Last week I was supposed to sit and write about (with pencil), then blog about usefulness. Many of us felt non useful during our tasks. I, like my co-volunteer Rachel did little more than sit and watch the children work at cooking, only helping with something occasionaly. I did however get to spend some time talking to the children before and after.
There was a time in my life when I was intent on starting a band (a jazz like combo). The rules for the band were that everyone was about focusing on composition, we were going to play all original material, and we wanted to create a style of our own (on a personal and a group level) that would set ourselves apart from any other band, and give a certain type of person a reason to choose us. It turns out it was difficult to even establish a once a week meeting for everyone, and get consistant practice happening. One of the hardest things to do is be self motivated.
What does this have to do with usefulness? None of the GPSers had tasks to do last week, and it seems none of us were very SELF motivated. Chris asked us whether we thought the after care staff at Kendall-Whittier would miss us. I honestly could not answer that question.

After returning from a particularly un energized service session at some level, the discussion afterwards  was centered on usefulness.  Our students at the site were helpers to teachers who did most of the work.  Not enough action really for any of us.  Good intentions, though.  And, as always, a good opportunity to learn.   Conner brought the big question home after this experience last week.  More on his statement in just a bit.

When asked if they felt useful, Grant replied- “No.”  When pressed about when do you feel useful- he responded “When I’m given something specific to do, especially if I can work with my hands.”  We all agreed with varying comments.  I then asked him if he felt useful when he helped me build the deck in the front of my house last spring.  He said yes.  I then asked everyone, “What if I wanted you to come help me with “home improvement” today?  And, since you have all the potential in the world, you decide what it will be.  I know its my house, and you’re not very familiar with it or with what I as the owner want to see, but just have at it.  You decide, you do it…. make it happen.  I’m sure its going to be great.”

I asked, “What would you say to me?”  Most replied, “Well thats all good, but just tell us what to do, and we’d love to help!”  I then asked what this has to do with where each of our students are in life right now.  Most structure is gone, most of their community they had leaned on is gone.  Their relationship with their parents is different now- most living at home, but not exactly where their place is.  Then Conner:

“It just seems that starting something on your own is the hardest thing.  I guess thats true for all of us in this room.  Being useful with something someone else gives you is good.  When you have to create it- its really hard.”

Everyone nods.  It is one thing that brings us together at GPS:  We’re not sure where to start.

OK.  I believe we can help with that, but it will take a little time….  Thanks for sharing your thoughts Conner.

ck

The late artist Rich Mullins brought me back to my original inspiration for a life based on being an image bearer of God as I browsed his biography last week.  He said- “We were created to create.”  I remembered seeing him play his music, with his friends who called themselves “The Ragimuffin Band”.  Their music was folksy, loud, emotive, and more meaningful than much of anything I had experienced in my life at age 24.  He sang of communion in a literal and figurative sense, he expressed to God that he was “shaking like a leaf” and never really had it together, and he thanked God for the color Green.

He sings: “And the wrens have returned and they’re nesting
In the hollow of that oak where his heart once had been
And he lifts up his arms in a blessing for being born again
And the streams are all swollen with winter
Winter unfrozen and free to run away now
And I’m amazed when I remember
Who it was that built this house
And with the rocks I cry out

Be praised for all Your tenderness by these works of Your hands
Suns that rise and rains that fall to bless and bring to life Your land
Look down upon this winter wheat and be glad that You have made
Blue for the sky and the color green, the fills these fields with praise.”

Rich was created to create, and God’s creation always reflects its creator.

What were you created to create today- or maybe, this year?  May we help each other live in this knowledge and encourage the courage required to be a creator, and not just a consumer.

ck

I began following R.E.M. during my first year of college.  At that time, their steady rise to fame had just begun and I’ve been a fan through the years. That’s why a recent headline caught my eye quoting Michael Stipe regarding a friend of his, respected musician and fellow Georgian, Vic Chesnutt. If you haven’t heard of Vic you aren’t alone, I hadn’t either until December 26, 2009, the day after his death on Christmas Day from an overdose of muscle relaxers. I saw the story headline, but I didn’t have time to read it. 

