Here’s a shot of my daughters on our recent camping and tour excursion to North Dakota. We camped well, stayed dry, stayed warm, and came home happy to see Jodi. As always.
After my show in Walhalla one person asked me what I love about this job. Well…. Just about everything! The travel, the music, writing songs, meeting new people, hearing new stories… It’s a great gig.
But it’s not my only gig. Notice the two girls in the photo? Yeah. They (like it or not) require a bit of parenting. My wife and I continue to balance our lives. You don’t need to have kids to know how hard that can be sometimes.
I’d really love to have my monthly newsletter out on the first of the month. But then my work hours on Tuesday disappear when one of the girls is home sick. It would be great to take the gig on Friday… but my daughter’s going to be on stage at school.
This morning was a rough one. Jodi at a conference (day 3) 1 kid misses the bus, the other has a minor meltdown due to a misplaced toothbrush. Trying to get both of them into the car with my guitar in hand while calling the day care I’m supposed to be playing at in 5 minutes and saying I’m running late…
But that’s life. That’s my job. My work. Calling. Vocation. Whatever you call it.
Not perfect, and today was rough, but all in all? Good. Sometimes I need to be reminded.
So here’s a song for me. And maybe you to. Wherever you are at in life, I hope you can see the good.
And if I ever get May’s newsletter together you can sign up for it here:
I love our Vanagon, but there’s a reason we named her, “Our Lady of Disrepair.” Over the winter I resealed the gas tank, replaced the fuel lines, sent the injectors off to be cleaned, installed a fuel regulator, new shocks, upper ball joints, and new front speakers. But it’s still running rough. Temporary fix: Turn up the new speakers.
I’ve been feeling defeated by this. But I just got off the phone with my mechanic (who is now on the phone with his Travel Agent) and I’ve got an appointment. And I get to hand it all off. And I feel very relieved. Surrender can be a good thing.
Small wheels, short cranks, and low gear ratios make for a slow bike no matter how fast you pedal. Perhaps you’ve jogged alongside a four year old on her first bike. She’s cranking her legs off and you can still pretty much keep up. But if you get on your adult bike and try to pedal alongside her you find that you can’t quite go slow enough. And it’s not fun. And biking is supposed to be fun.
My youngest is at this stage. When she’s on her bike she’s too fast for me to comfortably walk with and if I get on my bike I’m too fast. Either way there’s too much distance between us. So I made a new bike. And it leveled the playing field.
When I ride my tiny bike I am slow. I am limited. But I get to be alongside my daughter. (Okay, I’ll admit, in this video I barely keep up with her…) And that’s super fun. A part of me gets to be a kid again. The thought of getting on a bigger faster bike is wonderful, but only because I know I still have this little bike available too.
I think in a way Jesus is God’s way of riding a tiny bike. God was tired of the distance and wanted to ride alongside us all the way to the end. Today is Maundy Thursday. The day we remember Jesus’ command to follow his example. One way we do this is by loving and welcoming others unconditionally. Gay, straight, black, white, smart, dumb, democrat, republican, this, that, and the other. We ride side by side. And in a way I feel that in this act of loving others we give Jesus an opportunity to ride that all too small bike once again. And I think he loves it. And I think it levels the playing field.
I’ve been working on seeing where my songs and those of my underpublished friends fit into the lectionary. If you’re a pastor or worship leader/planner this is a great way to bring new songs into your congregation and support independent artists that support you!
So here’s the first attempt at it – Lectionary Link April and May 2012
Last night I stopped for 2 kids in the crosswalk, as is the law in MN. Then I looked in the rearview mirror and watched as the man in the minivan behind me rear ended me. I could tell it was going to happen because when I first saw him approaching his eyes were looking to his right at the cafe he was passing. Not at the car he was following.
Idiot.
And I only say that because…
Well…
Because he was an idiot.
I’m fine, Jodi’s truck is fine, it could have been worse and all that.
