Thank you very much!! (a very late Christmas blog)

In an effort to justify leaving up our Christmas decorations slightly past Epiphany, my husband informed me (and Wikipedia confirms) that the Julian calendar places the last day of Christmas on January 17th. Today. Apparently in some places, particularly south-western England, celebrate this as "Old Twelfth Night." And now I'm using this piece of arcane info to justify posting this, my traditional Christmas blog, on this, the alternative last day of Christmas. So here goes...

The Moores' holidays are generally jam-packed with activities and candy and errands and more candy and visits and shopping and some extra candy… well, you know – general holiday stuff. And all the while Tom is storing up holiday programs on the TIVO that we don’t have time to sit down and watch – particularly because we’re hooked on the British soap opera EastEnders. It comes on four times a week, and we have to watch them on YouTube as soon as possible – before the BBC yanks them down...

Anyway this is all to say that Tom and I just now watched a movie called Scrooge – a musical adaptation of Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol starring Albert Finney (with Obi Wan Kenobi making a spooky appearance as Jacob Marley!) Intrigued? If you’ve got a couple hours you can watch the whole thing here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SHfaRVf5cUY

We're addicted to EastEnders.

Of course most everyone knows the general plot and intention of this Christmas classic, so I won’t bother giving you a blow-by-blow account of it. I’m just going to start right in on the latter part of the film where Scrooge has been ushered in his nightgown to a scene in the middle of town where all manner of folk are singing a rousing show tune that goes like this: “Thank you very much, thank you very much, it’s the nicest thing that anyone’s ever done for me!” 

And it would seem that the very one they are thanking at this undisclosed future time, is Scrooge himself! Invisible nightgown Scrooge accepts their gratitude with uncharacteristic humility, never realizing that they’re singing and dancing around his coffin! See, these are all the people who owe Scrooge money, and his death cancels their debts! They’re literally doing the old soft shoe on his coffin! (If you drag the slider to about 1hr/20sec on the video link above, you can see this rollicking number.)

So, again, if you’ve been awake during any given holiday season, you know that Scrooge does a 180 on Christmas and life in general… In this version he buys out a toy store and puts on a Father Christmas get-up and shows up at poor, shocked Bob Cratchet’s humble abode to shower his tribe with turkey and gifts and promises of financial aid. 

With Obi-Wan Kenobi as Jacob Marley!

This version then shows New Scrooge cancelling all the debts that are owed to his biz Scrooge and Marley, Inc. – ripping pages out of his ledger book and letting them flutter to the ground! And you better believe those down-and-out Londoners (probably Eastenders, if I may hazard a guess) are out of their minds with joy…. dancing around like crazy, reprising the Thank You Very Much song…

Now, those Londoners – some of them probably owe Scrooge because they made bad choices, but most of them were probably just stuck in the stupid system that was Victorian England – treading the wheel going nowhere. But either way… those debts just wafted to the muddy London paving stones.

Anyway, at this point I realized:

This is what Christmas is all about!!! The cancellation of debts!!! Colossians 2 says this: 

And you, who were dead in your trespasses and the uncircumcision of your flesh, God made alive together with him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This he set aside, nailing it to the cross. 

The more casual Good News translation puts it this way:

When you were stuck in your old sin-dead life, you were incapable of responding to God. God brought you alive—right along with Christ! Think of it! All sins forgiven, the slate wiped clean, that old arrest warrant canceled and nailed to Christ’s cross.

And sure, this is about the cross and Easter and all, but would there be any Easter without a Christmas? 

