I've Moved!

For those of you who read my blog (and I know there are at least two of you!), here is the new web page.

See you there!

--the management

The Stone of Beth El

This is a rather rough mix of the title track from my (hopefully) soon to be released CD. Piano by Kelly Dehnert; art by Mara Schasteen. That's me on whistles, euphonium, and percussion. Enjoy!

A strange thing about blogging...

...is that the more there is to write about, the less time there is to write it.

A Mercifully Brief Easter Thought

The weapons of evil are hard, but brittle: Coercion. Arrogance. Confusion. Fear. Selfish desire. When used skillfully, these tools are powerful, even irresistible. But they cannot stand the test of time.

The weapons of good are soft, but enduring: Patience. Truth. Generosity. Simplicity. Humility. These things take time to do their work, and because they cannot be forced on anyone, they are easily derailed, distracted, silenced, and stifled. But even death itself cannot seem to destroy their lasting influence.

That is why, even though evil always seems to have the upper hand short-term, good always wins out in the long run.

As the very personification of good, Jesus' humiliation and execution were as inevitable as the change of the seasons...

But so was His resurrection.

A Challenge to Sing

I am leading the singing at church this morning, and recent events might just compel me to commit oratory. Ahem...


Today, I challenge the people of God to sing. Not to stare at the hymnal and idly mumble out the words—that is a waste of the voice God gave you.

This morning, I challenge you to sing, to throw aside your inhibitions, to quit worrying about whether you can carry a tune or not, and lose yourself in the beautiful gift God has given you:

Sing as if God himself, creator of the universe, were listening.

Sing as if your voice can add something beautiful and peaceful to a world that desperately needs it.

Sing as if your combined voices can open the gates of heaven and shake the very pillars of hell.

Sing as if God the almighty loved you so much that He gave up his son to torture and death, just so that you could be with him.

Sing as if your doom is demolished and your victory is assured, as if you deserved the sentence of Hell, but have been offered the gift of a new life.

Sing as if you have nothing to worry about; as if our faithful God has promised you that he will see to all your needs.

Sing as if you have been rescued from a life of selfishness and smallness, and set free into a life of generosity, service, and love.

Sing as if you have an amazing savior, a perfect example to follow.

Sing as if His love is at work in you, accomplishing more than you can ask of imagine.

Sing as if Jesus were with you always, through good and bad, to the end of the age.

Sing as if there were nothing in heaven or on earth that can separate you from the love of God.

Sing as if everything, no matter what, is going to work out for your good.

Sing as if the gifts God gives us are too great to be met with shyness, self-consciousness, or laziness. Open your heart and your voice to all that God is, and all He can make you. People of God, I challenge you to sing!

The Wilson Mash

Happy Halloween!

From Tom, Sarah, Katie, Rocky, and Stup

Small Miracles

"You are my greatest adventure."
--Mr. Incredible

I used to get a chuckle out baby parents who talk about their kids' age in weeks or months, rather than just using years like everybody else. I still think it's funny, but I finally understand why. Katie's world has expanded more in the past three months than mine has in the past ten years.

Two weeks ago, I had the great blessing of being present when Katie discovered what her hands are for. She was playing on her floor gym, which at ten weeks (see, I'm doing it too!) means thrashing her arms and legs around randomly. While thus busily engaged, her hand happened to bump against a little turtle toy hanging down above her. It swung out a bit than bumped back against her hand. She froze, did a perfect double take, looked at her hand, then back at the turtle. I could almost see her thought process: "Well I'll be darned! When I hit that thing, it moves!" So she hit it again. And again. For fifteen minutes, she was completely enraptured as her hand smacked the daylights out of that poor little turtle. She was happy for hours afterward, no doubt overwhelmed with the thrill of scientific discovery.

This past weekend I got to spend more time than usual with Katie. She is on a fairly regular cycle by now: Eat. Play. Sleep. Repeat. She is, by now, an old pro at Smacking Stuff. She has even expanded her repertoire to include Grabbing Stuff. Her floor gym plays music for her, Twinkle Twinkle and Animal Fair and Skip to my Loo, in calypso/reggae arrangements that were charming and clever the first four hundred or so times we heard them. I want to expand her musical experience, of course, so yesterday during Play Time I got out one of my low whistles to play for her. Might as well start getting her used to the harsh realities of sharing a home with a whistle player.

I played through a couple of Irish tunes, which my sweet daughter completely ignored. That was actually a better result than I dared hope for, but not particularly entertaining. So on a whim, I started playing "Twinkle Twinkle," with the same rhythm as the music on her floor gym.

Katie's head instantly swiveled my direction, eyes and mouth wide. She watched me breathe, watched my fingers move, and as I cycled through her floor gym songs, she listened. And even though the sound was very different, she knew.

Parenthood makes adults and children of us all. Every day I see new textures in Jesus' teaching that I cannot enter the Kingdom of Heaven unless I accept it as a little child. Let go of the old ways, and be exhilarated by the discoveries of learning a new way of life.

To my non-parental friends, I make this request: Try not to roll your eyes when parents rhapsodize about their children's most mundane accomplishments. Try to keep groans to a minimum when you hear young mothers discuss, with straight faces, how many diapers their tykes dirty in a twenty-four hour period. It's hard to believe, I know, but from this side it almost makes sense.

This is a time of epic discoveries for my young explorer. I'm glad I get to be along for the ride.