Noah Gundersen

Last night I saw Noah Gundersen in concert.  I fell in love with his music the second I heard "Jesus, Jesus," which perfectly expresses my doubts and discomforts with Christianity while also clinging to a hoped for hope.

When I finally got around to listening to the rest of his music, I was blown away by his ability to honestly relate the highs and lows of life with a wisdom that digs beneath the obvious.  In "Isaiah" he describes a relationship with a girl who has a boyfriend.  He manages to convey the ambivalence of wanting the relationship and knowing it's wrong.  The chorus repeats Isaiah 41:10, "Fear thou not, my right hand will hold you, fear thou not."  The first time it is an excuse, a get out of jail free card, and as the song progresses into regret and conviction, it becomes a truth to which he clings in the midst of sin.  I mean, this guy blows me away.

And he's even more fantastic in person.  His passion pours off the stage.  He is absolutely captivating.  And the joy of live music comes from hearing your favorite songs in real time, watching emotions play across an artist's face as they share their soul with a crowd of strangers.  So when he played the opening chords of "Jesus, Jesus" I was thrilled.  It was better than I expected, however, as we were privileged to hear Noah's alterations to the song, something I can only assume reflects his spiritual progression.

The last verse of "Jesus, Jesus" is this:

"Jesus, Jesus, I’m still looking for answers
Though I know that I won’t find them here tonight
But Jesus, Jesus, could you call me if you have the time?
And maybe we could meet for coffee and work it out
And maybe then I’ll understand what it’s all about"

But what he sang was this:

"Jesus, Jesus, I’m still looking for answers
And I think I always will be
But Jesus, Jesus, could you call me if you have the time?
And maybe we could meet for whiskey and work it out
And maybe then I’ll understand,
Maybe then I'll understand,
Maybe then I'll understand
You."


It's probably powerful enough to let the contrasts sit there, but what is a blog for if not unnecessarily sharing opinions?  And I have to, because I love the changes.  First he acknowledges that not only will the doubts go unsolved tonight, but--they're always going to exist.  Then he changes out coffee for whiskey, reflecting a darker sensibility, and awareness that this is heavy stuff, not something for a casual coffee date.  Not only that, but he trusts that Jesus would join him for whiskey, would be comfortable joining him where he is: in a bar, silencing his pain.

And finally, my favorite change.  Whereas first Noah sings about understanding "what it's all about" he finally decides that he wants to understand "you."  There will always be questions and he will always want answers (don't we all?), but in the end, he knows those aren't sufficient.  You can have all the answers in the world to the problems presented in the song, but answers won't solve anything unless you know the Person who is giving the answers. 

Noah is probably not a Christian, from what my concert-mates told me.  But his song speaks volumes of truth to me, reminding me that having arguments are secondary to resting in Jesus.  If I can understand him, the contradictions and worries will fall away.  I'm so honored to have been able to listen to Noah's heartbeat so that mine can fall into his cadence. 

My Old Heart

I had a sweet moment with God, but it includes a curseword, so I'll put it under a cut.

I Think This Is About Identity

I think most of life is paradoxical.  For instance, one of my deepest desires is to be known, but I freaking hate it when someone says they understand me.

So, me being me, I thought about why that might be.

What bugs me most is that no one really does know me.  Liz is probably closest, and she never says that she knows me, which probably just goes to show how well she really does.  But with pretty much everyone, I hide parts of myself.  Sometimes it's stupid, sometimes it's important.  Regardless, I am very aware of the fact that no one knows all the nooks and crannies of who I am.

Especially online.

I have a pretty thoroughly-crafted online persona.  I reveal my weaknesses, but only the ones I'm comfortable revealing.  I create witty Facebook statuses, but if no one likes them, I delete them.  Sometimes I rewrite a stupid Facebook status three times before leaving it alone.  I have a self-deprecating sense of humor so that I laugh at myself before others can.  I write about things that I have an opinion upon because I want to look at least mildly informed and intelligent.

