Worship

Warranty

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

We have all been there, done that and almost given up on it. I know I had a ten year warranty on that leaf-blower! Oh dear, I will look in my pile over on the desk, OK? Otherwise we can look on line. Could you get me the serial number? When did we get it and is there a model number on it?

Paperwork, endless claims sent to claims department where the phones are manned by well meaning people who don’t speak your language very well. An insurance claim has the same rigmarole with hidden clauses of abuse of product or subparagraph B. which states you have no claim if you are living in one of the following states: A state of exhaustion, bewilderment or confusion. Of course the warranty is a lifetime one, but whose lifetime is tit?

There is one warranty query that comes up often, throughout the world and the forms are quite direct and to the point. I wanted to check and make sure the warranty was OK so I inquired the maker. Name and model number. Norman Peterson, Human. Serial number, XY. Date warranty was issued, December 1970. Regular maintenance performed? Yes.

Amazingly, the warranty contract forms were issued about 1960 years ago and are still solid and in effect for anyone that ‘fills out the form’! You can find the warranty in books, on line or in small pamphlets often found in nightstands in hotel rooms. Your contract can start at any time. Payment for this all inclusive contract is to completely follow the maker’s instructions. Give up all thoughts and actions and give those things up to the manufacturer. He will gently give you directions on how to do so. This is not the fine print at the bottom, it has to be read over and over and there are supplemental readings that can help and assist you. There are also offices throughout the land where you can get encouragement and help.

The forms are more specific in the last chapters of the book which spell out the terms and conditions. They seem rather difficult the first time you read or hear about them. Complete and utter surrender of all assets, life holdings and your life itself! No other payment required.

You have probably guessed by now who honors the warranty. It’s pretty good actually, your make and model are warranted forever. Eternity. Actually your old model gets a complete overhaul and is made perfect when you move into the Arms of Jesus.

It will be good, feels right and the warranty is now eternal. If you understand what eternity is. The best I have read is a parable about pinwheels!

Spin one with all the colors and it will look white. Spin one with past, present and future and they will all look the same too. It’s a package deal. You also get to read a book that no one on earth has ever read! Every chapter is better than the one before.

I haven’t a clue. I’ve tried to understand a place with no time and filled with incredible beauty. And us. Would you care to view the warranty and guarantee? Let me know, I’ll help as best that I can.

It’s pretty good, Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Gain or Output

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It’s complex but it makes sense if you look at the end result. Everyone has seen those controls where music or vocal amplification is used. In small rooms or huge auditoriums there is a place where a technician operates the sound and sets it so that it can be heard well. It is a learning curve to get it right so everyone can hear well. On stage included. In big rooms there is a booth that is called front of house. Many control panels for the lights and screens and video as well.

Mistakes are made seldom but one of the worst ones is called feedback. You may have heard that screeching sound that in the sound controllers humor is called a sound engineers solo. People in the audience swivel their heads and look back instinctively to the sound booth. Oops. Turn a knob or push down the volume or even mute the microphone that could be causing that. It is technically called a sound loop where the speakers are feeding their output into the mikes.

There are two controls that can be set wrongly to cause this. Gain and output. Makes sense. What is coming in or what is going out. This is what happens when in a conversation between two or more people goes awry. We don’t really notice it except when feedback occurs and two people are talking at the same time. Confusing and a mess to comprehend. This is usually caused by us thinking of something to say about what is being said and just blurting it out. Very rude and mostly not thought of as such by the speakers involved. Mostly, not always.

I have noticed the same mistake when I am alone with my thoughts! I interfere with what I am observing or hearing and put my own spin into the experience. When I ask our Lord a question and He gives me His response, I get impatient and say to myself what I anticipate he will say. Staying silent and listening can be developed but it takes a bit of awareness about my anxiety. I am learning to listen to people who speak to me and listen alone. You know how to do this. The facial expressions, nodding and smiling result from communication. A brief flash of your car lights when a tractor-trailer is passing is sometimes returned with a brief flash of his rear running lights. Thank you for paying attention is the message. Now it’s your turn to travel along the road knowing that others are listening to you and your acknowledgment of them. Gain is good for clarity. It’s output that needs attention.

