Song story #2 (Streets of Jerusalem):

Of all the songs I’ve written, “Streets of Jerusalem” is probably the one most people associate me with.  I haven’t put it on the shelf for the past few months now, but for the longest time I played it every night.  And if I didn’t, someone would be sure to request it.

I wrote “Streets” in late August of 1998.  I was in college in those days and I had just come home from internship.  I think I was working as a youth pastor, part time, and I’d agreed to help with the skits for vacation bible school.  I remember it being a beautiful summer afternoon and I had shown up early at church for a drama practice.  As I sat in the sanctuary, waiting for the others to show up, I remember looking at the piano and thinking, “Boy, I wish I knew how to play.” (I’m strictly a guitar player and can’t even pick out Chopsticks on the piano).  Now whether I prayed that, or just wished it, I don’t recall, but I do remember sitting down at the piano and almost immediately stumbling onto the familiar melody line.  It just kind of came to me, and I was sort of mesmerized by it.  Simple, pretty, sad, yet hopeful.  The other actors showed up about 5 minutes later and we started our practice right away, but the melody tugged at me all day.

Late that evening, as I was getting ready for bed, I was reading a devotional book that my friend John Patterson gave me on internship.  It was Max Lucado’s “No Wonder They Call Him the Savior”, a book of reflections on the events leading up to and following the crucifixion of Jesus.  I haven’t read a lot of Lucado’s stuff, but I really enjoyed that book.  That night I read chapter 14, “The Ten Who Ran”.  In it, Lucado wonders what Christ’s disciples did between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.  Where did they go, what did they feel?  He writes,

“I have wondered where they were when the sky turned black.  I’ve wondered, were they near the temple when the curtain ripped or near the cemetery when the graves opened?  I’ve wondered if any of them even dared to sneak back up to the hillside and stand at the edge of the crowd and stare at the three silhouettes on the hill.” (pg 73)

Scripture is silent and all of this is, of course, left to speculation.  I think the thing that I connected with was the realization that for 2 days, the disciples didn’t know how the story would end.  We have the privilege of reading the Gospels and skipping past that part to the happy ending, but they didn’t.  They had to live through the doubt, fear, and uncertainty in a way that we seldom appreciate.  As we read it, the text moves us quickly from crucifixion to resurrection with no mention of what happened in between.  Tradition tells us that two of the Gospels (Matthew and John) were written by the disciples and another was written Mark who, we’re told, was writing down the memories of Peter.  Strange that none of them should write anything about what happened during those two days.  Or maybe not.  Maybe they felt too shameful for doubting Jesus.  Maybe they were too embarrassed to tell us.

That Saturday their faith was tested.  This extraordinary man, whom they’d followed for 3 years, was dead and regardless of his miracles, regardless of His promise of resurrection, even the most faithful among them would have been crushed.  I doubt any of them saw this coming.  This shock combined with fear of meeting the same fate as their master likely would have caused them to run and hide, or to go back home.  But how could you just go home after spending 3 years with Jesus?  Lucado suggests, there was something about Jesus that drew them all back, and by Sunday night they had all come and were sitting around the Upper Room.

“So they came back.  Each with a scrapbook full of memories and a thin thread of hope.  Each knowing that it is all over, but in his heart hoping that the impossible will happen once more.  ‘If I had just one more chance.’

There they sat.  What little conversation there is focuses on the rumors of an empty tomb. Someone sighs.  Someone locks the door.  Someone shuffles his feet.

And just when the gloom gets good and thick, just when their wishful thinking is falling victim to logic, just when someone says, ‘How I’d give my immortal soul to see him one more time,’ a familiar face walks through the wall.”  (pg. 73)

I sat at the piano and finished the song that night.  “Streets” took a long time to grow on me.  Initially, I didn’t really think much of it, and considered scrapping it.  “Fade”, the song I wrote about yesterday, was actually a later attempt to try and write a better “Streets of Jerusalem”.  “Streets” is a reminder to me that your intuitions as a writer are sometimes way off.  It wasn’t until I started sharing the song with people that I realized its importance.  This song went on to open a lot of doors of opportunity for me over the years.  More than any other I’ve written.  Most notable was a large youth conference that year at college, where I played it for about 1,000 people.  At the risk of sounding dramatic, I can’t imagine how much different the direction of my life would have been if that song had been filed in the wastebasket.

My first recording, a demo tape called “Pile of Stones” featured a live recording from the youth conference.  I recorded it on another demo called “Saturday” and then again on my first studio album, “Broomtree” (when I was getting ready to record “Rumors of Light”, one friend remarked, “You’re not gonna put “Streets of Jerusalem” on this one too, are you?).  Despite my protest Jonathan, my producer, insisted I play piano on the “Broomtree” version, so that’s me you hear.

