ex repression

A thousand thoughts,
A thousand words,
yet pen repelled by paper.

a thought that could change the world

Allison and I received the newsletter from an overseas ministry we support that stated that the leader of the ministry was in jail. He’s been charged with creating “communal disharmony”. His activities? Caring for children in orphanages. Allison and I were talking about this and how culture, and religion render things that seem unthinkable to us, perfectly appropriate in the eyes of others. I mentioned that it is nearly impossible for us to understand the depth of conviction held by people who in the name of those convictions do things that we know are heinous. Our religious and moral convictions are appalled by the same activities that others’ do because of their moral and religious convictions. We tend always to feel that people behave differently than we do because they are uneducated or intentionally evil. Educating them to our beliefs will certainly make them see the error of their ways. It rarely occurs to us that they are behaving thus precisely because they are battling what they believe to be evil. It seems that Christians, even missionaries, remain less successful sometimes because we haven’t the ability to realize that we aren’t the only ones being intentional. My cultural and religious context can’t understand how a people would think it appropriate to blow up and burn buildings as retaliation for being accused of terrorism.
Likewise, we find it unthinkable that a man would be jailed for attempting to care for motherless and fatherless children who haven’t a thing in this world. I mentioned that perhaps it has to do with Karma and the caste system. If I believed that suffering in this life guarantees a higher level or higher reward in the next life, I would probably refuse, or even flee from anything that would jeopardize my next life standing, such as better standing in my current life. With this mentality, I might actually feel I’m caring for the next life well-being of these orphans by assuring that they are not cared for and raised up in the current life.
As I was voicing my concerns that Christians don’t seem to be able to approach such an understanding, I thought of Bono, who seems to be open to understanding how people think in order to better understand how to minister to them. I was thinking of his description of why he is a Christian. He points out that every religion on earth seem to be based in Karma, and that Christianity is the only one based in grace. Why would someone like me not be drawn to a religion based in grace rather than karma? This seems to be the thing that makes Christianity the antithesis of other religions.
Only a few minutes after our discussion had waned, on a Christian blog, I read a comment that was criticizing the premise that if you are not experiencing God now, then you are missing out. The commenter said he’d rather experience GOD in eternity than some other god for a short time on this earth. Of course “eternity” is referencing something that doesn’t begin until later. I imagined that a good proof text for an apologetic for this thinking would be not to store treasures on earth where things are destroyed. Rejecting experiencing God now so that you can experience him later sounds an awfully lot like karma to me. Deny yourself now so that you’re guaranteed better standing in the next life. But this as a Christian doctrine?
Where have we come when we believe that not being conformed to this world is practiced by embracing the concept of karma, and fingering as false teachers those who preach grace obtained through Christ’s suffering in our place.
I have voiced concern before that it seems that we more and more often question direct activity that we’re instructed biblically, but at the same time, receive teaching that directly contradicts the scripture.
Beautiful are the feet of him who brings good news. It grieves me that the only good news there is is being mistaken with the same old hopelessness that it was given to replace.

Technorati Tags: discipleship, spirituality

magnificent quote

"Believing God" I originally thought to be her best book, but on second & third reading, I realized it was very repetitious. She seemed to be writing and re-writing the same points over and over.

-from this Slice comment stream on Beth Moore bible studies

Agnus Dei

the paschal moon is all but gone;
a waning crescent fading into the passing season
as are the fasts and sacrifices undertaken
to remember for a time.

the Paschal Lamb,
Bright Morning Star shines on
as new mercies are bestowed in the misty dawn
day after day after day after day...

Yeshua, Paschal Lamb,
slain from the foundation of the world,
may we remember in this season and in the next
and live thankful lives of service in the
freedom you've won for us.

As the flower moon waxes
may we be found blossoming into
what you are making us.

Technorati Tags: discipleship, paschal moon, resurrection, spirituality

on being one at sunset

To confuse myself with you is not such a stretch of the imagination.
The palm of my hand on your cheek.
Or is that your palm – my cheek?
My fingertip feels your skin,
Or am I feeling my fingertip with your skin?

Now, spent, I confuse us with the waning day.
Soft glow, dying orange light
Illuminates the undersides of the rustling leaves out the window.
The slow, thick color of sunset gives everything a light of its own.
Orange and purple.
It flows around us, like it bathes the leaves.
Over, around, beneath.

I can feel the day melting on my skin, heavier each moment.
I can feel my skin become the sunset.
I melt.
You melt.
Dark falls.
We dream
One dream.

