Tell Me Where It Hurts

How are you doing today?

I honestly can’t see the root of your anxiety. I can’t discern the depth of your pain. I don’t know why your relationships end the same way. I can’t say, after decades of your efforts, why things haven’t changed for the better. But I care enough to ask some tough questions.

If you believe social media, there’s plenty who have it all together and have answers for any problem you might have. If you need a good dentist, if you crave Chinese food, if you need to vent about politics, or need relationship or fantasy football advice, we got you. I hope to speak with my pen and write what I’m deeply concerned about. I’m deeply concerned about you. I’m concerned that we can readily raid a supermarket, knowing that our neighbors could end up without. I’m concerned that we give our worship to a Hall of Fame sports figure or our favorite sporting events. I’m concerned that we can so easily forget that U.S. citizens (not some third world country) don’t have clean water (still), the state of our homeless population, and countless little children go to bed hungry every night. I forget it myself and that also concerns me.

But, forgive me, let’s talk about your problems. Do you have enough money? Would you like better relationships with your family? Would life be sweeter if you got that well deserved promotion? What if you were finally debt free? What if your business was more successful? If these all changed for the better, there’s one denominator that remains unchecked: YOU.

Fix every external circumstance you like but, at the end of the day, it’s still you running point. You’re still trying to captain your own ship. Money and success just serve to make you a “bigger – whatever you were” before the money and success came. These things can’t fill the voids and gaps in your heart. They don’t heal what ails you. They’re simply placebos for your spiritual condition. This is the reality for those of us that think we can make ourselves whole.

Now a certain man was there who had an infirmity thirty-eight years. When Jesus saw him lying there, and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, He said to him, “Do you want to be made well?” (John 5:6)

Jesus asked the man a question that seemed obvious. The man was ill with a condition for nearly 40 years. The question wasn’t stupid. If the man only had faith in himself, that could explain his present state. How many of us are in the same place decades later, despite our best efforts? The man struck with this affliction put his faith in others to help him. He waited years for people to help him. He grew discontent that people didn’t understand. His faith was solely in man. After 38 years, he found himself face to face with an answer greater than what he could locate on his own. It wasn’t a relative or a friend. Because of that encounter, he experienced wholeness and he couldn’t take any of the credit.

During this pandemic, four loved ones departed from this life. They’re now face to face with the same power that healed the crippled man. Like many, who’ve experienced the same, I’m both numb but thoughtful about how we use the years we’re blessed with. So everything we do, every errant word we speak, every public action and private thought, every gift given, every forgiveness, every mercy, everything measured, judged, and accounted for. Tomorrow is not promised. Today seems all too brief. Would you be made whole today?

Melodies From Heaven

It doesn’t matter where I am, or what I’m doing…..when I hear that sound….

…..Time seems to stop……My world grinds to a screeching halt. Everything fades into the background and in my eye line, in my ears, and in every fiber, it reverberates. Pulsating and pounding through me. Tones and beats. Accents and measures. I’m submerged in its enormous wave of bars and rhythms, highs and lows. I don’t want to leave. Now that I’ve heard that sound, I can never be the same. It’s proof of a world beyond my grasp, outside of my purview, beyond my decades of experience.

I can’t explain or recreate it. I spent years trying to find it, or at least, duplicate it. I embraced the clarinet, chased after the guitar, and even passionately pursued the piano in an effort to tap into what I discovered but it still eluded me. I hired instructors, tried to teach myself, and read every book I could find, purchased hundreds of tapes, CDs, albums, and MP3’s and have gone to concerts and watched countless videos hoping for another taste or just a glimpse but the result was the same. I couldn’t find it this way. I tried feverishly to make it last forever. How I wish I could press play on a tape recorder and hear it over and over. How blissfully wonderful it would be to wake up and fall asleep to that melodious, harmonious sound.

Some of the most powerful and moving music ever made still lacks that heavenly melody. It has the innate ability to translate you into joy and peace unlike any other song written by men. It opened my eyes and showed me a dimension that I had not known existed. It brightens my outlook and reminds me of His promises. It speaks to the “me” that others can’t see. It tenderly engages the “me” some won’t see. It calls out to the “me” yet to be revealed. The only time I ever came close was in the solemn moments with tears trickling down my face …..with a repentant song in my heart…..shouting cries of “Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord” from my lips. These are the only times I could hear it in the distance coming closer and closer until it created a quaking in my spirit. That sound. boom. That power. That Incredible God. Unmistakable. Irreplaceable. Magnificent.

Music pursued me long before I knew I was being pursued. I had a voice I didn’t request or desire. I never wanted their microphones but I was motivated to share a sound that wasn’t mines to own. To offer a glimpse into a world that so many cannot see and do not know exists. I hoped to make Him known in so many ways but if I can help others hear that sound too, maybe, just maybe, they will be irrevocably changed too. I also learned that this sound was rarely, if ever, welcome in the places where my feet have tread. But I was mistaken to think the music I made belonged to me. It was indeed a gift. I was also so wrong to think I had to play music to hear that sound. I did, however, have to lift up my hands…I did have to prepare my heart….I did have to humble myself……I did have to get into position…..I did have to offer up an undignified praise……I did have to give the voice given to me back to the one who gave it. There I found unbelievable peace, unrelenting joy, and I was able to hear that glorious sound again.

I just couldn’t help but wonder. Can you hear it too?