The song is about hope, particularly about hope in the Resurrection.  The belief that God can intervene in the midst of a bleak situation.  I suppose the reason the song has resonated with so many people over the years is because it tells this story which speaks both to our imagination and to our experience.  We must imagine what those men experienced since scripture doesn’t tell us, and yet we know all too deeply.  We’ve all had times when our faith has worn thin.  We’ve all had times when the circumstances that surround us shouted louder than that still, small voice.  As Lucado puts it, “We’ve all walked the Streets of Jerusalem.”

Song Story #1 “Fade”:

People always ask whether the music or the lyrics come first.  It’s often presented as a sort of chicken/egg situation.  For me, songs usually start as a feeling.  Sometimes the feeling can be expressed in words, sometimes it too deep for words and it just comes as melody.  But there’s often a certain amount of brooding that has to happen before either the music or the words start to appear.  I will feel something and then I’ll have to let it stew, sometimes for days, and then almost as if by magic it’s just…there.

“Fade” happened like that.  I was in Calgary, laying on a friend’s hide-a-bed.  I’d been doing music full time for about 8 month and the thought of continuing on indefinitely without a regular paycheck was starting to hit home and, frankly, it terrified me.  Around that time a good friend, who’s a pastor in Calgary, was looking to hire a new worship pastor and he contacted me.  So I did what I always do when uncertainty hits.  I panicked and jumped toward the first life raft.  He invited me out for a week to meet folks and have a series of interviews.  I went out, spent time with them, and as much as it all seemed like a good fit, something just wasn’t sitting right.  One afternoon, while I was laying on the hide-a-bed praying for direction, the real reason I was there came to light.  Fear.

I believe in a personal God.  I don’t believe He’s the silent type, even though I can’t blindly believe all the things people claim He’s said to them.  So instead of saying He spoke to me in that very profound moment, let me say I believe that if God were to speak to me, He would have said, “Keith, what are you doing here?  Are you here out of fear?  Because I’ve not called you to live in fear.  The scriptures say, ‘The righteous will live by faith.’”  And so I was caught.  I knew I needed to continue on with my music ministry.  As I warred with myself between taking the job and continuing on toward the unknown, it became more and more clear that I needed to turn down the job and keep going.  As I lay there the words just appeared and I started singing, “Is this the end of the world, or something much stranger…?”.  Immediately knew I had something.  It felt like kind of a cosmic, intriguing first line to me.  What could be stranger than the end of the world?

I turned down the position, and apologized to my friend for leading him on, and resolved to step out into the unknown.  The chorus of the song, “Don’t let me fade into the darkness….” became my prayer.  “Oh God, give me the strength to face uncertainty, to put my future in Your hands, and to trust You with all my heart.”  I still pray that prayer, almost every day.

The rest of the song was written a few months later on the night before Palm Sunday.  I had been asked to do special music at church that Sunday, and had turned it down.  I didn’t have anything new written, at least nothing appropriate for Holy Week, but that night I sat down and the rest of the story came together.  I performed it the next day and it went over really well.  I wrote the verses from the perspective of one of the three disciples watching Jesus agonize over the coming crucifixion in Gethsemane, and trying desperately to stay away.  I’ve always imagined it was John, for some reason.

The chorus, which I’d written earlier was obviously a prayer, but as I thought and wrote, I realized it wasn’t only my prayer.  All who have truly walked the walk of faith have had to pray that prayer.  So in the song, John is praying it, and then he’s watching Jesus pray it.

As far as the song is concerned, the prayer is never really answered.  It doesn’t really resolve.  There’s a pressure I feel sometimes as a Christian and a songwriter to make everything resolve or to end on a high note, but I felt like I resisted that in this song.

I don’t remember much about recording this song, in particular.  I’d been playing it live for so long, we kind of breezed through it.  I do remember Glenda Rae bringing her soulful voice to the background vocals, and I remember Brian Chan playing cello. (I LOVE cello and if I were producing, we’d probably have it on every song. Which I why I don’t produce.)

This is one song I’ve written that I never seem to grow tired of.  I sing it all the time to myself, and if I’m playing in a church service and only have one song to play, this is usually the one I play.  I’m really proud of it.

I like that it seems to connect with people.  Everyone faces times of uncertainty, whether  they’re part of the persecuted church, suffering in a prison somewhere, or a business owner trying to weather an economic downturn, or a parent trying to raise their kids.  We all have times when things get difficult, and we feel like bailing-out.  Even Jesus prayed, “My Father, if it is possible, may this cup be taken from me.” (Matt. 26:39)

One of the most beautiful reminders of Holy Week is that in Christ, God not only suffers for us, but with us.  He is intimately familiar with doubt and fear and uncertainty.  Knowing that, allows me freedom to write songs like “Fade”, to feel fear, to pray prayers that don’t resolve.  Knowing that, gives me faith and strength to press on.

(Look for another post in the next few days, where I’ll tell the story behind “Streets of Jerusalem.  Both songs are available for free download for a short time on Bandcamp.)

