I feverishly pour myself into treacherous situations, exerting a kind of energy that, for me at least, expresses a major trust in self and a very minor trust in God. I gather up other people’s expectations and problems, add them on top of my own, and then set out to resolve them with sweat and skill - and manipulation, if necessary. Only in the direst circumstances will I ponder what God’s activity in the whole affair might be. I mean, really, do I have to depend on God? Has it gotten that desperate?

I recently read the story of Tyler Wigg Stevenson’s improbable journey to faith. Tyler was an agnostic who threw himself into advocacy for ridding the world’s nuclear arsenals. He recounts his nightmarish days, immersed in the grim facts and apocalyptic scenarios, where his mind would twist with the endless visions of “merciless white flashes” ripping across metropolitan cities, melting whole city blocks and wide swaths of human population. It’s enough to make a man go mad.

It was the enormity of this crisis - and his utter inability to truly do anything of lasting impact to alter it - that ultimately led him to Jesus as his (and humanity’s) only hope. Now, Stevenson spends his days working for the same good cause, but he does it with a much different view of himself and a much wider view of who our planet’s Savior truly is. “The world is not mine to save,” said Tyler, “But I can serve the mission of the God who has already done so.”

That line has been rolling around in my head for days. Indeed, the world is not ours to save. But God has already enacted the rescue. We are not the Savior. We are not the Savior. But Jesus is. And both of those assertions are good, good news.

peace / winn

p.s. My friend, Justin Scott, has posted a hilarious little piece about haircuts. I recommend it.

We seem to be making bits and pieces of progress here and there. We’re currently in discussions with a few different financial options. One big foreign sales company has verbally committed to a $1 million “minimum guarantee,” which is something that they give to a bank in exchange for a loan of that amount. That would get us close to our budget, and with the money that comes from whatever state we shoot in, we’d be just about there. There are also a couple other private investment people and groups that I’m talking with, all of which have some level of serious interest. Who ever knows what’s going to happen? This is my least favorite part of the whole process. We’re also going to talk about casting this week–we might just go ahead and start making some offers. A few different people are talking about Kevin Bacon, so he might be our first approach.

I’m currently reading “The Conversations with Walter Murch,” a book of interviews with the legendary editor Walter Murch. Terrific book. Up next are a couple similar books, interviews with Truffaut and Kurusawa. I’m watching “The Seven Samurai” today, “Wild Bunch” tomorrow,” and I watched “The Godfather” a couple days ago. I’d seen it before, but watching it after reading some of Walter Murch’s comments on it was great. I’d always encourage filmmakers to watch films before or after you read some good analysis or inside info on them. And I’m going to go out on a limb and say that The Godfather is a solid film. I know that may put me in the minority, but I’m holding strong in that belief.

The night before I saw I’m Not There, I dreamt that I met Bob Dylan outside of a concert venue. He was standing against a wall by himself, sporting his little mustache and familiar scowl. I approached him immediately, wanting so badly just to shake his hand and show my appreciation and respect. As soon as he saw that I was heading towards him, he started to shy away, but I spoke up and held my hand in front of him, “Sir, my name is Dylan Peterson, my father named me after you.” He looked at me, didn’t shake my hand, but asked for my dad’s email address.