Watch, listen and pray. Turn down your output and turn up the gain.

The photo is from Wellspring House of Prayer our family built around ten years ago in Frederic, Wisconsin. Toby, Soren, Julie and I worshiping on our usual Thursday night. We got to touch eternity for four years in that glorious prayer room. It’s all gone now and that room is a tattoo parlor. Main street Frederic Wisconsin. The Lord keeps those years in His treasury of joy. Beautiful, precious. Wellspring indeed!

It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

With thanks to the professionals at Eagle Brook

The Story of God

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A sunny and cold February morning while the temps are single digits and the parlor stove at my back is going well. I am up early and typing to share these things with the world.

The stats in my dashboard tell me there are 12 countries or so that have read these short missives. I am satisfied. My coffee cup by my left hand and the keyboard in front of me.

It’s early and still dark and I have my headphones on and I am listening to singers from Kansas City praising the Lord . A Live broadcast.

“From the garden, to the desert, to the mountain, to the Heavens. It’s The story, the story of the Glory of God.” It brings me back to singing those spontaneous chorus’ as we worshiped at church’s all through the state. The Wellspring team.

There are times now when I can capture those precious moments that occur spontaneously where I now work in video production. Just a week ago I got a shot of a singer on stage right

“Ready 3, take 3” Simple com instruction and that shot, taken briefly makes it out to the broadcast that goes to the side screens, the lobby and perhaps the Web-stream to many around the world. It’s the best I can envision coupled with my tears at it’s beauty and perfection of worship at it’s best.

All of you have experienced these stunning events. Your eyes filled with sudden tears and briefly overcome with unexpected glimpses of beauty and eternity. Just for you, right then and right now.

I try to share them as best I can. A butterfly’s close kiss, the sunset or sunrise that takes your breath away. Too quickly to grab a camera and share it with loved ones.

Treasure that lingers, forever yours. A gift from our Lord. It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator.

RED camera at Lino Lakes Campus. Camera 3

Flannel Graph Jesus

/ Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

We are made in his image. We breath in every breath Twenty five Sextillion molecules which get fed into sixty thousand miles of veins, arteries and capillaries. And the 1+1+1 = 1 made it all within us. As far as we can see into the universe. It is now seen as at least 93 billion light Years long or wide, whatever you want to try and imagine as impossible to comprehend.

God spoke it to existence by the way. How big or small is the Lord of creation?

I read a lot and some things stick a bit longer in me such as I have mentioned, meditating on simple things such as “who are you Lord and who am I praying to?” 1. I have also read about a church that Frederic Buechner searched for. He visited them all nearby. Lutheran, Methodist, Catholic, Presbyterian, New age, Old age and all the rest. He finally settled on one called Smokey Mary’s.

It was a large cathedral type with constant incense burning and smelled like Christmas. At the stage or platform as it is called, were the leaders and priests/clergy dressed in elaborate ways that seemed as the Micado was in production. There was chanting in Latin or perhaps Russian. It seems to me Frederic was seeking Holiness, mystery and something incomprehensible to him. It worked and the mystery was there. I would like to visit there too. “Never loose a Holy curiosity” 2.

No flannel graph Bibles to be seen. Otherworldly approaches to everything of religion and faith in an incomprehensible worship of the God of creation. A good start. There was no preaching with words that we have grown used to and even doze a bit thinking about Sunday dinner. Sin, Transfiguration, repentance and such. We just breeze by listening sometimes and once again, try to imagine what God meant when he stated we were made in their image.

I wear flannel shirts sometimes. I could be stuck to a graph in two dimensional purgatory for all I know. I heard His voice once, saved my life but I did not see Him or a burning bush either. I know I have been blessed beyond my comprehension many times and the only answer to that is my purpose is to tell everyone I can about the love of God.