Technorati Tags: dreams, life, love, marriage

history will teach us something...

...if we stop asking the wrong questions.

I know that there are things that I say over and over, and that some of my rants get beat to death, but from time to time, things become clearer in my mind, or I think of a way to say something that might be clearer than before. I’m always compelled to say it again. A good while ago, I actually posted a several blogs about our failure to use primary sources. In fact, that series wasn’t the first time I’ve addressed my aggravation with that fact. At some point, I made a comment that we seem to be teaching from the gospels less and less and from the epistles more and more. As a result, we are viewing Paul as the interpreter of Jesus. A comment to that post asked me to unpack that statement, but as I got busy, I never returned to do that.
There have been several events in the past 2 weeks that have got my mind back in my primary sources rant, so this morning I was contemplating these events and surmising about their outcomes. In light of my comment about Paul being our interpreter of Jesus, it occurred to me that we have less trouble understanding backward interpretation from the time of Jesus. Somehow, we realize and accept that Jesus’ teaching was interpretation of the Hebrew Scriptures - for us, the Old Testament. Jesus told us that he didn’t come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it. He constantly points to and quotes scripture and gives clues to how it spoke of him. John, often points out the meaning of actual events by explaining from the Old Testament, why it had to take place the way it did. Even after the resurrection (an event that should have made sense retroactively of many passages, and many of Jesus’ own words), Jesus walked along the road to Emmaus opening the meaning of the scriptures to them.
This makes sense to us, that Jesus should come along and make sense of all that had been said before concerning him. So we develop a system of retro understanding. The words and events in Jesus’ life make sense of prior history. But the truth of this is that the words and events of Jesus’ life make sense of ALL of history. Jesus is the hub around which all of history must be interpreted and by which it makes sense. Forward and back. Somehow we make errant generalizations from the knowledge that Jesus made sense of the past, so that we think the past should always be interpreted from the present. In other words, we can make sense of Jesus from what we’ve heard and said about him since. We look backward with an arrogance that we are better equipped now to understand what he was saying, rather than realize that what he was saying would better equip us to understand ourselves now. This attitude and disconnect is manifest in my previous statement of how we regard the epistles. We use Paul’s teaching to interpret Jesus rather than Jesus’ teaching to interpret Paul. Jesus has got to be regarded as the interpreter of everything taught, not only the things taught before him. We have got to ask, how are we to understand Paul, in light of what Jesus said?
A much more blatant disconnect is our ability to completely miss things that Jesus seems to have addressed, because we’ve become much more dependent upon consistent church tradition and praxis. Without knowledge of why things have been done and become custom, we run the danger of applying the practice as procedure but have no purpose in doing so. There are practices that we would defend to the death, but that have no biblical basis. We fail to realize they have no biblical basis, because it is just how we’ve always done it, and we assume that our intentions assure we’re operating biblically. Our blindness robs us of humility, and the ability to give grace and love.
We must not use church tradition and human commentary, habits and assumptions, to interpret what Jesus was teaching and doing. We must be willing to listen to him to come to evaluate and interpret what has happened, what we’ve done and who we’ve been ever since. If we were able to think this way, we would find Jesus perfectly capable of being our teacher, our instructor with ample knowledge to train us to live even today.
While today falls very short in proclaiming the ability to make sense of Jesus teaching, his teaching is ample and suited to explaining today to us.

Technorati Tags: discipleship, scripture, spirituality

i propose

If one is going to live and die by the concept of propositional truth as a methodology, he should be absolutely sure that what he is proposing is Truth.

Technorati Tags: discipleship, scripture, spirituality

shifting meanings

A little over two years ago, I wrote a few posts dealing with word pairs that I believe have become confused with one another, or have rendered one another meaningless. This happens in several ways. Sometimes one of the words, in reality, represents a means to the other. Over time confusion sets in and the means becomes the end. When this happens, sometimes the result is that the real end, which was reached by the means that has become the end, is forgotten and we go about pointlessly performing a means as an end. Doing something is what we're about, but we have no idea that we were once trying to accomplish something with what we're doing. At other times, when the means becomes the end, the end becomes the means, and thus we twirl endlessly in a confused stagnancy, but don't realize that we are stagnant because we are spinning while we are going nowhere. We think that the movement of the trees stirs the air and causes the wind to blow, and completely lose comprehension of cause and effect. Sometimes the two words just begin to mean the same thing, and thus, are used interchangeably, or redundantly in pairs, while their meanings morph into some gray area somewhere between the true definitions of the separate words.
Since my rants a couple years ago, I've gathered more word pairs that I have noticed have begun to be misused and misunderstood, and that I'd like to discuss and get feedback on my observations.
I'm going to start by reposting my original post called "the integrity of integrity." I've never reposted something that I've written in the past, though I've referenced old posts. I figured though that I'd stand a better chance getting you to read if it were right here to see. So here it is, respond as you see fit.

