A few weeks ago, the spring broke inside the door handle on the driver’s side of my car. This meant that in order to get into the car, I had to go through the passenger’s side. On the day I was scheduled to take the car to get it repaired, I tried the passenger door and it was locked. Yes, I had forgotten to unlock all the doors the last time I drove, and yes, the key was inside the car.

This could have been a very easy situation to fix. When I bought my car many years ago, I was given a spare key, and was told to alternate using it with my regular key so the battery inside the key would stay charged.  But since so much time had passed, I could not remember exactly where I had put the spare key, although I had some ideas.

The thought of searching for the key and where it might be was overwhelming (picture the show Hoarders), so I first called the garage where I take my car for repairs to explain the situation, and the owner said there was nothing he could do, and a locksmith would not be able to get into my car because it has a complicated locking system. I then called the dealership to see if I could get another key made, and the mechanic said unless my car had another lock on the passenger’s door (it does not), a new key would do me no good since the spring was broken inside the door handle with the lock. He said in order to program a new key, he would need to be able to get inside the car. He said if I had the car towed, he had a secret lockout kit that he could use (he didn’t use the word “secret”, but at this point, cynicism was my friend).

As I was calculating the cost of towing the car and paying for the secret lockout kit from the dealership, I was having a hard time justifying the thought of spending this kind of money when, at this point, it would be due to my lack of knowing the location of the spare key. In fact, I have had to pass on doing some extra concerts this year since these were not included in this year’s music budget, so the idea spending this kind of money was hard to take.

I called my good friend Steve, who knows more about cars than anyone I know, and he said he would do some research.  He also said he thought a locksmith could do the job. In the meantime, I starting searching for the key.

There were five “regions” where the key could be.  I say regions, because these Grey Gardens-like areas were not specific to one spot.  For example, region one included every drawer in the house.  I tackled this one first. Two hours later, and two hours behind schedule for my regular life, I knew the next searches would have to wait until the weekend. When the searches of regions two, three, and four failed (too much to describe), I gave up.

Not wanting to bother Steve again, I called a locksmith. He said he was not sure it could be done, but said he would be over in an hour. I immediately started calculating the cost of the locksmith, the likelihood that he would not be successful, the possibility of damage to my door and complicated locking system, followed by the towing, the dealership cost and their secret lockout kit, and I realized there may be no more concerts in my distant future.

At this point, I felt compelled to consider the possibility of tackling region five. Because I have no time, and 10 hours had already been devoted to regions one through four, I had previously decided that region five would be out of my league, since region five was comprised of every previous attempt at organization on my part over the years, as evidenced by stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks and stacks (you get the point) of plastic storage boxes. I knew it would take several days to go through all of this, but with the locksmith scheduled and my future as a performing musician at stake, I grabbed the first box in the stack.

I opened the box, and on the very top was a folder with all of the information from the purchase of my car, including the spare key. Needless to say, I was overwhelmed with happiness. I canceled the the locksmith. Even though the battery in the key was dead, I knew the worst case scenario was now a simple battery replacement for the key.

Now standing at the broken door, I turned the key in the lock, and it locked the broken door. I turned it again, and it unlocked the broken door. I knew it was a long shot, but I kept trying, thinking the key might recharge or the other doors might unlock. After several attempts with the same outcome, I thought I would leave the key in the door to see if it might charge itself. A few minutes later, I tried it again. The key battery was still dead, so I turned the key and it locked broken door, and I turned it again, and it unlocked broken door, and this pattern continued until, suddenly, all the doors unlocked. I couldn’t believe it, and it felt like the second miracle of the day. (Steve even called later to tell me he had been working on solving the problem. We need more Steves in the world.)

As you already know by now, I look for the meaning in things that happen, and the lesson from this experience hit me several days later. I have often heard it said that God gives us the means to solve a lot of the problems we pray about and ask Him to fix. From the minute this happened with my car, I had a clear picture of what needed to be done to find the spare key, but did not even consider going the full distance at first. It made me start wondering about the things I have prayed about and would like to see happen, and the many thoughts I have had about ways they might happen that I really never fully pursue. An obvious passage about this is Matthew 7:7-9, where it says “Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened.”

I thinks sometimes we have a different view of what an answered prayer looks like, when a lot of times, the answer has been given to us, but we are not paying attention to it, disregard it as impossible, or are not willing to truly seek so we can find it. Although my key dilemma was small in the grand scheme of things, the experience forced me to think about the fact that many times, we have already been given the key if we are willing to use it.

I discovered Keith Green’s music a few years ago. There is something about his recording of “Easter Song” that makes me feel like I am witnessing what happened on the first Easter. It’s sad to me that Keith is no longer on this earth, but amazing that his music, especially “Easter Song”, still breathes life into the meaning of this weekend. The link is below. Be sure to listen through the credits.