So Tuesday it is, you’re a pastor, and here you are back in the office. Doubtless, you have meetings to schedule, people to counsel, email to answer, sermons to write, (musicians to phone back!!!!!) and all the myriad other tasks involved with leading and feeding your congregation. I understand the demands on your time and some of the things that weigh on your mind, but I have a request. (No, not to book a concert. Well,… yes, but that’s for another time.) While you’re planning this Sunday’s service, would you arrange to include a scripture reading (2 would be great), and take time to teach us how to pray?

Lately people have been asking me about the state of worship in the church. A lot! For awhile, I couldn’t figure out why. Although I did serve as a worship pastor for 5 years before I found myself in the middle of my present ministry as an itinerant singer/songwriter, that hardly makes me any kind of expert. But, I suppose I’ve been around a lot. I’ve visited around 200 churches across Canada during my travels over the past 4 years. I’ve heard a lot of announcements, heard a lot of sermons, and listened to a lot of worship teams. I’ve been to a few Mega-churches and to a number of really small churches (mini-churches?). So I guess that gives me a bit of a unique perspective. The more people ask, the more I think about it, and I’ve noticed a few trends emerging. I was sharing these thoughts with a good friend a little while ago, and he convinced me to write them down.

To give you a bit of context, let me tell you where I’ve come from. I came to faith when I was 16 in a little Baptist church in Regina in the mid-nineties. Up until that point I’d had very little exposure to church except for the odd service at the Orthodox church my grandparents attended. Most of that was in Ukrainian. The “worship wars” were in full swing when I started attending, but at that time we were only just starting to use guitars in the services at our church. I was fortunate in that my first experience with church was a very good one. What continually drew me back, Sunday after Sunday, was not the “guitar music”. although I found that much more easy to sing and understand than the hymns which had been a staple before I got there. but the liturgy.

The Baptist tradition is a relatively diverse one. A Baptist church can be anywhere along a spectrum from charismatic and almost indistinguishable from a Pentecostal church on one end, to very liturgical and almost indistinguishable from an Anglican church on the other end. The church I attended was on the liturgical end of the spectrum. We started the service with a Call to Worship and an invocation. A proper one. Usually a reading from the Psalms or another portion of scripture. After that, we’d sing a few carefully chosen hymns & choruses followed by the prayer of confession.

It’s hard for me to overstate the importance of having a regular Prayer of Confession. Including it in worship does at least two things. First of all, practicing a regular discipline of confession will lead to spiritual health, both corporately and individually. Confessing regularly helps us to keep “short accounts” with God. Rather than waiting until we’ve done something wrong to confess, regular confession makes it easier to identify attitudes and motivations before they lead to destructive action. Taking time for regular reflection and introspection nurtures and sustains an attitude of humility. Our churches would all be a lot healthier if everyone were a lot more humble, since it is in being forgiven that we learn to forgive. ??Secondly, when followed with an assurance of Pardon, it serves to communicate the gospel in its simplest form. Namely, that our sin separates us from God, but by repenting from our sin and clinging to Christ, we are reconciled to Him. I don’t remember hearing a “Gospel Message” during the first 4 months I attended church, but the regular rhythm of confessing and receiving pardon every week taught me the Gospel because I was, in essence, acting it out.

After the prayer of confession there was usually another song or two, followed by the offering, special music, children’s song & story (what ever happened to that?) and the Prayers and Petitions. The importance of having corporate prayer for one’s church family, community, city, country and the wider world to draw one’s attention off of themselves and toward the needs around them should be obvious, and has probably been discussed elsewhere. One of the most meaningful aspects of both the Prayers and Petitions and the Prayer of Confession at my church was the time of silence given at the end of the corporate prayer to offer individual prayers. It’s a proven principle in education that if you want someone to really learn how to do something, you need to tell them how to do it, then show them, then give them a chance to try it out. Doing corporate prayer in this way was literally how I learned to pray. ??The final element that we had every Sunday was not one, but two scripture readings. Usually one Old Testament reading and one from the New Testament. One of these would have been the text for the sermon. The other would have been a secondary text, or at least an alternate text that provided the context for the first text. Now read this very carefully, because it’s important. I can’t think of a single church that I’ve visited in the last year and half that’s had a scripture reading. Not one! I keep trying to find an explanation for this (pastor is busy, can’t find readers, service is too full, desire to keep the service seeker-oriented, etc.), but none of these are really sound reasons.