originally posted January 20, 2004



Honesty and integrity – two words that go hand in hand. They are often spoken just like they are found in that sentence. If you think long and hard about them, there are just nuances that separate them. They are so close in my mind that I assign the phrase as just another redundant Christianese thoughtless word pair. Honesty and integrity. Mercy and grace. Fellowship and community. Awesome and wonderful. Always and forever.
Lately though, I’ve been seeing a modeled difference in the meanings of these two words. I think I would define integrity differently than honesty. To me, integrity implies adherence to high moral or ethical standards. I guess if the words need to apply to the same scenario, then honesty would be the willingness to admit failure to adhere to these standards. But a serious lowering of the bar occurs when integrity is defined as the ability to admit the failure, rather than the standard that was breached.
When the word integrity is used in this way, one needn’t have any at all. All one needs is honesty. Do as you please, but always admit what you’ve done. Now the difference between these two words is much greater.
There is a serious moral danger in coming to the place in which one has a peace because they’ve got nothing to hide, but they’ve got nothing to hide because nothing causes them shame. A simple act of confession erases conscience. Sure God forgives the sins we confess when we repent, but if we confuse sin with a sin, what are we confessing? Will a confession of each act while we willingly live in sin get us any closer to holiness?
I think the problem boils down to a confusion of confession and repentance. Confession is the honesty part; repentance, the return of integrity by ceasing to do that which was confessed, and begin again to adhere to the standards that were broken.
Hold integrity up for what it is. Its something we want. If we are convinced that all we need to do to have it is admit our lack of it, then there is no goal, no standard, nothing to strive for. We develop an honest immorality and pat our selves on the back for it.

Technorati Tags: discipleship, spirituality

promise

"surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age."

Technorati Tags: scripture, resurrection, spirituality

he is risen

He is risen indeed

He is risen...

Technorati Tags: easter, resurrection, spirituality

lost

are we left here on our own?

Technorati Tags: discipleship, easter, paschal moon, good friday

tenebrae

Last year, after a track meet that Jack had on Maundy Thursday, we gathered as a family on the deck under the waning Paschal moon in a misty looking sky to observe and remember the events of Christ's last night on earth. That was an extremely meaningful evening for me and for my family. I don't think I said anything about it on the blog - it wouldn't have meant much.
This year, we did again, very similarly, but with 6 extra friends. It was powerful again, at least for those of us who did it last year. This year the Paschal moon was only barely waning because it had reached full only 9 hours before we gathered on the deck. Yeah, I'm symbolic, but to have the passover moon full precisely on the day that we observe Jesus' observance of the passover meal, well, it's meaningful to me. I'm not the only one evidently, because we still set the date of Easter by that full moon.




I like to think of it as the "shadow service." Tenebrae is Latin for shadow. I imagine Jesus operating that night in the shadow of death. He felt the shadow casting darkness. He spoke of his death that night, he prayed for his disciples, he prayed for unity, he prayed for me. He left the upper room and walked into the shadows of the garden and prayed all night. He was a light on whom darkness had fallen, and for the next 3 nights, nothing but shadows in a sin-conquered world.
But the very symbols that were used in that meal, and had been for centuries, spoke of and pointed to a light that shadows couldn't hide. And in real-life, away from the table, in the events of the next 3 days, everything the prophets had said about him, everything the meal had symbolized, would take place and be made complete.
But who knew?

