faith

Three Eternal Notes of Music

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There it was, three sung notes that flooded memories and several dreams a few days later. The singer was featured as the closing song of a broadcast from Eagle Brook Church. It was Easter Sunday and I had seen the performance earlier in the week at my job at the Blaine campus.

At the Easter Sunday broadcast I was stunned by the song ‘Because He Lives’ sung at the closing. The woman singing was at a live performance I was at several years earlier. It was held at a new Eagle Brook campus in Downtown Minneapolis, close to Christmas. A Jazzy Christmas.

Eagle Brook church Minneapolis Campus

I was an usher at that time and I requested to pray for the music team and the production crew. I stated by telling them that this concert is the Magna Carta of one of the attending people maybe all of them! Looking upon these teams sitting in the seats in front of the stage I began to do a simple prayer that our Lord would guide them to shine out His glory to those people. Especially the ones that were going to be moved in their spirit for the first time in their lives.

After all, it was billed as Jazzy and that is a draw for a lot of music fans. And it was in the big city. It felt good and right to pray for them. At that time I was on the prayer team at the main campus in Lino lakes. Obviously, I love to pray. Anywhere, anytime Jesus tells me to do so.

At the end of that concert, I went up to the third floor balcony to see if the sound was as good as I expected it to be. I listened through the open door and an usher asked me if I would like to have a seat. I hesitated and he said there was one seat and I went in to see that seat. It was right where I sat before with a perfect view and a young woman scooted over so I sat at the very end of the pew that overlooked the whole room. The sound was magnificent and well done.

I was overcome with tears at one of the last songs as it was the song at another concert years before at a church near our home. (that I was reluctant to attend that night) that instantly sank into me at that time and I was convinced that Jesus created all things and me.Mary did you know is the song. “ Mary did you know those tiny hands flung the stars into the sky?” Yes I knew it was so. I always wondered how the universe came about. The big bang didn’t make sense. The song was spoken by one of the choir members and his face was directly facing me.

I have never been the same since. I understand now that is called a testimonial moment.

There I was at this Jazzy concert, years later, crying and holding my hands as high as I can, worshiping Jesus. The woman sitting next to me offered a Kleenex as she was weeping too. I got up to leave and thought I had caught her in my Pendelton shirt somehow and looked down to my left and she was holding my elbow. She said: “ My Father died on this date last year and I felt he was sitting next to me now” I did not know what to say and smiled and said “thank you!” as I left to help distribute hot cocoa to the crowd that was leaving.

I went down soon afterwards, the cocoa volunteers had everything under control, so I walked down to the stage as the crew was taking things down and I told the singers what had happened. Angie and T, just sat down on the stage, folded up in a way, and I thanked them for doing so well that night.

A few weeks later at the pre-service huddle at Lino Lakes, by Front of house booth I saw T there and again thanked her for her being there at the jazzy concert and singing that beautiful song. She said, “The whole concert was for you and what happened there” I did not know what to say. It was another moment I have never forgotten.

This year when I saw her sing at that simulcast I knew it was her. She had been through a lot of physical medical issues that were shown to us before that last song in a short video. I listened closely.

It was her. Those last three notes of the song she sang were almost similar in pitch and spirit as that concert three years ago. Operatic and powerful. I hardly moved off of my chair when the broadcast was over and the room began to mingle and talk. Chatting was impossible for me. Even afterwards when we all ate a wonderful prime rib dinner prepared by one of the members of that group, Dale, I could not speak. What would I say?

I dreamed about it that night and the next and decided to write this column. It’s a Very personal experience and tenderly unforgettable. One of the most significant things I have been gifted with by Jesus. His gifts are like that often, unexpected, perfect and beautiful.

It’s pretty good, Norm Peterson and the Gator

Emotion and Worship

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

We’ve all heard it before in some context; “ you’re so emotional!” My response now to that is

asking, What is wrong with that? We are reluctant to endorse or engage with emotion in many situations. Many psychobabble voices tell us to calm down, damp down our emotions and be calm and ‘clear headed’ I am not sure that is appropriate. I get emotional reading a book or listening to Beethoven’s beauty. Weeping with pleasure and letting my emotions release it.

