Christmas Time!

One of my favorite holiday songs from an old Rothwell tradition. Just getting warmed up for my Christmas gig tomorrow!

No Title?

I really need to write another blog.

A Needle in a Haystack...

Do you ever find yourself in one of those depressing, reflecting moods? Where you want to look back over the years of your life, however short it may be, and decide where you were when you made all the wrong decisions that resulted in the issues you fight so desperately today? Like looking down one of those wooded paths you would picture a ring wraith racing down in a Tolkien novel but instead of a black cloaked pursuer, you see something even scarier: your stupid past self.

The untouchable you, the arrogant you, so convinced that the world ruined you and only you, and therefore was indebted to you. The people around you, especially those who knew you back then, should understand that any character flaws, any serious issues you have, they're the PAST You’s fault and, well, they're just going to have to deal with them.

Truth be told, past Ben was far more productive than present-day Ben. A short list of his accomplishments include:

Becoming a master of insecurity, getting caught shoplifting, getting summoned to court nearly half a dozen times for refusing to respect even the easiest of requests from authority, being a master liar, being a manipulator, being a smoker, being a fighter, being a twisted and broken down excuse of a son/brother/(ex)boyfriend/friend/leader in ministry. He opted out of jobs just because of immaturity, he wasted large portions of his life playing video games (and even utilized his mastery of lying and manipulating to get the opportunities for that), he lied his way into a job he didn't deserve only to get paid a lot of money to do pretty much no work before he left them high and dry without several thousand dollars he received for doing nothing, and worst of all, he all but denied the existence of God.

Current day Ben has at least convinced himself completely of the existence of God, but other than that, merely achieved a position of leadership, 1/4 of a degree in theology and a few songs credited to his name. And, to my everlasting regret, escape from only a few of past Ben's titles and achievements.

Do you ever find yourself feeling this way? Looking back, and even around you in some cases, to see all of what you did and how it has ultimately effected you? Past Ben still hurts people, and I really don't have any good reasons to justify it; this is huge considering that I'm a master of justification.

I'm feeling that way today. And I'm looking through every song in my iTunes and even thinking of every song I know, hoping that I will find one to take hold of this weakened version of myself and stand him back up on his feet, push his fists back up in the air and remind him to keep fighting because somewhere at some point something has to give way, and past Ben won't do this anymore. Past Ben won't keep showing himself in the worst ways at the worst times and hurting the dearest of people... But I'm afraid that today, finding that song is like finding a needle in a haystack. Which is a hard thing to admit for somebody who loves music so much.

So it's at times like these, when I can't find a song to remind me to fight, that I write one in hopes that someday, somewhere, somebody else feels this way... and maybe the needle I make will be easier to find.

A song that asks God if things would hurt so much less if I had just never even told him that I knew he was there. If I never even told him I loved him, could I have found something else? I would have never had past Ben, so maybe I wouldn't look back and be so upset if I had just never chosen to change in the first place. I know that it's illogical, and of course I still love God, and of course the song will solve itself. But Job got to ask God - Old Testament God, no less - What the deal was or if everything was his fault. Sometimes the best therapy for us or for others is to question God’s intentions or how much better or worse things would be if he just quit meddling! This is, of course, an exaggeration to make a point, a hyperbole if you will.

Maybe the words in the riddle before the answer are whats important to somebody someday. Maybe the beauty in the question is what comforts sometimes, and the answer only holds the reality we need to leave the comfort behind. If my lyrics ever find somewhere else to reside (away from a simple blog with only a handful of followers), then maybe the song I’ll post about today will help bring that comfort they need that day and, Lord willing, the reality they’ll need from that day on.

I'll post a video of the song in a couple of days, I still have to finish the “needle”. In the mean time, I'll leave you hanging with a verse from 1 Peter. A verse that’s been encouraging me a lot lately and giving me peace in the most frustrating of predicaments.

Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all of your anxiety on him because he cares for you. (1 Peter 5:6-7)

-Ben

Speechless...

I know what you're thinking: "How can a blog be called speechless but still contain words?" Well I'm afraid I have no answer.

I suppose the primary reason that I called it that is due to my inability to formulate a reason as to why I'm even on here right now, bothering to write a blog.

