When I first saw this on Netflix, I was like, yeah this could be awesome. Then I watched it. AND IT WAS SO FREAKIN AWESOME. First of all, yes, Jonathan Frakes is in it, and yes, there’s a super lame effect where he “travels through time” and changes outfits, but it was so good. And for all of the campy fun of Frakes posing in various outfits, walking in and out of various “Doorways” and standing in front of cutting edge video projections, the video was surprisingly educational, and gave me a lot to think about, especially about the childhood of Jesus and John, and why John was an orphan. I need the complete DVD series now.

And with one question from the audience during the Q&A following the world premiere of “Our House” at Toronto’s Hot Docs festival, someone popped the bubble.

The question in particular explicitly revealed that the anarchist Christians running their own illegal homeless shelter in Williamsburg had complicit permission in using their building from the owner: not exactly the definition of “squatting” like the description of “Our House” promised, and not very “anarchistic” either. Christian? Sure.

But I’m getting ahead of myself: “Our House” is a short documentary about a few young men who decide to operate their own homeless outreach community in an abandoned Williamsburg warehouse. They’re vegan, Christians, dread-locked punk rockers with plugs in their ears and pray inside a heated “love tent.” (I’m sure they are inspired by Shane Claiborne’s “The Irresistible Revolution,” but that’s never expressed in the film).

For non-religious types, they probably saw this film as a sad period piece about (barely) pre-gentrification W-burg, and the relationship communities have with their physical homes. As a Christian, I found the film to be extremely inspiring, watching these guys attempt to live alongside the suffering street people stuck in endless cycles of anger, drugs and crime. They prayed openly and intimately inside their “love tent,” often embracing afterwards: I wish I had that kind of spiritual connection to others when I finished praying alongside them. Maybe Grace Toronto should erect it’s own “love tent” for prayer meetings.

I don’t know if anybody is shocked by the dread-locked punk rocker aspect of the Christians in the movies: Christian punk is fairly mainstream, and while these guys looked pretty edgy on screen, they really don’t look much different than the kids who come home from Christian wakeboarding camps at the end of the summer.

I could also be desensitized to the image of weirdo hardcore Christians: I’ll admit to being one myself (both a Christian and a weirdo), as I have attended late night punk shows at the Bohemian Penguin in Belleville shouting along to a hardcore version of “Our God is an Awesome God” and have paid witness to Belleville’s own dreadlocked baptist rastafarian, Jah Pickney.

As for the Christian Anarchy angle of the movie, I’m afraid that it’s under-represented in the documentary as well. I was disappointed with that because I do have a few “Christian Anarchy” books on my shelf, and was looking for an interesting portrayal of this fringe denomination on screen. Maybe I’ll save it for my own documentary someday.

Click here to watch a trailer for “Our House”

With a quick look at our bustling city, you’d think that the only reason we have a Friday off in April is to much on delicious, delicious chocolate and enjoy the spare few rays of sunshine in a rainy month. For those of us that grew up in the country, it’s the weekend everyone got together to hunt for plastic eggs hidden around the yard. In my family’s house, it was even a pseudo-Christmas morning with lots of Easter presents, with a chocolate and jelly bean hunt around the house.

But as I’ve gotten older, and my desire to get on my hands and knees to search for treats (I can buy chocolate anytime I want now! And I have!) has lessened, I’ve grown to see Easter as the spiritual holiday it was always intended to be. Nearly 15 years I dedicated myself to be a follower of Christ, through all it’s ups and downs, and in the course of my spiritual journey, I’ve learned to see Easter is the truest of all Christian religious days, where the faith is born and celebrated.

It’s the fulfillment of Jesus Christ, God’s only child, fused with the Holy Spirit, and the journey that he had to take in order to reconcile every human being with their maker.

Easter weekend begins with today, Good Friday, when we commemorate “the passion,” or the day that Jesus was betrayed, denied, beaten and crucified, left to hang in the air until all life left his body. And Jesus knew all this (referring to himself in the third person as the “Son of Man” in the following):

Jesus, now well on the way up to Jerusalem, took the Twelve off to the side of the road and said, “Listen to me carefully. We are on our way up to Jerusalem. When we get there, the Son of Man will be betrayed to the religious leaders and scholars. They will sentence him to death. They will then hand him over to the Romans for mockery and torture and crucifixion. On the third day he will be raised up alive.” (Matthew 20: 17-19)

Once Jesus arrived in Jerusalem, he stirred up controversy, and drew ire from both the local religious and government authorities (If you want to read more about these, check out Matthew chapters 20-26 or so). During the “Last Supper,” Jesus revealed that he knew he was betrayed by one of his closest followers (disciples), Judas. This was all going down in the final days before the Jewish holiday, Passover.