I'm aware of the fact that, if that is the person I present, then why get mad that people assume it's who am I?

Well, I'm human, obviously.  Even though I'm hijacking the system, I still want to be known.  And watching someone act like they know me when they are missing crucial parts of who I am is painful.  Even if I am the cause.

Liz has a theory that we stick people with labels whether they want it or not.  She's "the girl who gets coffee."  When I was in Peoria earlier, I learned that I've apparently been labeled "weird." 

Which, just, what?  I don't think I'm all that weird.  Sure, I've stepped away from a lot of my Baptist roots, but....fundamentally, I'm not weird.  I want the same things everyone wants.  I want a life of meaning, I want relationships but I'm scared of getting hurt, I seek pleasure in things that never fully satisfy, I doubt and I dream and I hope.  I'm a complex human being, and it's really annoying to be labeled with only part of who I am.

Peoria always does a number on me.  Hometowns are hard.  "Is it any wonder why we all leave home? / People say, "I knew you when you were six years old" / And you say, "But I've changed, I've changed, I've changed, I've changed."

But also sometimes, I haven't.  So.  No easy answers.

I'm just rambling now.  Yeesh, emotions.  Which reminds me of another post I want to write about how the stereotype of women being overly emotional might just be the result of culture not holding women responsible for becoming emotionally mature.  MINDBLOWING, so good, etc, ugh I'm tired but I don't want to go to sleep, and the Internet is not as endlessly entertaining as the adverts promised, so now I'm just stream-of-consciousnessing, eurgh.

Seeking the Impossible Ideal

My favorite hymn is "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" because of "Let Thy goodness, like a fetter, / Bind my wandering heart to Thee. / Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it, / Prone to leave the God I love; / Here’s my heart, O take and seal it, / Seal it for Thy courts above."

My favorite Mumford & Sons song is "Hopeless Wanderer" because of "And hold me fast, Hold me fast / Cuz I'm a hopeless wanderer / And I will learn, I will learn / to love the skies I'm under."

I've been in ten countries in under ten years.  I've lived in five cities in the last seven years (though one was a repeat).   I cannot go a year without either leaving the country or going on multiple trips around the United States.  I've got wanderlust coursing through my blood, and I used to think it was an epic romantic thing.

A couple days ago, my friend asked if I wanted to move into a cute house in Austin with her.  I actually considered for a long while, trying to work out how feasibly I could finish DTS classes online.  It was only when I remembered my church and my job that I realized moving to Austin would be pointless.  Then she asked how I was feeling about Dallas, and I responded, "I feel...just kind of discontented in general?  Like no matter where I am I will not be totally happy, so I want to start over, but I know from experience that won't help for long."

Like whoa, guys.  I was texting things I didn't even understand.  That sentiment kept rolling through my brain, and I finally made a connection.  I used to scoff at girls who went from boyfriend to boyfriend, condescendingly telling them they needed to take some time being single to discover who they were instead of seeking happiness and fulfillment in a boy of all things.

I still think that.  But the condescension has evaporated, because holy crap, I do the same thing with moving.  "Maybe this place will make me happy!  Now that I've left the things that annoyed me about that place, I can start over, I can really settle into life and be awesome and everything will go great."

I am 100% confident that God has been with me everywhere I've moved.  Union, Senegal, Dallas.  God has taught me something everywhere I've lived, but I'm starting to realize that all of this might be more of a case of God using my brokenness for beauty rather than being beautiful in and of itself.

What I'm saying is maybe someday I'll settle down.  Maybe I'll invest in one place with one group of people.  Maybe I'll realize that no location is going to satisfy me, just like no man is going to satisfy the girls I used to look down upon.  Maybe I'll learn to love the brokenness of every city, to dig deep into uncomfortable relationships, and stick things out longer than a couple years.

Maybe not.  That still sounds scary.  And I do genuinely love traveling and seeing new places.  But I hope that one day, I'll stop using that as an excuse to run away from problems seeking an impossible ideal.