Technorati Tags: easter, maundy thursday, paschal moon, puppy, tenebrae

i've got a message to bring

Today, I was licensed to “Preach the Gospel as I might have occasion.” This was something that I asked of Pastor Don, and he in turn, asked the Board of Deacons who would approve or disapprove the licensing. I was asked to come to the Deacon meeting and give my testimony concerning why I would like to be licensed, what I’m involved with, etc. This, I did. I shared how over time, one begins to notice how he is being used by God and begins to work at being more available in those areas. I shared about worship leading and speaking that I’ve been doing. I shared about how last summer, through some prompting by Eugene Peterson, I began to recognize my pastoral role among a growing small group of students.
Years ago, when Allison and I began to talk about marriage, I realized that to make the whole thing official, I was going to have to muster the courage to “ask her dad.” One may think that this is a silly formality, because it is hard to imagine not marrying her had her Dad told me I couldn’t have her. But in reality, I told him about our relationship, about how we’d grown together, and that we’d been talking about marriage. Essentially, I asked him for his blessing on something that was already developing.
That is really what my meeting with the Deacons was about. I had come to realize where I was being used, was making my self more available and would like to do so knowing I had the backing and prayer support of my church community. I was asking their blessing. And bless me they did. I told them about how when the band began to stretch out a little and seek to go where we felt we were needed, I’d asked some Deacons for their blessing, and one night we were playing in a “scary” place and looked back from the stage to see Pastor Don, standing in the back. Don assured the deacons that he’d come to support us, and that we’d not merely “caught” him there when we showed up.
Today, the deacons supported me unanimously, gathered around me and prayed for my availability, obedience, purity, ministry, etc. It was a really good thing. It is always encouraging to know that you are going about with the support and prayers of others.

Technorati Tags: discipleship

palm sunday

This morning at the coffee/cookie table, my favorite place on the planet, I was talking with a student/friend about Palm Sunday. It began quite superficial – I think I said something about how beautiful the day is, and how it began overcast and cloudy but the sun broke through like Christ’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem. He asked me if I’d ever heard of the symbolic usage of the palm fronds for the zealots. No, I hadn’t. Well supposedly, the zealots in Jerusalem used the palm fronds as their symbol, so the laying of the fronds upon Jesus entry was a sign that they were celebrating a political entry into the capital city.
I was very interested in that because I’ve always been intrigued at the fickleness of the folks who sang Hosanna as Jesus entered the city, and a few days later screamed “crucify him.” I inquired about this curiosity even as a young kid. It seemed that I always got a slightly different answer, and never a satisfying one. Some would tell me that just shows you the fickleness and disloyalty of the human heart. Others would assure me that it was not the same crowd who showed these polar extremes in their responses to Jesus.
The zealot, political crowd explanation makes sense to me. In the course of a few days, they began to see that Jesus was not there for the reasons they had assumed and that their wishes weren’t going to come to fruition. They were disenchanted, disappointed, and furious.
Later, after I’d been thinking about these things, I read a blog post that had a different spin on the whole event, albeit one that misunderstands Jesus’ actions, purposes, and intent in much the same way the zealots might have if that was in fact what happened. This explanation, inspired by Marcus Borg, had Jesus staging a political protest in the form a march a la Dr. King, on one side of the city, whilst the Roman Governor Marched his might into the city on the other side, to display is power and military force. The governor marched in his horses and chariots and soldiers, and Jesus on a donkey with some fishermen and tax collectors hanging close. This, I’m sure , would have been how the political zealots were interpreting things and would explain why they turned on him when they figured out the reality of the entrance. It would appear though that we can still interpret his actions that way, but instead of realizing the truth within a few days, we assume that everyone else has just spun the story so as not to make Jesus appear defeated with his political, social and economic protest squelched.
The whole thought process has challenged me to think more deeply this week, having realized that we really do tend to interpret events, teachings, and intentions based on our own passions, desires, and presuppositions.
We have recorded, Jesus’ own words saying that his kingdom was not of this world, if it were of this world, his soldiers would be there to free him. We also have the words written about him centuries earlier, “he surrendered himself to death, he was counted with the wicked to take away the sins of the world, and win pardon for our offenses.”
So to hold the position of the zealots these 2000 years later and insist that he was making a political protest is to really miss the point of his incarnation, not just his entry into Jerusalem for Passover. We celebrate this week because Jesus accomplished precisely what he came to do.