Scrooge and the Ghost of Christmas Present

To explain: right now in my daily journey through the Bible, I’m trudging through Jeremiah... I say "trudge" because Jeremiah tends to go on all gloom and doom  and “God’s gonna judge you guys harsh”… So that was where my brain was at when I was thinking about all this. Of course, Jeremiah also laid out the mercy that would eventually follow, but I hadn’t gotten to that part yet - you know the incredibly beautiful passage in chapter 29… And because of stuff in the Bible like this, it’s not uncommon for people tend to see just the harsh judgey-judge aspect of God... So what I thought was that…

Pre-ghost Scrooge was (our view of) Old Testament (ie. pre-Jesus) God – all judgey and begrudgey. And post-ghost Scrooge was all – “I’m gonna absorb all your debts!” And because of Christmas, this is how we can start to see God – the one who loved us so much He sent this little baby – HIS OWN SON!! – into the world so that he could grow up to be the Man who would die for OUR utter crappiness. Wow! and, Yay!! 

This truly IS the nicest thing anyone’s every done for me! So this is where I dance up the wall and climb up on something high and sing with the relieved Londoners... “Thank You Very Much!”

Everybody Wins! (repost)

(Because I am lame, I'm re-posting some posts of Christmas past. Enjoy! Again.)

If you are my friend on Facebook (and if you’re not, send me a friend request!) you know that I have been posting a YouTube video of a Christmas song every day since December 1. I love traditional Christmas carols and sappy seasonal songs like Have A Holly Jolly Christmas, and There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays, though I admit that this is the only time of year that I would listen to this kind of music. But even more, I like when MY kind of music takes a Yuletide turn.

I have no problem at all finding songs to post - lots of my fave artists have gone Yule: XTC, U2, Emmylou Harris, Bruce Cockburn, The Pogues, The Pretenders... There’s one record, though, that I tend to keep in my car throughout the season, and I’ve had to practice quite a bit of what Oswald Chambers calls, “sheer determination of the will” to keep myself from posting every single song off it: A Very Special Christmas 3. As its number indicates, it’s the third in a series of compilations of festive tunes recorded by current pop stars and sold to benefit Special Olympics. This edition is loaded with great tunes by 90s standouts, and nearly every song is AWESOME. 

It’s got Sting, who Saw Three Ships, Steve Winwood, who sings a gorgeous, albeit slightly judgmental Christmas Is Now Drawing Near At Hand, Blues Traveler having an existential crisis, Rev Run & the Christmas All Stars featuring Mase, Puff Daddy, Snoop Doggy Dogg, Salt N’ Pepa, Onyx & Keith Murray giving us a taste of Christmas in the ghetto, and Natalie Merchant or 10,000 Maniacs, doing Children Go Where I Send Thee (which I can’t listen to without thinking about how a friend of mine was at a party once where Natalie Merchant took off her top and danced around.) Also, Patti Smith sings an eerie, exotic version of We Three Kings. My son says she sounds like me – I’m not sure whether to be flattered or insulted! And the guy from Soundgarden does a stunning rendition of Ave Maria – not quite grungy, not quite sweet, but a little of both.

No Doubt

But this year, the song that has been on endless “repeat” in my car for Bill – and for me, is No Doubt’s cover of the Vandals’ Oi to the World. This song has EVERYTHING. A searing bass intro, a groovy ska beat, great trumpet riffs on traditinal Christmas songs, a great story, and a happy ending. It goes pretty fast, but if you can concentrate on the lyrics, it’s about a “punk” named Haji, and a “skin” named Trevor. See, Haji starts an “Oi!” band. 

Here’a a little background (according to Wikkipedia): “Oi! is a working class subgenre of punk rock that originated in the United Kingdom in the late 1970s. The music and its associated subculture had the goal of bringing together punks, skinheads and other working-class youths (sometimes called herberts).” Britain’s recent history is full of periods of unrest between gangs of its disenfranchised young people. Ever seen Quadrophenia? It’s the Who’s awesome film (featuring Sting!) about riots in the 60s between Mods and Rockers. There were riots in the early 80s and again this past summer. The sharks and jets change, but it’s something that is always just simmering under the surface. Oi! was a shortlived movement that urged young people to "just get along."