Passover commemorates the story of the Exodus, when God freed his people from slavery in Egypt. This is the story of the ten plagues, the last of which was the killing of every first born son, except for those of the Hebrews, who were instructed to mark their doors with the blood of a spring lamb. When they did, God’s spirit “passed over” their homes, and their first born sons were spared. Following the plague, the slaves were set free.

(It wasn’t all easy going for them, they ended up wandering the desert for generations following their escape).

Passover is important to the celebration of Easter because this is the promise that Jesus came to fulfill. The blood of lambs and the following of laws etched in stone were never enough for us to reunite with our God — our sacrifices were always tainted, in-genuine, and we flat out failed in following the commands God gave us.

Jesus, as God’s holy and perfect son, is the passover lamb for all humanity. He is God’s own first born and only son, and with his death, he gives us our own freedom from the slavery of sin.

The soldiers assigned to the governor took Jesus into the governor’s palace and got the entire brigade together for some fun. They stripped him and dressed him in a red toga. They plaited a crown from branches of a thornbush and set it on his head. They put a stick in his right hand for a scepter. Then they knelt before him in mocking reverence: “Bravo, King of the Jews!” they said. “Bravo!” Then they spit on him and hit him on the head with the stick. When they had had their fun, they took off the toga and put his own clothes back on him. Then they proceeded out to the crucifixion.

Along the way they came on a man from Cyrene named Simon and made him carry Jesus’ cross. Arriving at Golgotha, the place they call “Skull Hill,” they offered him a mild painkiller (a mixture of wine and myrrh), but when he tasted it he wouldn’t drink it.

After they had finished nailing him to the cross and were waiting for him to die, they whiled away the time by throwing dice for his clothes. Above his head they had posted the criminal charge against him: this is jesus, the king of the jews. Along with him, they also crucified two criminals, one to his right, the other to his left. People passing along the road jeered, shaking their heads in mock lament: “You bragged that you could tear down the Temple and then rebuild it in three days—so show us your stuff! Save yourself! If you’re really God’s Son, come down from that cross!”

The high priests, along with the religion scholars and leaders, were right there mixing it up with the rest of them, having a great time poking fun at him: “He saved others—he can’t save himself! King of Israel, is he? Then let him get down from that cross. We’ll all become believers then! He was so sure of God—well, let him rescue his ‘Son’ now—if he wants him! He did claim to be God’s Son, didn’t he?” Even the two criminals crucified next to him joined in the mockery.

From noon to three, the whole earth was dark. Around mid-afternoon Jesus groaned out of the depths, crying loudly, “Eli, Eli, lama sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?”

Some bystanders who heard him said, “He’s calling for Elijah.” One of them ran and got a sponge soaked in sour wine and lifted it on a stick so he could drink. The others joked, “Don’t be in such a hurry. Let’s see if Elijah comes and saves him.”

But Jesus, again crying out loudly, breathed his last.

At that moment, the Temple curtain was ripped in two, top to bottom. There was an earthquake, and rocks were split in pieces. What’s more, tombs were opened up, and many bodies of believers asleep in their graves were raised. (After Jesus’ resurrection, they left the tombs, entered the holy city, and appeared to many.)

The captain of the guard and those with him, when they saw the earthquake and everything else that was happening, were scared to death. They said, “This has to be the Son of God!”

(The following is taken from Matthew, chapter 27, v 27-54, from translation of the Bible known as “The Message.”)

And with his death, it was noted the temple curtain ripped in two: symbolically and literally, this meant that he Holy Place where God was said to reside in their churches, was no longer hidden from us. This was the moment that Jesus became the sacrifice — one where God allowed his own son to be stolen away from him completely. At that moment, God cut off Jesus from his presence, which is why Jesus cries out “My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?” Jesus at that point began to experience the absolute hell that occurs in our soul when we are totally anguished,depressed and desolute — when we are furthest from the presence of God.

But the story doesn’t end there. Not by a long shot.

Once Jesus had finally died on the cross, his body was taken down, wrapped in blankets, and placed in a tomb. That tomb was then blocked from anyone entering with a giant stone, with a soldier standing guard in front. Mary Magdalene, along with another Mary, sat nearby, grieving for their leader.

