songs, albums, and concerts
Do you know where you will spend eternity? I don’t! But I do have a conjecture…
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I think that one of the reasons why Christianity is speaking to fewer people these days is because skeptics are the growth demographic. Claiming to know exactly what happens to us when we die just makes us look superstitious and gullible. But that’s what I think — leave a comment below, and tell me what you think.
This week’s message is a guided contemplative practice called a stilling chant. It’s a quiet chant that gets progressively shorter, until you are left with a speaking silence between you and God. For this practice, you want to be in a safe and quiet place—or, at least, some place where you can sit comfortably and pray with your eyes closed.
Be still, and know that I am God. —Psalm 46:10
Because your eyes will be closed, there’s no video this week, but only audio. The audio lasts about six minutes; the time that follows can last as long as you like. You can pray, or meditate, or contemplate, or just drift off to sleep—whatever your body and spirit need!
(For those wanting to lead a group in this practice, sheet music is available in our Free Stuff area.)
If you use the practice, please leave a comment below. What was your experience?
In this issue of The Merry Mystic, I share a new hymn about unity.
Last week, I shared something from the book chapter I’m working on—my sequel to The Inn of God’s Forgiveness. I introduced a metaphor for self-serving institutions like states and churches, and I asked a question: what kind of unity should we be seeking? Thanks for all your responses! I’m still mulling them over, and I’ll be responding more soon.
Last week, I wrote:
I want to cast a hopeful vision about a different way to understand Jesus’ prayer, that they may all be one. Not one in race or caste or language; not one in national or political affiliation; not one in church or creed. I don’t think that God desires that any part of our beautiful diversity should be erased. I’ve written a hymn about this, and I’ll share it with you another time.
That time is now: here’s my hymn, “That We May All Be One.”
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Sheet music and lyrics for the hymn can be freely downloaded here, and may be freely copied (for non-commercial use).
In this issue of The Merry Mystic, I start by sharing a disturbing version of Jesus’ parable of the Prodigal Son. But don’t worry: I make up for it by singing a reassuring hymn, “The Inn of God’s Forgiveness.”
The hymn began as a dream. As I explain in the book:
In the dream, I was traveling a rough country trail on foot, carrying a heavy pack. Coming over a ridge at the end of day, I saw an inn below me, with a golden light shining out of its windows. I walked on toward it. But the closer I drew, the more timid I felt. Would I be welcome there, travel-stained as I was? Would there be many strangers? Could I afford it? I hesitated in the yard before the door. I thought of traveling on.
But the door opened, and the innkeeper stepped out to welcome me, and his strong son took the pack off my shoulders and carried it up to my room. “There’s your table, right over here,” they said, pointing to just the kind of quiet corner table that I like. And they were so beautiful, and the serving staff all so beautiful and bright, and I so dusty and tired. Why are all these beautiful people serving me, I wondered? How do they know what I want, before I ask for it? And why do they laughingly refuse any payment?
Sheet music for the hymn can be freely downloaded here, and may be freely copied (for non-commercial use). The book can be ordered here. (It isn’t free. What can I say? One must eat.)
In this issue of The Merry Mystic, I share the story of my children’s baptism, and I sing the song I wrote for that occasion.
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There’s a live version and a studio version of that song on my album, Smackdown.
Got a baptism story to share? Scroll down and tell us about it below.
One of my favorite symbols for God is the fountain. I wrote about this in my book, The Inn of God’s Forgiveness:
This clear fountain became for me a symbol of God: a symbol of the mysterious, unceasing source of love and joy and energy. If I could choose one symbol to stand for my church, it would not be a cross, but a fountain.
Superficially, a fountain is a pleasant sensual experience. You see the dancing sunlight on the water, and you hear the soothing splashing of the water, and the laughter of children and the singing of birds around the water, and you smell the cool water falling through the hot air, and you can take off your shoes and feel the water washing the weariness from your feet. But at a deeper level, a fountain is a powerful symbol. It’s so inexplicable—and so wasteful! It just throws water up into the air. It doesn’t irrigate crops, doesn’t turn a turbine, doesn’t move commerce down the canal. It just gives itself, whether anyone is there to receive it or not.
This is my song “Clear Fountain.”
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“Clear Fountain” is from my album As a Deer Longs; I’m singing and playing all the instruments, but the angelic background vocals are provided by Kelly Autrey-Webber, my wife. I couldn’t think of a suitable fountain nearby to film for the visual background, but the little river near my home is just as good—better, in some ways, because it’s not human-made.
Do you have a symbol for God that is particularly meaningful to you? Please tell me about it below.
Hello, friends. Today I have a comic song to share with you. It’s about the apocalypse—which is always good for a laugh. It’s called “Judgement Day Blues.”
(Sorry that the performance is a little rough. I only wrote the song this week, and I haven’t found enough hours to polish it up. But you’ll get the idea.)
I’m laughing at the apocalyptic here, but seriously: I think this is one of the most harmful parts of our received tradition. I’m an experienced preacher, so I can almost always find some way to put a positive spin on those passages of scripture. But I get tired of doing that. I feel strongly that this part of our tradition has done a lot more harm than good. It just isn’t a healthy way to think about God.
I hope that a little laughter will be good medicine for that. Please share this post with someone who needs a laugh.
Hello, friends. I’ve a little song to share with you today — a piece of wisdom from my martial-arts tradition. This is something every martial artist knows about what to do when you’re falling.
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Please take a leap by joining the conversation: share a story or ask a question below.
P.S. If you have another minute, I have a short essay you might enjoy reading as well. It’s a guest post, as a “Monk in the World,” over at Abbey of the Arts. It’s about karatedo as a spiritual practice. I really like the virtual community there. (Except that they don’t have much of our humorous, skeptical side — but you can always come here for that!)
Well, this song is sort of sentimental. It isn’t funny, or witty, or erudite. It won’t be going platinum. But it’s one of those things about God that I know beyond doubt — and there aren’t very many of those, so I thought I’d better share it. I hope it will speak to you.
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I hope you feel it too. If so, please share it with a friend.
Here’s a little satirical song about the unwelcoming “welcome” some of us encounter in church.
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Please share your thoughts below. And hey, please share this post with anyone you think might get a laugh. Heaven knows we can all use one.
P.S. As you can probably tell, Tom Lehrer’s music was a big influence on me. My parents had some of his albums—Songs by Tom Lehrer, More of Tom Lehrer and, of course, An Evening Wasted with Tom Lehrer—and I listened to them eagerly, even before I was old enough to understand them. So the way I turned out is really his fault.