Rock On! - A Concert-Going Memoir

Despite the fact that it has been awhile since I have posted anything, and the fact that right now I have a hundred different thoughts all doing a rain dance inside my head, I want to go in a different direct on this post. Besides, most of my thoughts right now are so muddled and jumbled and un-fleshed out that to spill them onto the blog would just be one big, wonderful mess. We'll save that for later...

Last weekend, I attended the Appetite for Construction Concert Tour, which featured Switchfoot and Relient K. All in all, I had a very good time, even if I had purchased 12 tickets in plans of taking a group of youth only to find myself there with my wife, sister-in-law, and her friend, and no youth. But it got me thinking: What are the best concerts I have ever attended? ... and What have been the worst? Join me as we take a stroll down Vernon's Memory Lane...

The Best

#5 - Pierce Pettis (Eric Peters)

A very good, very laid-back, stripped-down concert in the basement of a church in Dallas, TX. I was only newly introduced to Pierce by my friend, Josh (who, you'll find, is an influence in a few of these selections), and I was not disappointed by Pierce's deep, soulful folk voice that blends so finely with his stark yet beautiful guitar playing. Eric Peters opened, and did a great job by himself as well, even when his guitar string snapped halfway through one of his best songs - he took about five minutes to change and tune it, then returned to the song as if he had never stopped. I got a chance to talk to Pierce for a moment during the intermission in which he told me a great story about how he came to write one of his songs. And it was his playing of "Song of Songs" that has stayed with me so long, and why I sang it to Leigh at our wedding reception.

#4 - Behold the Lamb of God with Andrew Peterson & guests

Saw this one in Clear Lake, TX with my buddy, Grayson. An amazing concert. You'll notice that I like a lot of folk music, and like it even better in concert when it is laid-back and showcases just an artist and his or her guitar. The first half was just Peterson and his friends (Sandra McCracken, Derek Webb, Jill Phillips, Andy Gullahorn, Andrew Osenga, and Randall Goodgame) all playing a couple of their own songs. After intermission, they all came back out and collaborated, playing through Peterson's entire Christmas concert. Phenomenal talent and beautiful music, and even though Jill and Sandra are married (as well as me, I might add), all rolled up, this was one of the few concerts I felt privileged to be at, like I was in on a secret.
***I got my tickets for this year's show in Sugarland - Nov. 30th - the evening of my birthday -
along with a few extras, in case anyone is interested.***

#3 - dc Talk w/ Christafari and Grits

Not that I could forget the (then very new) group, Grits', audience-participation "Let Me See Your Head Bob" song, or the strange woman who came out of nowhere and started dancing some African/islander-inspired dance during Christafari's reggae-rock, but the most memorable thing about #3 is the energy and craziness incited by dc Talk's set. This concert was pre-Jesus Freak album, post-Jesus Freak single, so their image was still transforming from goofy rap hooks to a melding of grunge and alternative pop ... I don't know if this was the recipe for awesome, but it sure did the trick. For the first time in my life, I moshed, crowd-surfed, pushed and shoved my way to the front of the stage, and left with my entire T-shirt soaked through with sweat. Now, some of you might chuckle at the lameness of said moshing, crowd-surfing, and such that might have been at a dc Talk concert, but you must remember that I was an innocent sixteen year old kid in a youth group, and the sweat-soaked shirt was one of those ridiculous Christian tees (the only one I miss wearing, I might add). But, c'mon, when Toby climbed up the twelve foot speaker, pointed at us, and then jumped off, how could this gig not make the list?

#2 - David Wilcox

What can I say about this one? It's not like me to become a huge fan of an artist just by going to hear him play live. Normally, I'm more of a studio album fan - I've been bored at many a concert because the music just doesn't sound as good live as it does on the album, or it doesn't move me the way the album version does. Certainly not the case with Wilcox. I've seen him three times in the same place (McDavid Studio in Ft. Worth, TX), one year after the other. It was the first song (and subsequent story) that sold me on every ticket and album I later purchased. I still remember the little girl in the front with her parents who, after she requested one of his hit songs right at the beginning, received his answer, "What? Okay, sure. I was gonna save that one for the end, but you might be asleep." At the end of the show, before he could walk out, she ran up and gave a him a big hug. And why wouldn't she? Wilcox is an amazing guitar player and songwriter, but it is his stories that keep you coming back to his concerts. In explaining a metaphor around which he crafts a song, Wilcox will go into wonderful and whimsical detail before playing many of them, all while strumming and tuning. His metaphor on theodicy using golf was extraordinary. Once again, I must give props to my friend, Josh, for inviting me to that first concert and turning me on to this amazing artist. The concert atmosphere is best captured on Wilcox's two live albums, East Asheville Hardware and Live Songs and Stories, and, I promise, unless you despise folk music in its entirety, you'll never feel more alive than when you listen and laugh at his work. If you do hate folk music, I'm pretty sure that is proof you are already dead anyway.