After the Sabbath, as the first light of the new week dawned, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to keep vigil at the tomb. Suddenly the earth reeled and rocked under their feet as God’s angel came down from heaven, came right up to where they were standing. He rolled back the stone and then sat on it. Shafts of lightning blazed from him. His garments shimmered snow-white. The guards at the tomb were scared to death. They were so frightened, they couldn’t move.

The angel spoke to the women: “There is nothing to fear here. I know you’re looking for Jesus, the One they nailed to the cross. He is not here. He was raised, just as he said. Come and look at the place where he was placed.

“Now, get on your way quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He is risen from the dead. He is going on ahead of you to Galilee. You will see him there.’ That’s the message.”

The women, deep in wonder and full of joy, lost no time in leaving the tomb. They ran to tell the disciples. Then Jesus met them, stopping them in their tracks. “Good morning!” he said. They fell to their knees, embraced his feet, and worshiped him. Jesus said, “You’re holding on to me for dear life! Don’t be frightened like that. Go tell my brothers that they are to go to Galilee, and that I’ll meet them there.”

Meanwhile, the guards had scattered, but a few of them went into the city and told the high priests everything that had happened. They called a meeting of the religious leaders and came up with a plan: They took a large sum of money and gave it to the soldiers, bribing them to say, “His disciples came in the night and stole the body while we were sleeping.” They assured them, “If the governor hears about your sleeping on duty, we will make sure you don’t get blamed.” The soldiers took the bribe and did as they were told. That story, cooked up in the Jewish High Council, is still going around.

Meanwhile, the eleven disciples were on their way to Galilee, headed for the mountain Jesus had set for their reunion. The moment they saw him they worshiped him. Some, though, held back, not sure about worship, about risking themselves totally.

Jesus, undeterred, went right ahead and gave his charge: “God authorized and commanded me to commission you: Go out and train everyone you meet, far and near, in this way of life, marking them by baptism in the threefold name: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Then instruct them in the practice of all I have commanded you. I’ll be with you as you do this, day after day after day, right up to the end of the age.”

(The following is taken from Matthew, chapter 28 from translation of the Bible known as “The Message.”)

We’re already in February, a good month and a bit into the new year, and I’m starting to feel like I’m making a little progress with this “positive music” trial. It’s been very difficult, but I feel like I’m learning a lot of new things about the power and influence of music on my life, and the role it can play in my mood and attitude.

The biggest challenge I’ve been taking on is attempting to give “CCM” (aka Contemporary Christian Music) a fair shake, and an opportunity to take a role in my life. Like any other guy who was raised listening to a lot of rock and experimental music, I find some of it tepid from a “listening experience” point of view, and at times embarrassed by the lame prose and poetry some of these songs employ.

“Christian music” is a very complicated idea or concept. That is, it’s a broad term that can apply to a number of very different forms where the common denominator is Christ himself. For example, there’s “Ministry Music,” which are the kinds of songs sung in churches by worship leaders and congregations, and there’s the “Christian Pop,” which is like Ministry Music, but is less about being congregational and more slick like pop music. There’s “Don’t Call Us” Christian rock (Christians in a band, but not a “Christian Band”, which is music made by Christian musicians, sometimes on Christian labels, and sounds like mainstream rock music, usually with ambiguous lyrics that could be interpreted to have Christian content (think Switchfoot or Lifehouse). And finally “Cool Christian” music, which almost doesn’t exist at all, but artistically speaking, is a high-point in art, which earns high praise from critics and popularity from all corners, with a healthy mix of Christian content and skepticism. Many Don’t-Call-Us musicians aspire to have “Cool Christian” success, but it’s only the most freakishly talented that earn this acclaim: i.e. Sufjan Stevens, David Bazan, and in my opinion, The Daredevil Christopher Wright.

To explain how these all kind of fit together, consider the term “cool.” Essentially, cool is that unattainable quality of being compelling and stimulating, without the appearance of effort or engagement or earnestness. Miles Davis was cool. Joy Division was cool. The Ramones were cool. Red Kross was cool. Basically being cool means not caring about being cool. Cool is disengagement, or at least, the appearance of being disengaged. (Wikipedia: Cool)

Christian music isn’t cool.

And that’s okay.

Every so often a “Cool Christian” artist comes along, and in itself, that is an amazing and miraculous thing. I’m willing to accept that this pokes a pretty big hole in my Christian music theory. Regardless, Christianity in itself is not a “cool” medium: it is usually earnest, passionate and emotional, and is overall not condusive to “cool.” The Gospel is a simple message of truth: however, simplicity and truth are not “cool” values.