I'm lying on my bed and listening to the sound of an air conditioning unit on the other side of my door. My hands are sort of jittery, and I'm not sure why, and I am overwhelmed by a sense of fear that I can't even explain. Not only can I not explain it, I have no idea where it's coming from.

A fear of inadequacy and neglect, stemming from, as far as I can tell, nothing. Just sort of... there.

The more I think about things, I ponder to myself: if there was one thing I could fix what would it be? Would it be the feeling itself? or would I fix the fact that I have so much trouble coping with it? I know I'm better than this. But Lord knows I can't be convinced right now. I need some music.

I wish so badly I could write right now, but I'm kind of speechless. I guess I'll just play some melodies until it goes away. Until God readjusts my perspective. :)

-Ben

Daffodils and Fires.

I was listening to Dave Barnes on the way home last night. In one of his songs he writes:

"Words can be

Daffodils

Or a fire in

An open field..."

I thought of this for a while and considered it with the old Proverb from the Bible:

The tongue can bring death or life; those who love to talk will reap the consequences. (Proverbs 12:13).

Other translations simply say "those who love it will eat it's fruit." Which isn't to say "oh look out you're gonna get it if you open your mouth!" it means what you speak, be it good or bad, can effect future experiences in turn.

For those who know me, I am quite the pessimist to a fault. A trait I am trying desperately to fix. I speak death or negativity a million times a day. There are few conversations I'm involved in that don't in some part consist of "but what if" or "well, yes. Buuuut..." or "no that's not fair" or "that's ridiculous" or "that's the stupidest thing I've ever heard" (oddly enough, I can apparently hear the stupidest thing I've ever heard several times every day) or "seriously?" The list goes on and on. The sad part is, that anybody who knows me won't chuckle and think "what an exaggerator that Ben Rothwell is!" No no, they'll think "shoot. He does say all of those things."

I think this is bad. Rather, I know it's bad. The line in Dave Barnes' song that follows what I wrote before about words being a fire in an open field are:

"I'm sitting here

In the ash

Of stupid words

That I can't take back"

The bridge:

"There's a devil on my shoulder babe

And I believe too many things he says..."

I'm not sure if Dave Barnes just wrote this because if you've heard the melody it's one of the catchiest tunes in the world, or if it's because he and I are very similar, because, I'm sad to say, all of these things are true.

I am quick to judge, I'm quick to insult, I'm quick to presume anybody who says something I disagree with is a moron, I'm quick to be cocky, pompous, stuck up, sarcastic, sardonic, snappy (with a kiss of wittiness) and just down right rude. And as I was driving home last night, I turned off the radio and considered all of the ash I was sitting in. The bridges I had burned, the people I had hurt with the only consideration I ever had being "Well, at least I'm still right." It leaves me wondering how much being right is truly worth when in the end it buys me only the realization that I could have far greater and healthier relationships if I could be less of a pompous jerk and more of a compassionate friend.*

*Let it be noted that this isn't to say that people who have a healthy negative outlook are wrong. I thank God that I can look at things in a logical and thorough way when I need to! My problem is that I do it ALL of the time, not just when it's practical.

Maybe I'm just writing all of this out because I feel guilty, but I hope that it's because the past 24 hours of dwelling on this can fuel some sort of change. The fact of the matter is I'm really, really bad at not embarrassing people and actually living a loving, Christlike life. I don't want this to be the case anymore. I want to be different.

A challenge then: From now on, I'm going to try and speak daffodils instead of fire. If and when you hear me snap out next, remind me to take a deep breath and to remember that I would much rather speak daffodils than fire. Typically I just need to be reminded of things and I can do better... I really want to be compassionate and patient, accepting and loving. There are people in my life that deserve my understanding and my simply being able to let things go. I want to be that person, at least to a greater extent than what I have been thus far.

Anybody game to change this long-time pyromaniac into a gardner? Eh... In the most masculine way of course.

Pedro, Oh Pedro.

A long time ago, when I was about 9 years old, I sat against a doorpost facing my parents room. The door post that I was sitting against was at the entryway of my oldest brother Adam's room. Adam would talk to me if I sat outside his room but he would never invite me in. I guess it's one of those big brother things. Anyway, it's odd that on this particular occasion I had gained one of the longest lasting impressions of my life.