I have recently been trained in helping people to engage with emotions presented by ‘performance’ in worship music. Live performance, seen on a screen. It’s the same way we watch and listen without knowing we do so. Our eyes are drawn to different things as we move through our lives. We watch and are engaged with our surroundings. Constantly scanning the roads for dangers or beauty. Looking at the dash gauges. We don’t just stare straight ahead, we move our heads and eyes to see the world passing by us.

I have been taught that those are the natural movements and as an example: When zooming in on a singer ( it’s called pushing in) we don’t do it fast. Unnatural, it causes a distraction. We change focus as we look near or far and that is controlled as well. We open or close our iris according to dim or bright reflections or light. That’s called shading. The excitement in video production is different angles and being shown changes and solos we miss if looking elsewhere.

There are also many facets to production that are not noticed but essential. Lighting with movement, color, focus and the use of ‘haze’ to show light beams which catch our eye and help us focus where the light is showing us. Sound, very important and very technical for music and speech. To hear everything clearly, the spectrum of frequencies and to not overpower but to enhance experiences. If the sound feedback happens with a loud hum or a singer overpowers other singers, the room full of people instinctively swivel their heads to the place they know this control is. It’s called a sound booth solo and sound booths are called ‘front of house’ (more media lingo)

It’s an art and if well done, not noticeable if done well, to a person watching or in the room during a live production. Movies are complex and a good example of these things too. You don’t even notice the technical camera work and perfect sound and dialogue that conveys a story. The story engages you and emotions below the surface, sometimes with excitement or tears.

What is our story? The real stuff, the romance between us and Christ. God the Father lifts His eternal baton, Jesus intercedes for our failures and the Holy Spirit whispers songs of Faith and love to us.

Emotion is a gift from God. I can only imagine Biblical descriptions that movies try to capture. The parting of the Red sea, burning bushes and the sea of glass mingled with fire. Do those things stir you? I have heard about production, “oh that’s done to get you emotional” Of course not. As the song says, I can only imagine being there and seeing these things. Ask Him when you show up at those Gates of Heaven. I believe He will be delighted to take you there and be one of those in the Cloud of Witness’. I will ask to help with the run through in the Holy Production for you if I get there first. You will be an operator and we can work together with a lot of help from the Producer and Director. Eternal Productions bring you the reality of all life.

It’s Pretty good. Norm and Jack

Healing from Prayer

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

There it was, a calling. A nudge of confirmation. A recent column describes the onset of this calling., it began in Sunday School in Minneapolis. I was 10 or so and the Sunday school was held in a tall building downtown. It retrospect it looked like training building for firemen.

The main church was across the parking lot and it held a lot of people and quite a few of them were Shriner’s. Grandpa was a high ranking one and he drove us every Sunday. 23rd degree something. The School teacher made sure we memorized a prayer and I still remember most of it. I was not overly enthused about the whole deal, but I went along. When the teacher passed the offering plate, I would produce my offering and say “I want this to go deep!” Palming quarters as I reached in. Candy money at the store right across the street from School. Perfect store placement. The first fast food outfit I know of.

That short prayer was one that I uttered a few times through my life as though it was a collection of words that would connect the dots I can not. Change things from the magic of words. Akin the the under ones breath muttering from a nursery rhyme that comforts. There is a movie that illustrates a man that does this under decisions of stress.

“Jesus Christ show me today how to walk in every way.” I haven’t used it in a long time and I have some of it askew, but that was as I remember. It was important and seemed like the ham radio I was involved in as a basic ‘call sign’ The two letters C and Q. Seek You.

Much better than a physical comforting like drugs or sitting on Santa’s lap as the line at the department store allowed you to be next. He doesn’t heal, he just helps sell stuff.

Impossible. Imprinted as truth to a young child who believed seeking finds. Something or someone. I remember contacting a Russian during the cold war when the only currency was Duck and cover in grade school. I was a very different child and difference scares people. Some people except other different ones. Those sorts of things worked for me.