That’s not to say Christians don’t try to make it cool: Take a look at the Mars Hill/Rob Bell type movements happening across the globe, with their sometimes-emergent approach to church and worship. Interesting to note: these types of Churches are usually only popular in stereotypically unsophisticated suburban centres and not in cool urban areas where artists usually locate themselves. Is “cool” church uncool? (Yes)

So if we accept that Christianity by itself is not cool, and by extension the Church isn’t cool, then “Ministry Music,” the Christian music that dwells in Christian sanctuaries, can’t be cool. It has to be. If only on a utilitarian level, it has to be music that can be sung communally by singers of all talents, and has to have a broad accessibility. At times, passionate, while also provoking a passionate response. Simple music and melody played by a mixture of musicians from a variety of backgrounds, with mostly amateur, weekend-warrior levels of skill.

Ministry Music can be amazing and powerful, and it will never be cool, no matter how much some people want that to change, no matter how many U2 or Coldplay-esque effects or riffs are thrown in. (And yes, I believe U2 and Coldplay are not cool). Ministry Music is a difficult aspect of Church life, and at times is given a too-high value in Church communities (even if we call it praise and worship).

The thing is, I don’t necessarily want to listen to Ministry Music all the time: While I do love to worship God, I also want to be stimulated and well, swayed by the cool. In the past, I’ve lumped all Christian music into the same un-cool category, and focused all of my listening (and creative) efforts on “cool” music. I’ve never thought I had a problem with being exposed to non-Christian content, but as I examine and challenge my own identity, one change I have to make to myself is allow my identity to appreciate and understand Christian music.

In short, I need to find a way to let Christ and Christian content dominate my life, because frankly, the world robs me of my enthusiasm and love, and I need to be continually reminded of God and his presence and direction in my life. So I’ve been trying to find a way to let Christ dominate my music-life, with a healthy dose of other “positive” music rounding it out.

So here’s how it lays out for me: I’ll still listen to the “Cool Christians,” and if at all possible, I won’t waste my time with the “Don’t-Call-Us-Christian-Band” imitation rock like Mutemath (I apologize to my readers who love Mutemath, but if you know me, you know that you shouldn’t take it personally… If you like it, that’s all that matters). “Ministry Music” is amazing in Church, but it’s hard to listen to on it’s own merit… however, that is the music I need more of in my life, so I need to find “Christian Pop” that is not too slick and overproduced for the masses, yet positive enough for encouragement and gritty and interesting enough to have my tastes placated.

It’s a tall order, but so far I’ve found a few releases which I think stand up to my pretty demanding criteria. You might have already read about Scandinavian Metal Praise, which is my first real find in terms of great Christian music, but I really should tell you about the music that has given me the most encouragement and inspiration in the past month: Matt Maher and his record, “Alive Again.”

I first discovered Maher when I was looking for new and interesting worship songs, when he appeared on a YouTube Christian Cafe type show, where he taught a song called “Lay it Down,” from his album “Empty and Beautiful.” I didn’t particularly love that record because it was a little too overproduced and it didn’t speak to me lyrically, but that song stands out as a high point, and we’ve enjoyed singing it together at Grace Toronto Church.

But thanks to my S.O., who heard a song from Maher’s new record, managed to figure out iTunes for the first time, bought the album, and put it on her own iPhone. I never gave it a close listen, and it was only until after I started my “positive music” project that I gave it a second look.

If there was ever an opportunity to point to God’s providence in my life, it is evidence in the album “Alive Again” crossing my path at the most absolutely perfect time. I don’t know if Maher has ever experienced anxiety and depression like I have, but the lyrics all over “Alive Again” address the kinds of feelings and doubts I have been feeling, while also reminded me of the purpose and perspective and God’s own promises.

Here’s a look at the lyrics from the album’s title track:

I woke up in darkness
surrounded by silence
oh where, where have I gone?
I woke to reality
losing its grip on me
oh where, where have I gone?

Cause I can see the light
before I see the sunrise

You called and you shouted
broke through my deafness
now I’m breathing in
and breathing out
I’m alive again!

You shattered my darkness
washed away my blindness
now I’m breathing in
and breathing out
I’m alive again!

Late have I loved you,
you waited for me,
I searched for you…
what took me so long?

I was looking outside
as if love would ever want to hide
I’m finding I was wrong

Cause I can feel the wind
before it hits my skin

Cause I want you!
Yes, I want you,
I need you
And I’ll do what ever I have to
Just to get through
cause I love you
Yeah, I love you!

