Lost / Found

In my experience, it's been quite apparent that to those in the american midwest who describe themselves as 'christians' or at least attend church-type services once a week, 'church' can be very different ideas to different people. Sometimes described verbally in different terms, but often defined by the way 'church' is lived out in their lives. At times, I've seen 'church' described as a sort of club to be joined or a community social gathering. Other times it appears as place to go where five point sermons and fluffy love songs are meant to give a spiritual, yet often emotional boost to the faithful attendees that they might make it through another week and come back for more the following sunday. Folks gather to pay an awful lot of lip service but rarely put their money where their mouths are. There exist hierarchies of power and money often finds itself sitting much too high among them. There is a way of life preached and a way of life lived who occasionally shake hands before going their separate ways. People are encouraged to find redemption before God, yet when they allow themselves to be broken before their brother they are met with judgment and scorn. Is this a fitting description of those who Jesus would recognize as His bride? Are these portraits a fair likeness of the beloved of the Most High God?

Yeah, I'm guilty of such attitudes and actions as much as anyone. Yeah, I have some opinions, many of which are still probably slanted a bit by my experiences within the professional structures of the church. I do hope, however, that this perspective has matured a little since a year ago when I sat across from two men who would be described by others as leaders in the church. One of these men who I once thought of as a pastor and the other who was a future church elder of the most unbiblical character expected of such a position would proceed to tell me "we've decided that you should look for a new ministry." I sat there in the cold hallow confines of that pastor's den feeling like my gut was somehow trying pass my heart through my lower intestines. These two men continued on giving me little explanation to this decision and laying out options for me to make this decision look like my own. I opted not to play the little games designed to tidy up the mess which these men made. The next several months were painful and messy for my wife and myself as well as the kids and their families who this executive decision left in its wake.

Early on in the mess, I wanted to believe that it could be possible that God in His foresight would allow us to be ejected from that season of life for reasons which were righteous and good. Whatever the case, my wife and I soon realized that our lives had become much less busy than they were when our lives were consumed by church programs. We had time to spend with family and friends which we hadn't had in years. We were now able to spend time with my Alzheimer's-stricken grandfather and my grandmother who was his primary care-giver. The dementia had progressed far beyond what I had remembered and over the next several months, it would become even worse. He remembered my wife and I as coworkers or folks who he went to school with. He began forgetting who his children were. He would make up stories of people who were over at the house. He would talk almost exclusively about his days in the army or working as a salesman or employee of RCA. The disease was taking its toll on his mind. It was also taking its toll on my grandmother who would often find herself getting frustrated and angry at him. She began realizing that the care and discipline she had to give her husband was not unlike that which her youngest daughter had to give her three-year-old child.

Growing up, my grandparents were always a part of my life, but along with my wife I was becoming closer to my grandmother than I had ever been. I spent a good part of the summer painting their house and eating lunch with them. My wife and I would try to have dinner with them at least once every couple of weeks. Grandma began opening up about how hard it has been caring for Grandpa. My mother, who also lives nearby and spends a good deal of time talking with Grandma knew that something was going to eventually have to give. Over the holidays, my mom's brothers were over at the house and everyone was having to face the reality of how Grandpa's dementia had progressed. We all agreed that we would begin looking into Alzheimer's care facilities together. Then came the straw which broke the camel's back. Grandma was awoken one morning by the police knocking at her door inquiring about whether this was the house where Grandpa lived. It seemed that he had wandered out of the house to get the paper in the early hours of the night and kept on walking a few miles down the road to a gas station where he bought some cupcakes. At the advice of Grandpa's doctor, accompanied by my mom, Grandma took Grandpa to the hospital where he would stay for several days while his Alzheimer's was evaluated.

I've since been spending time with my grandparents while Grandma decides what move to make next. It's all such a scary and difficult thing to deal with. I can only imagine what it would be like for her to go through this all alone. The fact is that there were many times when she's felt very much alone in dealing with this merciless disease. However, these days I see her face glow when my wife and I arrive at the hospital to visit Grampa or when my mom and I accompany her to visit care facilities. I had lunch with her the other day and I heard her describe how she knows now that she isn't alone in this and how blessed she is by the family she has in her life.