I muttered the phrase once when it made a life altering experience. I was addicted to heroin and did not want to be but it was so pleasant took physical and mental pain away. Completely. Ask a former addict or a counselor to verify this. I said it when I was alone with my line on glass and a hundred dollar bill rolled up to snort it with. I then heard five audible words that quoted scripture out of Deuteronomy. A. “Live or death, choose now” I chose life. It was over instantly. I bagged up the heroin and gave it back to my friend that introduced me to it. No withdrawal either. (This event is also in the Motorcycle Pilgrimage series.)

Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. A. Deuteronomy 30:19. It’s pretty good.

Norm Peterson or Jack Gator. Take your pick, the book or the Author. All true stuff.

Conduit Redux

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It began in my childhood. A realization that there was something that delighted and puzzled. While playing on my sisters piano I began to tear up over the slow melody of the moonlight Sonata. Soon, after walking home alone, from grade school, the song was more important than lunch with Casey Jones and Roundhouse Rodney on the TV. It made the school go away. All of it. The forbidden room of his sisters was his at noon and life began anew. Sis’ lunch was at Junior high school and there was no chance of her discovering the invasion. After all, I was born exactly two months after D-Day and understood invasion. I never heard her play on that upright when I was home. She probably waited until I was not there.

A knowing of music is where it began and I still work in that genre. Hearing a song being played or sung for the first time and hearing it afterwards, sometimes audibly like a very soft echo. Recordings, live or remembered have the same effect. Usually the first two measures or so. I even hear the silly song that our new washing machine makes to tell us it is done till it fades!

It then began to occur in a way that an old friend, Judy Larsen, called it the “Twink” or being ‘on all the time’ I see what way the music is trending and also know which notes would fit in to enhance enjoyment and anyone playing or listening to the extra notes. I recently found a CD I was on, recorded in 1979 at the Grizzly Den in Osceola. It was a country swing band, Dandelion Wine. A lot of jazzy stuff and fiddle tunes that I used to play in contests. A few mistakes here and there, but it was good. I also played fiddle with Dave Dudley, a local CW artist with his own bar, Dudley vile, during those times. I also began to want applause on the faces of the audience waltzing past the stage.

My family now is put off by some of the songs like ‘Gotta get drunk’ and ‘ Swinging doors and a jukebox, my new home has a flashing neon sign’ It paid the bills with double bookings that can still see be seen as faint penciled gig dates on the kitchen cabinet door frames that had the old black wall phone nearby. (Soft wood, #2 pencils.) that was before post it notes had been invented. (Early Eighties}

Sometimes it was rhythm changes too. I was known by the square dance band , Duck for the Oyster, as the ‘rhythm monster'(enjoyed often by the band.) Signature and talented music readers can either have fun with it or get puzzled and irritated. Sometimes sung words in syncopation with the written ones. It works. Because I had poor vision and couldn’t read the sheet music in front of me.

One time I thought I had been scheduled to play violin/fiddle with a duet and got up on the stage with them and began to do so. They were a solid duet and they kept looking back at me with puzzlement. I was blocked from engaging with them and so quickly withdrew from the stage. I muttered about my fiddle having issues to keep them at ease. It was OK with me, I didn’t know their set list either.

My improvised music additions led to unexpected events. I was asked by Jerry Garcia to join his group in California, The Grateful Dead, after a jam session in Minneapolis. Why? “Because I like what you added!” was the reply. I was flattered as there were a dozen guitarists in a circle playing at the same time. All eager to show their talent to the famous musician. I said “thank you but I can’t do that.” California meant meant death from drugs. That band is all dead now. Grateful? Not sure about that. Read about it in Motorcycle pilgrimage 5 and 40 acres of musicians.

Lately there have been other downloads of words that come to me that are not musical. They are answers to prayer requests or just visions of events in words that come unbidden. They just come. Uppermost and undeniable. Often in prayer for some situation for someone I just met or has asked me for prayer. Things uttered that can’t be made up. Situations that arrive fully formed and often, I am reluctant to utter them. Is this just me thinking or is it You Lord? This can be a problem. Discerning our own opinions or thoughts.