So in the song, Haji’s band is playing in a pub on Christmas Eve, which makes Trevor and his friends super mad. You see, they like the music, but not the implication that everyone should get along... A rooftop rumble ensues in which both gangs beat each other to a pulp with nunchucks and “a sword like the guy in Indiana Jones.” Most of the guys flee, leaving our principals suffering on the roof in their injuries. Here’s the best part... While laid out flat on his back, Haji spies a star – ostensibly the Christmas Star, gets up and wraps Trevor’s wounded head with his own turban. Happy Christmas ending: they climb down and buy each other a drink.

See? Perfect. And VERY Christmassy... with the Christmas Star as the herald of a new world order, where racial conflict is disintegrated, and harmony is achieved. The first Christmas star attracted dudes from “the east,” most likely not Jews. See, up until then, the Jews were all about keeping “clean” from Gentiles. But Christ came to bring PEACE ON EARTH and GOOD WILL TOWARD MEN. Not just Jews... His salvation is available to ALL men (or humans, to be politically correct). So, in the words of the Vandals (or Gwen Stefani): If God came down on Christmas Day / I know exactly what He’d say / He’d say “Oi to the punks and Oi to the skins / and Oi to the world and everybody wins!”

Yeah, I'm going ape-ity ape...!

People shagging* to beach 
music in 60s Myrtle Beach

Remember my last post? It referred to the veritable smorgasbord of tunage featured on Triangle radio stations and to that classic of tower of funkitude Brick House… Well, it appears that I'm not quite done with that topic... You see, the other night as I was following my husband to the European Motors place to drop off his 27-year-old Volvo, I discovered in my channel-flipping that one of the stations (preset 6) offers WHOLE show of Beach Music. 

If you're not from around here, you may have no handle to hang that moniker on, so I'll tell you right off the bat "beach music" has nothing to do with the Beach Boys or Dick Dale. Wikipedia defines beach music this way: 

Beach music, also known as Carolina beach music, and to a lesser extent, Beach pop, is a regional genre which developed from various rock/R&B/pop music of the 1950s and 1960s. Beach music is most closely associated with the style of swing dance known as the shag, or the Carolina shag, which is also the official state dance of both North Carolina and South Carolina. Recordings with a 4/4 "blues shuffle" rhythmic structure and moderate-to-fast tempo are the most popular music for the shag, and the vast majority of the music in this genre fits that description.

Mods called it Northern Soul –
and who is cooler than them?

And if you ARE familiar with it and are starting to question my hipness quotient... The Mods in England called such music "Northern Soul"** and who is cooler than them? The music snob in me will also say that I prefer the original R&B songs to the pale copycat stuff that came later.

And like the station's 24-7 approach to music mixing, Big John’s Beach Party played a variety - the good, the bad and the silly. Anyway, all of this is to say: it was on my way home that night that I heard one of my shagalicious favorites, The Showmen's 39-21-46.*** (Listen here.) And I sang that bad boy at top of my lungs.... Bobbing in the car seat, shagging with the steering wheel... I felt positively giddy with the Spirit... And then I realized it:

39-21-46 and Brick House are the THE SAME SONG!!! You can read the lyrics to Brick House on my previous post, and the lyrics to 39-21-46 here:

You are so beautiful
You're such a sight to see

You're the girl for me

You you you you you you you you

You set my soul afire
filling my heart with one desire

Wanting to be with you

You could make a blind man see
You could make a crippled man walk

You could make the quietest man in the world talk

Uh huh huh nobody else will do

Every little boy in town

Wants to get his arms around

You you you you you you you you you you you you

For no one else will do

But you with your 39 21 40 shape

Yes you got me going ape-ity ape over you

You you you you you you you you
Ah ah ah ah you

You could make a blind man see

You could make a crippled man walk
You could make the quietest man in the world talk

Yes nobody else will do

Every little boy in town

Wants to get his arms around
You you you you you you you you you you you you
For no one else will do but
You, with your 39 21 40 shape,
Yes you got me going ape-ity ape over you
You you you you you you you you
Yeah yeah yeah Oh oh oh oh

The Showmen

As a lo divinos (or secular songs sung with a sacred intent), they describe a singular God of perfect proportions... The Object of worship and complete delight... See what I mean?! The same song. Remember in that movie about Ray Charles where he plays his unique style of gospel-turned-R&B for his girlfriend and she's kind of appalled because it seems sacrilegious... Well, I'm flipping that over like a half-done steak!