Keep Some Love To Yourself

"It's easy to hate yourself when all your love is inside someone else."

This song lyric blew me away a couple days ago, and I'm not done thinking about it.  I think it is the key to my low self-worth.  I have a tendency to fall in love easily and deeply.  I crush on a guy, and I immediately imagine our joint future.  I wonder if he is The One, I smile into the middle distance, I text and delete and look through pictures.

I put all my love inside someone else.

And when they reject me, it's easy to hate myself.  Because if this guy who I think is so awesome does not think the same of me, then obviously there's something wrong with me.  I'm unloveable.  I'm disgusting.  I'm too neurotic, too passionate, too different, too tall, too opinionated, too ugly.

It's easy to hate myself when all my love is inside someone else. 

So what needs to change?  I need to keep some love for myself.  I need to rest in the assurance that I like who I am, even if some guy doesn't.  If I give someone else the power to decide if I have worth or not, I will always be disappointed.  People, in all their glory and folly, will always disappoint.  Even if someday a guy I like feels the same way about me, there will still be days when he says something unkind or unthinking, and I'll be back in the same pit of self-doubt. 

I need to trust my own judgment. 

(I know some readers will think, you should find your identity in God!  Which is true.  Of course I do not fully understand God's love, but most of me thinks, "Well of course God loves me.  I want people and cute boys to love me just as much!"  But yes, I can always learn to lean more fully on God's opinion of me.)

We Are Not Alone

Man.  Sometimes.  Sometimes I don't even know that I'm feeling bad until I say, "Hey, this sucks" and I realize, OH YEAH IT DOES.

I'm super excited about Emily's wedding coming up.  But hanging over every sentence, every plan, is this gigantic floating font that says, "SHE'S THREE YEARS YOUNGER THAN YOU.  YOU'RE SO FREAKING OLD AND PAST YOUR PRIME."  And I try to ignore that, because her wedding is soooo not about me. 

But then tonight, Liz and Mallory and Melanie and I were all talking via Facebook messages.  We were catching up on things, and I just blurted out my self-pity, and Mallory, dear sweet awesome friend, said, "Oh, so what gospel truths do you need to cling to?"

Which.  HAHAHA how am I so blessed to have such awesome, Christ-centered friends?  We all got into the discussion, talking about our needs to be validated, our fears that as single women we are missing out, or are unwanted.  And it was just so funny.  To hear beautiful truth, and then me, the stick in the mud, saying, "I don't even care that God loves me.  JUST LET ME SULK.  But also, yeah, it's cool that God loves me.  BUT DOES THAT MATTER?  I want other people to love me too!"

And while the other three would speak truth, they each laughed and we all shared stories of our struggles with 1) feeling left out of the marriage game, 2) resenting anyone who looks down on us or pities us for being left out of the marriage game, and 3) wanting people to pity us for being left out of the marriage game.  Emotions, they are confusing.

We had a lot of circular conversations, and I'm not sure I really grasped at any truths that will help me through the wedding, but I did grasp that I have these three amazing women in my life, who are SO STINKING AWESOME but ridiculously feel bad about themselves.  And I realized, maybe we're all stupid.  Maybe we're all awesome, and we should stop feeling bad about ourselves.  And since that isn't going to happen, I'm so grateful for their honesty and for knowing that we are all walking this road together.

"We are not alone/in the dark with our demons."

Basically, friendships are good.  They are so so good. 

Too Close

There are times in my life when something is said that, though not pointed in and of itself, strikes right at my core.  On our roadtrip, I rehashed boy things with Liz, and talked about how so often I live in a fantasy world of "what ifs" and daydreams.  Then we listened to this really excellent song that included the lyrics:

"We are the reckless/ We are the wild youth/ Chasing visions of our futures"

I yelled, "NO.  That hits too close to home!" at my car stereo.