#1 - Rick Elias Remembers Rich Mullins

The Celebrate Freedom concert at Southfork Ranch in Dallas, TX, back in the summer of 1998, shows up several more times on this list, but mostly in the "bad" section. However, there was one shining moment that redeemed the whole experience for me that hot-rainy-hot-rainy July day. Several artists passing through Dallas who were not on the bill showed up at Southfork that afternoon. One was Ragamuffin Band member, Rick Elias. Despite continual warnings all afternoon about lightning, and a sky that was threatening, and soon unleashed, a downpour of rain during his brief set, Rick Elias squeezed into the schedule and stepped out onto the stage. He plugged in his acoustic guitar and said, "As many of you are aware, my friend Rich tragically passed away last September. This was a song he really liked." He proceeded to play "Man of No Reputation," a song, it has been told, Rich wanted to record on the album he was working on at the time of his death, but had not yet been able to get through his cover of it without breaking down crying. It seemed Rick was almost as choked up when he transitioned into his only other song, "My Deliverer," which was out on the radio at that time. As he played and we all began to sing along, the rain began to pour from the gray-green sky, and as stagehands began motioning for him to pack it up because of lightning, Rick stopped singing after repeating the last refrain, stood listening to us continue on for a few moments, and then quietly unplugged his guitar and walked off stage. Never has a concert experience equaled the power of those two, simple songs.

Honorable Mentions

Switchfoot / Relient K - Houston, TX (last weekend)

Third Day Worship Concert - Worcester, MA

Burlap to Cashmere - Celebrate Freedom 1998 (while still unknown)

Reba McEntire - Austin, TX 1996

Funky Brass Factory - Austin, TX - Halloween Concert @ The Oasis 2001

That's my buddy, Michael, in the non-black shirt. Check out his music at www.myspace.com/justmike88

That's all for this post. Check back soon for part two, in which I list the five worst concerts I have ever been to, as well as the three artists/bands I must see before I die.

In the meantime, what are your top five concerts? Comment and let me know ... I'm always looking for a good show.

A Life Preserver Better Thrown

For Kelsey

If life is a story and faith is a journey, like I tell the students in my church, then there are moments of tragedy and speedbumps in the road that greatly affect our lives and our faith. Most of these times come without much, if any, warning. Others can be plainly seen crouching in wait on the far horizon, practically inevitable, either because of our progressing situations or simply our stubbornness against changing course. All these times can be our teachers. I believe they can lead us into a deeper understanding of who we are, at our core. They can shed more light on the face of our soul.

Right now, a beautiful song by the great poet, Rich Mullins, has begun to play on my iTunes. "Hold Me Jesus." In this song, which I have listened to at least a hundred times, the chorus whispers, "Hold me, Jesus, because I'm shaking like a leaf. You have been King of my glory - won't you be my Prince of peace?" And in a world where so many of us see and condemn this "my...my...my" cultural Christianity, I'm struck tonight by Mullins' aching request. Glory can seem an elusive thing, but all in all, I believe it's pretty easy to come by. But peace...

Peace is tougher.

My glory. My peace. There's no selfishness in this song. Only need. There's no rejection of God's sovereignty or worth. Only the recognition that, now, in this moment, in the midst of this time of pain, there is a desperate desire for my identity to be wrapped up in the One who bestows both glory and peace, strength and hope.

Perhaps one of the most overused little verses of Scripture is the twenty-eighth verse of Romans, chapter eight. "We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose." Most of the time this verse is butchered, not in misquoting, but in blind-to-the-situation spewing. It is normally handed out by a person who has not truly attempted to identify with another's pain, and is instead throwing this verse at it like a tiny life preserver into a churning sea. Whether or not they believe the truth in this verse, they really haven't stopped to consider the connection between the truth and the pain.

