eyes tightly closed and my feet fidgeting uncomfortably until suddenly I was interrupted with a cry directed at me.

“Daddy!”

My head left the pillow immediately. I opened my eyes, hoping the cry didn’t wake my sleeping wife. I started to direct my head back towards the pillow when I heard it again, this time louder and mixed with more frustration.

“Daddy! DADDD-DEEE!??!?!”

At this point, I’m thinking to myself,

“Really God? It’s one thirty in the morning. I’m pouring my heart out to you because I want to learn how to pray and now, right now, my daughter has to wake up crying?”

Reluctantly, I got out of bed, put my glasses back on and headed down the hall. I stepped over the baby gate that stood in the doorway of Chandler’s room. She sleeps in a “big girl” bed now so we keep the gate up just in case she is a sleepwalker. I kneeled down beside her bed, as she lay there squirming and groaning, wishing that she would just open her eyes and see that I was there.

“Chandler. You called me.” I said under my breath. “Stop crying, open your eyes, and see that I am here. Everything is fine.”

I gently repositioned her in the corner of her bed, placing her head on her pillow, snuggle bear in her arms, and her blanket to cover her little legs, knowing all of those things bring her comfort. She would have none of them, nor know how to use them if not for me. I stepped back over the gate, walked immediately into the living room, and kneeled down in front of my couch and thanked God for teaching me how to pray.

God is always there, whether I call on Him or not. He wants us to cry out to Him, but sometimes God does want us to shut up, open our eyes and look around to see the blessings He has given us, and then thank Him without ceasing. We all, no matter our age, cling to our “snuggle bears” and desire to covered with a metaphorical blanket of protection and safety, which could ultimately lead us to a comfortable complacent life, lacking the need for an all powerful and amazing God. Everything we have comes from Him, for that, we should be thankful. I am coming to God with nothing in mind at all, at least for now. After realizing His glory every time that I pray, only then can I ask for anything.

my prison experience (pt. 3)

When 6:15 p.m. rolled around it was time to hit the stage. It would be awesome to say that we had no preconceived notions about anything but I'll be honest and say that I thought we were gonna go in there and bless them. I think it ended up being mutual or them blessing us more. We started off with an upbeat song and had them jumping up and down, clapping, dancing, and singing. The response up to that point was great, but it wasn't until we played a slow one that we really saw the power of the Holy Spirit and realized what was going on.

We started one of our slowest songs of the night. I closed my eyes and sang the words and when the time came for me to play the lead guitar part, I opened my eyes to look out at them and they looked no different (at all) then every Sunday morning when we play these same songs, except that these guys were in all white, no fashion show here, just God-worship happening. We hit the chorus and I could swear that the gates of Heaven flew open and the most manly choir I have ever heard was basically screaming "MY DELIVERER."

We played a few more songs. Some were upbeat and some were slow like that one. The overall response was amazing. When we finshed our part I didn't feel like we accomplished something or that we "did what we came to do," it just seemed like we had church. A bunch of broken people crying out to Saviour together.

The preacher went up there and delivered a fiery message about what it means to follow Christ and that it isn't easy, especially in there. He did an alter call for those who had never known Jesus. I estimated that about 100 out of the 300 came forward. Some of them were pretty "hard" looking dudes. They surrendered their lives to Christ, their only hope, and then rejoiced together, had fellowship with us and each other very briefly before being rushed back to their cells (prison rules). We found out that if they weren't rushed off at a certain time, it would have resulted in a lock down at which point we would have been there until about 10:30 p.m.

I had never hugged a prisoner, or even former prisoner (to my knowledge), until last night. I made some friends, and some promises to go back and visit or play again, promises that I will keep. I ran into Jesus several times while I was in there. I was kinda sad to leave my brothers there.

Now, thinking back to last night, the craziest part was to see 300 inmates with their hands in the air and hear them sing the words "my deliverer." For us on the "outside" it is easy to sing that, and see the results of God delivering us from a life without Him. For those guys, whether they follow Christ or not, their situation isn't getting any better. Tomorrow they do the same things as they did today. Their hearts change for sure, as do ours, but we have privileges here to worship and speak freely. In there, I'm confident that it is not a popular life choice.

