Nashville - A Gold Digger's Town

Nashville is such a city of promise. It reminds me a bit of the California Gold Rush of mid-1800. Some lucky random guy found gold in an old mill, and before long, 300,000 men, women, and children flocked to the Golden State from all over the country, and even as far away as Latin America, Europe, Australia and Asia. A handful of people recovered millions of dollars worth of gold, but most people went home none the richer. As you can imagine, the boom brought with it a considerable amount of economic good for California.

Unfortunately, the Gold Rush wasn’t without its negative affects, as Native Americans were attacked and pushed off their land, creating race and ethnic tensions. Not to mention environmental harm caused by prospectors literally overturning every stone, trying to get their piece of the pot.

When I first heard there was gold in them there hills of Nashville, it wasn’t long before I knew I needed to pack up my wagon and trek across the country from Minnesota to see what I might uncover.

Heck, I had as good of a chance as anybody, right? I remember thinking a well-intentioned, charismatic, halfway-decent singer like myself stood a pretty good shot at a record deal. I had bought records and seen concerts by artists who appeared to be a lot more mediocre than me. People say the record industry just puts out crap. I say, why can’t they just put out my crap?

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Will Anyone Ever Pick Me?

It has become very important for me to identify what the Evil Voices In My Head are telling me. If I don’t, I just feel overwhelmed by fear and stupidity.

For instance, as a writer I hate walking into a bookstore. Part of me wants to find something interesting to connect with, some new writer that will affect my life like Anne Lamott or Eugene Peterson. All the covers plead for me to judge their contents by their prettiness. Truth is, sometimes you can judge a book by its cover. But instead of discovering beautiful new literary connections, I get bowled over by the silence. Like leafing through page after page of a dating service notebook filled with women last named A-G. So much muted potential, prettied-up with a fancy exterior. But mostly, it’s the overwhelming silence of all those unsold books that is so deafening to me. And I really want to be one more of the unsold authors stacked on those disorganized shelves? What could possibly be wrong with me?

All those words on all those pages. All those hours spent by someone somewhere, hoping their efforts would have some value. All those months waiting for a publisher to pick up their manuscript. All those hours wondering if that publisher will ever do anything to promote their dang book, or if it will just get lost in the shuffle of their better-selling, celebrity-driven, ghost-written titles.

It’s very similar to going into a record store and seeing all those unsold CDs just sitting there, patiently waiting for someone to give them a chance. So much unnoticed music. At the same time, there are so many artists that sell a ton of records. So many authors who sell a ton of books. And still, so many artists and authors who have personally affected me. I’m grateful they chose to throw their heart down the chute of creativity so that I could have my life changed by their expressions.

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Paddling Upstream To Catch the Big One

It started off beautiful. The sun was shining and the temperature was unseasonably warm for December. It was Tuesday, which meant Scott and I would try to get together for coffee, like we have been doing for probably 15 years. We talk about our favorite TV shows, sporting teams, music, and recent travels. It kind of feels like we're those old guys that sit around the coffee shop and talk about not much. It's comforting and stable, in the midst of these very disposable days. As we talked, the clouds starting gathering about, and increasing their darkness.

I ventured a thought-provoking question in Scott's direction, one of my most favorite things to do over coffee. "So what do you hope happens in the coming year? What are you wishing for?" Before he even answered, I was both hoping he'd ask me, and then just as quickly, realized I actually didn't want him to ask me. So I listened. It all seemed pretty reasonable. Meaning, quite doable.

Then he asked me. "So, what about you?"

I sat silent for a second. I started to feel a little sick in my stomach. All these things I'm wishing and hoping and praying for flashed through my mind like it was 1993, 1994, and every year since. I said a couple things out loud, a couple of things that seemed reasonable. But I was stunned by the frustration I started to feel. I've been wishing for the same things for so long. Other people have been waiting and hoping for me, as well. I can only imagine they're getting worn out, like me, wishing for my success, frustrated by the lack of something breakthrough-ish happening in my professional life.

It started to rain on my drive home. And I felt the clouds in my spirit turning very dark. "Am I so crazy that I can't give up on my dreams? Am I that guy? Or am I setting the world record for persistence! Am I committed and loyal, and fiercely driven by my calling? Or am I just hitting my head against the same worn out wall, hoping that it will stop hurting?" The questions make me want to eat ice cream.