Or there’s another verse on “Sing over your Children,” which again speaks directly to my own predicament:

I flirt with the world,
It steals my love for you.
My fear grips my faith,
And I am left unmoved.

I could go on and on and on like this with every song. It speaks to me so profoundly, that I can’t seem to go a day without listening to it: I often start it up while waiting for my bus in the morning, just to help me get my head on straight for the day, and place a right attitude in my heart. At the same time, I have to comment that I also LOVE the guitar sounds on this record, which is very uncommon on “Christian Music” records, which is just another bonus to this album, and allows me to love it all the more.

The fact that God has provided this music to me, through the talent of Matt Maher, I am so thankful for this piece of encouragement, and it is helping to enlighten me as I fight against my own personal “stubborn darkness.” I hope to someday be a musician as full of life and the spirit as Maher, no matter how “un-cool” that makes me.

So please, if you are in my position, or don’t listen to much Christian music (and wish you did), try starting here! I hope you get as much out of it as I did.

• Watch a live performance by Matt Maher of “Alive Again”

There’s a rather obscure American church you may have heard about, where members pick up and handle deadly snakes as part of their routine services. You know, you’ve got your Fender guitar amps, your pulpit and PA, and then, a whole pile of poisonous snakes.

Generally associated with the primarily rural (and Southern) Church of God, this church embraces a rather literal take on a couple of the final verses in Mark 16.

^17-18“These are some of the signs that will accompany believers: They will throw out demons in my name, they will speak in new tongues, they will take snakes in their hands, they will drink poison and not be hurt, they will lay hands on the sick and make them well.”

Now, to get technical for a moment, verses 9-20 of Mark 16 (the last chapter of that particular book) are generally excluded from “The Bible” because those verses did not appear in some of the more important early manuscripts, and because of their “different style and vocabulary,” also raises doubts.

This pentecostal sect takes this verse literally, and so believes that if they’ve been anointed by God, then they will not be killed when bitten by the snakes, and they claim to celebrate this miracle during their services.  Besides the obvious, it’s clear why snake-handling is not a mainstream practice:  it’ s a generally held interpretation that in this reference, Jesus was speaking specifically to his remaining 11 disciples, not necessarily everyone who believes in him.

I will admit that there is a part of me that had the courage these snake handlers do, believing that God would protect me from a very real, very specific and very immediate harm.

But the more I think about it, the more it seems to me that these snake handlers are taking the easy way out. Sure, it’s dangerous picking up a snake, and it is a demonstration of their faith (albeit misguided), but what do they do the rest of the time? Personally, I  think there’s more courage involved in a daily, humble faith that grows deep with routine reflection and fruitful acts of obedience. Faith is not about engaging in a public spectacle like the snake handlers: faith is deeply private and personal, and God alone knows us in our stillness.

So back away from the snakes.

Would you like to see something written up about this lamp?

Just a quick bloggy existential crisis: I’ve been thinking long and hard about the kinds of things I think long and hard about, and what I write about, and if that’s worth writing about.

The quick and easy answer is no, of course not.

The truth is, it’s really easy to write about things I’ve bought or received or found. I can look at it, describe it, vaguely share what it is I like about it, provide some background on it and where it came from, and where I put it in my home. Because hey, sometimes I’m proud of my stuff: I think it’s pretty cool, and I think I’ve worked hard to earn it, and I want to show it off. Sure, my vintage Lotte lamp is but a fraction of the value or a house or loft or car, but it’s valuable to me!

But I’ll also admit that writing about — or investing any sort of value — in material things that are trivial and frivolous  is a shallow en devour.  Sometimes it makes me feel like writing about goods and trinkets feels like the written equivalent of tumblr post featuring the account of an ingénue’s daily thrift-store/American Apparel “outfit” and sure-I-did-it-myself haircut.

So where is the line drawn? Why stop at “objects,” when maybe I should also stop writing about “places,” “stores,” “food,” “concerts,” “books” and “movies,” right? At a certain point, that even gets a little shallow, right? Even writing about my own writing, musical or otherwise is even sort of selfish, right? To go even further, who cares about what I have to thing about Government/Religion/Art in general?

The downward spiral can go even further: Why write that novel? Why take that photo? Why hack that Ikea? Well, I could go on, but you get the point

Here’s what I think: As long as I never lose sight of the big things are actually important (God, family, community, love, culture), there’s not a good reason why I can’t adorn my life or my writing with diversions that add a little embellishment. After all, these kinds of things are the spice and flavour of life — to a point.