What does He look like we all wonder. I stood and stared at the ceiling of the Sistine chapel and the finger of God reaching towards Adam. It worked as an image for a while. The best that Michelangelo could come up with. Anthropomorphic, to keep us all a little calmer when thinking of a million galaxies and it’s creation. By one word. A planet in the unfashionable spiral arm of the Milky Way. Orbiting a yellow dwarf star at 161,000 miles per hour. Every second our star burns 4 million tons of matter into fusion energy (E=MC2) Oh yes, we spin at 1,000 mph. What a creation. Just for us, perfect except for the north and south poles. Hard to live there.

1. Frederic Beuchner Also with many thanks to Henri Nouwen, Mark Batterson, and Tycho Brahe

2. Albert Einstein

It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

Contemplating Eternity

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

“In the beginning” Three words that describe the entry into the creation of time and the impossible comprehension of what time really is and how time and eternity exist together. Heady stuff. Once
in 10th grade physics, I was asked to do a presentation on Einstein’s theory of relativity. It was
impossible and the best that I could do was try to describe the bending of light by suns and massive
Gas giants. Light that would cause the known universe to actually be a sphere. It made our solar system feel like an indoor affair. I theorized that with a strong enough telescope you could see the back of your head.

The impossible times mentioned by astronomers which try to describe distance by the speed of light itself. A traffic sign out in the Crab Nebula: Speed limit 669,600,000 miles per hour. Light years
used to make it a bit simpler. A few miles a year. A bit faster than the fastest cars on the Autostrada in Europe. After all, the closest stars to our own are only 4 light years away, next door neighbors. So far, the closest exploration of space has been our moon, and recently, Mars. Not much to show for that effort except a couple of reasonably priced ATV’s left behind which are really neat.
The price for them is very reasonable, delivery is an issue and expensive. Really nice though, great on sand!

There is no logic that affirms bigger is more important. Saturn or Jupiter are not more important than
earth. The Andromeda Galaxy is not more important and worthy than our solar system. It’s just a lot bigger, Is a child less valued than a grown man? Logic dictates the answers to this question.
I am assured that I am just a valuable as a President and the opposite. So it begs the question: What is
more worthy than anything we can see or touch or hear?

The dialogue between Lucretius and Posidonius in Voltair’s writings is another, older dialogue between the atheist and a spiritual man. Never grows old, these conversations. Both imaginary men were written into existence by Voltaire and are brilliant and their arguments well versed. I leave it up to
you dear reader to read and enjoy the dialogue. Same one between Steven Hawking and Ravi Zacharias. Many acknowledge Steven’s genius as I, but in matters of creation he was a bit off.

The debate continues throughout history. As for me whom has been spoken to by the living God, it is a moot point. What a privilege to have your life saved to write and speak about Jesus and His gentle ways.

Time and time again He reveals himself to us. Paying attention to that still, small voice
from the Word of creation is key. Impossible it is said. I must be delusional and a fool. Such talk is
humorous and disappointing to me. Seeds of beauty and inquiry are planted at such conversations. Denial is useless. I know my beautiful and incomprehensible Savior chose a drug addicted young man for salvation. Me. No reason other than to be a witness in the dock telling such truths.

Look into my eyes as I tell you story after story that excites me. You can tell. I am not delusional nor insane. Look into my eyes again. The steady gaze I have seen from my King with an unbelievable privilege Is in there. It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

A Dance and a Kiss

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was a real scorcher of an August day. The usual formula, 80 to 90 with humidity to match. The heat index was high and I always wanted to learn the calculations but plowed my calculus exam at the institute of technology. It was sweaty and work of that sort was on the menu.

Not the garden today, the weeds on the south side of the big automotive shop I ran for almost 5 decades. Metal siding and roof and a big commercial sign over one of the bay doors.