The DJ Saved My Life

Hopefully, you have already noticed some of the changes taking place with Mirror Time. I’m convinced that there is a natural evolution that needs to take place with my blog and I’m excited about where this is going. I can safely say that the more than 150 articles reveal much about my life and the path that brought me to where I am. This is the third and final article of our three part miniseries that I hope encourages and inspires you to enjoy the skin you’re in but also recognize that no matter how confined your present seems to be, there is a greater picture that we need to be focused on. This is my attempt to kickstart that process. Hope you enjoy!

Thankfully, I didn’t perish in the accident nor did I lose the use of my legs. My leg was run over by a city bus loaded with passengers, weighing God knows how much and I didn’t have a broken bone. There was some damage that required a couple operations but my walking away was nothing short of miraculous. There was a long recovery process and I spent about 28 days in the hospital. I felt like I was in a very sterile prison but it gave me a lot of time to think. (I was troubled with recurring nightmares while I was there, mostly of me hanging from the bus doors and hearing my friends screaming and having to see their frightened faces.)

As much as I loved the music that shaped my life, in my current state, it gave me no solace this time. This was one reality that I couldn’t use the music to hide from. Although I was only 13 years old, like so many other areas of my upbringing, I had to think of adult things. I wondered how much it cost to stay in the hospital for nearly a month and where we would get the money to pay for the stay, the operations, the food, and whatever else we would be charged. I definitely imagined thousands of dollars at least. I wondered how long it would take me to be able to walk normally again. Will I be able to play sports like I used to? Will I be able to walk under my own power through that same neighborhood on the way to the bus stop or will I be on crutches, practically making me an even better target? Now I was thinking more about money and the future and my mother’s words more than ever. She was pregnant and worried about her son’s health. She was already working a lot and going to school as well. Now this. I felt responsible for making a mess of things even though I didn’t do anything wrong. I eventually healed with some major scars from the surgeries but my thought process also changed.

I learned something valuable several years later, as I moved away from home, and started out on my own. Even after I got into the music industry and even completed my first album and signed a contract with an independent record label, I can honestly say that the seed was dead. I leaned on hip hop to help me escape from my real world problems and, in large part, it was successful in doing so but somehow I continued to hide behind it. It wasn’t just the music that I enjoyed (which I did) but it was a crutch. I enjoyed being lost in the sounds of the city. That music was the soundtrack of my life but it kept me grounded in a certain, restrictive way of thinking. I thought that the “ghetto” life was going to be all that I would ever have.  It wasn’t anyone’s fault. I just never imagined having a house, or a wife, or children. I couldn’t see beyond where I was. The ceiling in my mind was limited. I really can see that clearly now, but especially when I talk to old friends from the neighborhood or just listen to music artists from my hometown. You can hear it in the words they say when they just randomly talk. You can even hear it in the today’s music and even when you hear the classic hip hop from the 80’s and 90’s. It talks about houses and cars and diamond rings and mansions and an abundance of dollar bills but behind it all, the limited mindset is the same. And I was trapped by that. And I was trapped in that. That could have been me if things didn’t change the way they did.

I downloaded that soundtrack into my spirit for days, weeks, months, and years. I talked the talk and walked that walk for most of my life. It was time for the soundtrack to change. I went from hard driving, urban classics like “Fight The Power” and “Mama Said Knock You Out” to uplifting, encouraging songs like “Stomp”, “Why We Sing”, and “Total Praise” to melodic songs that inspire me to travel and taking time to stop and smell the roses like “Keep That Same Old Feeling”, “West Coast Coolin”, and “Morning Dance”. It took me decades to finally understand but the soundtrack changed, in my humble opinion, because my goals changed and my experiences changed. Most of all, my vantage point changed. I am so grateful for the songs that took me to another place or gave me a glimpse of a life I never knew existed. I could see that “more” was not only possible but achievable. I have a love for music that is still unparalleled. The difference is that I no longer care about ascribing to be a musician, be a part of some singing group or band, or write songs the whole world will sing. I am just enjoying the beauty and simplicity of the music and enjoying the journey. I’ve come far and still have a ways to go. Enjoying the sights and sounds of the trip is tantamount now more than ever.

My mother helped me and probably didn’t even realize that she did. If she had said “yes”, I would have never left my hometown and I would still be listening to that same soundtrack, living in that same reality with no hope of variance. I would have never met my gorgeous wife. I would never have three beautiful daughters and six fantastic grandchildren. I would never have bought my first two homes. I would never have done a lot of things. Honestly, I don’t think I would have been long for this earth.

I’m eternally grateful that the DJ stopped playing long enough for me to evaluate where I was and opened a door for me to walk out of so I can experience that something more.

In that regard, the DJ saved my life. And I’m glad about it.

When The Music Stops

Hopefully, you have already noticed some of the changes taking place with Mirror Time. I’m convinced that there is a natural evolution that needs to take place with my blog and I’m excited about where this is going. I can safely say that the more than 150 articles reveal much about my life and the path that brought me to where I am. This is the second of our three part miniseries that I hope encourages and inspires you to enjoy the skin you’re in but also recognize that no matter how confined your present seems to be, there is a greater picture that we need to be focused on. This is my attempt to kickstart that process. Hope you enjoy!