Thank you for taking the time to read this lengthy blog. I felt that I should give every detail I could remember. I'm sure there are things I'm forgetting, but the memories will come back one day, and I'll probably write about it. I hope it touched your heart and inspired you the way the experience did me.

my prison experience (pt. 2)

We were aware that we were supposed to start playing at about 6 or 6:15 p.m. What we didn't know is that more guys were coming in. Some that were former gang members and others that just didn't care and definitely weren't a part of the ministry team. At 5 p.m. the chaplain and one of the inmates, Jarvis, who was head of the ministry team, came and got us to meet for prayer and such in the head chaplain's office.

While in the office we were offered more water and coffee. We were asked if we had any questions (at that point we didn't anymore), and then we had some prayer time. One of the inmates prayed. It was one of the most reverent, biblically/theologically correct, thoughtful, and heartfelt prayers I have ever heard. Then one of the chaplains suggested that the head chaplain share his testimony with us briefly before we head back out to the gym. He was reluctant, but only because he was put on the spot. What he went on to tell us was more shocking and kind of weird that the whole experience itself. Just to clarify the chaplains aren't inmates. The are regular folks like us that live in the "outside" world.

He is currently on parole for life and can't even leave the state without written consent from the parole officers board of directors. He used to be in prison with a life sentence and two 50 year sentences. Something like that. The details about it are fuzzy to me at this point because the rest of his story was so amazing. He escaped from prison and met up with his wife (she was in the room too) who was a Christian (at the time he was not), she gave him a choice; we can live life on the run (which she didn't really want to do) or you can turn yourself in and suffer the consequences. She told him that she would support him and be praying for him either way but that either way he needed to choose a life in Christ Jesus. He turned himself in and went back to prison. Him escaping earned him 30 more years or something like that. He became a Christian and began praying that there was some way he could get out and be with his wife and impact others in a positive way. Though it hardly happens when you have so many sentences, he became eligible for parole in 2001. He was able to get out. Legally this time. He then began prison ministry and became a chaplain so he could work with actual inmates. I found it interesting that God provided him a way out of prison so he could get right back in, this time a "free" man, being in there by choice to minister to others. He currently spends most of his time in there with those guys. He has spent most of his life in there. He also recently was asked to go to Uganda, Africa to minister to some guys in African prison. He is not allowed to leave the state, because he is on lifetime parole. Through much prayer and faithfulness he was able to go. He said there weren't really words to describe how terrible and inhumane the conditions are over there. His overall theme or point was that God is amazing and faithful. We were blown away.

It was about 6 p.m. so we left the office and began to mingle with some of the inmates. I can't imagine how objectified and inferior they must feel because of the way we are taught by society to treat them. They were so grateful and appreciative that we chose to spend our friday night having church with them. We were flat out blessed to be there with them. Using the word genuine to describe them is an understatement.

my prison experience (pt. 1)

Let me start off by saying that last night was one of the most amazing experiences of my life.

Yesterday at about 2 p.m. I was heading out the door to meet up with the guys. In just a few hours we would be leading worship in a maximum security prison. I was really nervous, I must admit. Not really afraid, just nervous, I mean anything could happen. I arrived at the church office where I was given a list of rules and requirements of what not to wear. "No white shirts (since the prisoners wore all white), cover most (or all) of your tattoos during the walk-in (we would be walking through the prison and not all were as well behaved as most of the crowd we would be in front of), no flip flops, and no shorts." We double checked each other and the set list of music we would be doing. Then a confession of sorts took place, we discussed everyones fear, nervousness, or excitement. I was super excited, and that outweighed any fears I had.

It seems that maybe a week or so ago I had come to the realization that we are all convicts. Some just get caught. Society views some things as worse than others but in the grand scheme of things I was no more right than any of those dudes in there. I was also remembering what Jesus said in Matthew 25:35-40; "...I was in prison and you came to visit me." I've never visited anyone in prison. Maybe I will.