Today I was once again rehashing boy things with Liz.  This time she said something about how maybe there was selfishness inherent in my desire, just kind of in passing, and she kept on listing possibilities.  But I stopped, and when she breathed I said, "No no no.  You're right.  Oh my gosh.  I'm being selfish."

She backpedaled and said of course I wasn't, but the (positive) damage was done.

I try to be a pretty self-aware person, so it's weird when someone else speaks truth into my life about myself.  But it's good.  It makes me realize I am a mystery even unto myself, that there are depths to be explored and hidden motivations.  I am fearfully and wonderfully made, basically, so much more complicated than I give myself credit for.

Live Through the Past Again

A couple weeks ago I saw The Avett Brothers, and there was one particular song that lit up my eyes and awakened my ears.  I leaned over to Liz and said, "They are singing my life." 

The song was "Paul Newman Vs. The Demons," which I have since listened to ad nauseum.  I'll put the video at the end of this post for any interested.  The relevant lyrics, though, are these:

"Live through the past again/ How many times must I/ Live through the past again?/ No more/ Wait."

Something that bothered me for a long time was the fact that I still struggle with the same doubts and sins and selfishnesses that I did before I got serious at following Jesus.  Shouldn't I be conquering things?  Shouldn't I be better?  It took a couple years of learning that following Jesus is a journey (which is why I like to say I follow Jesus rather than believe in Him or trust in Him--all are true, but I think "follow" captures the heart of this choice better than other verbs), and since it is a journey, there are ups and downs and backtracks and resting periods and painful climbs.

Put another way, I used to think life ought to be a straight line--always getting better, always going higher and closer to God.

This is one of those times when I've actually internalized a thing.  I no longer freak out at my sinful habits and unhealthy coping mechanisms.  Sure, I need to work on them, and I need to pray that God will heal me.  But they don't matter.  I actually believe that God has saved me, that Jesus's salvation covered me, and nothing I do affects how God feels about me.  I'm safe, and I can't lose that.  I can screw up my life here and now, and there are consequences for the things I do, but God has me, and He knows my failings, and He's okay with the fact that I'm not actually superhuman.  The Holy Spirit is committed to walking with me through anything and everything.

Okay, I got a bit PASSIONATE there.  I'm just really happy that somewhere along the way those ideas sank into my heart and I don't have to force myself to believe them--I just do.

So the point is this:  instead of life being a line, I now think of it as a pulled-apart slinky.  Loop after loop.  There is direction, but it's not straight.  It looks as though just as much time is spent going backwards as going forwards, but somehow at the end of it all, you're further along than you were at the beginning.

The Avett Brothers sing about living the past again, and I get that.  God has consistently proven that He is trustworthy, but I still freak out about the future.  God has consistently proven that His love is pure, but I still pursue cheap imitations.  God has consistently proven that living selflessly is more fulfilling, but I still put myself above everyone else.

And that's okay.  I'm going to repeat the past.  And I'm going to learn.  And God will change me, slowly, sometimes painfully, usually without me noticing.  It's going to look really pathetic from the outside, I think, and that's okay.  God knows me, and He loves me, past-repeater that I am. 

(The whole song is really genius.  Here are a few more lyrics that make me think of The Avett Brothers as prophets:  "You may have to drag me away from my demons/ Kicking and screaming/ It's been so long now, I've been with them/ I don't know where they stop and I begin."

The Outsider

I often feel like an outsider amongst Christians, which is weird, because I find myself thinking, "We all love God, right?  We're dependent upon Jesus's salvation?  We all think the Holy Spirit lives within us?  SO WHY DO I NOT UNDERSTAND ANYTHING YOU STAND FOR?"

Today was a great example of my outsider status.  We talked about humanistic counseling theories, which operates under the assumption that people are inherently good and that in an ideal environment of unconditional positive regard, empathy, and genuineness, people will strive for betterment.  Almost everything my professor said resonated with me.  Except...she kept talking about it as if it were ridiculous. 