If you grew up where I did, you get used to disappointment. You get accustomed to things just not going your way. Well, I never saw this one coming. At the end of the first series I mentioned some bad news. Actually, there was two pieces of bad news that directly altered my trajectory. It would change everything.

I grew so excited about doing music that it became a part of my every waking moment. If I wasn’t signing out loud in the house with my Walkman plugged into my ears, I was attempting to play that old, out of tune, piano in the living room. I just wanted to make music. There was an opportunity at school to start making decisions about our future and what kind of extracurricular classes we wanted to take. Of course, I wanted to do music so I got involved in activities that allowed me to sing or play instruments. I volunteered for a couple choruses, school plays and subsequently joining the drama team and the Music and Arts team. It was official in my mind. I wanted to learn how to play the guitar and the piano and to a degree, my mom indulged this with limits but one conversation changed everything. I told her that I wanted to go the School of Performing Arts and study music. (I was mesmerized by the TV show “Fame”. Not because it was necessarily great television but because it embodied everything I thought I wanted to do.) My mother’s reaction was different than any other time that I asked for something from her. She was adamant and intense and her answer was definitive and emphatic. NO! She wanted me to have a solid career like my uncle, who was an electrical engineer. She stated her case but all I could hear was “No” and “She wanted me to have a real career.”

Most kids have that smidgen of rebellion in them but these words grounded me. They stopped me cold. I know I could have waited until I left home and did what I wanted as an adult but I couldn’t escape those words. I even remember my yearbook photo that I came across just a few years ago and the inscription: Most Likely To Become An Electrical Engineer. I didn’t even remember writing that. It was not what I wanted. I didn’t even enjoy math that much. For me, with no father in the home, my mother was the closest person to me. She was my confidant and very likely, my best friend. Her example loomed large. Her approval was important. Her words had weight. And I respected them. (That proved true years later on my way to an audition for a local ABC soap opera. I got up to the front door and I could hear my mother’s voice as clear as if she was standing right there. I turned around and walked through the city a little and got back on the train and went home.) Bad news #1.

The next delivery was a lot worse than the first. My neighborhood was dangerous. More dangerous than a neighborhood with so many kids living in it should be but it was our reality. In the first article of the series, you got some indication of what my life was like. I had to be independent early and often. I walked to the city bus stop to get to school and I did the same going home. In between my house and that bus stop was gang territory. I had a couple of close calls and minor scrapes in that neighborhood but I walked away from those thankfully. I literally thought that any day on the way home from school could be a potential problem for me. In the Spring of 1984, my mother was pregnant with my little sister, and that only added to my stress level. I was constantly panicked thinking she could be in danger where we lived.

One morning that started out just like any other with me eating cereal in front of the TV watching the Thundercats, the Legend of Voltron, Wonderama, or the local morning show. I took that long walk to the city bus stop just like usual, humming some of my favorite songs, looking over my shoulder, wondering if my luck walking through gang territory would run out. I got to the bus stop just as the rain began to fall. There were a couple of elderly ladies waiting on that corner as well. Our bus turned the corner and I prepared to get on to get out of the heavy rainfall. I instantly stepped back from the curb to allow the elderly ladies to get on the bus before me. After the ladies boarded, I stepped onto the first step and suddenly the door slammed shut on my leg and the bus slowly began to move forward. I looked up at the bus driver as I pounded on the door with my right fist, screaming at him to stop the bus. I will never forget the look on his face. His eyes were glazed over as if he was dazed or under hypnosis. He never turned his head. He didn’t bristle or flinch at my screams and those of all my friends on the bus. I calmly grabbed the steering wheel and began to drive faster. I lost my balance and began to fall backwards. Everything from that moment felt like slow motion. My arms extended out as I tried to reach for the door but couldn’t. I could hear all of my friends from the middle to the back of the bus screaming at the driver to stop. I started to become disoriented and turned to see the fire hydrant speeding towards my head. I felt as if I was going to pass out. My eyes fluttered as my leg came out of the closed door and I hit the pavement hard but the bus continued to drive, right over my right leg. I must have slipped into shock because I don’t remember anything until I was on a gurney being wheeled into the back of an emergency vehicle. I couldn’t hear any of my favorite songs. I couldn’t find solace in getting lost in my music. And I couldn’t feel my legs. Bad news #2. This was the day that the music stopped.

 

Sounds of the City

Hopefully, you have already noticed some of the subtle style and format changes taking place with Mirror Time. I’m convinced that there is a natural evolution that needs to take place with my blog and I’m excited about where this is going. I can safely say that the more than 150 articles reveal much about my life and the path that brought me to where I am. Today, I’m sharing the first of a three part miniseries that I hope encourages and inspires you to enjoy the skin you’re in but also recognize that no matter how confined your present seems to be, there is a greater picture that we need to be focused on. This is my attempt to kickstart that process. Hope you enjoy!

I was born and raised in New York City and people who never lived there can only imagine what that looks like. I was a typical latch-key kid who learned independence early on in life. (I had a mother who was a very stern believer in education and her life exemplified it. She worked full time for an international fragrance company and she went to school at night. I don’t know to this day what she was chasing but I saw a determination and a drive that I tried to exhibit in my life as well. Looking at her life now it is clear that she has had a very successful career and is very educated. She is a living reminder of what the American dream looks like!) It was weird being at home alone in what was generally a rough part of Brooklyn. Just going to the corner bodega for a half gallon of milk could put my life in jeopardy. (True story!) Any day, any night, something catastrophic can happen there and it was something a young kid at home couldn’t help but think about. I began to learn how to cook for us so Mom had a warm meal when she got home.

