A simple task for a helper.

I’m an elderly woman who needs some help with a household task. I hope this email letter is read by someone responsible who will come to my aid. I have a house safe with some important documents inside (certain account numbers, unsigned deeds, etc.), and I can’t get the lock to work. If anyone ever came into my home with ill will, I’d never be able to defend myself, or the safe. Please come soon. I have terrible arthritis and poor sight—please call out your name when I come to the door.

Sincerely,

A Needy Friend.

ps- I cannot use the clapper.

All your base...

...are belong to us.

Of mice and guy

There has been a mouse that's lived in my house:
Worse than a pup, better'n a louse
I love a good book, I sure love my spouse, but I
Don't love the mouse that's lived in my house

Now, having said that, I haven't much cared
Where Mousy has roamed, or whether he's dared
To eat all our fudge, with mouse-babes he bared
I haven't much wont; I haven't much cared

But Wifey hates Mousy and Mousy's young child
"The fam'ly may grow! They may all run wild!"
Yeah sure: he'll o'errun us: we'll all be beguiled
But Wifey hates Mousy and Mousy's young child

So I have been charged with killing the beast
I set out a trap with a cheddary feast
I waited two weeks, he's patient at least
But I have been charged with killing the beast

Today was the day: I found Mousy dead.
That spring-powered trap near lopped off his head
Now Mousy be's still but not sleeping in bed
Today WAS the day: I found Mousy dead.

It freak-ed me out, the sight of his bod
My heart does a jerk; all parts of me nod
I don't want to touch Mousy's carcass--oh God!
Just freak-ed me out, the sight of his bod

And yet just last night, I told a guy off
Like Tarzan in full, with vine and loincloth
I bolstered my guts, like Luke out on Hoth
Yeah, t'was just last night, I told that guy off

So what 'zacly maketh a man be a Man?
Is it rebuking 'bad guys', just cause he can?
Or hand'ling dead mouses? I've no clue; I've no plan
Yeah: what 'zacly maketh a man be a Man?

Now go hear it.

(API) Pagosa Springs, CO--THe Bastard King, Steven Manuel's latest attempt at being "Biblical" and "relevant" at the same time, is now available for hearage and downloadage via www.beautifulcity.org/steven. The availability of this "song" (is that word large enough to hold this musical journey through rejection, redemption, and exaltant glory?) has sent shock waves through the Vertical Chew faithful. "Bastard what?" said ace, looking accused but interested. "Is that what they're calling him now?" said newly-ringed musrat, looking up from a chart titled "Fecal Color-Coding For Everyone's Health". Wunderkind waxed philosophic about the new single: "I'm not sure what that is, but I bet it'll be just fine."

As Lionel Richie said, Let the music PLAY ON!

Most music is disposable. We'll listen to Usher's "Yeah" for, what, 3 weeks?, then never want to hear it again. Sure, we'll hear it in 2014 on a car commercial and we'll go "oh yeah. Huh.", but that's it. I have to sit with an album for a while, giving it 10+ full listens over several months to really comment on whether it's lasting or not. Granted, I won't give many albums that long. Okay, forget that earlier statement. What I'm trying to say is that the quality of a recording emerges long-term.

Having said that, allow me to declare what I strongly felt this morning: This Coldplay Album Will Stand The Test. I am so pleased that this album exists, and will go on about its qualities for a moment:

--It doesn't follow any trends, sound-wise. Guitar and organ and bass and drum (and, okay moljer, there is a song or two with a synth pad thrown in, but those have been with us since 1972, so that doesn't really move us into the 'trendy' category). This forces you to listen to the SONG, instead of the sounds. (As a music-maker, I have never been able to keep myself this limited. I am always so goosed by the latest coolness that my stuff ends up sounded goofy and blip boopy.)

--It says things you can actually sit and think about. As opposed to, say, "Don't Funk With My Heart." Ahem.

--The parts played on it are simple and memorable (see the two-note guitar fill line on the verses of "Square One"). I've heard this band criticized for being too simple musically, that when it's time for a guitar lead, nobody goes Vai on us. I have no problem with that at all. Most of us can sing, note for note, the instumental leads in Beatles songs. They're simple and melodic. When I hear stuff like this, it makes me think "these guys were after writing what they would call a great song. They're not trying to impress anybody. (Again, I feel this is something I wrestle against as a music-maker, which is probably why I notice it. Again, I have a tendency to vote for whiz-bang over solid goodness.)

So give it up, peeps. This is just a great album. I could talk great albums for a long time, but this interests me because it's the first lasting piece I've heard since, probably, David Mead's Indiana. Can I get a witness?

For all the Coverers

We are all coverers, to some degree, of who we really are, yet we are all desperate longers that someone might truly know us, and love us in spite of that knowledge. We use what power we have (and are jealous over) to scream "I don't want power! I'm better than that!" We do religious acts and deeds that will be called good, even when we don't want to, in order to not be more closely inspected. We attempt to communicate "These are the kinds of things I really WANT to do, everybody! Check out the goodness!"

What was the VERY FIRST THING that Adam and Eve did (separately?) when they discovered their brokenness? They immediately went out and found covering for themselves. Imagine how stupid and silly they were to walk around in front of each other like that, as if the other would forget what they really looked like? As if Adam could say, "Oh sure, Eve. I always wear this. No, no--it's just more civilized, I feel. I mean, yeah. We wear fig leaves!" Eve is thinking "No we don't you poser! We look stupid! We've never worn these!" Of course, Eve wouldn't necessarily want to challenge Adam on his phony posturing, since she wanted some security that she wouldn't be outed from HER place of hiding.