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Upcoming Midwest Concerts

Well, it's been a hot summer here in Nashville, but probably where you are, too! Do you ever get to the point where you've just had about enough of the summer heat and you just wanna go "up nort?" It's very similar to that feeling where you decide to plan your Christmas tour to end in Florida! With that, I'm excited to report a whole gaggle of concerts in the coming weeks, particularly for those of you in Minnesota. So pull out your datebook and decide when we're going to see each other again. Here are the details...

• 7pm Sat. Aug 25 - Rochester, MN - UTurn Event Center - Join me, and another Nashville act, You Knew Me When (with other artists, too), for a special time at one of my favorite places. This is a ticketed event. More info here on the facebook event page


• 4pm Sun. Aug 26 - Rochester, MN - Salem Road Covenant Church - We're going to have a great time (as a follow up to the most ruckus Christmas concert ever) at this afternoon concert. Church website


• 5:30pm Mon. Aug 27 - Rochester, MN - Peace Plaza - join us for this free OUTDOOR concert in beautiful downtown Rochester, a creative outreach to the community!! We're gonna turn up the HOPE to 11! Rochester info here


• 6:30pm Wed. Aug 29 - Nisswa, MN - Lutheran Church of the Cross - A special night of hope & inspiration in this beautiful church, perfectly designed for a great music experience. I look forward to meeting new friends, and seeing old friends & family from Crosslake & Pequot Lakes, too! Church website


• 7:30pm Fri. Aug 31 - Minneapolis, MN - River Towers Condos Function Room - An intimate evening of Stories & Songs with friends I haven't seen for probably 20 years or more. Shoot me an email if you'd like to come! Bring friends!


• 9:30am Sun. Sep 2 - Rochester, MN - Rochester Covenant Church - This is my home church away from home...and I'm honored to be speaking and singing for the entire morning service. Here's their website

Don't know about you, but I'm really excited about this upcoming trip. Especially the opportunity to make a huge impact on the community of Rochester. Closely followed by an opportunity to go to a Twins game and maybe even a visit to the MN State Fair for something fried on a stick. I'm also hoping to preview a bit of a new HYMNS project I'm working on.

Hope to see you out there on the road. Please forward this post to all your friends and tell them to come out to a show. If you're not in Minnesota, let me know if you think of someplace I should come sing. And until that happens, I trust God is blessing you...and that you can see how He is.

How’s My Sobriety Going?

I was just asked how it's going with my sobriety. I can't imagine what my face looked like because my mind started racing at 300 miles per hour, attempting to scan every conversation I've had with this guy to figure out exactly what he might be referring to. It's not like we're the closest of friends, you know, like someone I would tell my secrets to, who would then be given permission to ask me questions like this. I had just told him how meaningful, joyful, and story-filled are my times on the weekend working in hospitality at a local hotel.

"I mean, it must be difficult being around the alcohol and people drinking all the time," he clarified.

My head was still spinning. I've lived my whole life doing what the best publicists do for all the celebrities—spin control. You know how they take their client's random acts of stupidity caught on tape and turn them into something career-building? That's what I do for my biggest client—me. Except it's a bit more subtle. If I can keep up the appearance that everything is the way it's "supposed to be" then there won't be anybody trying to get underneath, to see what's really brewing in my cauldron of gooey pleasantness. There's nothing intriguing about nice.

Being nice is a great way to keep people at a distance. And for an attention-hungry, insecure, emotionally-driven narcissist, I can get pretty hungry for attention. So I've learned subtle ways to manipulate people into giving me a taste of the sweet honey I crave.

When you show a chink in your nice, especially if it's a briefly revealed glimpse of pain on your face, it concerns people.

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My Promised Land

I would never call myself a scholar per se, on anything, except maybe pop music in the 80s. But I do find it interesting in the Old Testament where Moses leads the stubborn, incredibly cynical Israelites through the desert for 40 years. Seriously? 40 years is a crazy long time to be on a journey toward something you can’t see.

Turns out they were promised a kind of freedom, a land where they could be free from the tyranny they had lived under in Israel, a land flowing with milk and honey. Show me a land flowing with steak and ice cream, and I might journey toward it myself, but if I'm gone a week with no sign of nothing meaty or creamy, I'm out of there.

These Israelites, as much as they complained, must have had incredible determination and persistence to stay on the course. Still, I would've become tired, distracted, resentful. I would have to be reminded over and over exactly why we were doing this whole "wandering through the desert" thing. Probably several times each day.

I imagine having thoughts like: "Hey Moses, you sure you know where you're taking us?" "Now, why exactly are we doing this?" or "This land here looks pretty good. I think I can smell honey."

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