Besides knocking out my homework every day, I really had to find ways to amuse myself. I think the truer point is I needed to find a way to block out the noise outside my window. Gang violence, domestic disputes, street fights, drug deals, car accident, or any assortment of normals on the street where I lived. Unfortunately, in my city, the walls and the windows were pretty thin so you can hear everything. Even the things you didn’t want to hear. So after my homework and dinner was cooked, I needed to ramp up the noise. I turned the TV or the radio up loud so it’s all I could hear.

I watched a lot of Wild Kingdom, National Geographic, and some brand of public television like PBS. But I begin to really get accustomed to turning on my radio. My musical era consisted of songs like “When Doves Cry” by Prince, Microphone Fiend” by Eric B and Rakim, “Beat It” by Michael Jackson, “Rock The Bells” by LL Cool J, and “Living On A Prayer” by Bon Jovi. My radio was normally stuck on Z100 with Scott Shannon but my love for music was growing and it was growing fast. Soon, I barely turned the television on at all and I couldn’t wait to get home from school, finish my homework so I can crank up my radio while I did my household chores. These songs were the soundtrack of my life long after I left the city and moved South. In a lot of ways, they were indicative of what New York City was all about.

I saw so much tragedy in that neighborhood. I saw so many people carried out of their homes on stretchers. So many young people gunned down in the middle of the streets, sometimes in broad daylight. It wasn’t that I didn’t have a great mother because I did. It wasn’t that I didn’t have some good friends because I did. But I can’t think of anything, especially during that time, that gave me the kind of escape that music did. I got lost in the notes, keys, and chords. It became all that I could think about. I sat in my classes thinking about my city and humming songs. It got to the point where every waking moment was spent listening to music. If it wasn’t “Yo MTV Raps”, it was “Video Soul”. I was constantly feeding myself music. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t watch TV without having the radio in the background. I began to find it impossible to do my homework or cook the family meals without having the radio on in the background. I even went to sleep to the sounds that came out of my boombox. It became unbearable to not have the radio playing. My love for music was starting to take over everything. I couldn’t bare to miss an impromptu rap battle, block parties, live performances by music artists who were from NYC, or the all-too-common break dancing expedition.

Where I lived, probably not unlike any other city, there were a lot of voices, a lot of sounds. I think I needed the music so those voices and sounds weren’t the background of my life. I could hear and see things within the music that no one else could. Music made me happy and hopeful. I actually believed that music made the world a better place. I was inspired unlike anything I had ever experienced. I even dreamed one day of making my own music. I didn’t know what I wanted to do in life until that moment but I knew it. I wanted to be a musician. And that’s when I got some news delivered right to my doorstep that threaten to dash those dreams for good.

 

The World From Your Window – 10/12/18

Good morning,

I recently learned a valuable lesson in perception. As a manager, I am often reminded that no matter how many donuts and snacks you bring into work for your employees, it’s nearly impossible to change their perception of one situation when they perceive every situation the same. It’s highly likely a thief is almost always thinking that someone is trying to steal from him so he doesn’t trust anyone. The world at large is giving us much to talk about and think about to feed our perception of things. So how does the world look from your vantage point? How are things looking from your window?

MICHAEL’S DESTRUCTIVE PATH

(Source: https://www.usatoday.com/story/news/2018/10/12/michael-moves-into-atlantic-ocean-leaves-damage-across-5-states/1610353002)

The path from the Florida panhandle and heading into the Mid-Atlantic states has left multiple fatalities, more than a half million people without power, and whole cities leveled beyond description in what has been described by some as the most destructive storm to make landfall in US history. The carnage and loss of life was too much no matter the circumstance. Having lived through several storms, I have tried to recognize how fortunate I am to still be here to tell the stories. In 3 different states, I could have been a victim but I was not. My heart goes out to those that were affected and still are affected by this vicious but indiscriminate storm. Any and all of us can one day be affected or know someone who is. The news has more information than I can provide so I just wanted to take this time to do the only thing I could do: encourage us to step back and locate, at least, one reason to be grateful. Then help someone less fortunate than you. This may be the human condition but that is the appropriate and human response. Thank you.

 

FIRST LADY

(Source: https://www.yahoo.com/news/melania-trump-says-she-apos-182511548.html)

(Source: https://finance.yahoo.com/news/melania-trump-survivors-sexual-assault-165305499.html)

(Source: https://www.vanityfair.com/style/2018/10/melania-trump-put-her-pith-helmet-on-a-pedestal-in-abc-interview)

There are so many things to touch here but I will try to be brief. On the surface, the role of First Lady is both political and social in nature. There are even aspects of the role that are cause the holder of this distinction to be influential in the area of fashion and public policy. Several issues were reported this week that made this office of First Lady come under some scrutiny. 

First Lady Melania Trump, in a rare TV interview with ABC’s Good Morning America, believes that she is “the most bullied person in the world” and uses the example of her social media to justify this belief. She also added that her and her husband will slowly weed out those in the White House that she doesn’t like or trust.