I doubt that my wife and I would be as close to the situation with my grandparents as we've been if our lives had not been so freed up from the busyness of church programs. We've been freed to care for those who need care. We've been allowed the time to love those who need to know they're loved. I told my grandmother, "There have been times in the past year that I've been angry at God and I've cried out 'Why?' But this is the God who loves us." That God would let us be thrown out of a place so that we could be thrown into the life of a woman on the verge of losing her husband and in need of knowing she isn't alone is a quite beautiful thing.

Shhhh

What's that?

The sound of one night in a quiet house alone?

Shhhhh... savor the silence you two.

Long-term plans

Driving from Greenwood to Ft. Wayne this unseasonably warm Christmas morning was a reminder to me that with the passing of time, things must change. As creatures of habit and comfort, we become so convinced that settling into a home in which we plan on living well into retirement while raising our children or planning the rest of our lives around the security of a single career are noble, if not necessary aspirations. I don't know... perhaps not as many people live their lives in pursuit of this dream as I've convinced myself. However, the culture in much of the states seems to have imagined an idea of the American dream which expects her people to work toward a social level to classify those whom have "made it" and those whom have not. There exists this notion of career, income, school district, etc., etc as identity.

I confess that as hard as I kick against the corporate mindset of modern man, I have often found myself temporarily crippled by these intimidating cultural ideals. After all, I spent six years at a university earning a less than practical degree and have worked almost as many jobs in the six years since graduating. This resume could be quite discouraging for someone recognizing their own worth or contribution to life on this planet reaching only as far as their tenure. The longest of these employments (and the closest I've come to a "career" I suppose) was my three and a half years as youth ministry equipper at center grove presbyterian church. It's kind of humorous since my wife was recently quoting for me from a book she's been reading that the average American will have 14-15 jobs in their lifetime and those jobs will last an average of three and a half years... So there it is, I'm the average American. I've tried so hard my entire life to be anything but average!

Then I began reading Donald Miller's road memoir, Through Painted Deserts. In the introduction, Miller writes about the changing of the seasons, leaving home, and how that which doesn't change, dies. He explains that this is God's way... growth, dying to be reborn and all. Just as the earth and all within it experience seasons and change, so do we experience seasons in life. Change, coincidentally, is not only inevitable, but necessary. Change is growth, growth is life, life is knowing God and learning to love. It reminds me of how we're all becoming new, like when the apostle Paul talks about putting off the old man and putting on the new man and becoming transformed into the likeness of Christ. God alone has no need to change Himself because He was, is and is to come. Yet isn't it interesting that God in perfect nature would wrap himself in human skin, not to evolve or grow Himself, but to make Himself known to us... to come alongside us in our own evolution, showing us the way and changing our very status before his presence. The Creator is the only sustenance for all which continues to change. To evolve is to be in tune with our Creator.

I'm encouraged by this fact that job, home and relationships alone do not alone define us as creatures or decide the worth of our existence. Together, however, all of these factors make their mark on our lives bringing shape and pulling character from the core of our being to reflect the perfection of the Creator in the imperfection of man.

This man is a lover, poet, sinner, husband, artist, son, brother, performer, uncle, shepherd, student, friend, barista, custodian, reader, writer, listener, explorer, observer, in all these a worshiper of Christ. This is my "long-term plan".

At least the one which I hope to follow.

In praise of solid people

"Then do I envy solid folk
Who sit of evenings by the fire
After their work and doze and smoke,
And are not fretted by desire."

-C.S. Lewis

Xmastimes

While only about a week away, it sure doesn't feel like Christmas. It's like seventy degrees outside, the sun is shining, we don't even have a tree in our house save the tiny one perched atop my desk. It's only slightly larger than the our other plant... Charlie Brown would be proud I'm sure. I'm just now fixin' to meet up with mi amigo Kyle at the bux for some coffee, tea, perhaps some conversation. I suppose we could just stare at one another awkwardly while sipping our tasty beverages, but I'm not sure how comfortable that would make anyone feel. As of late, I have been letting the tape run on the old four track to see what it may capture. I recorded this little rendition of 'o come, o come emmanuel' which I like to play late at night for Miranda while pretending that there is snow on the ground and figgy pudding in the hopper.

Don't forget to come listen to me and some friends play some songs at The Strange Brew Coffeehouse on January 5th, 2007. Mmmmm... tasty! Hop over to this site for more information and such.

When good intentions cause nightmares...

Country folk rockin' the stained glass rafters.