And I get it, to some extent.  Everyone in the class was hung up on the idea of original sin.  People are inherently disgusting!  Ew, sin!  And, sure?  I mean, I definitely believe we are inherently selfish--we want what is best for ourselves, regardless of if it comes at someone else's cost, at a gut level.  I also believe our world is super screwed up.  There are diseases and disasters, and people treat each other like crap.  That is all there, I won't argue with you.

But I don't think that's the end of the story.  I also think people are beautiful and creative and capable of great love and sacrifice.  Men and women are created in the image of God, and that initial declaration of "very good" is still there, no matter how much we've been screwed over by the effects of sin in the world. 

I didn't mean to actually defend humanism, but I guess I did a little.  What I want to talk about is how every question asked and answered felt crazy to me.  I literally could not understand how people were so against humanistic theories.  It was like we were two different species, and since I was the one not talking and there were a whole bunch of people making comments, I thought, am I the weird one?  Am I wrong?

I kept thinking this over as I drove home, and inspiration hit when I was listening to an Emmy the Great song.  She sings about her first sexual experience, and it's strongly implied that it was against her consent.  She sings:

"Well I wish I never met you that day
You said I have a room and music to play
I have a room let me show you the way
I wish that I'd never come

But now that I have, I would do it again
I would forget that I'd piss on a grave

I would forget that I'd piss on a grave
and the words as they came to my tongue were hallelujah. Hallelujah!
And the sky was so much bluer
Hallelujah! Hallelujah!
And the world was so much newer."

What is that craziness?  She wishes that she'd never been with him, but she would do it again.  It makes no sense.  AND I LOVE IT.  I love her conflicted emotions, and her desires that don't align with what she believes, and her confusion as to what happened and how to react.

That's when I realized the difference between me and the vocal majority of Christians.  My gut instinct is to make things more complex.  Other people's gut instinct is to make things simpler.   Everything makes sense now.  From my habit of loving villains (because I want to know why they are evil and what experiences made them think this was appropriate) to my definition of God (I have no desire to explain how God is both one and three, or how Jesus is both God and man--I want those paradoxes to lie hand in hand, undissected). This is also why my tag for thoughtful topics is "stubbornly hopeful skeptic."  I have no problem being a skeptically hopeful, or a doubtful believer, or a selfish lover.  These truths can co-exist, and I find joy in letting them breathe together rather, admitting the grey rather than living in black and white.

So there's my new self-awareness.  I'm happy to let people be both sinful and self-actuating.  I believe we screw each other over and build each other up.  I believe God helps us whether we are believers or doubters.  I believe we can make progress in bettering our lives and we need God.  And I know that most people don't like to see the world that way, which is why I so often feel like an outsider.

Holy Holy Holy

At chapel this morning, we sang several missions-oriented songs that largely revolved around the theme of "change me, God, give me Your heart" etc.  They left me cold.  I knew I ought to feel the lyrics, desire to live them out, but I didn't.  I don't want to change.  I don't want to sacrifice and suffer and stop being who I am so that I can become something better.

The last song we sang was "Holy, Holy, Holy" and the focus on God Himself immediately revitalized me.  Yes, this.  I cannot change myself, and I cannot even desire sanctification.  But the holy, triune God?  He is everything, He is worthy, and I will sing about Him with all my heart. 

"Holy! Holy! Holy!  Though the darkness hide thee,
Though the eye of sinful man thy glory may not see,
Only thou art holy; there is none beside thee,
Perfect in power, in love and purity."

I'm very tired of self-focused religion.  I understand that it is necessary to some extent, but I think the ratio ought to be split.  Let's have 80% of our worship and fellowship be about God, and only 20% be about us.  I think that might even have more of an impact on sanctification, and more powerfully, because it will be growth as a result of staring into the holy face of God, and not some struggling battle of the will.

The Oh Hello's

Liz introduced me to this band The Oh Hello's, and they are everything I want to be.  Listening to them makes me say things like, "They are speaking my heart and playing my soul!" with a whine and a forehead crashed against the car window. 