Because these two songs also remind me that people tend to “worship” things that are only half-baked (or half-grilled, if we're gonna do right by the metaphor): a perfect partner, a well-endowed bank account, a fancy job title, a stellar reputation, a matchless experience, an inspiring artist or work of art, our own agenda... Not that those things are bad, but really – it’s just stuff, you know? 

He could – and did! – make 
a blind man see.

I think it's their hyperbole that makes these songs so easy to convert to praise songs – they reflect the kind of devotion that belongs only to God – you know, the One who actually CAN make the blind see, the crippled walk, and the quiet talk. I myself used to be quiet, doncha know...!

Anyway... in John 4, Jesus tells the Samaritan woman when she's drawing him some water, "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”

And that’s the water I want. No One else will do!

*I don't recommend doing a Google image search of "people shagging." Just... don't.

**At Crazy Zack's on Hillsborough Street in the early 80s, I once met a British guy who had come to NC to buy beach music records to take back to sell in England as Northern Soul. 

***There seems to be some dispute over whether this song is called 39-21-46 or 39-21-40 Shape...? It says the former on images of the 45, but the song lyrics say the latter.

Shake it down, shake it down now!

The Commodores

In my last post, I revealed two things: 1. I station-surf in the car and 2. Nearly anything can be a lo divino-ed. (a lo divino: a Spanish phrase meaning “to the divine” or “in a sacred manner” – frequently used to describe a secular work, rewritten with a religious overtone, or a secular topic recast in religious terms using metaphors and symbolism.)

To put these assertions in context, I will tell you that I was talking in that post about hearing the churnin’ BTO song, You Ain’t Seen Nothing Yet in the context of God and His plans for us. Because it’s true – the whole Bible is full of God and prophets and Jesus and apostles telling us that God’s got amazing plans for our future. Collectively and individually.

Anyway, in our region we have a number of weird radio stations to surf to – including a couple that play a really strange mix of stuff. One of them has this motto: “We play everything” – and they do. It’s kind of a gamble landing on it, though, because you can be bobbing your head to Bob Marley, thrashing with Pearl Jam or cringing to something completely grating like, I don’t know, Escape (The Pina Colada Song).

Anyway, it’s because of these weirdly eclectic playlists that I found myself totally funking out to the Commodores’ Brick House. And yes, I, even I, exercised my right to a lo divino this ode to bodacious feminine pulchritude.

If this confuses you, allow me to put it out there for you. First, the lyrics. (Also feel free to listen to this masterpiece of a funk song here.)

She’s a brick house

She’s mighty, mighty, just lettin’ it all hang out

She’s a brick house

I like a lady stacked and that’s a fact

Ain’t holding nothing back

She’s a brick house

We’re together everybody knows

And this is how the story goes

She knows she got everything

A woman needs to get a man, yeah, yeah

How can she lose with those things she use?

36-24-36, what a winning hand

She’s a brick house

She’s mighty, mighty, just lettin’ it all hang out

She’s a brick house

I like a lady stacked and that’s a fact

Ain’t holding nothing back

She’s a brick house

She’s the one, the only one built like an Amazon

The clothes she wear, her sexy ways

Make an old man wish for younger days, yeah, yeah

She knows she’s built and knows how to please

Sure ‘nuff can knock a strong man to his knees

‘Cause She’s a brick house

She’s mighty, mighty, just lettin’ it all hang out

She’s a brick house

I like a lady stacked and that’s a fact

Ain’t holding nothing back

She’s a brick house

Shake it down, shake it down now

Shake it down, shake it down now

Shake it down, shake it down now

Shake it down, shake it down now

Shake it down, shake it down now

Shake it down, shake it down now

Shake it down, shake it down now

She’s a brick house

She’s mighty, mighty, just lettin’ it all hang out

She’s a brick house

I like a lady stacked and that’s a fact

Ain’t holding nothing back

She’s a brick house

That's right – I'm a brick house!