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One of the most interesting American figures of all time is revealed through multiple names, faces, and personalities in I’m Not There, the latest film from Todd Haynes. The name “Bob Dylan” never shows up in the movie, and though the songs heard in the movie are tried and true Dylan’s, they’re never titled as Bob Dylan songs. (Record album covers are altered to read something like “Travellin’ On” instead of “Freewheelin.’”) There’s some truth in the film, some fiction, and a lot of blur. In a way, the blur is the only thing that keeps the movie going. When character development begins to deepen, the story takes another hairpin turn into another time or place, never allowing the audience to really become comfortable with the perplexing filmmaking they’ve decided to put themselves through.
About 15 minutes into this movie, I thought, “I’m enjoying this, but would this movie do anything at all for someone who isn’t a Dylan fan?” The haze is just so thick. Catching the visual poetry of a Tarantula being projected across a room is fun for one familiar with Dylan’s history, but what is this movie otherwise?
When I found out that a movie about Bob Dylan was in production, I was excited, but I wondered if it was a good idea. For one thing, I heard that a female actress was playing Dylan (a risky move altogether), and I couldn’t get away from the simple fact that Dylan was still alive. Usually a biopic doesn’t really work until the star is gone, and the movie becomes a memorial to the artist (e.g., Ray Charles and Johnny Cash). But this type of thinking is not aligned with the typical Bob Dylan mindset. Bob Dylan has never been anything but unpredictable, and the more I gave up to this truth, the more excited I became about this experimental movie. And after seeing it, I clearly see how ridiculous it was for me to assume that a proper biopic couldn’t be made until the star was deceased. This is because while Dylan represented something in the 60s, he actually represents the same thing today. Bob Dylan represents the present.
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“Sing about your own time”
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Paradox, puzzle, and chaos seem to be the only clear themes in I’m Not There, and they make for a perfectly post-modern movie. If looking at each Dylan-life separately, the characters in I’m Not There will not have the proper effect, because they are separate and whole at the same time. They are male and female, everyone and no one. The stories are true, and exaggerated beyond belief. The facts are skewed, but the fiction holds just as much ground as the non-fiction. We ask ourselves “who is Bob Dylan?” and while we never find out, we always know the answer.
I’m Not There is visually stunning. Black and white Cate Blanchett blows minds as the Dylan of ’65, capturing his mannerisms while maintaining her own personal interpretation of the overdosed rock star. Richard Gere’s colorful world in Riddle delights viewers to the richest of colors in a Fellini-esque environment. Ostriches and giraffes roam Billy the Kid’s Halloween town, where adults love to wear makeup and kids wear Mr. Peanut costumes. Christian Bale’s born again version of Dylan momentarily summons the saved Zimmerman (much like the Joaquin Phoenix became Johnny Cash in Walk the Line), demanding double takes.
All of the other visual Dylans are just as great, but things really get interesting when the music comes on. The I’m Not There soundtrack features 33 Dylan covers, performed by some of the most ambitious music-makers today. Sufjan Stevens, Iron and Wine, Stephen Malkmus, Calexico, Sonic Youth, Willie Nelson, Jim James, and so many more bring their personal touch to Dylan’s already over-covered songs. And while only a few of the double-disc’s tracks make their way into the actual movie, the soundtrack accomplishes with sound what the film does with visuals.
Dylan’s songs have not only withstood time, but I’m Not There’s soundtrack proves that they have moved along with time, becoming anthems for freedom despite the era they’re played in. The capabilities the songs have to be performed in so many different ways testify to their genius. Iron and Wine and Calexico don’t really sound like Bob Dylan, but “Dark Eyes” sounds truly sincere as they’ve rendered it. Cat Power delivers one of her finest moments by taking on a Dylan impression in her rendition of “Stuck Inside of Mobile…” Sufjan sounds impeccably “Sufjan” without subtracting from the uniqueness that Bob Dylan created lyrically on “Ring Them Bells.”

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A man living in his present age wrote the songs, and they spoke to his generation with great clarity. When performed by contemporary artists today, they lose none of the fervor that they had in the days when they were first heard.
Bob Dylan’s music, and this movie, should be experienced repeatedly. They’re not merely singular works of art, but constantly transforming and growing into new things, perpetual experiences, always different from what they began as. See I’m Not There as an existentialist, not as a historian.
Arthur Rimbaud (Ben Whishaw) reminds us towards the end of the film that only our dreams are susceptible to nature’s decay. I’m Not There is one of the most dream-like movie going experiences imaginable. It’s a practice in visual present tense. It’s a film to think about, but for the most part, it’s a film to make you feel. It’s a film for the present moment, a vivid dream in the night.

http://www.imnotthere-movie.com

“Dude, I burned Toby’s first record.” Strange words to speak to the Vice-President of EMI CMG records, home of David Crowder Band, Switchfoot, TobyMac, Edison Glass, and others.  By traditional thinking, these words were, at worst career-killers, and at best, really really stupid.  But I had faith that Grant Hubbard, referred to by many as “The Godfather of Christian radio” would understand my motives.  After years a a rabid music pirate, I was ready to spread a different message. (By the way, the side bar bio is still broken. this is tower. I do afternoons on 89.7 Shine.FM Chicago. You can stream my show at www.shine.fm).