There is an opportunity for me to speak these words from the Spirit to someone else. I realize that Wisdom has come with these words at times. Not to speak them would hinder the person being prayed for. Often it is fear leading to my hesitancy to tell of the difficulties that follow the vision. Being a conduit at times can be shocking and my thoughts can get in the way. Mistaking my own wounds for healing others wounds. Jesus is so kind and won’t let me go when it is important to him. I refuse with a shrug and His gentle insistence keeps my attention until I do His will. I tell people sometimes He is the most kind and wise nag I have ever met.

A story I just read was about a Jesuit priest in his middle nighties that got off of a train and saw a very beautiful woman coming towards him with a policeman next to her. She said “It’s him, He’s the one!” The priest sad he was so flattered that he pleaded guilty and spent a month in jail. (De Mello)

The wisdom of the old desert fathers has also helped a lot. Words are just words and silence can be a very good choice. Listening is required of us. Quieting response to people speaking and simply listening to them and the Spirit then conveys understanding. , It’s pretty good. Norm Peterson / Jack Gator

Atomic Child

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

It was 80 years ago when the City of Hiroshima was destroyed. It was exactly my first birthday. August 6th 1945. I just saw a friend holding his one year old child Sunday and him toddling off after he reached for my hand. D day was exactly two months before I was born, June 6th 1944. Those things got me to thinking about my life and betrayal by the world. It led to war and destruction and the loss of millions of lives. Lust and greed fueling it.

As many of us, I was betrayed. My best friend in the Navy did so. My first love and fiance left me secretly. The girl I was in love with when I lived on the West Bank had a sexual liaison while we were staying with my father in California. Dad was betrayed by my mother. When my girl visited an ‘old friend’ while we were at my Dad’s, she slept with that friend. My dad’s response when she returned late that night was: “they all do that” It got to be normal life for me.

I grew wary and found it impossible to get involved with anyone, especially women. I never knew why really, as many of us do, we just think these sorts of things are normal life. There are details of my life about these things that I do not reveal, they are too personal and harsh. Even for this writing to the public and my family. Just like the world’s history. I will some day.

Then today, while I was reading about WWII and all of these thoughts were prancing about in my mind, The sun came through the building storm clouds. It shone right on my face as I sat in the living room with a history book in my lap. I heard: “ I was betrayed by my friend too, and I know exactly what you have been through” Comforted and even cradled I was overwhelmed. “I will never betray nor forsake you” Words from the creator of everything.

The last time I was betrayed was the newspaper Editor that printed these sorts of things I write. Too much Jesus and we will have to let you go he said. I am comforted and affirmed now when I remember my response: “Will you then allow me a final column to tell my readers I can’t write a column every week, that it’s a burden”? It was printed and I did not betray him and the owner of the paper. It was a lie of course, but it seemed like the decent thing to do. After all, they would not print the truth of the matter.

The friend that sold me out for his addiction in the navy converted to faith in our savior Jesus shortly after I visited him on his dead bed in Maryland. I was permitted to see him pass into Eternity on the exact time he died thousands of miles away. He told me as he disappeared , “It’s better than you said!” It was a turning point in my life to say the least of it. His wife was comforted as I spoke with her later that day.

There is no room to prevaricate about the state of the world now, it is filled with anger and betrayal and is not surprising to me. The words I heard when that glow of the Son warmed my face this morning are timeless and eternal truth. I am loved and held forever. Norm Peterson “the Gator”

What’s the Rush?

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

I have noticed an uptick in velocities lately. 65 is the new 55. The speed limit signs used to say 55 day 45 at night.Not only on the highways and byways but everywhere. Rear ended in the baking supplies aisle as I was looking for canned garbanzo beans. Little did I know they were in the next aisle. Found them and fronted the shelf as there were only a half dozen back a ways. Pulled them up (it’s called ‘fronting’ in the retail biz) I thought that was a kind thing to do. I missed them first time around and I am certain there is ‘someone’ out there that needs them too.