The thing is, their album "Through the Deep, Dark Valley" is one long song-after-song story.  The Christian life story, in fact.  The first couple songs are about creation and Eden and falling in love.

("At last, at last, bone of my bone and flesh of my flesh")

Then comes the fall.

("These things that you're after, you cannot control")

Then songs of doubt and despair and hope against hope.

("Father, have mercy, I know that I have gone astray, When I saw my reflection, it was a stranger beneath my face")

Then the rising action, the pursuit of truth and the peace of finding God.

("I was bound and determined to be the child that you wanted, but I was blind to every sign You left for me to find")

And finally, a reprise of the first song, of Eden and rest.

("Still you lead me, never leave me")

On top of some really poetry-soul-inspiring lyrics, the music is freaking fantastic.  I am hard core in love, and I desperately want them to perform in Dallas, and also I want everyone everywhere to know of them.

Hopeless Wanderer

I am a skeptic.  This worried me for a long time, because as much as I love God and study His word and try to live out His heart, I--doubt.  I have big doubts and little doubts.  Sometimes they pass me by, but some of them persist.

My favorite hymn is Come, Thou Fount because of this verse:

"O to grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be!
Let thy goodness like a fetter, bind my wandering heart to thee
Prone to wander Lord I feel it, prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart, O take and seal it, seal it for thy courts above"

I sing this verse with a scrunched up face, and sometimes when I'm alone I hold my hand to my chest, as if I could reach inside to clutch at my heart, forcing it to stay still.

It doesn't help to talk to people who have a (for all I can understand) supernatural gift of faith.  Liz is one of those people.  I'll flippantly mention something about, "I've always wondered about that" or "That just doesn't seem fair" or "I'm really struggling with this" and she looks at me with kindness and not a bit of understanding.  Liz isn't perfect, of course, but she doesn't struggle with doubts the way I do.  She isn't a skeptic.  So while I entrust her with my soul and get great pleasure and wisdom from being her friend, she doesn't really help in these situations.

Luckily, there are books.  Right now I'm reading Evolving in Monkey Town by Rachel Held Evans, and it is EXCELLENT.  You know, except for the part where she told my childhood of perfectionism, pietism, and generally goody two-shoes, only it was her childhood.  And she talked about knowing all the answers, and then suddenly, not.  She started wondering if there was more to Christianity than right thinking, and if apologetics and defensiveness and culture wars weren't missing the point.  She worried at the unfairness of oppressed men and women going to hell when they had been raised to believe in a false religion while she had been raised to believe in the right one.

I got a little spooked.  And a lot relieved.  She was telling my story, and she was okay.  Some of us are just naturally skeptics.  We doubt.  We can't take things easily by faith.  We wonder if there isn't something better, something missing.  But that doesn't make us wrong, and it doesn't make us not Christians, and it doesn't make God love us any less.

So when I drove to Target and Mumford and Sons' song Hopeless Wanderer came on, I sang loudly.

"I wrestled long with my youth
We tried so hard to live in the truth
But do not tell me all is fine
When I lose my head, I lose my spine
But hold me fast, Hold me fast
'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer
And hold me fast, Hold me fast
'Cause I'm a hopeless wanderer"

This time as I sang, I didn't scrunch up my face or feel guilty or sing like I was begging God to forgive me.  This time I was smiling.  I was grinning like a madman, in fact.  I was confessing my ridiculous qualities to the God who made me with them.  I sang with the confidence that God used people with doubts, and that He would use me.  I sang knowing that He would hold me fast, and that I didn't need to worry about where my doubts would take me, because God is with me and He has heard everything a million times, and He loves me.

Christmas Songs are the Best Songs

The third song in today's service was "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day."  I spiritually rolled my eyes, because since when is that an awesome Christmas song?  Since always, apparently.

"And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;

"For hate is strong,

And mocks the song

Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;

The Wrong shall fail,

The Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men."