I recently finished reading “The Last Word”, an excellent book on understanding scripture by eminent scholar and Bishop of Durham, N.T. Wright. He concludes the book by arguing that if we claim to be a people whose belief rests on the foundation of scripture and who submit to scripture as our final authority, then the public reading of scripture must be central to our worship. It’s hypocritical for a church to refer to themselves as “bible-believing” to forsake the public reading of scripture. Ironically, many of the traditions whom evangelicals consider to have wandered away from orthodoxy faithfully read the scriptures every Sunday as part of their liturgy.   In contrast, evangelical churches seldom read scripture.  At most, the preacher might read the relevant portions during their sermon. But that’s not the same thing. There need to be times when we allow scripture to speak for itself. Do we really believe in the power and the authority of scripture if we can’t read it without felling the need to comment on it? So pastors and church leaders ask yourselves, “What is central to our worship as a church? Scripture, or the preacher’s interpretation of it?”. Scripture itself commands us, “Devote yourself to the public reading of scripture.” (1 Timothy 4:13)

I used to be responsible for planning the services at my church. I know how these things get squeezed out. There’s a missionary couple home from the field who want 10 minutes to share about their ministry, or a promo video, or a guest musician. And you know why prayer and scripture are the easiest to leave out? Because no one will notice. At least not right away. But lead a church five or ten years without corporate prayer and scripture reading and soon you’ll have a church of prayerless biblically illiterate Christians, and then everyone will notice.

So please, as you sit in the office this Tuesday, think about Sunday, and carve out some time in the service to pray with us, and read the scriptures to us. Thanks for all you do.

Sincerely,

Keith

I’ve been holding off on sending an update longer than I normally would have because there’s been some exciting news brewing, but it hasn’t been ready to share until now.  First, a bit of the backstory.

Backstory:

3.5 years ago, I resigned from my position as a pastor to begin this new itinerant ministry.  What an adventure!  It’s been a great ride.  Over the past 3.5 years I’ve travelled thousands of kilometers, visited hundreds of churches, played hundreds of concerts, and met thousands of new people (I don’t even want to guess how many times I’ve played “June” or told my dumb wrestling story).

But none of this has come without a cost.  We’ve had to endure long stretches with little or no income.  Sometimes concerts have been poorly attended and it’s actually cost me to go and play.  Making albums is expensive, and we’ve had to bear those costs personally.  In some cases, I’ve picked up work in the oilfield or mowing lawns just to be able to keep doing this.  I’ve had many moments during those lean times when I’ve had to ask myself, ” Am I fooling myself? Is this the end?”

I had a day like that this past September.  Despite having a busy summer, my fall touring schedule was looking like it wouldn’t come together.  We’d already been on a bit of a knife’s edge, financially, since we released “Rumours of Light”.  I was considering turning the lights off and closing the door.  Then in the midst of the uncertainty, the phone rang.  It was Roy Salmond (Roy, you may remember, served as executive producer on Broomtree.).  Carolyn Arends had been after him to listen to “Rumours of Light” again.  He called to say he loved what I did on “Rumours of Light” and that he wanted to do another record with me.  When I told him a new album was out of the question, given our present financial situation, he said, “I have an idea”.

The News:

I won’t bore you with all the details, but the short version of the story is that we have been brought under the banner of Incarnation Ministries. ”Incarnation Ministries is a Canadian charity that exists to help support the work of artists which reflects the truth of life within the Trinity so that it may redeem both the Church and society through the thoughtful soul-sharpening art.” Incarnation has offered to receive donations on my behalf to help me raise money for the rest of the expenses (about $15,000).  After the album is completed, Incarnation will continue to receive donations on my behalf to help subsidize the ongoing costs of touring and concert promotion so that my ministry can expand the breadth and depth of its reach.  So, depending on the level of interest and support we receive, I plan to be back in studio recording a new album as soon as January.

Over the past 3.5 years, two things have become clear. First of all, that my work as an itinerant singer/songwriter should continue, as it has value in the way it encourages and inspires people both inside and outside the church. It is making a tangible difference in people’s lives.  One concert-goer wrote to tell me how one concert had served as a catalyst to bring about healing in his marriage,

“Our marriage was in a state where … between her anger and my defensivess and shame nothing was getting dealt with.  I believe that the spirit of God joined us during Keith’s concert and remained with us the rest of the night.  We took it all on when we got home after the concert, I was amazed by grace and forgiveness…seriously I was shocked and broken.  In the end, we both knew that I needed to be a better man.  I stilldraw courage from the line, “what could I be if you had Your way with me?”…well I am beginning to learn.” (Shared with permission)

The second thing that’s become clear is that we simply can’t continue to tour and make new recordings without financial help from donors and regular supporters.

If you have benefited from my ministry, would you prayerfully consider making a one time donation toward this new album and my touring ministry?  Or would you consider becoming a regular supporter?

Incarnation Ministries will offer a tax receipt for Canadian Residents who make a donation of $50 or more, and one hundred percent of your donation will go directly toward my ministry.

To make a donation, mail your cheque to:

INCARNATION MINISTRIES,

Suite 2620, 1055 West Georgia Street

Vancouver, BC

V6E 3R5

Please make cheques payable to “Incarnation Ministries” and indicate “For Keith Kitchen” on the memo line.