At 3 p.m. we headed to the Polunsky Unit, which is a maximum security prison here in Livingston. While in the van some texting took place to let others know we were on our way, and some tweeting happened also, mostly for prayers and just letting other know what getting into. There were also many nervous jokes and still some talk of fear from a couple of the other dudes. We arrived at the main driveway and pulled up to the first security gate. We told the guard why we were there and he told us to park, unload, and go to the main entrance. Seconds before we get out Jason tells us to leave our wallets, keys, and phones in the van. We were like, what? Most of us verbalized that we felt naked without our wallets, keys, and especially our phones. Thats where my concept of time comes from and I was reluctant to not hear from Tasha and Chandler for hours. I put on a long sleeve shirt to hide my tattoos while we walk through. We left our belongings in there, unloaded, and headed to the front gate. Jason had already been here to scope it out once. It was all new to the rest of us though.

We walk in and they took our gear immediately to inspect it. The guards opened the guitar cases and looked in the compartments. Carefully combed over the amps and checked Jason's' backpack. "What now?" I asked. The guard replied, "Take off your shoes, belt, beanie, and empty your pockets." I put my shoes, belt, and guitar picks (the only thing in my pocket at that point), on the table between the metal detectors. I got my shoes and belt back but was made to leave my beanie at the front until we left. Apparently there was a no hat rule. I walked on through and the detectors only to be frisked very, very, thoroughly. It was like a really hardcore airport experience. There was a window with a lady behind the glass. She asked for our ID's and gave us a visitor passes in return. We headed out the huge metal doors into the actual prison.

A group of men dressed really nice walked by us immediately. Jason said hello and introduced himself. One of the men was the warden. After a short greeting we headed on through the next group of gates. The gates with razor wire everywhere. To our surprise, there were men dressed in all white everywhere. We kept on walking through other gates and making turns right and left. Then the chaplain pointed us to the gym, where we would be setting up. There were about 50 inmates standing there blocking the door. As soon as they realized that we were coming in there they parted like the red sea to make a clear path to the door. We walked right through them. The nervousness that any of us had climaxed at that point.

Once inside the gym, we set up like normal. A few of the guys introduced themselves and helped us set up mics, amps and sound check. It was their sound system so they knew the ins and outs of it. We borrowed their drums too. Most of the guys in there at that time were the ones who usually lead the service. They were the ministry team. They got us cups of ice water and set up fans on both sides of us. It was really hot in there.

Right away some of them took notice of our skills like Brok on drums and Shaun on keys. Other guys were interested in the instruments themselves, which lead to conversations with Tyler. Jason even borrowed one of the guys guitars. It was a sweet Epiphone SG.

I was told a little later that some of them took immediate notice of my shirt and tattoos. I guess I could see that. Although many of them had tattoos, no one else in the band had a single one. My shirt, I guess, could be a topic of conversation too. It has Martin Luther King Jr. and Malcolm X on it and says United we stand, divided we fall. The black dudes in there got a kick out of the shirt and the "fried chicken" tattoo. Oh man, unbeknownst to me relationships were forming with these guys.

not really afraid of clowns.

i just thought the blog should be named something really general, not specific to any one topic. i guess i didn't really achieve that with the current title. maybe i'll change it one day. sometimes i call people clowns. i am afraid of people and what they are capable of doing or choosing not to do; so maybe i am afraid of clowns in a round-a-bout way. then the title would be completely contradictory. well, whatever.

in the future this blog will have a point. my posts' will make you laugh, cry, get stoked, get pissed and maybe even get off your bum, quit surfing the web and go do something productive. i didn't really create this with an agenda, except to tell my tale; to share stories, commentaries, opinions and everything else. i will not however, put any advertisements for products, companies, or bands that i'm involved in, such as:

http://www.lovelorn.bigcartel.com

http://www.myspace.com/blackbettydesigns

http://www.myspace.com/bulletsoverhollywood

http://www.myspace.com/lovelornclothing

...ok i'm done. like really.

i promise, now that i got that out, it won't be on here anymore. seriously, i want to talk about spiritual things, funny stories, everyday life, you know. i want you guys to share with me also.

here goes nothing.