On the evening of November 4th, I gathered with some friends to share some songs with an intimate audience at southminster presbyterian church. The past eight months or so have been occupied with many hours writing and recording for a collection of songs titled Kyrie Eleison which was released to the public on the night of this particular show. There are fewer things I enjoy than sharing songs with others, but that is only a fraction of what made this night both memorable and nothing short of amazing. The album, Kyrie Eleison begins and ends with songs titled, "Prologue" and "Epilogue" respectively. These bookends to the album contain lyrics which are drawn directly out of the deep emotional well which my wife and I have lived in since the unfolding of circumstances which led to our leaving the church where we were deeply involved in ministry for three and a half years. I thought it only fitting that this cd release take place in a church house... better yet, the one in which I spent much of my childhood. I guess it was sort of a homecoming.

I was joined on stage by three young men who were in the youth ministry where we once served. These three guys--Ryan Helvie, Andrew Furrow and John Shufflebarger--have been very dear to my heart since my first days as a youth pastor. We have spent hours talking about deep spiritual issues, laughing at each other and playing obnoxiously loud music in the mustard room to my wife's chagrin. I love these guys. I admire them as followers of Jesus, as musicians, as compassionate human beings. They speak honestly and without pretense. I have seen these young men perform acts of service and love toward others which wouldn't blossom beyond a nice thought in the minds of lesser folks. It was an honor and a blessing to have them add their own musical

signatures to these songs. We were also joined by my cousin Jason who I have known all of my thirty years on this earth. He and his wife, along with their four kids, have been living with Miranda and I the past two months and it was nice to perform a couple of duets with him and have him a part of this evening. It was a different yet refreshing context from what we've been used to recently. He always brings these subtle ideas to my songs which add such a rich texture to the sonic landscape. I also asked my cousin Ben to film the show and my uncle Conrad to run sound. They both obliged and my father-in-law even photographed the show. It was a thrilling experience for me to have them all contribute their talents to the evening.

What truly made this night a healing experience were the audience. Those who showed up for the evening of song and story made it what it was. Folks from our previous church home, kids from our youth ministries, friends through my wife's work, family, friends from Evansville, friends from Broad Ripple, people I was completely surprised to see. After the show, I was utterly taken back by the stories people shared about how they were blessed by these songs. Our friend JayJay whom Miranda teaches with shared with me that the song "Used to be so bored" described exactly what she and her husband went through during the uncertain times surrounding their second child's birth. Even as I paid tribute to the great Cat Stevens and Pete Towshend, others reveled in their compositions. I strummed my grandfather's ukulele to Townshend's "Blue, Red and Grey" and my grandmother was there in the audience just beaming. It was fantastic. After the show, folks hung around to meet and talk for hours while enjoying Spanish pastries and fresh Starbucks coffee.

There will be other shows in the near future, but this one will certainly live on as the greatest... for me at least, because this night of song was not about performance or about joel rockey. This night was about the people who have made my life so very special.

Oh yeah, by the way...

been waiting a long time for this.

Shine on you crazy diamond

"Be sure to search high and low, where it is hot and where it is cold." Those were the words left upon the bathroom mirror on Sunday evening. I assumed they were scrawled lovingly by the hand of my beautiful wife as it mimicked her handwriting. However, one can never be too sure. The prelude to this riddle assured that there was a "surprise" coming my way. I proceded cautiously to the kitchen, searching the freezer, refrigerator, pantry, garage, cabinets, patio, oven, microwave and deeper into the freezer before finding my treasure of goodness. Yes,waiting for me, wrapped in plastic Kroger bags was a full pint of what will one day come to be known as the single greatest discovery among all frozen treats: The Chunky Monkey. Ben & Jerry's greatest contribution to mankind and--to me--their legacy! Thethree of us--Miranda, myself and the chunky monkey--cozied down onto the couch and watched our beloved St. Louis Cardinals quickly fall to Detroit in game 2.