Thank you for allowing me share this exciting news with you.  I feel awkward writing so personally about finances, and I appreciate you letting me share so frankly.  I don’t intend to pester people regularly with requests for money.  I have always felt that this ministry’s existence should be based largely on demand, and so our focus will still be on playing concerts and making albums.  Donations should only serve a supplemental role in the work we’re trying to do.

Thanks again for considering your part in this.

Sincerely,

Keith

“Broomtree” had been recorded the previous summer, and while many people around me sensed I’d be taking this step, I was one of the last ones to catch on.  My intention was never to do this very long.  My thought was to book a few concerts to help pay the bills while we sought out a position at another church.  Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine that 3 years, 100,000 kilometres, another album, and over 150 concerts later I’d still be doing this.  And while I’ve continued to remain open to the possibility of serving in a church again, I have to admit, this life has grown on me.  If you ask me, I’ll probably tell you that this all happened quite by accident.

Looking back, it’s easier to see God’s leading and provision at work in my ministry than it often is in the midst of it.  I’ve wondered many, many times over the years as I stared at an empty calendar whether we’d reached the end of our run.  But although we’ve had to tighten our belts sometimes and learn to live a little more simply, we’ve always managed to pay the bills and keep food on the table.  So today, I feel a renewed sense of hope and optimism for the future.  There are rumours of some new partnerships developing that would help us to grow this ministry and take it a step further, but even if those don’t pan out (they haven’t in the past), I feel freer to continue to pursue my calling, and somewhat less inclined to seek out security and stability.

I’m so thankful for the many, many people who’ve encouraged us, the people who’ve bought CD’s or come to a concert, the churches who’ve hosted, and the many folks who’ve put us up for the night.  It’s been such a joy to see so much of our country and to visit so many fine folks.

If there’s anything I’ve learned over the past three years, it’s that security and stability is an illusion.  Having a job an a pension will not protect you from hardship.  One day the boss walks into your office and says, “I’m sorry to have to tell you this…”, and everything you depended on falls apart.  What I do know, is that God will provide you with daily bread, and although you may not have everything you want, you can learn to be satisfied with only what you need.

I’ve also learned that you can never tell who’ll be an ally when you need one.  Many people who I expected to support or assist me were long gone when the time came to call in a favour.  But others have come out of the blue to offer generosity and support when we really needed it.  So you can’t give yourself to “schmoozing” or “networking”, since you never know who your supporters will be.  Put your trust in God to support you, and leave everyone else to do as they see fit.

Lastly, when you step out in faith to try to do something unique or extraordinary, some folks will admire you, while others will feel threatened or think you’re crazy.  Don’t pay any attention to either of them, lest your they deflate you or feed your ego.

But, for God’s sake  (literally, rather than as an expletive), do something exceptional with your life.  We only get one chance to do this.  How sad to pander to people or to chase after the illusion of security, when there is so much more waiting for us.

Trust God.  Do what He puts in your heart to do.  The rest will sort itself out.

God’s Peace.

Keith

The new record hasn’t garnered any real attention or rave reviews from anywhere.  One radio promoter recently told me it just isn’t radio friendly. Album sales have been alright, but nothing to rave about. (I’m not sure how to interpret this.  Truth be told, I’ve heard almost no feedback on the new album good or bad.  Maybe it’s just got something to do with the internet.  ;-)  )

We’ve been on thin ice , financially, since the new record came out.  Although I’ve just come off a busy month of touring, January was a slow month for us, and February was even worse.  All that to say, our circumstances look somewhat bleak.

On the other hand, there has been much to encourage us.  For instance, back in January, I had a man take me aside at a concert in Manitoba to tell me that the last time I played at his church, his marriage had been hanging by a thread.  Something about the concert that night opened up communication between him and his wife for the first time in a long time.  2 years later, they’re doing great and are working within their church to counsel other hurting couples.

A few weeks ago, I got an email from another man who’d been at one of my concerts.  He and his wife had just started attending church.  He wrote,” The things you said today were right on the money for me.  I really appreciated your take on finding beauty and God in the world (the poetic side of things).  …  Truth be told, up until two weeks ago I would have considered myself an atheist.  … The fact that I felt God speaking to me through music was certainly unexpected.  I have always been a bit of a snob about “christian music”.  For some reason, today I didn’t view your music that way.  I just saw you as a musician, that has a way with lyrics. … [And] today was the first time in a long time that I felt a bigger presence.

Finally, a few days ago I heard of how a young man, who’s been wrestling with addiction, felt God “tugging at his heart” after one of my concerts.  That night he made a decision to change is life and to invite Christ into his heart.

I don’t usually get to see the fruit of my work.  Sometimes a few people will hang around after a concert to say, “hello”, and “thanks for the evening.”  But I’m usually on the road again in a few hours, and I simply have to trust that my concerts have been meaningful.   To be honest, these are the only three stories like this I think I’ve ever heard.