It is God's intention that each of us come "out into a spacious place" (Psalm 18:19), and we best do that, not by confessing "just between me and God" but by confessing one to another. We come out of hiding. We bring our brokenness to the table. We really act as if we live in a community of priests who have the spiritual muscle to pronounce God's words of healing to us.

Now, all that's kinda elementary stuff. Here's the high school-level point, for me. At that point when people are willing to confess their perversion to us, to tell us about their self-degredation because they don't know how valuable and perfect they are to God, or to reveal their inflated view of their own goodness, because they're oblivious to the eternal nature of sin and the fact that it comes in and out of them like breath, THIS is the salient moment. For most, this is the moment when we're tempted to look away. This is the moment when we're disgusted at one another, when we're disappointed with one another, when we're JUST SO DONE WITH HIM/HER. Our patience and fleshy 'love' are exhausted, and we're left with a big pile of our OWN brokenness. That is to say, their sin provokes us to our own sin, and we learn that we, too, are broken, not quite eternally loving, and ourselves in need of healing. At the point that I lose patience with you, or feel exhausted of love over you, or lose peace because of you, or am no longer kind, or lose self-control, **I** need healing. I need confession.

But that point where we get turned off or frustrated or 'done' is the same point where God says, to us and all offenders, "Yes. This is the point I was waiting for. The facade is broken. You can't posture your way out of that one. The truth is that you're incomplete. You've not been made perfect in love. You've not yet been conformed into the image of my Son. Can you see it? It's very plain." I was struck today with the different reactions to people's open sinfulness: we cringe, Jesus smiles. He's not offended, he's not surprised, and he's not going anywhere.

A friend loves at all times.

I resolved today that, the next time I am shown someone's abject perversion, their simple degenerate humanness, their own effect of being born under a curse, I will certainly not shrink back from the moment. I will get excited about the fact that I'm standing in a place of healing, and I'm to be God's priest in that moment. Exciting.

I also resolve to voluntarily put myself in those positions where *I'm* the guy confessing, bringing my sin to priests of God, and humbly coming under their ministry and counsel. This is sometimes the harder knot to tie, but life is there. James said "confess your sins to each other if you want to be healed." So, down with covering. God says "I hate a man covering himself." You may as well see me for who I am. It will shatter the false image I often present: that I always have God's interests at heart, that I always desire the low place or repentance, that I am always aware of everything, and choose accordingly. Yes, that will be shattered, but I do want to be truly known, and in that, to more fully know God.

Genesis 3:10
He answered, "I heard you in the garden, and I was afraid because I was naked; so I hid."

Psalm 32:5
Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity. I said, "I will confess my transgressions to the LORD "— and you forgave the guilt of my sin. Selah

Isaiah 59:6 They can't cover themselves with what they make

Ezekiel 13:14
I will tear down the wall you have covered with whitewash and will level it to the ground so that its foundation will be laid bare.

Malachi 2:16
"I hate a man's covering himself with violence as well as with his garment," says the LORD Almighty

Luke 8:16
"No one lights a lamp and hides it in a jar or puts it under a bed. Instead, he puts it on a stand, so that those who come in can see the light.

1 Corinthians 11:7
A man ought not to cover his head, since he is the image and glory of God

1 Peter 2:16
Live as free men, but do not use your freedom as a cover-up for evil; live as servants of God

Hey E'erbody! It's my new Christmas song I made up!

He seems at home living in darkened places
He’s not the kind to dress for show
He sees the heart in disenfranchised faces
He should know, The Bastard King

Brother says he’s got a kingdom coming
Where the poor and meek will rule
Mockers say, “Since when has God gone slumming?
What a fool, 'The Bastard King'"

-All hail the king
-All hail that wretched thing
-He carries glory like we’ve never seen
-Let the praises ring
-For the Bastard King

Who would follow this Immortal Stranger?
A band of sinners, clots of thieves
Desp’rate beggars with a taste for danger
Bound for uncertainty: The Bastard King

He’ll be hated till there’s no more hating
He is outcast every day
But all the lowly will be celebrating
Hear them say, "Lo, The Bastard King"

-All hail the king
-All hail that wretched thing
-Sing the songs the proud would never sing
-Let the praises ring
-For the Bastard King

On peppers chili, and heated

Something quietly momentous happened in my kitchen yesterday, aside from potent flatulance. I pulled a nearly-finished bottle of Tabasco Sauce (tm) from our fridge door's condiment holster, and announced to Didi, "This is going in the trash. I no longer use Tabasco Sauce (tm). I now use Frank's Red Hot Sauce (tm) for all my spiceifying needs."

I was raised in south central Texas, where Tabasco is in a child's mouth sometimes before a teat is. I never questioned the fact that, if I needed more bang in a soup or a stew, a gumbo or a roux, I would instictively turn to my Tabasco. When I was at a fancy restaurant, and they offered me the teeny tiny Tabasco, I emptied it, thoughtlessly. It was an assumption, not a decision.

Then I moved to Ohio, where people are more ignorant of all things spicy. I do not hate them for this. But, because of their naivite, they are open to all persuasions of spiceifiers, if and when that need strikes them. Because of these processes working together, I've been exposed to Frank's, and other 'hot sauces', in a way that I certainly wouldn't have been back in my old home state. I have concluded that there's more actual delicious hot TASTE with Frank's, as opposed to a highly vinegary, simply-hot-with-no-real-taste-accompanying-that-heat type experience with Tabasco.


So hey Tabasco Sauce (tm), you might sell neckties and oven mitts and cookbooks, but you'll no longer be peddling your fluids in MY cocina. And "If the sauce has lost its savor," as Jesus once said, possibly, "then it's no longer good for collard greens nor pinto beans. It will be thrown out, into the 90-gallon rolling garbage can, to be taken away by the good men of Cincinnati, to a faraway place that I've never seen and never really want to visit."