In another instance, Mrs. Trump sat down with ABC’s World News Tonight with anchor Tom Llamas, and made a loud and clear statement regarding sexual assault victims:

“You need to have really hard evidence, that, you know, if you accuse of something, show the evidence,” Trump said. She added that she supports women, and also men. “I do stand with women, but we need to show the evidence. You cannot just say to somebody, you know, ‘I was sexually assaulted’ or ‘You did that to me,’ because sometimes the media goes too far and the way they portray some stories, it’s not correct, it’s not right.”

Regarding the aforementioned influence in fashion, Mrs. Trump also placed a pith helmet, a controversial symbol of African colonialism on a pedestal during the entire interview. It wasn’t that long ago, on her way to Texas shelters during the much publicized visit with detained immigrant children, she wore the now infamous green jacket with the words “I really don’t care. Do you?” scrawled on the back. 

There’s much to unpack here but bullying is a global issue and not one I feel comfortable casually tossing around. Many children have gone so far as to take their own lives because of this. Families have been torn apart because of this issue. Several school shootings and what have been considered heinous acts of terrorism have been found to have bullying as the impetus for some. Social media has also been a hotbed for cyber-bullying where influential people use their status to offend, persecute, and demean others using posts, tweets, and pictures. These offended persons may have a case for being the most bullied persons in the world as well.

I can’t begin to imagine how survivors of sexual assault are feeling as they wake up this morning. Many of them lived in an era that dismissed and demeaned women or they were part of organizations that marginalized them as humans so reporting sexual assaults was easier said than done in many cases. The First Lady’s comments must have sounded hurtful to them and added to their fears that if they do report these crimes, they may not have a welcoming ear. Whether that’s true or not, one thing is for certain, this is cause for debate and concern when sexual assault victims are asked to provide eyewitness testimony before they’re taken seriously.

Our world largely lacks self-awareness so it’s a foreboding and scary sign when our generation and the next generation get to the place where they ignore history and are doomed to repeat it. The wearing or bearing of the pith helmet, swastika, or any other symbol that represents human cruelty, violations of human rights, murder, rape, or the like should be universally avoided by everyone that designates themselves as human beings. Walking a mile in another’s shoes is optional but doing unto others what you would have done unto you should be universal. I don’t know if this was intentional or simply yet another lack of awareness in a sea of examples of the same. I am starting to realize that maybe because many don’t remember, understand, or relate to the plight of others, they simply have decided not to care and the human life doesn’t matter at all.

 

THE PURGE

(Source: https://www.usatoday.com/story/tech/2018/10/11/facebook-removes-over-550-pages-250-accounts-latest-spam-purge/1604025002)

Facebook’s fight against fake accounts and spam continued Thursday as the social networking giant removed 559 Facebook Pages and 251 Facebook accounts over breaking the site’s rules for “spam and coordinated inauthentic behavior.”

“Many were using fake accounts or multiple accounts with the same names and posted massive amounts of content across a network of Groups and Pages to drive traffic to their websites,” wrote Nathaniel Gleicher, Facebook’s head of cybersecurity policy and Oscar Rodriguez, a Facebook product manager, in a blog post announcing the latest purge.

Protection for the privacy and security of users of social media is still an issue and I get it. But when is enough enough? I have even had friends who posted thoughts that had a certain political slant that had their posts removed and they were sent to FB jail while others with posts on the other side of the aisle were left unharmed. This seems uneven in a lot of ways although I thought I understood the intent. Even sharing content or products can be problematic. I get “stopped at the gate” and flagged for spam for just sharing my new articles with you. I believe there is a difference between what I am doing and what they are trying to curtail but I have to generally ask, How best should a person like me or another business owner share their content or product if they can’t share it with their friends around the world? Just a thought we can ponder together.

Here are some other stories that are guaranteed to blow your mind!

 

WHEN THE DOW DROPS: (Source: https://www.usatoday.com/story/money/2018/10/12/stock-market-dow-selloff-marks-turning-point/1599851002)

GREY IS THE NEW BLACK: (Source: https://abcnews.go.com/US/white-parents-black-babysitter-reported-stranger-police-call/story?id=58400770)

PC WORLD: (Source: https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2018/10/large-majorities-dislike-political-correctness/572581)

FAIR AND BALANCED: (Source: https://www.cnn.com/videos/politics/2018/10/11/trump-kanye-meeting-hurricane-michael-cooper-kth-ac-vpx.cnn)

 

WhAt a wONdeRfUl WorLD

What a wonderful world.

What do you see when you look out of your window?

Are you privileged to see rows of red roses and trees of green?

Children laughing and playing without a care in the world?

Is your heart buoyed to see old friends enjoying one another’s company or new friends emerging on the relationship horizon?

Is the world wonderful to you in this moment?

What do you see on your commute to work?

Do you see that man still sitting in the same corner of the subway platform, in tattered clothes, still hoping for, at least, one hot meal today, despising the circumstances he finds himself in, cursing the voices in his head that daily torment him, hoping today will be better than yesterday?

Or the stock broker on his cell phone bragging about how much money he made this week and what kind of car he plans to buy?

Do you see the group of mean girls bullying the same little girl at the same bus stop every morning? Does it cross your mind what will happen to her? Does it make you sad? Do you feel anything at all?

Do you ever wonder what all the dilapidated buildings, if renovated, could do for that man from earlier and others in similar situations? Do you ever ask “What If”?

Do the skies seem so blue in that moment? Are the trees rich with green if there are any trees to view at all that haven’t been replaced by structures of wood and metal?