This change of heart had come primarily from two experiences.  The first was my college RD, Matt.  After returning from a conference where he learned that 90% of all albums made lose money, Matt threw away all of his burned CD’s and deleted all non-purchased music from his iTunes library.

This got me thinking about my own choices.  As an early adopter of Napster, I loved leaving the dial-up connected overnight (keep in mind that it was 2001 and I lived on my parents farm 15 miles from town),  and waking up to a new batch of songs.  When I got to college, I discovered the “joy” of trading music via AOL Insant Messenger’s “File Transfer” feature.  Soon, I had built an immense library in excess of 10,000 songs.  And the ripping was continual.  If a guy in the dorm went and purchased a just released album, it wasn’t unusual for 25 copies to be made by the end of the night.

But what should have been a music fan’s dream turned out to be…not that satisfying.  Listening to music digressed into just skimming tracks for 30 seconds at a time, never settling in enough to listen to a full song, let alone an album.  In high school, there had been a thrill to ripping the shrink-wrap off of a CD, popping in the disc, reading the liner notes.  But when I started pirating music en-mass, that thrill, the connection to the songs and the artist, began to fade away.  If you’ve ever seen the episode of The Simpsons episode where Bart sells his soul, and is no longer feel anything, it’s a pretty good depiction of what my listening experience had become.

These days, the feeling is back.  I can’t wait until next Tuesday, when the new Death Cab for Cutie project, Narrow Stairs, hits the shelf at my local Best Buy.  Now that I’m purchasing rather than downloading, getting new music is like dining at a fine restaurant or hanging with my best friends in downtown Chicago: half the fun is the anticipation.  I’ve read all the buzz on this album.  I’ve listened to clips, and hunted down information in the blogs to discover that the lyrical content was heavily inspired by one of my literary heroes and strongest writing influences, Jack Kerouac. 

What I love about digging into Kerouac’s writing is that he got so much out of life by finding meaning and passion in  things and situations that others only saw as common, disposable…which was the view I took of music when during my days of rabid pirating.  Now that I choose to exchange my hard earned money for art, I have a lot less albums on my iPod. 

But listening is a much greater joy than it’s ever been, because music is special again.  

Okay, well, besides her massive wealth and fame and Stedman and her friendship with both Cruise and Obama and the fact that she has her own glamor shot on the cover of a monthly magazine that bears her name -other than all that, she has nothing on us.

Because here comes our book club.

I’ve hinted at it, batted the idea around. Today, I say, what the heck?

So, during May, consider joining me with a good read. We’ll reflect on the book a month for now. You have two options:

If you want to go fiction, May’s choice will be G.K. Chesterton’s The Man Who Was Thursday: A Nightmare. Chesterton called this piece of his work “a very melodramatic sort of moonshine.” I’m intrigued. Any fellow who writes with the heart of a romantic as well as with the mind of a philosopher has my attention, not to mention the fact that he was a major influence on C.S. Lewis. You may have read Chesterton’s classic work, Orthodoxy or his Father Brown mysteries or his work in literary criticism. This, however, will be a tale that I think will snag your interest.

If you want to go theological, May’s choice will by N.T. Wright’s Surprised by Hope: Rethinking Heaven, the Resurrection and the Mission of the Church. Few theologians are having as much impact as Wright on the Western theological scene (particularly as it relates to theological praxis in Christian communities). Even Newsweek has taken note, calling Wright “the world’s leading New Testament scholar.” This book will not be some dry treatise on vague, theoretical concepts, however. It will expand your imagination to think quite differently about the reality of heaven - and about our role as the people of God here on earth.

I’m pretty excited about reading both of these. I’d love to have some interaction around these books when we convene our club here in a month (btw, should we name it? I mean, every good club has a name, right?). Drop me an email or land a comment if you plan to join up. The more, the merrier.

Actual blogging returns soon…

tower

RELEVANT, I bid thee, thy sweet, sweet intern page and amiable office space Adieu. Yes, it is what you think is. Today, the 25th of April is my, Ashley Wolpert’s last day as one of RELEVANT’s editorial interns.

You will no longer find my highly intellectual ramblings or clever witticisms on the RELEVANT intern blog.