This morning I was approaching a crosswalk on my own two feet. There was a car waiting to make a left turn. We made eye contact so I knew she was aware of me and my forward movement. A car on the cross street kept her from turning, so I entered the crosswalk. Two steps from stepping in front of her car she saw a break in traffic, looked at me again and gunned it. Had I not been paying attention (looking at the cafe to my right for example) I would’ve been clipped by the back of her car.
I probably should’ve let it go.
But instead I punched her car. Hard.
She honked.
I waved, but in such a hurried manner that I may or may not have had time to completely extend all of my fingers… I’m sure I got at least one up though…
It was justifiable anger on my part.
But man, sometimes I act like an idiot.
And I’m only saying that because…
Well…
Walk safe. And watch out for the idiots. (That’s us.)
Lutherans have quite a reputation when it comes to change.
Usually it’s typified in jokes like this:
Q: How many Lutheran’s does it take to change a light bulb?
A: CHANGE??!!??
Or if you’re more of a deconstructionist:
A: We have a light bulb?!?
I think we can be done joking about Lutheran’s inability to change.
Last Saturday I was part of a Lutheran Praise Festival hosted at Good Shepherd in Buena Park, CA. It was comprised of area Lutheran congregations that were growing in new ways of doing worship – the emphasis on this day being primarily (but not entirely) on new music and music leadership. Many of these congregations had praise bands of one sort or the other or were trying to start them.
There are camps within the Lutheran church that look down on band led worship. As if playing a song with only three chords is a threat to our churches rich musical past. There are other camps that see the preservation of pipe organs and Bach Cantatas as a threat to our church’s future. I’ve spent time in both camps. I don’t want dumbed down songs, but nor do I want to see a million bucks spent on a pipe organ. I’m hopeful that we’re moving past these camps. A few weeks ago a worship leading friend of mine was told by a pastor, “I’m not sure if the congregation wants to sing so many of these ‘God is good’ songs.” To which my friend replied slightly befuddled, “But God is good.” Zing.
The congregations that I met on Saturday were not being tripped up on the adiaphora of worship music. They were moving outside of camps and following God’s call in their setting to lead worship in new ways. From listening to their stories here are a few things I learned: They were old and young, they used drums and hand bells, they did songs from the 1880′s, 1990′s, and Today. They lifted hands. They held hymnals. They took out pews. They put in projectors. Everyone survived. (At times members moved to other congregations to survive, but no one left The Body.) They faced challenges. They laughed a lot. They were generous and adventurous and 100% openly embracing change.
We’re a church body firmly rooted in change. We’re reformers. We can both love our roots and embrace a new future. We can do that because our faith is not in what we have done, but rather in what God is doing.
Living accordingly, I’m happy to say that Lutherans will continue to have quite a reputation when it comes to change.
I was trying to say so much of this with my album “Becoming Liturgy.” I really appreciated these words from Ian Morgan Cron.
Last Sunday at Humble Walk, Tim Snyder added his voice to the liturgical conversation in curating the Restless Liturgy. It uses existing and commissioned music of Aaron Strumpel. It was beautiful. It’s coming back around this Sunday. You should check it out. I’m fortunate to be part of a community that makes space and invitation (and a little bit of cash) for artists such as these. I’m equally fortunate to be led in new ways by gracious and talented creative types that work for the love of what they do and Jesus. (And a little bit of cash. A very little bit. Very gracious artists.)
These conversations and experiences are pushing me to learn in new ways how I can continue to grow as an artist. I’ve got a pile of liturgical songs that didn’t fit or were written since the Becoming Liturgy album. One is a sort of pop punk liturgy. It’s been percolating in my mind the last month and during the service on Sunday I felt the pull stronger than ever to get it together. Today I lined up a church that’s willing to ‘premier’ it in April. And I lined up a drummer. We’ll see what happens.