That’s the way life goes, though, doesn’t it?  It would be easier to make decisions if your circumstances and your heart told you the same thing.  I’ve been ministering, through music like this for almost 3 years now.  And every time I feel like it’s time to quit, some encouragement comes my way to make me realize my heart’s still in it, even though my head says, “Get out now!”.  So, what do you do?  How do you tell the difference between faith and foolishness?  I suppose only time will tell which decisions were the right ones.

In the meantime, my schedule’s filling-up, and I have some concerts coming-up that I’m really excited for.  I’ve also begun to feel the gentle rumblings that often precede some new songs.  So, I trust that there’s still some life and some purpose in this yet.  Press on….

Keith

The biggest news this past year was the release of the new album, “Rumours of Light”, which you can pick up in the store here on my website or on my bandcamp page .  In June, I headed to Vancouver to work on a new album with my friend and producer, Jonathan Anderson.  We released the album in September and, since then, I’ve been busy playing concerts and trying to promote it.

It seems a strange time to release an album, though.  There’s a general feeling of doom and gloom hanging over the music industry these days.  Most of the artists I know are scaling back or downsizing in some way.  Even veteran artists, whose names you’d likely recognize.  Many are looking for other work on the side.  (I’ve had to pick up some work in the oilfield this fall to help pay down the new album.)  Some are throwing in the towel altogether.  Who’s to say what the cause is?  Whether it’s the recession, or the massive amount of new music coming at us online, or that people seem to be less interested in attending concerts.  As an independent artist, all the cost (and all the risk) of producing albums and promoting tours comes from my shallow pockets.  I’ve tried to establish partnerships with a few different organizations over the past year, and while those relationships have been encouraging, it hasn’t translated into much by way of financial help.

But I keep pressing on, despite the hardships, because  I believe that creating art contributes to an apologetic of beauty.  I think that when we hear good music or look at a flower or a sunset, something comes alive within us that begins to call out to something grander.  Scientific observation can tell you why sunlight from a certain angle, refracting off of dust particles in the air produces the various colours and hues of a sunset.  It may even explain how looking at something like this causes a release of endorphins in the brain to create a feeling of calm and pleasure, but this reductionist explanation ultimately leads to what seems to me to be an ugly view of the world.  Scientific observation, is able to tell us how a sunset is beautiful, but I don’t think it can answer the question of why it’s beautiful, why whe desire or even need beauty.

I believe there’s a real need for the Church in our day to recapture the importance of beauty for beauty’s sake.  Beauty awakens our imaginations and causes us to ask questions of meaning and purpose.  Questions whose answers are outside the realm of scientific observation.  The trouble is that as time goes on, the Church becomes more pragmatic, less inspiring, and therefore less convincing.

Rather than singing fresh, thoughtful songs written by members of our own communities, we sing the latest Top 40 worship “hits” which increasingly seem to be written by a select few artists to appeal to the lowest common denominator.  These songs seldom capture the imagination or inspire much theological reflection.

Now, I’m not presuming that my work is the answer to this problem, but my hope is to at least contribute to the solution.  So I keep working, despite the fact that it’s getting harder and harder to continue.  I believe that a Church without beauty is like a body without a soul, lifeless and dead.  I

think as we bring beauty back into the Church, Christ’s body will be filled with His Spirit.  So, good art is important in order to strengthen the Church.

One of the other facets of my work that I never anticipated has been the opportunity to sit and talk with pastors and leaders from the various churches I visit.  Having been in pastoral ministry, I understand some of the challenges and struggles that these men and women face.  Some of them face fears, loneliness and discouragement, but have no one in their church or denomination that they feel safe to talk with.  Since I come in as an outsider whose not affiliated with their denomination or local church, many pastors see me as someone who’s in the unique position of being both understanding and “safe”.  I’ve had many opportunities to listen and pray with pastors while I’ve played at their churches or even stayed in some of their homes.  Although this isn’t a formal part of my work, it is, nonetheless, a real privilege to be able to minister and help strengthen the Church in this way.

I have no idea what the future holds for us.  I’m hoping that as one year closes, and a new year dawns, there’ll be a change.  It’s getting harder to do this alone.  I hope and pray that opportunities or partnerships will present themselves in the New Year that will allow my work to advance.

Either way, I’m so grateful to have had the opportunity to do this over the past few years, and so thankful to all of you who’ve contributed to my work by ordering CD’s, attending a concert, or spread the word about my music, particularly in this past year.  My sincere hope is that, in some way, you’ve found your soul strengthened through it.

God’s Peace.

Keith

It wasn’t always like this.  I remember the first two Easter weekends I experienced after I became a Christian.  Although we went to church a few times for special occasions while growing-up, most of the Easter story was a mystery to me.  First there was Good Friday.  I couldn’t see anything good about them executing that nice man I’d seen praying in a portrait on my grandmother’s wall, and I was even more confused about what the connection was between the cross and the Cadbury’s Easter Cream Eggs hidden around the house on Sunday morning.  But, when I was 16 I started going to church and reading the Bible, and it became my desire that this story, God’s story, become my story.