As Adam messed around with things in his room he pulled out a small EP case that he had been "looking for." I turned my head around the corner in the middle of his excitement and saw this small, brown case with a lion sitting down with his back to the artist who drew it. When Adam excitedly placed the CD in his enormous CD player and skipped immediately to track 5 (I still remember the track) I heard one of the most simple but haunting melodies that my ears have ever had the good fortune of hearing. A song called "Lullaby", by David Bazan, the lead singer and song writer for a band known as "Pedro the Lion."

It's a simple melody written in the key of C, mediocre in whatever complexities it may have, and it is single handedly the song that has impacted me more than any other in my life. From that time, only hearing it once, until the CD was dug up again 5 years later, I never forgot the chorus. The very song that's, no matter where I've found myself in life, chorus always creeps its way back into my head and reminds me who I am. The song I've sung to myself a thousand times over on the most difficult of days...

Today is one of those days. There are few things more frustrating to me as a person than my own inability to do what I know I should. When I know how I should act, what I should think, what I should say, but my own stresses and frustrations and pains cause me to say something entirely different. That frustrating characteristic of my personality has shown its ugly head many times in the past week or so. I should be okay, I should be at peace but for some reason I continually react and lash out.

Having done so again today and feeling guilty for it, I picked up my guitar to see if I could simply "play it out" of my system. No matter how many melodies I created, no words would come out. I remained silent and upset. Confused. Overwhelmed. Wanting to apologize to the person I just lashed out at but unable to do so I was forced to just sit there and continue to brood with my dull and uncreative melodies. Suddenly, I played a C chord and followed it by the intro to David Bazan's lullaby to himself. I found myself hidden in the corner of my office replaying the chords again and again and crying to myself as I replaced the authors name with my own...

Rest in me, little David

And dry all your tears

You can lay down your armor

And have no fear

'Cause I'm always here

When you're tired of running

I'm all the strength that you need

I find myself crying again just at typing it out.

Sometimes I guess I need to realize that all of my frustrations and excuses are just weak attempts at justification for running. I am finite and weak and I consistently fall short, and rather than fix my issues I excuse them. I fight to correct the people around me so that I can remain comfortable and unchanged. Writing my issues off as typical Ben Rothwell qualities...

I know I can't be perfect, but that doesn't mean I need to fight forever in hopes of fixing everyone else.

I'm sorry that I always argue, that I fight. That everything has to be black and white and it all has to make sense. That if something is said and that something doesn't happen, that I view it as a hostile attack on my well being. I'm sorry that my blatant disregard for people who are different results in me being a terrible example of Christ. I don't know why I do it, and I know that it hurts people around me. I'll fix it, I promise.

Maybe some days I just need to be reminded to lay down my armor and give up... to stop fighting at least long enough to realize that it's done me no good, and I should just find rest in the arms of my savior...

Mediocrity.

To be mediocre...

I remember writing a blog a long time ago about the mediocrity of myself and of all worship leaders and ministers. I remember preaching a message even, where I reminded everybody about their mediocrity. The fact that those who achieve great things as well as those who die paupers, all live and breath by the grace of God. The most successful of pastors, or those who stumble and mislead - accidentally or otherwise - a hundred times. They are all mediocre and merely achieve by the grace of God.

I've written or finished about 12 songs... Which isn't a lot. Around in my head are probably another 500 that I want to tie together but just don't ever find the time or the drive. I don't think writing a song is the hard part, I think that finding the 25-50 lines floating around in a sea of broken sentences is. We just need the right timing and the right passion to grab them out. It's like fishing with your hands...

I've been offered an opportunity to open for Leeland, a national act. An opportunity that a lot of people work for, but it just fell into my lap. Not because I deserve it, since feeling like I don't is the reason I'm writing at almost 3AM, but because God has given it to me. Maybe somewhere I think I do deserve it, but I feel far more intimidated than I feel accomplished.

People tease me a lot and tell me I play the humility card well. I constantly find myself assuring them it's not a card and it's not humility it's just... being intimidated. I guess I'm seeing 2 other bands perform who have made a name for themselves and I look like the kid who got there because of connections. I'm afraid I'm generic and overall unimpressive. This doesn't mean I won't play my heart out, it just means I'm afraid I'm forgettable in the long run. Mediocre.