For now, I’ll stop this train of though here, and leave you with a quote by my favourite philosopher, Soren Kirkegaard, from “Fear and Trembling.”

If there were no eternal consciousness in a man,
If at the bottom of everything there were only a wild ferment,
A power that twisting in dark passions produced everything great or inconsequential;
If an unfathomable, insatiable emptiness lay hid beneath everything,
What would life be but despair?

Thanks for bearing with me on this… we’ll now return to your regularly random updates about whatever.

Maybe it’s the music industry, maybe it’s something private, or maybe it’s just rebelling against his youth, but whatever sparked it, it seems like David Bazan’s transition from Doubting Thomas to agnostic is complete.

Through his poetry, Bazan has always wrestled with the church, it’s believers and it’s practices, and that’s what has drawn so many people to Pedro the Lion over the years. And whatever Christian-related content that drew people in, Bazan provided just enough antidote to keep those listeners in check.

The band’s first record was released in 1997 on the so-called Christian punk record label “Tooth and Nail” in 1997. The “Whole EP” (say it out loud a couple of times) begins with a song called “Nothing,” which introduces the listener to a man who embraces philosophy over morals and rules. At one point, he says “It’s just not true, that there’s only one way.”

The EP then goes on to that character developing a drug habit (“Fix”), trying to kick it (the excellent “Almost There”), then seeing a friend who overcame his addiction thanks to “Mr. Hole-fixing man” (“Whole”). That album concludes with “Lullaby,” which has become an anthem for modern Christian life. I love this song so much, that I’m going to include some of the lyrics here:

Sun shines, and leaves blow and my hope like autumn is turning brown.
I know it seems like I’m always falling down.
And it does not matter to me, although it seems like it should.
It’s because I know I’m understood, when I hear him say…

“Rest in me little David, and dry all your tears, you can lay down your armour and have no fear.
Cause I’m always here when you’re tired of running, and I’m all the strength that you need.”

“Lullaby” is followed by an instrumental, “Hymn,” and it’s all over. Ever since I first heard this song almost 10 years ago, I still need that instrumental track to fully recover from “Lullaby.” Personally, I imagine the “David” here as King David, and how he would converse with God, but it’s easy to hear this and believe you are listening to some of David Bazan’s most honest, powerful and uplifting songs ever.

But ever since “Whole EP,” David has been fighting against that sentiment as hard as he can… I’ve read that in the past, he’d be playing his songs and people would be having intense emotional reactions, while he wasn’t feeling anything, and was uncomfortable with manipulating people like that.

With his next record, “It’s Hard to Find a Friend,” you can hear that instead of embracing this kind of cathartic narrative, he instead explores new stories and characters, like the memorable father and son exchange in “Big Trucks,” the man who finds out his girlfriend has been cheating on him in “Bad Diary Days,” and the guy who has a problem with natural beauty in “When They Really Get To Know You They Will Run.” But there’s still religious material as well, like “Of Minor Prophets and Their Prostitute Wives,” a retelling of the obscure Old Testament book Hosea. Then finally, the album’s finest moment, “Secret of the Easy Yoke,” featuring a man who feels unmoved and annoyed by his friends and their seemingly perfect devotion. However, by the end of the song he’s turned to “Peace be still,” a mantra of simple confirmation and encouragement.

(Yes, there was “Promise” originally at the end of this record, but supposedly Bazan was told to add an uplifting song to the end of the record, and on the re-release in 2001 was left off.)

In his next record, the EP entitled “The Only Reason I Feel Secure (Is That I’m Validated By My Peers)” he returned to the more introspective side of his writing, peaking with a beautiful rendition of “Be Thou My Vision.” From there things turned rather dark, with the warning of the powers of sex and power and murder in “Winners Never Quit,” a story of two brothers: the “good” Christian who is secretly bad (and murders his wife then commits suicide), and his “bad” Christian brother who is arrested while driving drunk and goes to jail. “Bad Things To Such Good People,” the final song from the brother in jail, describes the arrogance of his father and contains a somewhat controversial line: “All the while, the good Lord smiles and looks the other way.” You could interpret it as the Lord is simply forgiving both the father and the son in jail of their sins, or you could also look at it as the Lord is simply letting chaos reign in their life and doing nothing about it. (Starting to sound a little like what Bazan is saying in “Curse Your Branches,” right?)

Actually, for a good statement of where Bazan was at around the time of “Winners Never Quit,” check out this great interview here.