My most memorable Easter happened the next year.  By that time I was familiar enough with the New Testament to understand Christ’s suffering on our behalf and His victory over the grave on the third day.  At the time, I was dating a girl, who was Catholic, so I accompanied her to a number of services between her church and my own church that weekend, and even participated in a Passover meal with her family.  The result was that I was able to walk slowly from one event to another and to really soak-in their significance.  To this day, I have never had such a meaningful experience of Holy Week, and every year, I think back to that weekend and the indelible mark it left on my walk with Christ.

I suppose the thing that made the most difference was that I was able to really put on the brakes and move slowly through the weekend and experience the events, much like they would have really unfolded.  The services on Maundy Thursday and on Good Friday were solemn and sombre.  There was no mention of the resurrection.  Only sorrow over our sins, and the punishment Christ was made to bear for them.  Yet these weren’t times of morbid self-loathing, rather they had a tone of immense gratitude and reverence for our Savior.  Focussing on the “dark days” of Holy Week made Easter Sunday that much more joyful.

The other thing that was so important about celebrating Holy Week in that way, was that I learned to see the Biblical characters as broken, fickle people who were just like us.  They had no way of knowing, on Friday night what would happen Sunday morning.  A theme that would lead me to eventually write songs like “Streets of Jerusalem”, and “Fade” a song I’ve written for the upcoming album.

So this year, I want to try to recapture some of that first weekend.  Perhaps we’ll share communion with a few friends on Thursday night, as we remember the Last Supper.  Perhaps our Good Friday Service will leave out the hope of Resurrection Sunday long enough to remember what it must have been like to see the Jesus, the Light of the World snuffed-out for three days.  Perhaps, this year, we’ll be able to put the brakes on again, and re-enter the mystery that is Holy Week, and find our faith made new all over again.

K

One of the first things that struck me on these walks was how peaceful and calm our city is at night.  I can walk for over an hour and not pass a soul.  Sometimes I won’t even see a car passing by.  Most times I feel like the only person on earth.  It makes me wonder what people in this town do with their evenings, especially on the really magical nights.

Last night was just such a night.  It was cold, but calm.  We’ve had a few days of fog, and the resulting hoarfrost has made the whole landscape look as though it had been heavily dusted with icing sugar.  The street lamps gave everything a sparkle and a glow.  I followed my usual route and came to a park that looked like something out of The Chronicles of Narnia.  The kind of moment that makes your soul ache.

I continued on through the empty streets and playgrounds feeling both a sense of awe and outrage.  Awe at what I perceived to be the delicate handiwork of a great artist, and outrage that this magnificent work of art was going unnoticed and unappreciated.  Most folks were likely too enthralled by 42″ of Liquid Crystal to be bothered with suiting-up to brave the elements and engage this wonder on it’s own terms.  So there it sat.  Like an extravagant art showing that no one bothered to attend. Like a candlelight dinner going cold, waiting for a spouse who is running late.  Like an Easter Egg lying in the grass, waiting to be stumbled upon.

To be fair, I spend my fair share of nights in front of the TV too, but not last night.  It’s a shame that so much beauty seems to go to waste.  Or maybe it’s extravagance.  In which case, I think it speaks something about the author of our universe, and that is a point of particular comfort to me.  The more I try to take note of the world around me, the more I begin to see God as an artist, rather than an economist.

Lately, many people I know have begun to question and even walk away from belief in God.  I can’t blame them.  Our world is a mess, and what’s worse, the God most of us have been offered is the God whom Modernity has fashioned in its own image.  The modern God must be productive and efficient, if He is to be any kind of God at all.  He must rid the world of pain, put all the “bad guys” under a rock, and hang a neon sign in the sky pointing to Himself.  Since the world we observe is full of tragedy and what appears to be wastefulness, we reason that there is no accountant God.  If this was the only available image of God, I too would abandon the idea of God for something (or nothing) else.

But, a universe without God leads to all sorts of absurdities.  I’m not saying atheism is absurd.  Atheism makes perfect sense to me.  What I am saying is that a universe without God would be an absurd place.  For one thing, there would be no basis for the objective moral values and duties we apprehend.  (You do not have to believe in God to be a moral person.  That’s not what I’m saying.  I know many atheists who live lives that are morally exemplary.  What I do mean is that the moral values we all perceive, whether we believe in God or not, make for convincing evidence of God’s existence.)

