Ready For My Own Bed

I am ready for my own bed with no kids in it. We are rounding out an 8 day trip to Western NY. The kids have been awesome and very interested in seeing all the places where dad and mom first fell in love. We have also eaten at almost all the places where dad and mom first fell in love.

We had a great time driving up through DC. We spent the night at my brothers house and the next day while on our way to Starbucks we stopped by the White House. There was a protest for the Camels - or maybe it was the Tamils. At one point Maddy said "these protesters are ruining our field trip." While Karen explained that the protesters where actually a great example of what the White House represented - freedom of speech and all - Ethan and I tried to figure out what happened to the Camels. Actually Ethan wondered about the Camels, I wondered about the Tamils. I have since learned they are a persecuted people group in India.

The weather in Western NY is supposed to be beautiful this time of year. Though it started out nice, its been hot and muggy since we arrived at Elim.

My hero is here - Bill Johnson. He has been doing heroic things. Its been fun to watch my spiritual mentor meet with my spiritual heritage.

Though I haven't had much time to write I have been processing and receiving much. I hope to write a bit here in the coming weeks. In the meantime here is a few pictures of the trip.

The Chill

Last night I felt the “chill.”

I gave my music to God five years ago and he has hidden the chill from me ever since. There have been moments in these last five years when I wondered if I would ever feel it again.

I remember at the age of 10 sitting Indian style in front of the speaker playing my carpet piano while Keith Greens “The Prodigal Son” enchanted. I remember at the age of 15 lying on my waterbed with my Walkman blaring U2s “Where The Streets Have No Name,” mesmerized by its beautiful simplicity. And I remember driving home from the hospital after the birth of my son listening to Coldplay’s brilliant “Clocks ” – all of these moments where accompanied by the “chill.”

It would surprise me, tickling my skull and shivering down my spine. If you have experienced it, then you know. It’s the perfect moment when your sound, soul and spirit combine to create aural ecstasy. It’s a moment where God shows His face - and He is smiling. The world is beautiful, God is good and everything is in its right place. I feel it as a chill. This chill is not the only way I feel God, its just one of the ways he has revealed himself to me through music… Its also one of the reasons I fell in love with music.

I am one of the blessed humans that knows he is an artist. I am a musician, a singer and a songwriter. As Brennan Manning says,” it’s the story of my life but not the whole story.” I ache with the longing to create. I dream of being able to - for a moment - create an atmosphere in which “the chill” can visit. I think it’s one of the reasons I was created. The absence of the “chill” was agony. It was the death of a dream, the surrender of a “story.”

And in this surrender, I have learned the voice of God regardless of the chill. I have learned that he is in a song even when there is no chill. He is in a moment even when he is not felt. He is in my worship even when intimacy is intellectual.

I don’t know if that makes sense, but if you know me, you know I am about the presence of God. I am about the experience. I want to feel Him with me, around me and through me.

I have learned that the presence of God is here even when I cant feel it. Though I have been taught this since I was a child, I now know it from experience. His love, mercy, grace, forgiveness, glory, honor, goodness, majesty – the “chill”… Every aspect of God is present and I have access to Him in all of these areas not because I can feel it but because its true and because I know it.

I think this may be what the renewing of a mind feels like – at least for me.

That being said, it was wonderful to feel the chill again…

Write Now

Write Now…

I am at the coffee shop; I have a latte and my Mac Book, which I understand is essential if you wish to be a “writer.” I have my headphones on and I have enough Indy music to write for a month straight.

Write now… I don’t know if I like this writing thing today.

I read somewhere that writing is just like anything else, you have to do it a lot before you could actually say “hey, I’m not horrible.” So I keep typing…

Write now! Now?

I think it’s in me, writing… and it wants out. When I read a good book or a blog, I think, “I want to do that!” Then I start writing…

The phone is ringing – thank God!

That was Shawn. He sure is having a great day… I need a break. Wonder what’s on Facebook? – “Carver is driving and drinking coffee.” That sounds nice. I wonder if he can see Mt Rainier right now?

I check my email – nothing.
MySpace has been dead lately. I check it anyway. Nothing.
I check my email again.
I check Virb and… my email.

“Ok, time to write.

Write now, right now. Write now!”

Hey that's funny. You can write the word “write” two ways and it still works.

Right now, write now… cool.

I should call Joel cause he would think that was clever and would wax eloquent and that would be fun.

I have to use spell check for the millionth time on the word “cause” as I keep putting the u before the a… crap millionth and one.

I want to get better at writing. I cant explain fully why. It’s not an unfulfilled childhood dream pushing me and I don’t think I have enough time or energy to be good enough to do it for a living…

But I think occasionally…

Once and awhile…

I have something I want to say…

Just not today.

Hunger, Hiddeness & A New Song

Years ago, on a mission trip in South Africa, I led a worship service at a Christian school. One of the songs we sang was "Hungry." The chorus goes “We are hungry for more of You” (Jesus). At first the students thought this an odd expression. But when I explained that we as believers needed to have an almost physical hunger for His presence in our hearts, they responded by singing with a grasp of the word that astonished and humbled me. They understood hunger and had great respect for it. Their hunger stirred my hunger that night and the presence of God was sweet as we worshiped for hours.

I have often prayed for an increased hunger without fully grasping what I was asking for. Hunger is directly associated with need. Its only hunger if you have waited to eat. I believe its our understanding of our need that makes room for God to come and fill us. God loves our hunger and he loves filling us up and it’s our hunger that allows God to expand the parameters of our hearts that we might know Him more.