Miranda had never seen Stanley Kubrick's 1980 film The Shining and so, after just sitting through the rather incoherent Black Dahlia, we were primed to sit through some filmaking of substance, character and most of all coherency. And where do you go when you want some good ol' everything-makes-perfect-sense filmaking? Why, Stanley Kubrick of course! Kubrick's film is near perfect in score, cinematography and pace. The performances by the entire cast are superb, especially Jack Nicholson's terrifying, often comical portrayal of Jack Torrance. You can sense his character heading for the deep end even before he and his family arrive at the Overlook. It's as if he takes on the job as caretaker not only to find solace as he begins writing, but also to escape his loveless marriage. When this guy begins attacking his family, even though he already appears to have checked out of his role as father and husband, that's when things get frightening. The supernatural elements of the hotel often seem irrelavent to the story, but there are fewer films that I've seen which are as spooky as The Shining. Top notch performances, beautiful filmaking, weird storytelling with creepy little kids and Scatman Crothers! You can't go wrong with Hong Kong Phooey!

Here's to you, The Shining! If only Mr. Kubrick were alive to read this riveting review of his film. I imagine he would be inspired to make a film about the review itself. Oh well. All for nought. I believe there is only one way to bounce back from that digression...

There's that PB&J I went on and on and on and on about in that last entry. Wanna guess what I had for lunch today?

-joel

Peanut butter wishes and strawberry jam dreams

You know, there's really nothing quite like two thick slices of hearty toast slathered with peanut butter and strawberry preserves. If you think I'm joking around, I would challenge you to enjoy yourself a helping right now without delighting in each delectable bite. Go on, I dare you! If you find me guilty of bearing false testimony then I would urge you to seek professional counseling immediately. Mmmmmmmm... The peanut butter just melts into the toasty bread and when you start to spread the strawberry preserves... oh my goodness how the two coalesce into a magical medley to dance across the tastebuds. I won't go on for fear that I'm creeping out anyone reading this ridiculous post, but I assure you... Try it!This week was pretty amazing just because Miranda and I got to spend some time with so many wonderful

people.

Monday morning, I did some painting at my grandparents house which I've been working on much of the summer. That evening, our amazing friend Emily who is a student at Purdue was in town for fall break and she joined us for some dinner, dancing and top secret spy work.

Tuesday night, Miranda's folks drove down from the Fort Wayne to stay with us as they were flying out of Indy the next morning for Rome. So for those keeping score at home, we had ten warm bodies sleeping in our house tuesday night. I believe it's a new record for the Rockey house.

Wednesday, Dan joined us for a crock of ham & bean soup with cornbread and some conversation in the living room afterwards. Later that night Jace, Kath, Miranda and I gathered around the tube in our upper room for our weekly fix of Lost. Can you believe that Sawyer? I mean, my goodness. Our neighbors and friends Chris and Amy eventually joined us as well and we got to spend some time catching up afterwards.

Thursday afternoon my good friend and musical associate Andrew joined me in working up some songs for my CD release show on November 4th. After a couple hours of rockin' the suburbs, Andrew stuck around for enchiladas and some good ol' snoopin' around on our favorite website featuring the Dutch Sesame Street.

Friday, I was offered a job at Starbucks which I gladly accepted as Miranda and I headed out for our weekly custodial responsibilities at Southminster. Afterwards, we joined my folks and my broseph Jeremy for some pizza and ice cream. Then we got to enjoy watching the St. Louis Cardinals come back and beat New York in the ninth inning.
Saturday, Miranda and I had the whole house to ourselves as the Jason Rockey family was in the Fort Wayne visiting Katherine's folks. I seized the opportunity to spread out in the kitchen and finish screenprinting the artwork for Kyrie Eleison. Later that evening my brohan Jeremy caught a ride with us to Mass Avenue to see Dan perform at Comedy Sportz. We laughed many times over.

Sunday morning, there was the breaking of bread around our table and discussion of ways for our small church community to be serving those around us. We also came to the decision to begin reading through the Gospel of Mark together. Steph and Kip stopped by again and I was able to give them a preview of the final version of the Everybody Loves Tyler video (see previous post) which we sent to him last week. It was such an encouraging time for me talking with the two of them... hopefully they were encouraged as well. My heart aches for them and the other kids at CGPC. These kids have revolutionary hearts and I hope to see them rise up and be voices of leadership, not merely in the youth ministry, but in the church... Whether others will take the time to really listen to them, I don't know. I hope so. Which leads me to...

Today. I joined my friend Tim for coffee at Einstein Bros. for the first time in many months. We caught up with each other's lives, shared where our hearts were right now and prayed for one another. It was so refreshing to my soul to have that short hour together. I've missed my friend Tim. As we sipped the last drops of coffee from our cups, our conversation was intruded upon by this revelation; that the Church must come to a place of desperation before the throne of Christ. Not just desperate for His wisdom or His direction or His provision, but simply desperate for Him.