Everyone knew what needed to be done and everyone but me was already working today. Volunteer locust trees, accompanied by the usual weeds. Gravel on a slope all around and some of the small trees very close to the greenhouse and the cement foundation for the old pump house.

I began to work and the locust bushes (some over 7 feet tall) doing their best to turn into trees were on the A list. Main trunks well over an inch thick needed the long handled lopper. Thick gloves, good jeans with only one diagonal slash from a small chainsaw accident and excellent boots. It was hot and short sleeves prevented overheating. Then I had to put on a thick canvas jacket at the time of picking up the trimmings. It started to get a little hotter.

Several small puncture wounds and the forty foot row of trap rocks against the building was once again visible. The blood had dried on my left arm. It was getting pretty sweaty after pilling up the branches, weeds and such. Time for a break. I was amazed at how wet I was with sweat.

I found the small clippers that I had covered up with weed debris, grabbed everything else including my thermos of ice water. I walked down the three steps from the shop, turned left off the new sidewalk and went over to cool off under the shade of our gigantic Chinese elm. I sat on my birthday gift wooden swing and settled in with my water jug horizontally stabilized on the slats of the swing. There was a delightful breeze and the view is always pleasant. The white lap sided farmhouse with six gables and a treasure of small trees and plants set in the trap rock around the perimeter.

A swallow tail butterfly was fluttering near the pots of zinnias by the shop and it caught my attention. I asked to see a butterfly dance with an imagination and a wish. The butterfly soon came over the top of the zinnia bush flowers and it began its dance. Just over the grass on the other side of the walk. Back and forth, up to the top of the lilac bush by the house corner. Then gliding back down to the grass up to the zinnias. Dancing in the sunlight. Back and forth several times and then went out to the driveway and sat down. “How was that?” It seemed to say.

Why not ask it to come over and give me another dance and then a kiss? I closed my eyes and there coming close to me was the butterflies creator. Smiling with an embrace and a brothers kiss of greeting. He looked like I imagine Him to look. His description is found in Isaiah 53 by the way. If you are with a friend, the confrontations and weariness of your world are soothed over and sometimes, are forgotten completely. There is great comfort in intimacy with another’s spirit and the love of Christ shared between each other. Starting sometimes with a drawn fish in the sand. New and old. Transformation takes place again and smiles in our heart began to show.

Meanwhile, Julie was concerned as she hadn’t seen me in hours and was in contact with Jesus asking Him if I was OK. Quickly she was assured that I was ‘with Him!’ Her first thought was she would find me lying in the sun smiling and gone. At the exact time I was still entranced with the kiss of brotherly love and satisfied to the whole of me. I was indeed, with Him. “I could go right now” Not my first choice I thought but about as good as it gets nonetheless. A perfect ending to a love affair that grows stronger every day. I too knew I would have a smile if I was lying there.

I finally grabbed my ice to water thermos and left the swing and swallow tail and went in the back door to the kitchen. Julie was processing sweet potatoes for the drying racks and we shared this kismet of the butterfly and Jesus’ gift of faith with one another. Astonished by Him stopping by and then our shared joy. It was now toward the end of the afternoon. Julie was reassured as to what was meant by ‘I was with Him’. Not my time yet to “go rest high on that mountain.”

Julie mentioned that a few days ago she had been asking our Lord if she was hearing Him correctly that He would answer her earnest prayers. He told her to go to the raspberry bushes and pick four of them. Late August and the berry season is over. She found them and as in her usual way, wanted to share them with me. “They are just for you was warmly said by the Lord”. Very sugary and brilliant red. Four of them, all that was there. She shares a lot of things.

As I write now, I can see from my desk our flag waving on the long pole just to my left. The garden and the gladiolas and the heavy laden bean poles are also visible through the front door windows. I am still stunned. Indeed, I have a smile. Limitless delight and faith abounds once again. My work clothes are stuck to me and my shirt is hard to remove. A light supper awaits.