Then there’s the amazing rock record, “Control,” easily Bazan’s most distressing record, which tackles infidelity, global warming and modernization. While he was merely baiting his Christian listeners in “Winners Never Quit,” in this record he finally tells them to buzz off with “Rapture,” a song about an adulterous couple having dirty motel room sex and one screams out “Oh my sweet rapture, I hear Jesus and the angels singing Hallelujah, calling in me to enter the promised land.” Later in “Priests and Paramedics,” a priest at a funeral for the adulterous man gives his people gather a bitter pill: “You’re gonna die. We’re all gonna die. Could be twenty years, could be tonight. And lately I have been wondering why we go to so much trouble to postpone the unavoidable and prolong the pain of being alive.”

“Control” then adds a question mark in it’s oft-debated finale, “Rejoice,” which says “Wouldn’t it be so wonderful if everything were meaningless. But everything is so meaningful and most everything turns to shit. Rejoice.”

Following that, David seems content to slowly go darker and more skeptical, all kind of staying in this ambiguous Christian world viewpoint, like on “Achilles Heel” and the synth-only record, “The Headphones,” throwing in the occasional four or seven letter world to rankle his critics.

However, with his first full album under his own name, I feel like things are a lot different. Things are personal again, however, it seems like the sarcasm has been replaced with vitriol and anger. “Hard to Be” kicks things off with an indictment of the creation story as a Christian’s excuse for misbehaviour, and ends with his graduation from “believer” to “non-believer.”  There’s “Bless this Mess,” which either celebrates the inversion of popular Christian parables (the wheat and the chaff, the candle under a bushel), or celebrates those who flaunt them. “Harmless Sparks” takes on pedophile priests and inserts a confession of his own doubt and it again conflicts with his family. “When We Fell” indicts the threat of Hell as motivation for belief. In “Bearing Witness” he’s sick of “making the pieces fit” and in “Heavy Breath” he reassures his God-fearing friends that life without him isn’t any different.

The album ends with “In Stitches,” which instead of reaffirming anything, seems to confirm David’s agnostic attitude. He’s still talking to his God, but like the entire album all along, it’s in the tone of talking to someone who has been betrayed by an ex-lover. (A common description of “Curse Your Branches” is that it’s David Bazan’s “break up album” with God).

I’ve been thinking about it, and to me, from a lyrical point of view, it seems like David has finally turned into the character he voiced in “Nothing” way back in 1997 on the “Whole EP.” Happier to go his own his own way, and giving up the struggle of belief.

I’ll admit that I don’t know David personally, and I don’t what’s really in his heart. For all I know that this is just a natural progression of his writing, and his relationship with God is his own business, so I don’t want to come across as judging him for what he’s chosen to believe. I don’t even want to go into the whole alcoholism thing either, despite it being such a large presence in his songs, because again, I don’t need to be judgmental of that (especially when I see my own struggle with that as well).

I guess after being such an intense fan, and hanging on much longer than a lot of my other Christian brothers, I don’t think I can hold David’s songs as close as I once did. I’m still totally in awe of his talent, and I’ve been forever changed by his writing, but “Curse Your Branches” seems to be the album at which when I have to keep his music out of reaching distance. It’s not enough that I can recognize that I disagree with much of what he has to say, because I’ve been to all the places he visits here. I personally want to move past those places, so while I appreciate and respect what he’s done, I can’t dwell in it like other albums he’s done.

However, part of me also knows that if I give up on him now, I might miss out on him coming around to the final “Lullaby” chapter in his records, which is just a too glorious prospect. Johnny Cash and Mike Knott worked in similar circles, so anything is possible, right?

(As a post-script, I know there’s so much more I could talk about here too, like the Christmas EPs, his relationships with other “Christian” artists like Damien Jurado, but this is sprawling enough already).

(As another post-script, is that I wanted to note that I’ve had the pleasure of seeing him perform many times over the years: Opening for Low at Lee’s Palace, rocking out the Horseshoe a couple times with TW Walsh, playing Buffalo with Starflyer 59, another Buffalo set done completely solo at the Mohawk, a solo show at the Music Gallery, a solo show in Seattle at the Crocodile Cafe with Damien Jurado and Ben Gibbard, and his return to Lee’s Palace with a full band in tour for “Curse Your Branches.” Whatever he does, I’ll still continue to come out to the shows, because they are always powerful experiences.)

(As one final post-script, I have to point out something funny Matt McKechnie wrote about me on his blog, taken from the last Bazan show at Lee’s, “I saw my friend Tyrone (of Silver Speakers) standing stage left with the look of an awed child meeting Santa Claus.”)