I began to notice traffic in the carts had picked up since I entered the big box store. The speed of the carts picked up, and I found a check out lane that was staffed and began to wait my turn. It’s always easy to pass the time by reading the scandal magazines with gossip about the royal family. I got rear ended again. A lot of downward smile remnants and avoidance of eye contact. I have written a column about this called ‘anxiety’ but this time I remembered my recent church experiences. ‘Be anxious for nothing’ from a short book called Philippians, chapter 4.

I am a volunteer at what people refer to as a Mega church. Beautiful place to be and I have made many friends with staff and other volunteers. It’s easy in the earlier mornings because there are very few of us around. We wear name tags which helps those of us that have loose pages in our memory name section. I have an excuse for my internal Roledex missing entries. Seizures a half decade ago. Usual complaints we all have. The electrical system in me got a few circuit breakers tripped and corroded. A little rewiring needed. After a few months, we all remember each others names. Usually.

I stay at my volunteer position all morning from 0700 and leave around thirteen hundred hours. By that time, the parking lot is fairly empty and it is easy to find my way My son who is on staff as production director (I am the assistant director) drives us and buys me a crafted press near Forest lake on our way in. Perfect time for Father/Son chats as well. the picture above is my son at the directors console

We spend a lot of our time in the media production room and have breakfast at VC (volunteer central). In between services we get to go into the lobby and chat with people and relax. Sometimes I go into the ‘green room’ where the musicians relax and pray with them It’s a pleasant Sunday in church. I am at comfortable there and since I am there every Sunday, I am a familiar person. A lot of volunteers are there on one Sunday a month.

The usual flow is somewhat different. Within minutes after the service is over, it is almost impossible to enter the main sanctuary and work your way to the front. The salmon upstream with four to five abreast coming at you. No one makes room and it is puzzling and scary in some ways. It feels like a fire alarm has gone off. The worshipers have spoken to God and I want to ask if He spoke to them. I like hearing about those things.

Same deal in the lobby and the parking lot. There are orange cones volunteers put out and police directing the outlets to the frontage road. It’s a lot like leaving the airport. A lot of give and take getting out of the lot. One message encouraged us to give way once in a while to someone waiting to get in line. “you don’t have to be Mother Theresa and let everyone in, there are cars behind you as well”. Just pay attention and move but slowly.

Why do we rush about? I can understand a crock pot miles away or a plane scheduled. It’s that way everywhere, always. Not just in this church.

I would love to chat about this mornings worship, the music, the soul scratching messages. The lobby food is all gone, the coffee shop is closed and it feels like we should now wave goodbye to a pleasant ‘restful’ holy day. The musicians leave as soon as the second service is over. After the second service begins, the food is put away in VC and the cleanup starts.

I like the big lobby in between the 9 and 11 services. People leaving and going but the atmosphere is gentile and relaxed. Some people go to both! We do, we have to. When the second service is over, the camera operators come in to our control room and hang up their electronics and badges and we mention a few shots that really were perfectly, and artistically done

We have a good half and hour to shut it all down and say our goodbyes to staff that are hard at work cleaning and making certain of their tasks. I like going through the corridor between our control room and the musician’s ‘green room’ and trying my hand at a double flip on the plastic hatchet throw target. Sometimes tickling the ivories on a old baby grand that is there with the rest of the stage and cables.

That area I Sometimes refer to as the ‘junk drawer’ corridor. A big electric lift platform next to a work bench with a microphone being soldered. Which hadn’t been touched in 6 months It feels like our shop at home with neat stuff. I soldered it last week with my learned skill building short wave transmitters. A delicate touch is required. I still love the smell of rosin core solder.

Alone among several thousand people and in this instance there is someone beside me and with me and is always for me. He turns His face towards me and gives me peace. I can introduce you to Him if you are interested. I would love to, no rush. It’s pretty good,

Norm Peterson writing for Jack Gator columnist.