HOWEVER! You will indeed find similar musings on the Relevant website under

>BLOGS
>Ashley Wolpert

as that is my new blog spot. I am proud to be a former RELEVANT intern, and present RELEVANT blogger. If you have enjoyed my past entries, be sure to check out my new blog as it will be updated with current, culturally relevant 20something wifi high-res 2.5gig ttly content.

Really, check back- my brain is a fascinating member.

On an actually serious note, I have a few real things to say. I know I haven’t written much, or … anything on my actual experience at RELEVANT, so here is the honest truth: my experience here has been fabulous. I have encountered some of the most genuine, down to earth, fantastic people I have ever met. The staff here is hardworking, passionate and certainly talented. There are not enough words for me to express how grateful I am, how much I have appreciated all of the wisdom, guidance, support and encouragement I have received during my time here. I will pass on the things I have learned and can only hope to bless others the way you guys have blessed me.

To Corene, Elizabeth and Adam,

Your hard work and perseverance is not in vain. People nationwide are impacted by the love you pour out in the form of words. Language confines me now, but know that by knowing you, I have known part of what it is like to be loved by Jesus. You are a reflection of Him. Thank you for all you do.

Best to all the staff at RELEVANT,

-A

I am here, in Gnashville at GMA Week, and the Steelehouse team and I had a morning meeting at a downtown hotel with a big muckety-muck (I don’t know what this term means, but it has something to do with success). While waiting, we observed a dozen pageantish girls with crowns and sashes (I kid you not. Sashes.) wandering around the hotel lobby. I finally read one of the sashes: Miss Christian USA. Then, I heard a little squeak. I looked down at my feet. There, a little ball of all that was remaining of the the good and holy inside of me was attempting to roll away. I stepped on it and forced it into my pocket for later.

After running into a couple dozen random people we knew, we went for coffee. There, at the barista counter, was Rupert. Rupert. From Survivor. Tie-die-shirt. Robinson Crusoe beard. Rupert. He has started a music label. Again. Not kidding.

Then, we saw three American Idols and two contestants from The Biggest Loser. I’m beginning to think I’ve come to the wrong gathering. I’m half expecting Jeff Probst to show up at the Doves and vote someone out of the Christian Music industry, which would be sad because we all already know it would be Carman.

Once at the ceremony, we sat through the pre-awards, which is a two hour session of awards they do not think need to be televised. I am surprised when our award is not in those awards. And then, the broadcast begins. That is the moment I began live-blogging for Relevant.com. Here are the excerpts:

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6:55 pm OMG - I’m seated in the third row of the Grand Old Opry theatre sitting behind Disciple, who just won a pre-show Dove. Just met Disciple’s manager and found out we both dated the same psycho chick. The GMA really IS a small world.

Thought we missed our award in the pre-show. We’re up for Best Short Form video for David Crowder Band’s “foreverandeveretc.” Just found out from Crowder that we did NOT miss it, but instead have been bumped up to the live broadcast. I should’ve worn a more slimming pair of pants.

7:05 pm Mandisa just tore it up. There are all these American Idols in the audience and they all just said to themselves, “oh, THATS how you sing.”

7:09 Best New Artist just went to Brandon Heath, which makes me think of chocolate and toffee. Mmm. Hungry.

7:10 First commercial break. It is so hot in here. Mostly because Mandisa hit a note that broke the air conditioner.

7:16 Can I just say that I LOVE Matthew West who is co-hosting backstage. Phenomenal legendary songwriter and very funny. Somebody needs to send him fruit baskets.

7:15 Natalie Grant. To put that big voice in that tiny lady, God had to compress it into a zip file.

7:19 Natalie Grant & Wynonna receive the award for the first Standing O of the evening. Well deserved. And male vocalist of the year goes to…Chris Tomlin. Phil Stacey of American Idol keeps standing. Glad I’m not behind him. The stagehands, by the way, just wheeled a huge wardrobe out on stage. Or maybe it’s just a door. Looks like the one on Sesame Street. Nope. Its Trinity 5:7 doing zydeco. Sure. Be obvious.

Wouldn’t you know it? I’m running out of battery. I’ll blog the rest after the show. Peace out!

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And THAT’S when my phone ran out of juice. After the awards, I came back and wrote the formal wrap-up, which I present to you now without commercial interruption:

11:24 pm Well - darn all this new technology to heck. My iPhone battery gave out a mere half-hour into the live broadcast this evening, and I was unable to blog live from that point on. However, due to the fact that no more than two of you would have been following these posts as they were written, I think we’re all good.