Technorati Tags: discipleship, palm sunday, spirituality

ID

We are told that normally, everyone dreams when they sleep. A lot of people always remember what they’ve dreamt, and can wake up and tell you in minute detail every bit of non-sense that played in their sleep. Other’s can remember who was in their dream and bits and pieces, but no detail. If I dream, I rarely remember. I wake and would vow that I didn’t dream. On those rare occasions, though, I can remember everything about my dream, and usually there is no guess work in interpretation. Honestly, I don’t think I dream at all unless the dream is very meaningful, and that may be either encouraging or oppressive. Often, my rare dreams are understood even in the dream, but of course not as interpreting a dream, but as understanding in real time, the metaphorical events and circumstances that are taking place. Oddly, this is how I think when I’m awake too. Everything means and can be understood on levels other than and deeper than the surface experience. I don’t know if this is actually true, but something in me, causes me to experience things that way. I tend to unpack every moment.
When I do dream, it seems so real that it takes me a long time upon waking to recover and grasp what is real again. Sometimes I sincerely wonder which is more real, the waking world, or what I experienced in my dream. When one awakes from a dream that is that strong, he feels as if everyone is just going around playing dumb to what is true – pretending that they don’t know what really happened last night. I’ve had dreams before in which Allison has said or done something that has hurt me, and I’ve taken days to get over it. I’ll go around emotionally hurt, and withdrawn, but intellectually kicking myself for being affected by something that is not real. On the other hand, and you may not believe this, I’ve come to know of things in dreams that were real and true, but I didn’t know about before. Over time, it becomes very difficult to wake and sort out what is real and what isn’t, what exists only in your dream and what your dream may be telling you about reality.

Yesterday evening I napped from 6:30-8:30. Apparently I dreamed the entire time, because I was dreaming while I still realized that I was awake, and finally, I just fell inside. It seemed as if my dream, or at least its meaning, were tied together with what was actually happening as I slept, an oddity that heightens the impact of a dream.
Every aspect of the dream had meaning. Nearly everyone in my sphere were in the dream. I won’t name them or their significance. The dream was about identity.
I was visiting Mount Moriah, which was not its self, and that is important. It was a looming, snow-capped monstrosity. We’d stopped at a small touristy shop before driving up the mountain and while we were there, I lost my green eddie bauer book bag with my initials embroidered on the side. The bag contained my wallet and my computer.
People who don’t know we really well, would probably immediately see some of my identity in that simple fact: Rod always has his green bag containing his wallet and computer. It even rides on the gas tank of his green motorcycle. But of course, to me, the bag and its contents weren’t my identity, they contained my identity. With Allison’s purse having been so recently stolen, and our fights and hassles to close accounts and clear our name sullied with bad checks written against closed accounts and fraudulent purchases, I was terrified by identity theft. My computer contained every thought I’ve ever thought, and holds and keeps them in a manner that is organized and makes them accessible and worthwhile. I think, therefore I am and without my thoughts I’m not.
As we began to drive up Mount Moriah, the roads were icy and we were sliding all around, other cars were sliding into one another, and all I could think of was I’ve got to get my wallet and thoughts back. The further we drove from my thoughts, the more we began to lose control and slide around. But everyone in the car, kept saying, “we’ve got to find some place to get lunch.” No one cared that who I was was lost and sliding around on the stormy mountainside, I could care less about lunch.
I woke while we were sliding around. I was still thinking about identity and responsibility when I realized that what had woke me was the boys clinking around in the kitchen trying to get some supper at 8:30pm. They were on the phone with Mom, who is in DC. Allison was taking care of them and feeding them from 500 miles away while I was all wrapped up in myself, asleep sideways across the bed 5 steps away. Man, have I screwed up. For the past two hours, everyone has been trying to find some lunch. Could I take a hint?
In reality, Mount Moriah is but a rise in the surrounding topography. Its identity and who identifies with it is disputed constantly. But it is what it is. Actually it’s identity is found in God, not a particular group of people. It doesn’t contain God, God contains it. How strange that this dream should take place on a fake Mount Moriah. My wallet and computer don’t contain me. If someone else spends all my money, I’ll still be me. And if all my thoughts get stolen, they will still be my thoughts and they are still in my head. I know that’s a cheesy moral to a scary dream, honestly, that’s not all there is, but its all I’m willing to tell.
I got out of bed last night with thoughts intact but swirling. Jack finished preparing supper and he and Will ate their fill. Allison and Molly are traipsing around in the rainy Nation’s Capital today. We’re enjoying a soft rainy spring Saturday.
I’d better go get my boys some lunch.