Lately, I have been desperate to know him more. God has hidden himself and this "hiddeness" has stirred me to greater hunger. I believe one of the reasons God has hidden himself from me is to increase my hunger. I also believe that anything hidden can be found - that God always responds to sincere hunger. Matt 5:6 says, "Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, they shall be filled." I am blessed if I hunger and thirst but there is also a promise of being filled as well, there is the promise that I will find...

I wrote this song last month, the first phrase runs through my head on a daily basis.

It doesn't have a title yet and I will continue to develop it...

Place your hand upon my head
Place your hand on my head
I want to feel you, like you're in the room

Fill your lungs and breath on me
Fill your lungs and breath on me
I want to feel you, like you're in the room, like your next to me

Cause there's a violent hunger in my bones
Cause I've seen you in this very room
Cause there's a lion prowling at my door
And I've determined to let Him in
Cause there's a flood gate that just let go
And its tearing all this shit down
Cause the fire burns and I want more
Cause I've seen you in this very room

If the Kingdom is for violent men, I bare my teeth and grin
And in my broken porcelain skin I'm furious to contend
If the Kingdom is for little children, I lay my head upon your breast
As the favored son of the King, I’ll shine glorious while I rest

Place your hand upon my head
Place your hand upon my head
I want to see you, like your in the room

The Tale Of Despereaux - The Re-telling

Last night we watched “The Tale Of Despereaux.” Karen had just finished reading the story to Maddy and Ethan the night before so there was much excitement for this showing. Teeth were brushed and pajamas put on. We pulled out the blankets and pillows, turned off the lights, turned up the surround sound and cuddled on the couch.

Like many books adapted to screen, there was much missing. However, this movie went above and beyond - radically changing characters and storyline. So much so that when the movie was over Ethan said, “I don’t think whoever made this movie even read the book.”
Then he showed me his “book.” He had written it earlier in the day. After reading Ethan’s retelling I have to agree with him.

The Tale Of Despereaux - The Re-telling
By Ethan Clark

Once upon a time, there was a mouse who was born. His name was
Despereaux Tilling.

He was a little strange. He read fairy tales and Despereaux spoke to the Princess Pea.

Then, Despereaux was sent to the dungeon where the rats live.

He escaped the dungeon with the help of Gregory, the jailer.

Roscurro, the rat, was nasty. He tricked Miggery Sow, the servant girl, into taking the princess to the dungeon.

Despereaux went back into the dungeon to save Princess Pea.

Boticelli, another nasty rat who lived in the dungeon, tricked
Despereaux into the hiding place where the Princess Pea was.

Despereaux put his needle like sword up to Roscurro's heart and saved the Princess Pea.

/*The End.*/

You Would Think Id Have Learned This Earlier In Life

But its come to my attention that people tend to believe what I tell them.

For instance, people believe me when I say “no, I don’t want the last piece of blueberry pie.” Or “I’m not very smart. Or “I’m not a great writer… “

Turns out that while I thought I was projecting my humility, I was actually missing out on Blueberry pie, intelligent conversation and mass readers… well, at least the first two…

There I go again...

"Daddy, I See A Ociton"

Today, Eva –my two year old - and I went to the “city town.” On the drive in, I began to sing an old song. I hadn’t heard it in years. For some reason it popped into my head. As I sang, the lyrics captivated me.

“I love you Lord and I lift my voice
To worship You, oh my soul rejoice
Take joy my King in what You hear
Let it be a sweet, sweet sound in Your ear.”

I couldn’t stop singing the last two lines…

This morning I woke up feeling heavy. As soon as my eyes opened, I was thinking about all that had to be done and the needs of my family and the needs of the business, but mostly I thought about the language barrier between God and me.

Its not that He isn’t around, I can feel Him, but when He speaks, He isn’t speaking in a language I understand… and He started doing it almost a year ago.

Eva corrects my singing, “No daddy… B. I. N.E O.! and binno was his name-o.” So I change my melody and words and we sing “B.I.N.E.O. I’m all right replacing the G with an E…

We arrived at “city town” and while Eva pointed out all the red ocitons - stop signs - I began to think about the importance of listening even when I cant understand.

Eva says “Daddy, I aff a secret, lets go a mdonals” I smile. She is so beautiful; it makes me ache with the goodness. She would like to go to McDonalds with her Daddy and have it be our secret. What makes it even sweeter is she cant keep a secret…

I can feel God speaking to me; I just can’t make it out. And I know He is with me. I know it like I know Oreo's are better with milk or like I know BA really did like Murdock - he just pretended he didn’t. Its just one of those things I know.

But if you can’t understand God and you used to be fluent in “God,” you sure can get discombobulated. And so, I have learned in the last year that it’s very important to have good sources - friends, family, the bible, Godly teachers. And also, I have learned that you have to know what you believe and then live it regardless…

“Lets go eat,” I say to Eva after finishing my errands. We don’t stop at McDonald's but we do stop at Phat Burrito which is one of the best eats in “city town.” I tell Eva the name of the restaurant while we wait in line. I tell her again while we get soda. I share my quesadilla and as Eva eats hers she says “Daddy, what’s this?” And then “Fat bummito.” I smile. “That’s right hun, it’s a fat bummito.”

When God first started speaking to me in a new language, I spent months offended. Then months repenting, then months giving Him everything. None of this changed His mind, He still continues to be obstinate...

As we head home from "city town," I think out loud. "I would love it if You would speak to me so I can understand. I really miss our conversations." Then Eva says “Daddy, I see a ociton,” and I smile again.

When you love someone, you learn to speak their language.
Eva has her own language and I've become fluent.

This thought crosses my mind. “If God is speaking and you can’t understand Him, its time to learn a new language.”

"Lord Jesus," I sing.

“Take joy my King in what You hear.
Let it be a sweet, sweet sound in Your ear.”