PunkIsrael

Why Are Dreams Self-Evident?

Ryan Seacrest asks the young singer: "Why do you want to be on American Idol?"

He answers: "I've wanted to be a performer as long as I can remember. Since I was a kid, I've wanted to see my name in lights."

And our breath catches in our throats, and our hearts beat faster. It's his dream. And we're helping him fulfill it.

I find it fascinating that dreams are one of the few things that seem so self-evident in American culture, that no one dares question them. I had a lot of dreams as a kid. One dream was to be a scientist. I didn't really want to do careful, measured experiments. I wanted to mix stuff in test tubes and blow stuff up. I realized later that I had no interest in actual science. I wanted to be creative. I just didn't have the language for it.

If someone saw that truth in me, and then encouraged me to apply for a science scholarship at Cornell anyway, would they be a benefactor or an enabler?

Why are we so sure that when some one has a dream, that it is the right one? How many could-be doctors in underdeveloped countries have wasted their potential as medical directors of insurance companies? How many could-be green entrepreneurs have wasted their potential in Fortune 500's?  How many could-be music teachers in the inner city have thrown themselves into useless bids for stardom? 

I'm not saying it's wrong to work in business. It isn't. And some are called to work in business, in government, in finance, and (yes), even to be popular performing artists. But for goodness sake, let's stop genuflecting before these dreams before we discover the heart behind them.

I remember an album we heard ad nauseum as kids: it was called Antshillvania. In the third track, a young ant, Antony, wants to be famous. He sings: I'm gonna be rich, I'm gonna be famous, I'm gonna be dashing, I'm gonna be free. I'm gonna be wise, I'm gonna be noble, I'm gonna have power, I'm gonna be wonderful, beautiful, marvelous me! All the world will gather to my feet, seeking for my wisdom, hoping for my favor. All the world will wait upon my words. All the world will be in love with me.

We were not meant to admire him.

Why do we admire them now?

Trombones

When a young parishioner showed up to music practice with a trombone last night, it fell to me, as the de facto music guy, to figure out what to do with him. For want of staff paper and a better idea, I taught him to follow root chords and promised to have parts written for him next week. 

Trombones in worship! Apparently not uncommon for the Moravians, but not so common in Presbyterian churches, even progressive ones like ours. 

And as I think about why I bothered to write about this, the metaphor that keeps forcing itself on me is that we all come to the gathering with our odd instruments, bell-open and hopeful, often off-key, and somehow the church finds a place for us. The cynic in me sneers even as I write it, but the image persists. We are an odd orchestra.

T-Shirt Theology

Stolen from White Horse Inn blog:

 

 I would add "with the help of the Spirit" right after "platform."