But I spoke to my girlfriend earlier this evening and she made me think about the positive characteristics of that notion. I mean of course she encouraged me and told me I most certainly wasn't and that I would do splendidly and all of those other awesome things a girlfriend says (thanks d.morrow). But after I considered it further, from a less negative idea, I thought about how it might be good; being forgettable, being mediocre.

Maybe if I'm completely mediocre and completely forgettable I'm more efficient at exemplifying the ministry that I hope to. I always write about the presence of God, the beauty of God, the idea of being near him and set free by his glory... so I kind of write like most christian artists... but anyway, maybe I can actually be good, by being mediocre? I mean of course I shouldn't be down on myself... but maybe by recognizing inferiority I can better reflect God's superiority? God always uses those who realize they're weak.

In one of Paul's last epistles before his execution (1 Timothy 1:15) he told Timothy: ... "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners -- of whom I am the worst." Paul wasn't trying to be down on himself, but in recognizing he was weak and ultimately expendable, he was being a tool for Christ to effect every generation from then until Christ's return.

John the Baptist told his followers (John 3:30) "I must decrease, he must increase." This is to say, that there is no choice, it is inevitable. A decrease MUST occur and an increase MUST occur. John merely made the decision that it would happen by willing submission instead of natural force.

All of this to make one point... Maybe this concert isn't so much an opportunity for me to look down on myself or even great in the eyes of others, as much as it is a reminder and an opportunity to decrease in order for Christ to increase.

So that's exactly what I'll do. I will submit to Christ in all things, and in this concert I will allow my mediocrity (be it obvious or not) to be a means by which God increases the effectiveness of my ministry.

Whether I am the worst of all sinners or the greatest of all saints, I am still a human in need of submission to Christ.

For a Special Someone...

One of those days. This song means something to me and it cheers me up I guess. This is how I try to handle things. I just wanted to post a blog that means something to me, and will hopefully make a special someone's day a lot better too.

I apologize for singing too loudly for the mic in a few parts and it decided to skip in it's sound a couple of times for some reason. Also, note the vibrations of the phone on the table. hah. Here it is regardless.

I have nothing...

Winston Churchill once said:

"I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears and sweat."

That's kind of what I'm feeling right about now. The Bible tells us that victory is the Lord's. Though at this moment I'm feeling like victory is the furthest thing from me. Tearing at what feels like the fabric of my soul is this burning question of whether I'm doing the right thing. Everything inside me knows that I am, that I'm seeking God's desires for me whole heartedly and I know that everything I'm doing will someday bear fruit. But there are days when I stare off into the distant horizon, the "hills" as one might call them, and I see no help... I find no victory.

As I was writing my first paragraph, I thought to myself that whole "Victory is the Lord's" line. It's so simple: our own microwaved accomplishments and success. Right, right, it's not THAT easy. But any good linguist of Christianese will tell you it is...

But as I considered that it wasn't THAT simple, and the quote by Winston Churchill, I recognized that in giving everything I had away, I found myself weaponless in the battle for my well-being. I have nothing left. What does blood, toil, tears and sweat do for us? It merely shows that we've given all the tangible things we have... And maybe that's exactly the point... Maybe weapons don't win a war... Maybe in the long run, sacrifice does

"Victory is the Lord's." The Lord's... not mine. This is to say, I do not earn or achieve or win victory, but I share in it. The United States (and its allies) won World War II. I did not achieve that victory. I was not present for it. I did nothing to attribute to its being had, primarily due to the fact that I wasn't born (in fact, neither was my father). But I share in it now... Through the sacrifice of limitless men and women. Without their sacrifices in every single battle, nothing is won. We would see no victory, we would have no hope, no freedom... Here, after the battles, after the sacrifices of many, we share in the benefits of the victory we were not a part of winning. Victory is the Lord's. And in the same way that Victory came to the allies but wars and violence continued to this day, so to I share in the victory of the Lord and will continue to face struggles and pain. And each victory will be earned by the sacrifice of myself.

I fight endlessly, tirelessly and frivolously and I achieve nothing, it is only in my admitted defeat and lack of success that I gain any true ground...

Victory is the Lord's: an encouragement? Or a reminder? I think it's a little bit of both...

My weapons and attempts achieve nothing, my sacrifice wins everything.

"The angels shout...

The Demons bow...

We your children stand in awe...

The strongholds break...

Creation quakes

Singing: 'victory is the Lord's!'..."