I adore stories in any media--books, TV, movies, songs.  I especially love when a story breaks you down, unveils your deepest fears and regrets, and shoves them in your face.  I love feeling awful, and legitimately thinking, "Ugh, that's TRUE.  Life sucks!"  But a good story doesn't end there, because Jesus doesn't end there.  He doesn't reveal our sin and sit back with his arms crossed, smirking, "Yeah, don't you feel bad for disobeying me?"

He saves us.  He brings us out of darkness into light.  He takes our fears and regrets and covers them in hope and grace.  Jesus is awesome.  And the songs about his entering into human history are especially saturated with hope and grace.  I LOVE THEM.  That's why "O Come O Come Emmanuel" is my all time favorite Christmas song.

"O come, O come, Emmanuel
And ransom captive Israel
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear
Rejoice!  Rejoice!  Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel.

O come, Thou Day-Spring, come and cheer
Our spirits by Thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death's dark shadows put to flight.
Rejoice!  Rejoice!  Emmanuel
Shall come to thee, O Israel."

Sufjan Stevens Taught Me About Heaven

Last night Liz and I went to a Sufjan Stevens Christmas Sing-A-Long concert, and it was the best thing in the history of best things.

Now, if you don't know Sufjan Stevens, you are either not as strange as I am, or you are missing out.  Here is my favorite of his songs for your education.  It is maybe the saddest (true) story to sing about, but if you listen through to the last couple lines, you will understand why I completely adore this man.

 

Does your heart hurt now?  You've been Sufjan'ed.

Anyway, so this concert was spectacular.  Sufjan came out wearing red ugg boots with silver trim, tinseled arm bands, pants with neon tape elongating his legs, a baseball cap under a santa hat, massive sunglasses, and a Christmas cape.  His female lead singer wore a tree.  A guitarist wore a Superman t-shirt over a chicken costume.   The pianist wore a neon pink wig with an angel outfit.  And the everything-else intrumentist wore a Santa outfit with a gnome mask.

The setup of the concert was a mix of his new Christmas album(s), some old songs, and sing-a-long classic Christmas songs determined by a massive spinning Wheel of Christmas.  Occasionally Sufjan would cross himself, or kneel, or point to the skies when singing about the promised baby King.  

Around that point I thought, "This is like heaven."  Not metaphorically.  I felt like I was genuinely glimpsing eternity.  A place where people can be who they are without judgment.  Where Jesus is worshiped with joy and excitement rather than the too-often "sacred" solemnness found in church services.  

With my new eyes, I noticed how Sufjan forgot the words to one of his most popular songs, but we cheered for him anyway because our love for him was not contingent upon his perfection.  I listened to the chorales by Bach that they interspersed throughout the concert.  I confessed my sins with a crowd of 400 people as we sang along to 'Chicago', "I've made a lot of mistakes."  Sufjan played Liz's favorite song from his new album.

 

He ended the song by saying, "Remember kids!  The love of money is the root of all evil!"  That mini-sermon was more effective than many I've listened to.  We sang 'O Holy Night' then followed up with 'Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.'  I glanced around in shock as nearly the whole audience sang along from memory.  Sufjan's lyrics are undeniably Jesus-loving, but he's weird enough that I assumed most of his fans weren't Christians.  Maybe they are.  Maybe I was in a room with 400 of the weirdest Christians in Dallas.  I liked it.

The concert ended with my favorite song from his new album, 'I'm a Christmas Unicorn.'  He pulled on a bike helmet with a horn and an angel wing attached, then donned a feathery, ballooned vest/cape.  He climbed on the piano, confetti rained down, and we all sang comfort to each other, "I'm a Christmas unicorn.  Find the Christmas unicorn.  You're a Christmas unicorn, too.  It's all right!  I love you."

 

After over two hours of celebrating Christmas, Liz and I left the theater and I thought, "I want church to be more like that.  I can't wait to go to heaven and experience something similar."  What it was I was feeling, I think, was grace and freedom.