HIGHLIGHTS:

* Casting Crowns performing “East to West” with a full string section. WOW. This is a powerful song. I need to occasionally listen to Christian radio.

* Phil Stacey of American Idol - still standing. Starts just about every Standing O. His bald head looks like an O. Coincidence? Not at all. But nifty, nonetheless.

* Switchfoot’s new song from Prince Caspian: Pfft. Lame. And out-of-tune. I wanted to like it - because, you know: Switchfoot - and Narnia - and you’re not supposed to go Pfft at Christian songs. But I did. And I cannot take it back. and I cannot lie. And I do not like Foreman’s hat this evening. He’s never going to read my books, is he? He will never frequent my podcasts. Jon, I love all your other music. I swear. Just didn’t dig this one tonight. Perhaps later, when I hear the studio version - or am unconscious. Pfft. I almost fell asleep during the performance. Hey, maybe it will win Song of the Year in 2009.

* Female vocalist of the year: Natalie Grant. Yeah, I’ll buy that. She’s pretty doggone amazing. She hit some epic notes tonight. High notes. So high, the homeless guy sitting near me kept ramming his head repeatedly into a dumpster. Wait. That wasn’t a homeless guy. That was T-Bone. My bad.

* New worship song from MWS, Israel Houghton, SCC, Chris Tomlin, Paul Baloche, and Christy Nockels. Me like. They sound great together - and very genuine.

* By the way, if Casting Crowns is up for any specific award tonight, they win. Song. Group. Alliterative Band Name. Best Casting. They win it all. Well deserved.

* David Crowder Band LIVE! My homeboys rock and rule. “Everything Glorious” with a team of youth in hazmat suits (?!) dressing the set in springtime foliage as they perform. LOVE IT. Just absolutely LOVE IT. Yes, I produced his music video, but it was animated - so I didn’t actually meet David. I hope to someday be more than just Facebook friends. Do you think Jon Foreman will let Steelehouse do Switchfoot’s next video? Do you? Answer: me neither.

* The Clark Sisters & Marvin Sapp - WOWZERS! These Gospel Greats do NOT get the accolades due them. When did the Relevant generation stop listening to these classic juggernauts called Gospel Songs?

* And the short form video of the year winner IS - not us. TobyMac wins (also winning Artist of the Year) and you just can’t argue because he’s so darn awesome and Godly and talented and likeable and boomin’ and - hey, there’s Jon Foreman’s hat. So, we lost - but they played clips from our video about a half dozen times. And we made DCB happy. And we lost. I really wanted one of those sharp, threatening statues. Right before Toby beat us, he was standing directly by our seats. We made brief eye contact and I think he secretly stole the part of my soul that had a chance of winning. He put it in Jon Foreman’s hat. I will never see it again. I hope Jesus is still all right with you, Toby. Because I’m done with you and your voodoo soul-stealing stares. I’m just done. Unless you want to do lunch or something.

* The American Idol tribute to 25 years of Michael W. Smith. Who comes up with this stuff? I have a soft spot for Michael. His music influenced me in profound ways. And, I thought the Idols (can a Christian show have Idols?) sounded very good, but I would have expected it to be more honoring of MWS to have some other legends performing his songs. No venom intended. Just a suggestion. Something to change for the next airing. I know it’s already aired live - but, let’s face it. Only three people saw it.

*Grand Ole Opry Country Music Gospel Finale with Charlie Daniels and Mac Powell of Third Day. As JJ Walker might say, DY-NO-MITE! Unbefreakingleavable. This ruled. You must watch it instantly. Oh. It’s not on right now. Then, Tivo it. Or YouTube it. Or, download it to the nanotechnology in your left retina. They can do that now, right?

All in all, a grand time. The live broadcast streamlined the event and was accomplished extraordinarily well. The evening made me proud to be a part of this grand Christian subculture, but not as proud as I would have been had we WON the sharp bird statue. I suppose I will have to rely on Toby’s portable sounds to lift me up and take me higher.

Thanks for hanging with me. It was grand fun. I’ll talk about it more on this week’s Steelehouse Podcast available at iTunes or on www.halflifediealready.com. But, for now, I’ve got Christian music to listen to. And an apology letter to write to Jon Foreman.