Rob Bell came to Toronto, but Toronto did not come to see Rob Bell.

The author, Mars Hill pastor and sometimes-controversial “Emergent” theologian, began his presentation called “Drops like Stars” on thoughts about suffering and creativity with the usual “where’s everybody from” kind of preamble people on tour often give.

Except the night got off to a weird start when he asked if people at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre were from Toronto, and he got a rousing “NO.” Muffled shouts from the audience later indicated that many were from London, Waterloo, Barrie, Burlington, and assorted other suburban communities well outside the 416 area code and beyond.

(Earlier in the night, I was riding the streetcar down to Exhibition Place, and I was the only person on board… this explains why. I guess it also explains why most people on time for the 8pm start and why there weren’t stragglers arriving all night long. I have a few thoughts on why that might be, like how the “Mars Hill” style — born in a suburb of Michigan — appeals primarily to suburbanites and not the sophisticated downtown intellectuals, or maybe the downtown core is simply and profoundly “un-churched,” but I will leave those ideas for a future post.)

Rob Bell is a very gifted, talented speaker, and despite his presentation being nearly two hours long, he easily holds the audience’s attention the entire time. I won’t go into the content too much here. The QET wasn’t sold out, but it was nearly full and I imagine next time he comes to town, he’ll likely sell out a much larger venue. Bell was accompanied by a handful of hilarious slides and video on a giant screen, and even had his own U2-esque theme music that bookended the night: During his final story, I kind of thought it was an annoying ringtone going off at first. With no “worship” time or prayer time, I don’t think it was intended to come off as a “church” type night.

The other strange thing I noticed, was during an audience participation moment, he looked at somebody and asked, “Are you taking notes? Cool, let me see!” Strange because, why wouldn’t he think people would take notes, right?

…Did I mention that “Drops Like Stars” is also the name of Rob Bell’s new book, and that this is the tour supporting that?

Before the presentation began I figured I would beat the line afterwards and pick up the amazingly designed hardcover version of the book.  After I bought a copy, one of the staff told me not to look at the end, because it would spoil tonight’s presentation.

Weird, I thought.

After looking at the book on the TTC ride home, I can see why: The presentation isn’t exactly an elaboration on the themes of the book; it’s basically Rob Bell reciting the whole thing, nearly line-by-line, image-by-image. No wonder he was surprised someone was taking notes… if you bought the book or were planning to, you were wasting your time.

(I’ll need a lot more time to expand upon a lot of the thoughts within the book itself, which is beautiful and engaging, but I’ll meditate on it a while first.)

I was also surprised about how much the night seemed to be like a “motivational speaker” type event, and not quite a “Christianity” type event… there was discussion about Jesus and the cross, but not as much as there was about art theory, and quotes from famous authors of different stripes.

One of the criticisms that people have with Rob Bell and the emergent movement in general, is that sometimes it lacks a strong foundation in the Bible itself. “Drops like Stars” on the surface seems like it suffers the same fate… beyond a retelling of the prodigal son story at the beginning, and a smattering of other quotes, it seems like Rob Bell is building his thesis from more non-Biblical sources.

(Another quick diversion: Why is this a bad thing? Because most Christians believe that the Bible is directly inspired by God, that he is directly revealed through it, and regular study of it will give you bring you closer to him. Basing Christian ideas and theories on things outside of God’s word is like building a house on a sandy beach, and it can trick believers into believing un-Biblical things. If you want to read more about some criticisms of the emergent movement, take a look at “Why We’re Not Emergent By Two Guys Who Should Be,” because they explain this kind of caution better than I can.)

The thing is, as a long-time Christian myself, I can tell that Rob Bell’s message is a Christian one, and I’m confident that you can find explicit Biblical references to most, if not all, of the points he makes… it’s just strange that he doesn’t. For the “post-Christian,” or the Christian sick of the modern-day church, I think this approach would appear refreshing — and it is. But I wonder about people who don’t know about Jesus… are they going to “get it” in the same way? Will they “get it” more? I don’t think it will be as clear to those people who don’t already have a fairly broad knowledge base.

Overall, it was a very enjoyable night, highlighted especially by the moments of audience participation. I was inspired, and it made me want to start creating new media type presentations for my own church. So if you are planning on seeing Rob Bell on the tour, by all means go… but if you haven’t bought a ticket yet, save your money and buy the book.

Oh, and for those who were there or read the book, I’m Will Ferrell too.

(Photo of Rob Bell and “The Squirrel” by Gbrenna)