Also, a universe that simply “is” would be one in which our lives have no reason or purpose aside from what we assign ourselves.  Sadly, this meaning would be nothing more than self-deception.  In the face of a meaningless universe, one would need to knowingly deceive one’s self, in spite of the truth.  Now I grant, it’s possible that, as a Christian, I am the one who has been deceived.  Although I’ve tried to base my conclusions about my faith on logic and good evidence, it’s possible that I may have miss-interpreted that evidence, or worse yet, someone else may have deceived me by planting false evidence.  Even if that were true, this kind of deception would be of a far more innocent sort since I would be its unwitting victim.  The earlier deception is much less honorable, since it requires one to knowingly deceive oneself in spite of the truth.

Since I find the notion of a Godless universe untenable, and since I too have rejected the idea of God as bookkeeper, I find myself staring at the handiwork of a God who is more like to an artist, an author, or a chef.

Good art is in itself extravagant and is very seldom efficient or practical.  Good stories take a long time to reach a satisfying ending, and in the middle there’s often room for a great deal of drama and heroism in the face of tragedy.  Good chocolate, is often more satisfying if there’s some bitter to offset the sweetness.  Even though, there are chapters and characters in the story that I wish had been left out, I trust that the story is reaching a climax.  The alternative is that there is no story, and all the tragedy and extravagance is senseless and pointless.

So there I stood in the snow.  Marveling at this extravagance, and feeling more comforted than bothered by it.  I’d far rather be a character in a grand story, a brush stroke in a work of art, or an ingredient in a wonderfully prepared meal, than a number in an accountant’s ledger.

“Earth’s crammed with heaven, And every common bush afire with God; But only he who sees takes off his shoes; The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.”

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Over Christmas, we took some time away to visit family, played lots of board games, went tobogganing, built a snow fort, and just generally had a good rest from things.

Upon returning home, I found an email from my friend Ken, who was moving soon, saying that they needed a new home for their tropical fish.  A few Tetras, an algae-eater, a Siamese Fighting Fish, and something called a Blue Dragon Goby.  Since our tank has seen a steady decline in population over the past few months, so I gladly agreed to take on these new refugees.

He showed up the next day with a cardboard box containing sizeable collection of plastic bags filled with all manner of aquatic life.  The Siamese Fighting Fish is one of the most stunning creatures I’ve ever seen.  Iridescent blue and crimson, it’s a majestic combination of beauty and violence.  It’s quickly become the most prized addition to the tank.  The Tetras are a plain, but pretty.  The algae-eater is ugly, but practical.  These, along with a few plants, were a welcome addition to the tank, and I was glad to accept them.

Then, Ken got a little quiet as he reached into the box to pull out the Goby.  He handed me the bag, carefully holding it at arms length with a look of apology.  He’d mentioned on the phone that is was an interesting fish with a lot of “character”.  And now, I saw exactly what he meant.  What he’d “forgotten” to mention on the phone was that it was also the ugliest thing a person could lay eyes on and still live.

The animal was more snake than fish.  Long and slithery, with beady eyes that would chill the warmest of souls.  My first instinct was, “Kill it”.

I’m not especially fond of snakelike things, and I have relatives that may never visit again, knowing it’s here.  As I looked at it, I told myself, “Wait ‘til he leaves, then flush it.”

The algae-eater I could tolerate.  It’s ugly, but at least it’s useful.  The Siamese fighting fish serves no real purpose, but at least it’s beautiful.  The goby is hideous, and serves no purpose.  So I quietly decided to send it to a better place.  But something stopped me.

I realized I was willing to end a creature’s life simply because I found it repulsive and because it had nothing to give me.  The Siamese Fighting Fish I would keep because, even though it served no purpose, it was beautiful.  The algae-eater I would keep because even though it was ugly, it was useful to me.  What I saw inside myself was something far uglier than a Blue Dragon Goby.

It made me realize that I often do the same thing with people.  I invest time and energy into people who captivate me, or who I perceive as useful to me in some way.  People who are neither beautiful nor useful are a distraction or an annoyance.  I tend to treat then as objects.

This becomes especially true during seasons when I feel that I have little to give.  Most of the time this goes unchecked, but for some reason it became crystal clear as I stared into the cold, beady eyes of the serpentine menace floating in a plastic bag, waiting to be released in either my fish tank or the sewer beneath my home.

The point is not the fish.  The point is that everything God has created has been endowed with a sense of dignity.  Not because it has value to us, necessarily, but because it has value to Him.  All of creation is God’s craftsmanship, and no artist likes to see their work defaced or devalued.  All of Creation, whether it’s people or plecostomi, has value and we will learn to value God’s works to the measure we value Him.  Or maybe it’s the other way around.  Maybe the only way to value Him is to value His creation.  It seems hypocritical to claim otherwise.

Almost paradoxically, it is the things we value least, which we often come to value the most, since it is only the ugly and the useless which can put us in touch with this reality.  So the Goby will stay.  It will be given a position of honor in the tank for teaching me a valuable lesson.  A lesson none of the other creatures could.  The humble has been exalted.  The low has been lifted high.  I think that’s the way God wants it.  And besides, I’m starting to like the little guy.

Keith