This is a continuation of a series of entries describing those times in my life when I have felt the presence of God in a powerful way, and when I knew, without a doubt, there is a God…  

There have been several times when God revealed His presence to me while I was going through the experience of losing someone through death.  My first experience with this was the death of my dad.  I had been taking care of him while he recovered from heart surgery.  His prognosis was good, so it never occurred to me that he would die when he did.  In retrospect, there were so many signs that God was getting him ready to go to the other side. 

For example, when he was recovering in the hospital after surgery, Dad was telling me that his father and best friend had visited with him.  Since I knew both of them had passed away many years ago, I thought maybe Dad was going to say that it was a dream.  But he kept telling me about their visit.  Probably 20 minutes later, Dad said “They died a long time ago, didn’t they?”  I told him they had, but reassured him that I had enjoyed hearing about the visit.  He laughed and said the doctors must have him on some pretty strong painkillers.

The night Dad died, our devotional was about I Corinthians 13.  We talked about the verse that says “for now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face.”  I remember telling him that I did not realize this verse was part of the love chapter in the Bible.  We talked about whether or not we would all recognize each other in heaven (I shared some of this in an earlier entry). 

Also, earlier that night, Dad had spent some time with an estranged loved one, and it was a great experience for both of them.  Because of this, he talked to me about many of the people and events in his life, some that seemed difficult at the time, and how he saw them now that the years had passed.  It gave both of us the opportunity to say what we normally would not have said. 

Later that night, I woke up and heard Dad calling my name.  He was holding his chest and said he felt cold.  I called 911 and the nurse who lived next door.  She was there in less than a minute.  I remember her saying his pulse was fine—that nothing seemed to be wrong.  And just like that, Dad began gazing upward and left this earth.  I was telling him to hold on, but he was already gone.

The ambulance took him to the hospital, and everyone gathered to hear an outcome we already knew.  Arrangements were made, and many hours passed until it was morning.  My mom was with me when we returned to Dad’s place, and I remember uncontrollably wailing in grief as I walked into the house where, just hours ago, we were together and laughing. 

As I entered the room where he had died, my eyes were immediately directed to Dad’s piano.  Right in the center of it was the sheet music for a song called “He’s Alive”.  I had bought the sheet music years ago and had not seen it since high school.  But there it was, right in the middle of Dad’s piano. I knew that God was telling me that Dad is alive on the other side and that all is well.  I don’t know how to describe it, but this one heavenly message completely changed the way I dealt with losing my dad.  An excerpt from “He’s Alive” may explain it best:

Light that came from everywhere
Drove the shadows from the room…
Guilt and my confusion
Disappeared in sweet release
And every fear I’d ever had
Just melted into peace…

He’s alive…Heaven’s gates are open wide.

Ten years ago today, the first commercial CD I completed was out there for all to hear.  It is amazing how much has changed since January 23, 2003. There was no Facebook or YouTube, and the best way I knew to get the songs out was to visit stores and radio stations. The CD art was taken on a digital camera with room for five whole pictures!

I thought you might enjoy hearing this blast from the past. Follow the link to John, Jane, and All Things, grand-prize winner at the 2003 Embassy Music Ultimate Talent Search in Nashville. And if you want a copy of the CD, shoot me an email. Even though we reordered several printings at the time, the company that printed it no longer has it. Hmmm… I’m thinking collector’s item. Who knew?

01 John, Jane, and All Things

Merry Christmas from the Maz Hippo Music family!

We began attending a new church when I was 13. Our first summer there, the church sponsored a Bible camp. I remember how special the place felt, even from the first time we walked the grounds. There was a main conference building where we all would gather for meals, music, and guest speakers. We slept in cabins without electricity which, at first, put a damper on the idea of spending a week at the camp.  Sure, there was electricity everywhere else, but none where we were housed? I really dreaded what I believed would be endless boredom.

It is interesting how seeming connectivity can disconnect us from what is right in front of us. That was something that became very clear to me as the week progressed.

Every night, I would listen to sounds of crickets, leaves rustling in the wind, the occasional coyote, and most importantly, my own heart. It was on one such night that I wanted to go somewhere and pray, and I found myself under a towering oak tree with the moon as the only light.  I had been hearing all week about Christ, and even though I had been in church since I was a child, I had not fully understood what the life of Jesus meant to me–that he was God in the form of man, that he took all the sin, pain, and sorrow on himself so that I could have a different life.  It was overwhelming to know that no matter what was ahead in my life, that Christ had made a way of peace, rest, and promise. God drew me to that spot under the oak tree that night, and salvation is the only word to describe what happened there.