Technorati Tags: life, dreams

cat tale

We have cats all over our neighborhood. According to the kids, some of them actually belong to people, but most of the ones near our house are strays born to a gray cat that is so wild, I've seen her jump off my back deck to escape me when I open the back door (that is a fall of more than 10 feet). At any rate, claimed or unclaimed, they all roam. They all behave as if they have no home, or that their home is simply a territory. No one owns a cat. They come and go as they please and they go wherever they please. I have a love/hate relationship with that whole concept because while I like the freedom they exemplify, I despise the fact that they use people. I despise the fact that they seem to have no regard for any other living creature. They are all that matters to themselves. I can watch a cat walk up on someone's back porch and eat her fill of fancy feast, and walk back down in the yard and mutilate wren. They kill for sport and often just wound their toy and leave it to bleed to death. I doubt that I'll have my wren family in the garage this June, because the cats have taken over my woodpile where my wrens go to college.
Watching them stalk my loved ones on a full stomach makes me find it difficult to see harm in sitting at my table and filling my belly, and then walking out onto the back deck with a .22, and have some angry sport at a sporting feline. Turnabout's fair play, I'd say. It is for the sake of my neighbors who think they own these cats that I don't exterminate them during target practice.
We had a cat for a while when I was kid. She'd scratch to go outside, and return a while later with a gift of a small bloody animal laid in the doorway. Sometimes, when I'm refraining from ugly, angry sport, I fantasize about gifting my neighbors in much this same way.
Will loves cats though. I don't know why. He is crazy about them like he is no other animal. This morning when I walked him to the bus stop in the predawn alborada, we sat down on the curb and watched a cat come walking across the road to meet us. Will knew her name of course, or at least had assigned her a name. When she came to us and brushed against our legs, Will said, "dad, you don't pet this cat, it's a leg rubbing cat." I'll trust you on that one Will. The cat was brushing back and forth and purring VERY loudly in a lower-than-normal hum, I thought. We snickered at the loud motor sound, and then Will told me a great cat tale. He said that "there is another kid on the street who likes to play that cat like bagpipe." A bagpipe? "Yeah, you don't blow through her or anything, you just pick her up and rub her and she purrs. When you rub up toward her shoulders, the purr pitch gets higher; when you rub her further down the pitch gets lower. This kid is trying to learn to play Mary had a little lamb on the cat."
Is that so?
Will tells a story like an old-timer story telling pro would tell a story to a little kid. When he's finished, the kid searches the old guy's face for evidence to the validity of the story. He really is a pro. I looked hard, but he gave nothing away. We laughed out loud together and his bus pulled up.
"Love ya dad, see ya this evening."
Bagpipes, huh? But you don't blow through the cat?
I don't know.

Technorati Tags: cats, kids, life

FYI

So, if you're devastated that you didn't drive over to HOB on Saturday night to see the two aforementioned bands, and thus fell 7 rungs down the cool ladder and dropped 3 points on the awesome index, you can make up a bit of ground tonight. It is not too late.

MuteMath will be playing here in Columbia tonight at Headliners. (that link skips the hot flash intro. If you'd like to see it, go here) Doors open at 8:00p. Opening the show tonight will be Baumer, (just kidding) whose guitarist was my guitar student back in the day. Yay me. So if through my connections I could get a gig opening for Baumer, who open for MuteMath, who opened for Switchfoot, there would be just 3 degrees of separation from Switchfoot. Wow. I could say that I opened for the band that opened for the band that opened for Switchfoot.

Technorati Tags: concerts, music, mutemath, baumer

stars

the kids and I trekked over to House of Blues tonight to see Switchfoot. I mentioned to them the possibility of doing this on Wednesday night, but Molly was too wise to be fooled. "Dad," she exclaimed, "Saturday is April Fools day, and I SERIOUSLY doubt there is any Switchfoot concert! We're not going to believe you." Her reluctance rubbed off on the boys, who also began to doubt. But Molly doubted so much that she went to google and tried to find out if I was pulling their collective leg. As it would happen, her internet skills aren't as strong as her April skepticism, and she was unable to find concert info for April 1. When I finally showed her the tickets this morning, she was still certain that though I seemed to be on the level, either Switchfoot and/or HOB couldn't be trusted, and were surely pulling a joke on us. I told her that would be the kind of corporate joke that would land someone in the slammer. She must have begun to believe a bit because she got in the car and rode all the way to Myrtle Beach.
As it turned out, the April Fool's twist was a good one. Rather than the advertised opening band of whom I'd never heard, the actual opening band was MuteMath, of whom my children had not heard, but whose voice they immediately recognized. I think Will enjoyed them more than Switchfoot, because of what he called all their "Sci-Fi" instruments. They really were very good, much better than my iTunes has testified. They reminded me of a 20 year updated version of the 77s.
Both bands were great, and we finished the evening with a short, chilly walk on the beach before driving home.

Technorati Tags: concerts, kids, music, mutemath, switchfoot