What do you see when you plug in?

Is every other post a source of outrage?

Has every log-in become a daily war of words over politics, country, or some senseless banter?

It’s hunting season every day if you read your local paper. Just without rabbits, ducks, or deer.

Do you feel you are being pressured to care about the rich and famous while what really matters is crumbling around you?

Is this world still wonderful in your eyes?

Cries for help. No one’s listening.

Turning off body cams just until…..

Still no clean water. #FlintMichigan

Values trampled under foot.

Children in cages.

Some of my best friends are Latino.

No substantial evidence.

One meal a day. 16,000 kids every weekend. #CharlestonCounty

Look away.

Serial bomber taken into custody.

Predatory lending.

#METOO

Who’s right, who’s left? Who cares?

Some of my best friends are Asian.

Corporate machines steamrolling transient standards.

I’m a good person.

We feel for the family in this tragedy but we believe we followed procedure.

Still building a wall.

Google South Fulton, GA.

My four and no more!

Babies crying.

Shot in the back.

Some of my best friends are black.

Blame it on the Ambien.

Zero tolerance.

Turn your music up louder so you can’t hear her screams.

On administrative leave with pay.

Guilty until proven innocent.

Go back to your country.

Asphyxiated with a baton.

Pretend you don’t see it.

Unarmed man shot 41 times.

Who’s right, who’s wrong? Who cares?

NATIVE Americans.

She made a threatening gesture.

Some of my best friends are white.

Close your blinds.

Acquitted of all charges.

I just don’t want to get involved.

No weapon found.

Make America Great Again.

Hearts gone cold.

What a wonderful world. What a wonderful world.

Every one of our voices, everyone of our daily decisions, to speak or remain silent, to look or to shield our eyes, to stand or to lie down help shape what kind of world we have. We can forcefully detach ourselves from history’s trajectory and turn away from what we have become or we can embrace it like a snugly teddy bear and accept the coming recourse. We can change our purview and climb harder to adjust our eye line and see things from an alternative point of view, though uncomfortable, but perhaps necessary. Maybe we will see ourselves differently in the process, too.

Sit at your keyboard and pound at the keys. Clutch the remote and yell at the TV, demanding change. Or we can become the change we want and need to see. Even if no one else is listening, you listen. Even if no one else will step out into the fray and lend a hand, you offer both of yours. If your peers are grudgingly giving one dollar, you joyfully give ten dollars. Be the change you want and need to see. While your friends are talking, you tangibly act. Take a picture. Write a letter. Use your personal and professional sphere of influence. Do YOUR best. Push for change as far as your arms can reach. When everything around you and within you is screaming “No! Mind your own business!”, you respond with “Yes. I can help!” When they offer a share or a retweet, you promote dialogue, you ask why and listen to the response. You just flat out be intentional and make the effort to do better so we can be better and have better. It only takes one to start on the road to a wonderful world. Until then, we all have to live in this one. Let’s take, at least, the first step to making it better.

Okay?

 

cHuRcH CLoThES

Ladies and gentlemen, it’s almost opening morning. Time to put on a show to rival all shows before. Get out your Sunday best! Dress to impress! Make them haters jealous! All eyes on you! It’s show time! It’s time to go to church! Get your church clothes on! It’s time to shine!

I’m being facetious. I am annoyed and perturbed that a sacred day has become a spectacle.

The big picture is clear: The world is waiting for the Church to step up. Not in affairs of the State or the Government but as representatives of the character of the Father in the earth. Lifestyle. Conduct. Character. Prayer Life. Speech. Relationship. Integrity. Holiness. These simply relegated to catchphrases nowadays. Somewhere “we” got sidetracked. All “we” care about is appearances. And that’s exactly what doesn’t matter. Whether you wear a silk suit or a burlap sack, God’s eyes are not on your fashion choices. Every Sunday, we may dress for success but what are we striving to be successful at?

“But the Lord said unto Samuel, Look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the Lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the Lord looketh on the heart.” (I Samuel 16:7 KJV)

What’s the state of affairs in the Church? Religious leaders support political candidates and stand up publicly as advisors because it enhances their professional portfolios and benefits them personally and perhaps, financially. Preachers and ministers calling themselves to the office, decreeing things to be good when the Word of God says they’re evil, having direct knowledge of a leader’s sin but rather than correcting and restoring them, they advise them to shake it off and get back to work. (True story) Its “leaders” have zero prayer life and they love the praise and adoration that comes with the position. More volunteers than you count but few that possess a servant’s heart. Fasting is what their personal trainers recommend so they can get into their bikinis for the summer, not the biblical kind we talk about. They disrobe and expose themselves at the height of a worship service, or physically strike fellow parishioners that they don’t like and blame it on being under the influence of the Holy Spirit. But at least they look good….

Do you believe in accountability in your church leadership? How many visions do you have in your church at current? Is there a hierarchy or a code of conduct in your ministry? Have the aesthetics, the audio-visuals, color scheme, smoke, and the mood lighting more important than the invitation of the Spirit of God and the Word of God presented with an anointing that compels people to come to Christ? Slowly and subtly, souls are barreling down a path of destruction and sadly, very few seem to notice or care. And much of the responsibility falls in the lap of the church.