My mentor that I delight in wrote this about prayer: “And why should the good of anyone depend on the prayer of another? I can only answer with the return question, “Why should my love be powerless to help another?” George MacDonald

Jack Gator With thanks to Henri Nouwen on the Lectio Devinia on Mount Tabor and Vince Gill for the song

It Swirls Like Smoke on the Ridge

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

A sunny morning in winter found me reading in our living room in my favorite chair. An excellent book by Frederick Buechner. His story inspires mine. I was also glancing up and watching fine, powder snow swirl in strong wind just beyond the window on my left.

It was blowing off the barn edges and up on the high hill, obscuring the 40 foot tall pine rows. It was swirling about in a Brownian movement. Circling about itself and appearing as smoke that is mostly seen as driven snow, sleething across a highway

Reading on in Frederick’s book , Listening to your life. I began following the intimate thoughts and loss of dear friends that shared poetry of life with me. An unusual chord progression or high harmonic would engender conversation, long after the shared concerto we were playing, just the two or three of us in a room. Swirling about in delight for us all. Never repeated or written down.

I miss those friends and their instruments that opened from the cases with the snap of clasps. Tuning just a bit with their 12 strings that needed constant attention. My six was in tune before theirs were. We would then start playing, slowly until the tune would catch up with us and akin to the smoky snow swirls, would indeed spin around, settle in a new mound of notes and harmonies never before heard.

As I continued reading I began to see my desire for that engaging and impromptu beauty with dear departed ones. We sat many hours and years together, also impromptu, delightfully just in time for another go at it. We were separated later in life by long lines on a map and later by eternity itself. They are together, waiting for me to join the beauty of music. King David would perhaps join in the jam session on his harp with Asaph with his beauty with words.

A vision brought to me by the gift of a perfect small snow blizzard as I sat near the parlor stove. Looking out our big windows. I could feel that beauty. Never to be repeated as every snow flake is different in uncountable numbers.

I see that hunger for communication now with others, often as old as I am. We wander about in the large parking lots and buildings or even on the opposite sides of gas pumps. There is a sign from each of us as shared events and life experiences that only are remembered by our generations. Duck and cover, the draft and several puzzling wars we all were in. I see them proudly wearing their ball caps usually with Vietnam Veteran on them. A glance and a brief nod of my head is enough for both of us. Adrift and swirling around our world and just needing that high E string tweaked. Harmony and those 12th fret harmonics signaling unity in tune with one another. I miss those friends and I know you still miss someone when all of the love was there.

It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

I Am Not Alone Anymore

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was always there. A loss, not even known for what it was. An emptiness that fell upon every thing that I experienced through my life. Empty of love and lost it when I was a child. I weep now when I realize what I felt that time when the emptiness took hold of me. I always thought it was abandonment. A memory that diffused relationship with everyone. I tried to cope with that memory, not even aware I was doing that. Clever words spoken and written. There were many times when that empty feeling would diminish and it was always the same thing. Smiles and words that promise embracing mutual friendship. I needed to forgive the people that it seemed I was abandoned by. My family did not know me nor did I know them. Relatives that should have known those things too. Inherited behavior, perhaps cultural.

“I believe that God’s purpose in giving us memory is to enable us to go back in time so if we didn’t play those roles right the first time round, we can still have another go at it now…finish with the past in the sense of removing it’s power to hurt us and other people” Frederic Beuchner

Music was soothing then and a smile inside at a moments of beauty got me hooked into that beauty. Songs and orchestral creations still work well. I remember some of those songs. that I played. the phrases of praise momentarily fill the emptiness. ”I loved what you did” or sometimes just a few notes spoken of. It always makes the emptiness fade. I still crave approval and contact. Applause was nice but fleeting, Playing Ashokan Farewell on the violin perfectly, without an accompanist on guitar for example. Fulfilling for a moment. List, Chopin and Beethoven are soothing time and again. A perfect den of pleasure, even driving. Alone.