Growing up, when I experienced the breakup of a relationship, I heard this truth quoted plenty... and despite good intentions, I was extremely irritated by people who tried to comfort me by telling me that everyone goes through these kind of things. In other words, my pain is nothing unique, so... I shouldn't be so upset? I should stop moping around? I should get over it because it's embarrassing otherwise? I was never quite sure why anyone would try to make common my pain - how does that help? I suppose some were merely trying to identify with me, and to be sure, it can be quite difficult to bestow comfort if we feel we can't bridge the gap to someone's pain. However, making common that person's pain normally only comes across as insulting.

Whether or not my friends and family have experienced a similar, or the same, painful situation as the one I may currently be going through, that does not make common my pain. It does not detract from the anguish, it does not remove the sour discontent in my gut, and it does not dam the tears from spilling down my cheeks. While the painful situation may be a common one, my pain is unique. It is real. And it is all I can think of right now.

There's something to be said for distraction and reasoning. Job's friends had good intentions, that's for sure. But the saying rings with truth, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions." Sometimes, I think embracing the pain - wrestling with it and showering it with our tears - might be the better way to deal with our pain. For sure, 8:28 is no remedy nor is it advice on how to escape pain. It's simply a word of assurance. Good will come. "Hold on," God says, "because I'm here. I know you. I created all things, so I'm well-acquainted with human emotion and thoughts of regret and bitterness and confusion. Just hold on - good is coming."

And so, may you know peace, and may you experience it in fullness. May you know its calm, and may you find healing from the grace in which it wraps you up, and may you understand that though it will be long in coming, it will indeed arrive. Just hold on.

The Man Who Knocked On My Open Door

Yesterday, a man came into the building of the church where I work and knocked on my open door. He spoke in rapid phrases that never quite formed into complete sentences. He immediately took to calling me "Bowen," I suppose because he spied my last name on the nameplate next to the door. He sat down without being asked (not that I wouldn't have offered) and proceeded to tell me about his prison time, how he did not deserve the manslaughter rap or sentence, and many more things that all came out garbled and rushed despite his friendly, talkative demeanor. For the life of me, I cannot remember what he said his name was.

I think it is depressing that I knew almost immediately why he was there - money. He told me several times that he had talked to the pastor, whom he called "the rev." However, a few times before he could get in to see anybody, security had escorted him off the premises (please remember, this is also a school). I think it is even more depressing that often while he spoke, I was thinking about how I was going to get out of giving him money. Now, this was not necessarily because I did not want to give him money. In reality, I had no money on me (unless you count the forty or so euro I have leftover from the honeymoon in a envelope in my desk). Also, since the main church offices have been relocated during a remodeling project, I had no idea where the safe is even if that was the procedure when people come asking for money.

He circled the point several times, that he was asking me to place my trust in him and give him something so he could go get some food. He smelled distinctly of alcohol - at first I thought I was imagining it, but there was no mistaking the odor as he talked on and on. Finally, after bouncing back and forth between his incarceration, receiving some sort of help from Jeff Bagwell and Ken Caminiti (before he died), and the stingy ways of people in River Oaks, he finally laid it all out and asked for money. I shrugged regretfully (only halfway an act) and told him I had no money to give and that, when the pastor returned from the trip he is currently on, he might come back and speak with him. However, I mentioned that I did have some snack food, being a youth minister and all, and I led him out of my office and to the youth room refrigerator, where I gave him a root beer, and then to a closet where I found - it's lame, I know - an unopened jar of peanut butter. I apologized to him that I had no bread or crackers, but, though he seemed annoyed, he thanked me nonetheless, and I followed him to the door. After noticing some of the Hispanic remodeling workers, he made some crack about immigration and how he needs a job too, then left.

I returned to my office and to the e-mail I had been composing, and I felt like a failure. For several reasons, I guess. I know, obviously, what I could have done and what I couldn't have, but I work in a place that, simultaneously, people try to take advantage of (inside and out), and people look to for help when no one else wants to provide.

What do you do when you can't tell the difference for sure? How far do you reach out? How close can someone come to actually doing the things Jesus did?