Several days later, while in the middle of one of my favorite past-times of searching for new and quality independent-label musicians, one website I frequent suggested several artists based on my musical taste and there he was again; Vic Chesnutt. This time I followed the lead, pulled up digital versions of all of his albums and sampled most of them. Within an hour, I owned two of his last albums (is it okay to still call them that even though they are mp3 downloads?), “North Star Deserter” and “At the Cut”, both recorded with the backing support of a hidden gem-of-a-band by the name of Silver Mt. Zion and Fugazi guitarist Guy Picciotto. Considering my ever-obsessive interest in music, I was surprised that I hadn’t at least heard of someone with over a dozen albums throughout a 20+ year career.

Since downloading these two albums, I have hardly stopped listening to them and I have learned that Vic Chesnutt was an amazing wordsmith. His lyrics, often flowing like poetry, were meticulously crafted to tell some deeply personal stories, mostly soaked in tragedy and sorrow. Such was his life. You should know that Vic, in the early 80′s at age 18, was injured in a car accident while driving drunk. He lost most of the movement in his legs, a lot of the mobility in his arms and his hands were greatly compromised. So while his body was confined to a wheel chair, Vic relearned to play the guitar with simple chords and only a few fingers, and with a very limited musical structure to work with and a uniquely gritty voice, Vic spent the following 26 years rising out of his chair in the ether of his storytelling and musical genius.

His sound is rooted in folk with streams of other influences such as jazz, soul, and country flowing through it. His voice, sometimes rugged and graveled in a heavy Dylan/Springsteen kind-of- way while other times floating weightless in a beautiful falsetto, is usually accompanied only by the minimalist sounds of his lonely guitar. In his music are, naturally, stories of loss, pain, sadness and vacancy; an imprisoned perspective that few can entirely relate to. Yet, if we’re honest, his music is at the same time deeply accessible on multiple levels. The place from which his art stems is hauntingly and intensely real.

However, pointing you to the work of Vic Chesnutt is not the point of this writing, although some will undoubtedly (and wisely) seek his work. No, there is more to his story that I find fascinating. You see, he was raised in a Christian home and yet, from the age of 13, Vic was an admitted atheist. He writes about this dichotomy some in his music. One would have hoped that from his tragic accident, he would have reformed from his formidable lifestyle and embraced a new appreciation for life. That was not the case for Vic. His personal choices in life would likely be defined as unfortunate by many, battling alcohol and drug abuse for most, if not all, his adult life. There are stories written about him describing his drunken belligerence in the public music scene during the earlier part of his career. He was rather anti-establishment and as a result of near medical bankruptcy at the end of his life, he was outspokenlycritical of America’s health care system. He writes of watching his mother die a painful death from cancer, begging mercy from Jesus and Vic had a long-time preoccupation with death, attempting suicide 3-4 times through the years before his successfully-fatal overdose last month.  

You may not have liked the person. You may disagree with his viewpoints. You might not like his music. However, Vic Chesnutt was, if nothing else, brutally honest about life as he saw it and he openly acknowledged the complexities he saw in life. In the midst of the conflict and controversy surrounding Vic’s work, here’s what I take away from listening to his music. He makes me think. He makes me think about my position on social justice issues. He makes me think about my own spirituality and theology. He makes me think about my own mortality. He makes me think about the pain in my life and the pain in the lives of others. He makes me think about compassion and also about anger. He makes me think about being broken and the hope of being fixed. He makes me solidify where I stand in regards to my personal beliefs. All this from a crippled and indulgent atheist. So here are my questions. What would you do as a Christian about Vic Chesnutt? Would you protest his music? Would you even listen to it? Would you hear the stories and appreciate the realism or would you dismiss him as a bad influence? Would you embrace him as a human being or would you turn back into your comfortable circle? What is our role as Christians in God’s Kingdom? Are you intimidated by atheists? We know that Jesus hung out with outcasts, but do we really buy that we should too? What if we are the outcasts? Who do you hang out with? Who are you influenced by, and who do you influence?  

One of the last songs Vic wrote was called, “Flirted With You All of My Life”. He called it his break-up song with death. In it he reminisces about his preoccupation with death saying that he’s flirted with her all his life before coming to the realization and celebrating, ”Oh Death / Oh Death / Oh Death / Really, I’m not ready / Oh Death / Oh Death / Oh Death / Clearly, I’m not ready.” This song was released 3 months prior to his death by apparent suicide. 

Vic Chesnutt makes me think. What makes you think?