Dream Connections

/ Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

How do you teach a method of connection? What do we connect with? Or who do we connect with? The biggest question for me what is connection? The topic just ‘happened’ to come up in one of the myriad books that I leave around the house. You know, or are, one of those people that read when eating, before sleeping, when waiting for those two things. Skimming, flipping through chapters, some of the pages dog-eared in a good place to start again.

So, the topic of connection was in one of those scattered piles throughout the house and it stopped a thought train with screeching brakes and a trail of sparks on the tracks of otherwise placid reading. Connection. Why would I want to connect with someone I have never seen, but just read about? A connection in a dream about Hemingway I just had? Why try to connect with a great author that has left the world decades ago? There is a way to connect with him by reading his writing and taking notes. Was the dream a connection with my memory, one which I have been missing or ignoring for decades? The dream seemed to be from my best friend who told me important things.

It was a vivid dream. I was in the big city and drove by a splendid home that triggered a memory of connection. I went up the sidewalk to the familiar home and was welcomed in by several people that knew me. The memory of living across the street and being mentored by Hemingway when I was a boy flooded in. The books from the fabulous library loaned, hours sitting with ‘Papa’ and being told, someday I would be writing truth with skill to make images with words. Stories of adventure. The dream ended with one of the daughters telling me it was so good to see him again and would I like to stay for a while?

There was a loud noise that sounded like explosions and I was awoken suddenly with a strong wish to remember the dream by writing it down. At four in the morning. (The sound sounded like the summer people having fun blowing things up.) It was only the family dog.

It seemed the dream was a message from my self. Deep in rem sleep, dredging up ‘connections’ that surfaced as reality sleeping dormant. Or was the dream a connection with someone else that had spoken it? I write about life, but to develop a story like this one was ego and wish palpable. Still remembering the dream knew what the connection was and with who.

It was encouragement and confirmation from the greatest authors ever known. “Keep writing, stay steady and tell the truth . Don’t try and make your writing original, write the truth and and write the story as best you can and originality will come forth.” 1.

Indeed, the question of ‘what is truth’ was asked centuries ago and the answer was silence. The truth of that life was obvious and the words written about that life still capture and hold us. When truth is revealed, it is a beauty sought.

Sometimes only five words can take your breath away and be remembered forever. Connection. As coming awake again from the dream of life. The reason, the hope, the answer to so many questions. The book that can be read again and again that speaks and shakes our inner man with it’s truth. A book worth dreams awake or asleep. Dreams of destiny and worth.

I was stopped on the sidewalk soon after this column was printed and directly asked; “did you ever live in Spain where Earnest lived?” I answered yes and he furrowed his brow and walked away. I did not mention that when I lived in Spain I was in prison for six months for evading a murderer and running from the military police. It affirmed the column’s legitimacy for that man. It was fun to tell that truth, I left off the prison details.

As Johnny Cash said: “Sooner or later, everyone comes back to Jesus. The Bible, It’s pretty good.

      Norm Peterson / Jack Gator 1. C.S. Lewis The Great Divorce

        Desparate

        / Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

        I was with a new friend Bryan in a coffee shop about 20 miles from home. We began speaking of the former owner and praising his character and the way he lived. He died a few years ago and we miss him. At the table next to us was a woman by herself and she asked us who we were. Instantly I said Bryan was my brother. It felt right. From that moment on, we have been brothers to one another.

        She was now smiling and said she was the mother of the man we were speaking of. She was drawn to her sons name and we were pleased to have spoken so well of him with her nearby. Another ‘coincidence’ arranged for us and her. That man, Jake, was indeed a bright light to all who knew him. He walked with the Lord.

        My brother was a volunteer at a church that was about 60 miles away in Minnesota. It broadcasts it’s services world wide for the spiritually hungry. My wife Julie and I and a dozen other neighbors had been watching those services together. There was authenticity and it felt right and good.

        A month later, Bryan asked me to help him pray for people that were attending those services. He drove he and I down to the ‘cities’ the next week on a Sunday morning. I saw a parking lot as big as the one at the Minneapolis airport, filled with cars. We parked near a sidewalk that did not seem to be a parking spot but Bryan said it was fine, he parks there all the time. There were at least a thousand cars parked already.