Many love songs – My Love Explodes and Let My Love Open the Door, for instance – can be easily flipped and taken as a love song from God to us (i.e., the church as the Bride of Christ) and as a “lady stacked” I could hear this song and wallow in the love God has for me – and people of all shapes and sizes. 

Love songs can also to be sung TO God. Like... Maybe I’m Amazed, I Feel Beautiful or Wonderful Tonight... but a song about a woman with all the bricks in the right places? Well, think about Song of Solomon! That’s about sex... and it’s also about God! So can’t this be? 

Kind of like this:

He’s a brick house (mighty fortress, stronghold, etc.) He’s mighty, mighty, just lettin’ it all hang out (Omnipresent, omnipotent, omniscient...) I like a God who’s all powerful. He doesn’t do anything halfway.   

He’s with me (Immanuel, God with us) – that’s my story. He knows he’s got everything it takes to save me – He’s perfect. Who can stand against Him?  

He is the one and only God. I wish I had known about His love and grace when I was younger! He knows what I need. Even strong people bow down to Him.

Okay, my version isn’t NEARLY as good as the original, but I’ve yet to hear a purposefully Christian song as funkalicious as Brick House, so what if I “shake it down, shake it down now” to the original and MEAN the stuff in my version, right? That’s a lo divino, baby!  

Hey, Everybody - Biscuits!

You may or may not have noticed that my logorrhea has been somewhat constipated lately... Whether that is for good or ill is a matter of opinion, but in MY opinion, it's, well... ill. I mean, the cause is good, but the effect is ill. 

Mmmm... drop biscuits...

And the cause? I've started a "real job!"* That's right, a 9 to 5. Okay, it's a 9-2:30, four days a week, but still... so I've been learning the processes, and also trying to keep up with my one other freelance client, AND dealing with the start of another school year - Bill's in middle school! Ack!** 

Anyway, the effect has been, as I was saying, that I have no time to write... And the effect of THAT is that I am bursting with crap to say. And the effect of THAT is that I'm not going to go into any one thought in a huge amount of detail. Instead, I'm just going to drop'em out a blob at a time like drop-biscuit dough... And you can just leave'em on the pan, or stick it in the oven, bake'em and eat'em with butter. So... Here goes...

Kristen Wiig in Welcome to Me

Movies I saw: Welcome to Me with Kristen Wiig. If you have Netflix, you can stream this - it's kind of a painful but entertaining story about a mentally ill woman who wins the lottery and pays a production company to produce and air a show called Welcome to Me in which she comes in on a swan boat then talks about herself and her interests, airs old grievances, stages dramatic reenactments of occasions when people wronged her, and does a whole lot of other cringe-inducing stuff. Of course I watched it like I was watching a train wreck - it's easy to watch stuff like that because it makes us feel so sane! But at the same time I realized that I too want people to pay attention to me. To know who I am. To be on my side. Don't most people? Isn't this blog kinda like a "welcome to me" show? Well, it is, but it isn't. I mean, my intention in talking about myself is to show the reader how an ordinary person wrestles with God and His Word and His will in everyday life. So, ideally, it's a "welcome to God" show.

Movies I saw: The film Danny Collins presents Al Pacino as an aging rock star receives a 30-year-old, previously undelivered letter written to him by John Lennon. In it, Lennon tells the struggling young musician that he is there to help him deal with impending fame, gives him his phone number, and ends with "What do you think about that, Danny Collins?" Danny then sets his course to reform his dissipated, artistically bereft lifestyle. And I thought - God has written just such a letter, given us His phone number, calls us by name and begs constantly for our response... And this should be life-changing. Is it? Only if we let it be. And honestly, I don't always. Also, in the movie, Danny reaches out to a son he had never met and starts working on his own music as opposed to the pop drivel he has become famous for. These are both good things, but in the end he must choose one over the other, and while people like me place a high value on artistic integrity, I think it's maybe family and people who get God's vote. That's my guess anyway.