However, I still don’t believe that I really understand hunger, never mind starvation. Doing the Famine over the past few years, I’ve come away with the perspective each year that I experienced a taste of what it’s like to go to bed hungry and to live with gnawing hunger pangs as part of my day, both of which I know are reality for many in developing countries.

What I realized this time is that my connection with food is so much deeper than purely physical and that I was never really depriving myself to the point when I could consider that I really faced hunger.

My connection with food, and our connection with food in North America, is often emotional. We have this luxury. We feel good when we eat; we have our favourites, we have choice and most of what we consume is very satisfying. Our connection with food is also social, another luxury. People gather around food, whether it is popcorn at the movies, a dinner party with close friends, a trip to Starbucks, s’mores around the campfire, or dessert at a nice restaurant, for a few examples. In my family, one of the few times that we’re all together is around the dinner table, enjoying a meal.

I never faced starvation during my “Famine.” I never experienced the pain that comes with being days without food and I’ve never had to be concerned about health problems from not having enough to eat. I’ll likely never feel the same fear for how I’m going to feed my family. Instead, I got through the 30 hours thinking about the BBQ that was going to happen at 5pm on Sunday. I thought about the burgers and fruit that I very much love and I thought about the fun with friends that I would have. I was never really deprived.

What I did feel deprived of was my emotional and social connection with food, both luxuries. I think this may have bothered me even more than the hunger pangs. I couldn’t enjoy dinner with my family. I missed out on going out for lunch with friends after church. I couldn’t go to the fridge when I was bored. I didn’t get a peanut butter and jelly (my favourite!) sandwich for lunch. I almost have to laugh at how this sounds!

I am humbled and maybe even a little convicted. I take food for granted, even when I’m doing an exercise that’s supposed to help me break free from that. At the same time, I’m not only thankful for my food, but I’m also thankful for the experience with the Famine that’s helped me to realize and own this perspective.

Until next time…

Since Super Size Me and the politics of globalization have made consumerism a whipping boy, we can fall into naïve and shortsighted rhetoric around the issue. However, we are right to be gravely concerned about a society that is gorging itself to death (on burgers and fries as well as on oil and trees).

I do wonder, however, if we have recognized how deeply we (the church) are immersed in consumer addiction. Of course, the merry-go-round experience known as “church shopping” makes most pastor’s top five list of things we hate about culture’s negative impact; but does our self-critique go any deeper than that? It should.

We all have our loyalties. We are loyal to a political affiliation, to our cultural heritage, to our Mac, to P.F. Changs, a few of us even to the Yankees. And then – added to that mix – some of us are loyal to Jesus as well. Jesus will have to squeeze in, but there’s enough loyalty to spread around.

The sickness here is that the whole enterprise begins and ends with us. We know what we want, and we use whoever or whatever will help us get it. If the democrats offer what we desire, fine. If the Republicans, okay. If a career or a spouse or a master’s degree helps, great. And when Jesus can grease the wheels, all the better. From this posture, we attach God’s name to whatever suits us. We may quote a verse or pray a prayer, but then we baptize our every whim and desire in the name of me. “After all,” as Skye Jethani reminds us, “in a consumer culture, the customer, not Christ, is King.”

This is precisely the question we must ask: Who is king? Is Jesus Lord? Or are we? Often, our actions belie that we have made a lethal error. We believe we own the world. We believe the world and all its resources – all our friendships, all of our time, all our economic power – are ours to devour.

To this, Psalm 24:1 echoes a strong rebuke. “The earth is the Lord’s, and everything in it.” The earth is the Lord’s, not ours. God owns every solitary speck on this mess of a planet (including us). There isn’t a single molecule we can call our own. To borrow from the t-shirt, “This is God’s world. We’re just living in it.”

Certainly, God has given us His world to enjoy for our pleasure. But we are caretakers, not owners. Our first question is not: what do I want from this world? but rather, what does God want to do in His world? How does God want to heal in His world? How does God want to love broken people in His world? How does God want to speak life and truth and hope and justice into His world? And – most poignant for you and me — how does God want to use us in His redemptive work? Gobbling and gorging and stuffing our face full of God’s goodness is simply a puny, wasted way to live.

peace / Winn