        I was expecting cab stands, I drove them a long time ago and this place seemed a good spot to wait after dropping people off. No cabs seen. The big double doors were attended by a handful of people with name badges on. As we walked towards the door, I noticed the address of the church. It began with 777 and those are also the numbers inside my old Gibson Lloyd Loar A model mandolin! Those things catch my attention. A confirmation and connection. The people at the doors were very bright and welcoming, that got my attention too. It didn’t feel forced or phony, It was genuine. I noticed that Bryan had on a name badge as they did. Really neat ones with magnets under shirts or jackets to hold them in place.

        We went up a large spiral staircase and on the second floor, Bryan gave me a lanyard that simply said ‘prayer’ We walked down the balcony and into a room labeled ‘volunteer central’ There was breakfast laid out and tables that faced several TV screens that had the live stream of the service going on in the sanctuary nearby. Where, I had no clue yet.

        Bryan had already bought me an Americano coffee downstairs and we sat down and were greeted by members of the prayer team. Soon, it was time for us to go and pray for people. I still had no idea what that was going to be like. Bryan led the way down the balcony the way we had come and we kept going past the stairway to a corridor that led to a doorway on our left. There was no one else in that hallway.

        Bryan opened the door and there was a small platform with stairs to the left going all the way down to the main floor and leading to the left side of the stage where the Pastor was speaking. I stood there crying as I looked out upon thousands of people looking down and instantly knew I was experiencing a strong emotion of hunger. Through my tears I whispered: “Lord is it their hunger or mine I feel?” He said yes. It was overwhelming and never before had I walked through a door like that one!

        Bryan and I walked down that long stairway to the left of the stage. The prayer team was there already. The service ended and the pastor said anyone desiring prayer would come down to the front of the stage. Astonished again, I saw many people come up from their seats and head down to where we were standing. The team leader quickly handed me a small vial of anointing oil and told me to ask them if they would like to be anointed on their hand or forehead. “For it is one thing to see the land of peace from a wooded ridge…and another to tread the road that leads to it” 1.

        I was standing in front of the big bass bin speakers and I saw a man looking for direction and I smiled at him and nodded my head. He came over and stood in front of me. Right away I asked him if he would like to be anointed and chose to have his forehead be so. I dashed a small amount of oil on my right forefinger and drew a cross upon him. I told him this was a baptism of the Spirit and then asked him what he would like prayer for.

        He said his wife was convinced she was ugly and did not listen to him when he told her she was beautiful. His need was personal and spoken from his heart. I told him of his obvious love of the Lord and today, his wife would see her beauty in his eyes when he returned home. Those words came directly to me to say, they were firm prophetic words. I had never considered that prophecy, Just listening.

        We both cried and that man hugged me after asking. It was indeed OK and welcomed. After the second service it was more healing requests from dozens of people, eager to meet a prayer warriors words of healing and restoration. All of the prayers were given to me as a response to hunger.

        Many tears and many strong embraces were in response to the words I gave. I felt well used and astounded again. Never had this happened to me so many times. People with desperate needs to connect with truth. The honor of conveying blessings from the Holy Spirit stays steady in my heart. There are blessings from my public writing and there will be more from speaking them as well.

        I am now at a different campus and am involved in media production with my son. I occasionally slip into an area overlooking the right side of the stage after my work is temporarily done. I am hidden there as I am dressed all in media team black. I pray up there and watch to see if any of the prayer team needs help. I love that team too along with all the other volunteers that make a huge difference for the people who attend. It makes a big difference in us too. The joy goes both ways.

        This is how I envision ‘church’ Like the very first ones we read about. Prayer to one another in unity with spiritual songs and and spoken words of His timeless blessing for us. The teams realize this and that is pretty good. Norm Peterson, Eagle Brook church volunteer.

        1.St. Augustine confessions VII.

        Worship

        / Norman Eric Peterson / Leave a comment

        A common word, found in everyone’s vocabulary and is used quite often in many signs and personal conversations. The tricky part is, what and where does this occur?