On another night, we had received the news during our regular meeting that one of our church members was very sick. We were told that there would be a cabin available later for anyone who wanted to pray. I went to the cabin that night. Candles filled the room, and people of all ages were just pouring out their hearts in prayer. I imagine the feeling in the room was similar to the upper room experience we have read about in the Bible. Unlike that passage, no one was speaking in tongues, but there was an energy unlike any I had felt before, and sadly, have rarely felt since. I can only think that it came from open, trusting hearts that dared to pray like no one was watching and that God was listening.

I also met a counselor there who, to this day, made one of the greatest impacts on my life. It was during this summer that my parents were divorcing. No matter how much parents try to protect their children during these times, it still causes a shift. At least that was the case with me. I felt like I had gone from 12 to 40 overnight, and I think the counselor saw that I was struggling with my place in the world. He really took the time to get to know me, and he encouraged me to be myself.

So the presence of God was everywhere that summer of my 13th year. God found me, and I found myself. More encounters would soon follow…

I mentioned in the last post that after spending time with the girl on the playground, I didn’t understand why she was gone the same day she was new to the school.  After that day, though, I didn’t think of her very often, especially when I was a child.  There would be fleeting moments during later years in elementary and middle school that I would wonder if she might come back, but these thoughts were short-lived. It’s interesting how children differ from adults in matters like this.  For example, it’s funny the way we used to end a conversation on the telephone when we were kids. One of us would be talking, and the other would just say “bye” when it was time to go.  Nobody thought it was rude or insensitive as we might think as adults.  It was just time to end the phone call because maybe Mom said it was time to go to bed.  This also reminds me of how childlike faith works. To a child, as the saying goes, “it is what it is”.

I have thought more about the girl on the playground during my adult years. This usually happens when I meet someone and we make an instant connection, or when I have one of those synchronistic moments that has no reasonable explanation. The feeling is similar to the one I had with the girl, and I am aware that in these particular moments, everything is as it should be.

Two of these times occurred at a summer camp I attended with my church. I had been involved in church since I was a child, and we started attending a smaller church when I was a teenager.  My new church sponsored a camp every summer. The first year I went, my life completely changed.

More to come soon…”Bye” for now.

I have been thinking about those times in my life when I have felt the presence of God in a powerful way.  I don’t know about you, but I have been asked over the years how I can know there is a God.  My answer would be too long to include in this entry, but it made think:  What are the times in my life I knew, without a doubt, that I was in the presence of God or something from the heavenly realm?  I feel His presence everyday, but there have been times the feeling was so intense that it felt like the veil had been removed.

I’m going to share some of these experiences here over the next few months, but thinking about them reminded me of something that happened when I was in the 1^st grade.  I don’t think I have shared this with anyone (which may still be the case since no one may be reading this ), mainly because it is a strange story.

I was on the playground one day, and there was a new girl there I had not seen before.  She followed me around, doing what I was doing, and we ended up talking on the bleachers by the baseball field.  I remember feeling really happy around her.  There was something familiar and comfortable about her.  It was probably one of my earliest existential moments (yes, even at age six), but I was very aware of being in the world, and being with someone special.  When it was time to go inside, she told me she would be leaving, and that it would be a long time before I saw her again, but to remember that we would always be together, even if I couldn’t see her.  I remember not understanding why she was leaving since she was new that day, but sure enough, she was not around even later that same day.

To be continued…

In Luke 6:27-28, Jesus says “But I say unto you, love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them that despitefully use you and persecute you.”  I have never thought of myself as having enemies, or being an enemy to anyone, so I have not felt the magnitude of this passage.  Yet over the past few months, I have had a series of challenges with people who ended up stealing from me. These included a dishonest music promoter, wrecker service (after my car broke down on the interstate), and a bona fide thief.  Since these encounters happened back to back and I always look for the meaning and reasons for things, it was hard for me to make sense of it, and even harder to feel anything remotely related to love for these people.

I have heard several pastors over the years say that we really don’t understand God’s love. We love the people who love us in return. This is the exact opposite of what these verses from Luke are saying. So these situations have given me an opportunity to explore the idea of loving seemingly unlovable people and seeing them the way God does. He really wants us to love when we feel hatred, and show kindness when it is the last thing we want to do.  I think about the people who use others, and the three who used me, and how it must feel to be them.  If they have the capacity to feel (which some people do not), they must feel much desperation and insecurity to live in a reality where the highlight of the day is how much they took from someone else.  Imagine being a person like this, and how freeing it would be to experience God’s love and healing.

Jesus continues in verse 29 and says that if someone takes your cloak (or coat), give him your tunic (or shirt) as well. Verse 30 says from him who takes away your goods, do not ask for them back. Verses 31-36 say that if you love those who love you…, and do good to those who do good to you…, and lend hoping to get it back…, what credit is this to you? Love your enemies, do good and lend, hoping for nothing in return, and your reward will be great. “Therefore be merciful, just as your Father also is merciful.”

Imagine really feeling this way for someone who has hurt you, and this is just a glimpse of God’s love.