Everybody loves Tyler, part II

Here is the video referred to in the previous post. You may want to sit down and grab a box of your favorite brand of tissues for this one.

Everybody love Tyler, part I

I have found that recently I am in the habit of checking my email quite often. For about three weeks now, I have wrestled with whether I should write to a couple of the kids from the youth ministry we were asked to leave from. In particular, I had been thinking of Steph and Katie. They are two young ladies who Miranda and I were very close with and haven't had any conversation with either of them all summer. Well, it's Sunday morning and before preparing breakfast for our family and guests, I check

my electronic mailbox. Before my welling eyes, what should appear? I have one email waiting to be read from Stephanie. I was overcome with such a feeling of love and joy. You see, I am also in the habit of believing lies such as; none of the kids we used to spend so much time with any longer want anything to do with us. Of course this simply wasn't true as Stephanie let me know in her email. I immediately wrote her back and called her to invite her to come over to the house to talk. Around noon, she and Katie showed up at our front door--an occurence which was greatly missing from our lives. We all sat around and talked, listened and lamented over the wrongs done to us by others who should have been the ones building us up and modeling the attitude of Christ for us. It's easy to point the finger and lay blame, but we all know that what's done is done. The hard part is forgiveness. How do we keep from making the same mistakes and have no other agenda but listening to and following Jesus? It's difficult.

After we'd been talking awhile, Stephanie recieved a call from Kip and he soon joined us. We began to collectively think about our good friend Tyler who had started at school out in Arizona this fall. We miss him. We pondered how difficult it must be to live so far away from everyone you know and love. He seemed to spend every waking hour with his family and/or friends. Tyler is a great friend who genuinely cares for those close to him. Strangely, soon after we began discussing plans to bake him cookies and make him a video, Tyler himself calls Kip on his phone! Hmmm... So then, we all set out to, as I like to say, "bake the hell out of some peanut butter cookies" for our friend Tyler. It felt really good to spend the afternoon laughing and lamenting with these kids who we love so dearly. I'm so amazed at how God shows up in these moments of mortality and gives us comfort and joy in the company of others when we least expect them.

Startled squirrels and horseshit

As I sit in our "bedroom apartment" atop the home we are now sharing with my cousin Jason, his wife Kathy and their four children, I sip my morning coffee by the open window. The cold autumn air dances beneath my feet. Cold Spring Harbor plays behind me while my wife's loving words left upon the bathroom mirror this morning recall the activity of a gorgeous October Sunday.

With barely a cloud in the sky, the sun warmed the morning air quickly as we drove to Brown county state park. The leaves were just starting to change color and fall to the ground. Miranda recounted the days at our last house when she would wrap herself in a blanket and sit on the back patio facing the woods just past our backyard. She loved to sit and read while the tiny creek trickled through fallen leaves and earth. It's difficult to not long for that backyard again. Though we both agreed that there's no substitute for the proximity to our family and friends right now. Memories of the past always seem to haunt us. We know the futility in playing that game of twenty questions. We wonder if only we'd known how things would turn out, would we do things differently? It doesn't matter. Not that the past doesn't matters because it obviously matters a great deal, but we certainly do no good hoping for the past to give us another chance. My memories often take me to times spent with the kids from the youth ministry. Last fall, we spent a weekend at Yellowwood Forest. Little did I know that a year from then most of those kids would be removed from our daily lives. It's hard not to still be angry. I still wonder a great deal where we'll be in a couple of years.

Back at Brown county, Miranda and I hiked a few miles through the woods, startled squirrels & caterpillars and read beneath the shade of birch trees as acorns pelted our car like Indiana hail in the Summertime. Last spring, our travels to Brown county led us to a limestone creek bed. We hopped across rocks further down the creek to a secluded place where all we could hear was the sound of fresh water and wind. We were really looking forward to returning to our special place only to be disappointed that the creek was fairly dry and muddy. There were also cavalries of horseback riders galloping past us which left us trodding through horseshit.

Nevertheless, we had a wonderful time getting away together and enjoying a most beautiful day. We can't know what tomorrow holds but we'd do well to just shut up and rest in the sound of sheer silence now and again. That's where Scripture tells us that God speaks and where we can hear.