It was a coldness in my very core that drove me to play well, and now, to write well. A romantic spirit. Those moments are when the emptiness would back off. Approval and love of just me. I did not know why those times of contact and praise satisfy. It seems selfish to enjoy a secret pleasure in being alone.

Isn’t it like that for everyone? Seeking smiles and laughter from people and amazingly, an interest in us that might be a friend. There are few friends that I can contact anytime for their care and seeing me and they myself for what we are. An empty man, perhaps like they are. Leaning on one another like an unmovable roof truss. Solid wood. With knot holes and defects but Oak or Gopher wood. A trust able to withstand bad storms.

Many of them are Gone now from the inevitable event we all must experience. They died. How inconvenient of them to do so. I still love them dearly and I know they still do. One close friend appeared to me just as he was dying. He was 2000 miles away, so it figures friendship and love is eternal. I lean on Jesus often, especially when I am desperate.

Most of those friends were the kind we all need. A phone call or even showing up without calling, just showing up. Not even a hint of inconvenience from the open door. “You were in the neighborhood? That’s over a hundred mile trip! Tell me what’s going on, I feel that you need encouragement and a good hug.

The day of the wall phone is gone. Now we have Facebook and posts telling us what’s right with us. All neat and clean without any tears or embraces of understanding. Isaac Asimov’s robots now have cell phones and good internet. We edit conversations akin to open book exams.

The two years of isolation and fear reduced our civilization to rubble. The covid theatre that had bodies piling up that where not there when the curtain was lifted. No smiles seen from anyone. The old game of keep away. A scowl if you were in public without ‘the mask’ The deadly bat flu made it fearful to come near and we were so much poorer, even crippled by it. We all lost and the stats and graphs and zoom meetings were just party favors for the worthless messages of untimely death. It’s always untimely for everyone. We always think we will live forever. That is true but not in the limited way we think of it.

There was enough money generated by the scamdemic to weigh it by the semi trailer load. Easier to count that way There was no one accountable anyway, Not yet.

I an not alone in my quest now. The world needs good friends and we must learn how to do it. Smiles. Waving from the mailbox at the lake people with cabins just over our hill that are seen in season. I have noticed that a slight smile and a nod are beginning to make a difference. Smiles and laughter ring out as bells from the steeple. Come. Gather together and be thankful for blessings and deliverance from evil. Look upon the world as a small child’s smile at an adoring adult. It opens our hearts as we look upon our world. Not through rose colored glasses but with clear vision. We take off the disguise of indifference and reveal ourselves and see.

This is who we were created to be. I’m not afraid of you. It’s civilization 101. I have been hiding for most of my life and I have began to offer myself to my best friend who is nearby. Close as my heart beats in synchrony with His. Asleep while I am dreaming, He tells me stories of romance and adventure.

The creator of us all, different and beautiful. Loved and embraced as we listen and the world becomes pleasant and we enter into the joy of the Lord. Well done good and faithful. Well done.

It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Photo of my bench on the south hill (the cathedral) built by Soren

Rome, Are We any Different from Them?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

My first thoughts on the very beginning was what a powerful nation Rome was. And yet, from poor leadership and inflated senses of self, she fell.

The philosophic, the scientific and the religious thoughts of today seem to be universal and timeless. My favorite is a slight variation from Descartes: “I think, therefore I am an intellectual” Or perhaps a young student who knows no history and runs on temporary feelings and some fools advice.

The mindset, the world outlook all colored by experiences is obvious, but still profound. Since I have read Francis Schaeffer’s book ‘How should we then live? several times, the concept of compromise and personal satisfaction runs through the whole book. Or; “how ya doin’? Fine, thanks! How’re you doin? Fine, thanks for asking” ad infinitum.The god’s we are now embracing instead of Jesus, seem to be somewhat familiar to Romes. Universal reset to the golden calf that ‘just appeared’ out of the fire of, the struggles of life. My generations gods: Sex, drugs and Rock and Roll. A little commune life spiced up with all those things.