But the church I was referring to prior only cares about appearances, how the organization looks, how the people within it looks, how big the church and its campuses are, how attractive the sign or marquee is, and how much monetary giving is taken up every week. There is a Church that differs though. This Church isn’t relegated to a building with a roof and a mortgage. This Church can’t be bought. This Church doesn’t vote out ministers who don’t preach favorable, happy-feeling messages that don’t challenge anyone spiritually but does increase giving. This Church doesn’t blackball, prostitute, blackmail, bribe, and collude, understanding it would bring shame to the legacy of the Church and even endanger spiritual lives. This Church is about the Father’s Business and not big business.

There are a people worldwide that still believe and know the Church is still being assembled in expectation of the Master’s return. (John 11:52) To them, it is as serious as life and death and it is their purpose for being here. He’s coming back for HIS Church. I’m 99.9999999999999% positive that He’s not referring to YOUR church. The mirror might say you look fine but what does God say? (Colossians 3:12-14)

“But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing wedding clothes. He asked, ‘How did you get in here without wedding clothes, friend?’ The man was speechless. Then the king told the attendants, ‘Tie him hand and foot, and throw him outside, into the darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’ “For many are invited, but few are chosen.” (Matthew 22:11-14)

tHe MeLTiNg PoT

“You like my curves but you despise me. You want the fullness of my lips but you don’t think I’m beautiful. You try to mimic the hue of my skin but when I wear it, it sickens you. You gorge yourself on the foods of my culture but think of me as nothing but inferior……You hate and fear what you don’t understand. But I will persevere because I am original.”

This was a short poem that I wrote to encourage those who were mocked or vilified in certain circles because of their differences. There’s a blatant hypocrisy in this that I thought highlighting would be educational and helpful. I am a self professed foodie, a former professional cook and culinarian, and I come from a family of world travelers. I say that last part with tongue firmly in cheek. My mother and my deceased grandmother loved to travel and they’ve always been that way. Their travels and the resulting experiences have molded my love for travel. I’ve always been a “people watcher” so getting to see people from other countries and various parts of our country are always enlightening.

I have really fond memories growing up in Brooklyn and having the annual Caribbean parade that would run the full length of Eastern Parkway. It was an annual event for my family since my maternal side hailed from the region. Being born and raised in New York City, which was already a melting pot of culture and heritage, plunged me into that mindset automatically. But that parade was almost a culmination. Eastern Parkway stretched far enough through the Borough that most every social and economical class was touched. From lower class to the very affluent. But at the parade, everyone was welcome and everyone enjoyed a culture that many onlookers knew nothing about. They enjoyed the dancing of scantily clad ladies (just sayin’), the pulsating, vibrant music of the islands that just had a way of instantly making you happy, the excitement in the air, the table that offered wares, creations, and often something innovative, if nothing else, a cool beverage to counteract a very warm day. There was something for everyone and everyone partook. This memory prompted the poem.

What a dichotomy or paradox if you will! How is it possible to love the dancing, the dramatic performance, the skillful artistry, the incredible vocal and instrumentals that prompted you to shake away your troubles and enjoy life on another level in that moment,  the bright, brilliant colors, the pomp and circumstance, the eye popping cultural nuances, the foods that carried the flavor of what some might consider paradise, but still hate the person who is responsible for the creation of and is daily the carriers of that culture.

This is just one example. Pick a culture. There are so many that can elicit these kinds of feelings. How can you or I hate with such a reckless abandon but casually eat the food of their region, wear the garb of their origin, daily utilize the inventions they invented, and dance to the music they penned and labored to offer to the world? Sounds ridiculous and hypocritical, doesn’t it?

Just a thought for your Monday morning.

ThE FiShBOwL

If my entire closet consisted mainly of the color BLUE, I would probably need to re-consider my fashion choices and add some other colors. Yes, blue looks awesome on me and it is my favorite color but an entire wardrobe in the exact same color would be concerning. My friends and family are not likely to chalk it up to just my love for this color but they’ll likely think I’m insane and start making phone calls on my behalf to various institutions. And I wouldn’t blame them. Just the color blue alone has several different shades, tones, and hues. Notice how you admire the color of the ocean or the color of sky on a beautiful summer afternoon but are hard pressed to find it in your local retail store when shopping for clothes. The differences seem endless when you’re looking for them. You might find a cambridge blue, sapphire, or even a soft and subtle viridian. The options are truly limitless. Crayola never even scratched the surface. If you like RED or GREEN or PURPLE, you will notice that this same example applies. In every color you will see the same, even black and white.

Do you remember the wonder and the gasps when for years of watching black and white television, you were introduced to the world of what was called technicolor? It was absolutely amazing. You knew that color exists because you saw it all around you but you were blown away to see it on your television set. Guess you had to be there.

Have you ever seen a bird or a different species of fish when they are in proximity of each other? There is a feeling out process but it rarely, if ever, erupts into a no holds barred match or worse, death of one of the combatants in Fishbowl of Death IV. Some species are more malignant than others but it’s an exception more than it is a rule. When I’m sitting at my doctor’s office or over at a specific friend’s house, I am always drawn to the fishbowl. It is so entertaining (perhaps only to me) to see all the various types of fish with different colors, markings, and approaches to their social setting. Some are bold and engaging when you tap on the glass with the tip of your finger. Some duck and hide behind the rocks and are less social. But they are all so wondrous and beautiful in their own way and some how they have made a life for themselves in that bowl where they have learned to co-exist peacefully. So why are we finding it so challenging in 2017 to be able to “feel each other out” and note the uniqueness and the cultural accents that not only make us great and interesting but also what make the country we live in great as well. With all of our flaws and deficiencies, we are still a great nation in comparison to others and I believe that our ability to embrace what makes us similar and what makes us vary gives strength to that opinion.