Will Forte as The Last Man on Earth

TV series I saw: On The Last Man on Earth show, Will Forte plays one of a tiny settlement of folks in Tuscon after a horrible plague wipes out everyone else... It's like watching mankind struggle with the beginning of things, as if in a tiny garden of Eden. And Will Forte is there showing you all the fallen traits of mankind...  Always pushing for his own interests – the prettiest woman, the best stuff... Yea, he's pretty despicable. But he is also me. He's just acting on all stuff I'm thinking all the time. Who will free us from this body of sin?*** And speaking of which...

Sermons I heard: The best thing I heard in a sermon all summer was this concept: in the Old Testament, there were a lot of laws about what was clean and unclean. New clay pots? Clean. Carcasses of unclean animals? Unclean. And if the carcass touches the pot? Both unclean. But with the coming of Jesus, the cleanness of Christ cleanses everything it touches! So... Yay! 

BTO, baby - yeah!

Songs I a lo divino-ed: Despite the barren wasteland that is commercial radio these days, I still flip around on it while I'm driving because I love the random surprise of hearing a great song when I least expect it. So one day on my way to work I was feeling kind of like I'd never get the hang of all my new duties... and I heard the classic rock masterpiece by Msrs. Bachman and Turner, You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet. And call me crazy, but I kinda felt like God was saying that to me... That the best is yet to come, you know. So just now I looked up the lyrics and had to laugh - I wonder if anyone has ever a lo divino-ed a song with the word devil in it. Now that I read it, it seems to be about a guy who went off with someone who wasn't good for him because he was taking what he could get, love-wise. And we do this, don't we? But really, we ain't seen nothin' yet, have we? We live on earth and we take what we can get – or enjoy what we have, but ... there's so much more... in terms of what God's working on for us both down the road in the great hereafter, can I get an amen?

Mavis Staples'll take you there.

Shows I saw: I just saw Mavis Staples, like an hour ago, and what a beautiful woman. She was part of the civil rights movement, we told Bill... And I was reminded again about how my problems are primarily what they call First World problems. Have I been refused service or accused of a crime just because of the color of my skin? Am I a refugee fleeing a despotic regime? Am I in danger of being sold as a sex slave? Absolutely not. Although I have been indirectly dissed because I am a woman, and a small, kind of girlish woman at that. Which is absolutely NOT the same thing. But even though what I consider my problems may be like a feather bed to some, every one of us longs for that place Mavis sings about in I'll Take You There - where ain't nobody cryin'... Which is another reference to that thing that's coming that's we ain't seen yet. 

Tailfeathers I shook: At the Mavis Staples show, my son Bill kept trying to clamp my arms down to keep me from dancing, but I. Just. Can't. Not. Dance. As evidenced by this video my husband posted of me dancing on stage at a recent Southern Culture on the Skids show. Yes, I'm 53 years old, and I HAVE to shake my ass. I have to. It's nothing personal against the teenager I'm embarrassing - it just has to happen. 

And that's all the drop biscuits I have for now - an even half-dozen. Bake'em. Eat'em. Wash'em down with a big glass of buttermilk. 

I work at Wallace Wade's house now!

*I'm working at Duke University as the Creative Director of their student newspaper - so far, I love working with the students, and the grown ups that work there are also, really kind and helpful. Plus, (for now) it's in a cool old house - Famous Duke coach Wallace Wade used to live in it!

**Last night I dreamed that I lost Bill. I couldn't find him anywhere! It was a real nightmare... I thought at first that it was because I was worrying that With all this new stuff going on, I'm worried I'm being somehow negligent. But I thought later that I'm worried about losing him to adolescence. Wahhhh......!

***Romans 7:24

RIP Elisabeth Elliot, Rock and Roll Christian

Dave Grohl rhymes with rock and roll!