Communist Hippies. Precursors to the Woke generation. I am special (true!) You are not (false) All truth is false and that’s the truth! “Eat the rich”, People power, Rent Strike! Make enough money for a pitcher of beer across Cedar Avenue, West bank of Minneapolis which now is totally Somali immigrants feeding money back home from fooling the dole que. I lived there after discharge and it was headquarters of world class musicians and hippies. They don’t speak English there now and they hate America except for our money. I don’t judge them for their race, just their ties to people who hate Israel and us. Thanks president Biden for flying them in on Walz’ sanctuary city scam.

The Roman Empire. Similar to ours in many ways. Conqueror of the known world. Roads everywhere. Most powerful country, best military, Controlled civilization with Caesar in absolute control to keep the roaming gangs in line.

The battle of Christian believers in the first 300 years were pretty bad and then just after Constantine made the state religion Baptist, the whole thing went sour with apathy and slouchy living. Violence, weird and badly done artwork, fascination with sex and of course, the games and government stimulus checks. Followed by inflation. Sound familiar?

Just like us. Then the whole thing fell apart and Rome was not the big guy in the world. Their freeways and secondary roads are somewhat still in use! Just a little narrow and bumpy and the bridges are iffy.

It seems that Greek civilization was not the main model we have used today for government and structure of society. It’s Rome. Not too long ago, our nation rejected our Creator and his Son for no god at all, Hegel, Darwin, Marx and Brilliant Steven Hawking. The god of our own power and science. Pretty flimsy religion.

Oh the Methodists, Baptists, Lutherans and Catholics putter along in competition with one another for the ‘Truth’ and the most perfect worship and doctrine. Good musicianship helps the popularity chart as well.

A Henri Nouwen quote seems appropriate here. ” When I pray, to whom do I pray? When I say Lord, what do I mean? This is the real question, the only question that you can make your most important question…when the question exhausts you so much that you need to read Newsweek for a little relaxation!” 1.

Apathy again. We care about the state of our country and talk about it a lot! As long as we have our goodies, lake homes and boats, recliners and bigger TV screens than our friends, we are on top. Until we get older and weird looking and forget who we are and who we are in God. As if we knew about God in our “used tea bag minds“.2.

We must be very careful to not be as sarcastic as I usually am. There is something wrong with our country, our world and Francis Capon says it well. ‘How should we then live?’2. Jesus Jesus Jesus, nothing else will do. Then It’s pretty good. Norman Peterson / Jack Gator

1. Henri Nouwen

2 .Frederic Capon

Musicians of Eternal Sound and Sight

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There I was, Camera 2 on a tripod mounted at Front of House. Instructed over my head com to push in with the lens and get a closer view of the electric guitar on the left side of the platform.

What a sound! The number 4 camera got a really nice shot and the director kept that shot on the side screens and lobby screens for a LONG time as Troy played the song. ..” I see creatures all around you, thunders and lightnings” of the Revelation song. It was loud, wicked and over the top” You could see troy with his famous grin, enjoying the worship with a heart filled with adoration. He was having too much fun.

The steam powered Bigsby bar sound coupled with a metal finger slide brought the house down and suddenly, there was a loud scream from the front of the room: “I’ve been washed!”

She was dancing and leaping about and kept her hand over her heart and security just stood there amazed, stunned and reassured that the Holy Spirit was in full force in the room and in them. A thousand people or more just filled with Joy they never experienced nor expected.

We got it all and the simulcast went all over the world. Things began to happen in England, Poland, Australia and other places too fast to type down off the internet feed. It was glorious. The room began a conga line up and down the aisles, laughing and enjoying the joy that spread throughout…everywhere. “Holy, Holy is the Lord God almighty” was heard six times every second around the world. The speed of light is like that. Fast.

There was a sea of glass in all skies, blazing and the man with eyes of fire replaced the sun and moon and called us to join him in rapture. Forever. It was pretty good! Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

  • Many thanks to Mitch Teemley for capturing the picture of the guitar