In certain countries, people of European descent are considered “devils” and are under attack and there is no basis for this except for the color of their skin and negative historical actions by those who share the same skin tone. In some countries, people of African or Indian descent are defiled, abused, and called some of the worst slurs in history. Some nationalities have an unfair reputation for being liars and thieves. Some are unfairly branded terrorists. Some are widely held as being the sole reason for the degradation of society in media and cinema. There are still people in this country that are so closed off and sheltered that they only see…PINK. Anything else is foreign to them and even to some degree, considered a threat to their “PINK-ness”. Don’t be surprised if a small child who doesn’t look like you asks to touch your hair. Just sayin’.

So everything is not always as simple as black and white or brown when it comes to issues of race. It gets deeper and requires healthy dialogue and an ability to listen to others who don’t speak like we do or think like we do or understand the things that we do. It was hard for me and I fought very hard against the opinion that I should try other colors in my wardrobe besides just blue. Oh, yeah! That’s actually a true story. I had to be open to reject fear and embrace the idea of wearing red, green, purple, gray, or even yellow. Now I even wear pink shirts. Go figure! It wasn’t easy but I am better for it. Several of my friends think many of these colors looks great on me. Look what I missed out on all this time!

We’re in the same fishbowl more often than not and we are given the tools to not only overcome the initial differences without killing each other but also to look inward and find the resolve to not only survive but thrive and build and produce and prosper. We’re in this “life” thing together and we can help decimate and bring this down to Draconian levels of depravity and destruction or we can tap into the humanity inherently within us and make this fishbowl a better place while we’re here. Hope you didn’t totally hate the analogies. I meant well.

YoU "LIkE" ThAT?

A really good friend shared some things that made me think about what we will sacrifice for the things that we “like”.

When you click the “like” button on Facebook, do you like the picture, the video, the sender of the post, and the sentiment attached? Or do you “like” it with an unspoken understanding that you reserve the right to separate yourself from some areas?

Do you pay for a movie and stay for the whole show despite not liking everything about it or do you simply walk out?

Do you vote anyway for an elected official knowing there’s some things about him or her you just can’t condone?

TV shows, clothes, comfortable conversation, people, comforts, cultures, music…..the list goes on.

What are we willing to compromise for the things that we like? It might be time to take a stand. The world is waiting…..

 

MusIc To hIs EaRs?

Having been actively involved in this for nearly twenty years, I need to post some questions for us to consider and I am positive that a lot of people are not going to get the “warm and fuzzies” from this one but here goes….

What is the responsibility of someone who works in a corporate setting?

Isn’t it the norm that the organization has a set of guidelines and standards that the individual must follow?

What happens when they violate the rules of conduct?

In most cases, the violator of the guidelines would be relieved of his/her duties on the grounds that they were in opposition to the policies they agreed to prior.

That doesn’t seem to imply to “church musicians” though.

I remember the “humble brags” from singers who serve on two or three choirs a week. Or the keyboard players or drummers that have multiple gigs so they can’t stay to hear the Word being preached. It’s been speculated long before now that this is the result of a commitment issue. Not a commitment to one’s craft but more a commitment to the organization one would serve in.

Who bears the most responsibility? Is it the churches that take advantage of the fact that they are a church so anyone playing for them on a given Sunday service shouldn’t expect to be compensated and should play for “the glory of the Lord”? Or does the responsibility fall on the musicians who might use the church and their obvious needs for help as a launchpad into a music career, or at the very least, a part time job?

All musicians are not created equal in this case. I know several who love the Lord and play music for the love of it and because they love serving in a selfless capacity. Then I know the other end of the spectrum where musicians cringe at the thought of sitting in a pew and listening to the Word of God being taught. They want to do their job and go home. They are, in effect, disconnected from what is taking place in the ministry.

So here’s some questions for reflection: Should it be mandatory that a church musician (whether they are being paid or not) be a believer who adheres to the statutes of what a Christian is supposed to be based on the Word of God? Should they have to be involved in the ministry in other areas such as Bible Studies, Sunday schools, Outreach, etc? Or should it be allowable to have musicians serve essentially as “hired help” and not expect them to be involved with any of the religious services or any expectation of a commitment to God in lifestyle or practice? How important is it, in your opinion, that a person hired to serve in a role within a religious organization abide by the rules of said organization and be active participants in what the organization believes in?

Whether one is standing on a pulpit with a guitar in their hands or standing on a stage behind a piano, they have an influence over the listening audience, good or bad. This isn’t meant to be an assault against church musicians, a group I was joyfully a part of, but this is a question about commitment and where it should be placed.

It’s not just church musicians. It’s for anyone who serves in ministry. Can we truly be effective in a setting like this without subscribing to what the organization believes is valid and have a lifestyle that matches that belief? Does the Lord care about the skillfulness in which we serve or play music or does he care more about the heart with which we serve or a little bit of both?

Which side of the discussion are you on? This may change nothing in real terms but I’d love to hear your perspectives. If nothing else, maybe we see our commitment levels a little differently. Just maybe.