I’m not much for short posts, which may or may not be why my readership is low... and I completely understand. I mean, who has the time to tread all those meandering thought paths, click on all those song links, admire all those handsome men I post pics of…? Not many people, apparently. (If you’re reading this, then you do, and I love you for it!) But time is running out on the timeliness of this one, so I’m going to make this a short, sharp shot.*

First of all, if you were anywhere near the internet last month, then you saw this awesome story about how Dave Grohl broke his leg during a show in Sweden, went to the hospital to have it set, then came back to finish the show, seated in a wheelchair with his guitar in his lap and his bum leg in a cast. 

Johnny (still) Rotten

Anyhow, when I heard about this awesome feat, I thought, “How very rock and roll!” ‘Cos it is, isn’t it?  It’s like Keith Richards and David Bowie turning down the Queen’s offer of knighthood… Like John Lennon returning his knighthood medal “in protest against Britain's involvement in the Nigeria-Biafra thing, against our support of America in Vietnam and against Cold Turkey slipping down the charts.” It’s like refusing to be inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, as Axl Rose, Ozzy Osborne and Johnny Rotten of the Sex Pistols did. “Next to the Sex Pistols, rock and roll and that hall of fame is a piss stain,” Rotten posted to the group’s website.

THAT is rock and roll. (As an aside, I saw Rotten on The Late Late Show in 2007 and after the band was ripping through Pretty Vacant, he patted his middle-aged gut and yelled out “FAT! FAT! FAT! is this year’s slim!” While Sex Pistols-esque antics may not be as “cute” coming from a 51-year-old man, I thought this particular monkeyshine to be exquisitely “rock and roll.”)

Give it the
Full Monty, luv!

Anyway, after learning about Dave Grohl’s little shavie over in Sweden, I started to think about what it would look like to be a “rock and roll” Christian. And I don’t mean a Christian who enjoys a good headbang to the sound of a blazing guitar riff or blistering drum solo… I actually am not sure how to SAY what I mean… maybe a Christian who goes whole hog – living outside of any kind of societal expectation. My friend Grace and I used to call it giving the Christian life “the full monty.”

And so, I’m thinking about this for a couple of days and the news comes over the wire that Elisabeth Elliot has gone to meet her Maker. In case you don’t know who this was, then … well, she was a Christian writer, speaker, missionary, etc. who had been doing her thing for many years. I used to hear her on the radio in my saturation** days, and honestly, she always sounded like she had a stick up her you-know-what. She seemed like one of those “just do it” kind of Christians who never struggled with temptation or anything. 

It's not a great movie, but
you'll get the gist of it.

That said, she tirelessly taught the gospel for years and years, and each of her “Gateway to Joy” broadcast included these words: “You are loved with an everlasting love – that’s what the Bible says – and underneath are the everlasting arms.” Now I don’t care who you are, that’s comforting. 

Anyway, she may not have sounded or looked all that “rock and roll,” but she was the real deal... It’s all recorded in a film called “End of the Spear.” What happened was this: She was married to a missionary named Jim Elliot who, in the 1950s, made contact with an unreached tribal group in eastern Ecuador – called the Huaorani (or sometimes the Waorani or the Waodani.) Contact was initially friendly, but for some reason he and the missionaries he was with ended up getting speared to death… and Elisabeth Elliot never saw her husband alive in his body again.

Elisabeth Elliot

And this is when it got real for our Betty… and as the click-baiters say, “You won’t believe what happened next!” And that is, she went down to the Huaorani village and mowed the whole lot of them down with a machine gun … OH WAIT! That’s not what happened! No... she... forgave them in her heart and mentioned them in her prayers every night. No... that's not it either! For real, here's what she did – she (along with her daughter and the wife of one of the other speared guys) went down to the village and forgave those people – both in her heart and in everything she did – learning their language, sharing God's love with them and living with them FOR YEARS!!!

Now I ask you… how rock and roll is THAT?! 

*Believe it or not, this is kind of a short post for me...!

**when, as a new Christian, I immersed myself in all manner of Christian media.