Keep creating. Teach old dogs new tricks and young pups old songs. Peace.
ashes slow twang of joy
This is the slow version of Jonathan Rundman’s song “Ashes” as arranged by Martin Marty and performed by Twang of Joy. Crazy what one Bm can do. This and Justin Rimbo’s “When It Seems the Day Will End” remain by top 2 songs of Lent.
Lent is upon us and I’m guessing you need a soundtrack. Here’s one option: Saints and Sinners Vol 1
In the meantime I continue to learn things from my Vanagon. It’s been parked and on a charger for the winter. And still it finds ways to break down. On Sunday I noticed a small pool of something on the floor of the garage beneath Our Lady of Disrepair. It was coolant. From the rear heater core. I successfully removed it. The other option was to fix it. Both are acceptable within the Vanagon cult… I mean community. Given how we use our Vanagon and the funds allotted towards it’s health care, removal was the best choice.
There are some things in life we fix. Others we’re just as well getting rid of. Hopefully this Lenten season we can discern these things in our own lives.
And if you’re taking up alms giving this season may I suggest giving to Our Lady of Disrepair?
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. It looks likes this:
When you’re self employed as I am you still have to do what your boss says. The hard part is knowing how to be a good boss. How do you connect with more folks? What’s the next level? How do you get there? Are you sure you want to go there? How do you constantly self promote without coming off like an arrogant prick?
Luckily I’m not the first songwriter to have these questions. Many greater and a few lesser have gone before me. Some advice I was given early on was to find someone with a similar career path and use them as a model for your own career. I chose David Bazan for awhile. But he got so depressing. Bill Mallonee was in the running for awhile; I’m a huge fan of his. But he got depressing too. Bill and I talked once about depression and I confessed that there are certain months of the year (more of them in MN than in CA) that I can’t listen to him. I have a habit of saying dumb things to people that I idolize. Perhaps you the reader are feeling idolized at this point. Fair enough, let’s continue.
So I’m thinking about all this after last night’s Songwriter Circle that I played with Ben Kyle and Heatherlyn. It was beautiful and I was honored to be up there and I got to share a few songs that haven’t seen much light in public (Resurrection and Mass for those keeping score at home). And I came home reinvigorated to continue writing songs and getting them out there. Now I just need to ask my boss how this is done.
Here’s what he/I has/have come up with so far. (Did you see the 30 Rock where Donaghy out negotiates himself on Liz’s contract? I feel like the whole me/my boss thing is turning into that. I’ll stop. First person from here on out. ‘Cause my boss said to. Snap.)
I have a facebook page now. Earth shattering, I know. But now my ‘friends’ don’t need to hear about my career all the time and people can like my music without liking me. Go ahead try: LIKE NATE NOW. As silly as it seems I believe it to be a bit on the professional side and seeing how this is how I make my living, professional is good.
A big fat e-mail list. I’ve been really lame for the last few years in sending out e-mails because during a computer switch my contact list got all screwy and when it came down to it, it was a royal pain in the butt. But I’ve been doing the grunt work and getting it all back in place and I’m going to restart the monthly newsletter. You may get it. You can opt out. You may not get it. You can opt in, just send me your e-mail and social security number. Fine. Just your e-mail will suffice.
Um.. that’s it. I have a couple other ideas but they’re so big I don’t think they’ll fit here. I’ll tell you about them when I’m on Letterman.
I’m not sure who’s career to follow at this point. Maybe someone like Josh Ritter. Hard working and still hopeful. (I believe Bazan and Mallonee are hard working and hopeful too – and I still love them both and think they’re fantastic. I’ve just dealt with enough mild depression to know that there are certain people I can’t follow to closely.) I’m open to suggestions. I can tell you my goal which may seem small but I like to keep it attainable: I want to show up in a town I’ve never played before and have 100 people turn out for the concert. We’ll pass a hat, I’ll sell CD’s, and I’ll do it all again the next day. That’s my goal for now. It might be easy. It might take a miracle. But heck, if Jesus can turn water into wine how hard can it be to turn songs into groceries?