        The most seen places are church bulletin boards or big outdoor signs. My personal preference is to call them by their resemblance to marble cemetery markers. Tombstones. Often lit. Sometimes they have times listed and can be read if you are going slowly. They always say Worship.

        I studied worship at a school down in Kansas City and it became clear to me where the words and body postures came from! Hebrew origins from a while ago. A long while ago.

        The first one is very familiar, Hallal. It shows up in a lot of singing and is the base word of Hallelujah. It means to be clamorous and be seen as foolish in praising the Lord. I have been surprised at my own responses when a band sings Jesus, Jesus, you make my heart tremble. I toss up my hands and weep at His name. I am reserved because I do not want to smack someone nearby in my enthusiasm for His name.

        Sitting up front with no one in front and room to step out works well for me.

        I have asked camera operators if it is OK that I am there and they understand and try not to hit me with the back panel of the hand held camera. I tell them I am aware of their fiber optic cable and will not step on it. (stepping on a coil of it when it is on top of itself is a cardinal sin) Fiber means glass. Operators worship too but it is easy to forget when you are working to tell the story.

        I am involved with media production of worship and the simultaneous thrill of the clarity of worship can goof up a good camera shot when you are dancing with joy at the same time. It’s good to be close and among the leaders of the room’s worship. You know it’s real.

        Shabach means clapping and shouting. That encourages musicians and if it offends you then you are probably in a bad mood or in the wrong place. Pentecostal worship is exciting and easy to engage with. I love it when the singers Shabach. It’s spontaneous in many places.

        Zamar is worshiping our Lord on musical instruments. Plucking strings and joyfully singing praise. Zamar at nine and eleven would catch my attention! I especially like Banjo Zamar.

        Barak is kneeling down or bowing down. Rhythmically bobbing works for many. I have seen a few people in a sanctuary just disappear as they fold up in front of their seat. It’s easier if the seats are further apart. Don’t worry about the carpet, facilities staff cleans it after every service.

        Yadah is the extension of your hands. There is a separate word for halfway up in the air, I will have to look that one up sometime. You have done all of these things! It’s quite OK as the posture of worship is very traditional and as we all know, God never changes so it seems we should pay attention to that fact. Worship is a romance and Love is most of it but astonishment and joy are hooked on. It’s impossible for me to ignore knowing that I am involved in the timeless and overwhelming beauty of meeting with the creator of all things. Crying happens.

        “Don’t you get shy on Me, come on and praise the Lord” Joy, it’s pretty good. Norm the Gator

        Politics and Religion

        / Norman Eric Peterson / 1 Comment

        A famous author from England was known as the Apostle of common sense. I would earnestly recommend reading anything he wrote! In our most recent times the term common sense has been said by our current president and so I delved into that phrase and it’s origin.

        Many dialectic courses use the phrase ‘common sense’ but as a consequence there is always a position in the discourse that does not seem very sensible. The way of discovering truth in any topic was handed down to us from the Greek philosophers and they were pretty wise guys.

        This type of truth seeking was very commonly taught in school “back in the days” of education. Redire to the English primary schools and these sorts of things were absolutely a foundation of logical thinking and debate. In a forensic class? Scientific discovery which in Latin thousands of years ago was referred to as ‘Ache’ finding beginnings of all things.

        Echoed in the TV series ‘all things great and small’ with James Herriot? Darwin had his day with his dialectics that he believed explained evolutionary theory. This is also taught in schools throughout our country. It is a vary controversial topic, Ache or origin. It delves into a political stance in the hierarchy of our education system and is not taught as a dialectics course.

        This is not common sense and is a recent phenomenon of indoctrination in education. Have you had enough large words for a while? Do you take notes when these topics or opinions are presented in this type of dialectic? Lets talk! It’s good to exchange ideas and stances on important things like this.

        The writer I was referring to at the beginning was G.K. Chesterton and when told he was not to write his newspaper columns about Religion or politics he responded: “There is nothing else to write about” That was The Illustrated London News, a very famous London newspaper.

        As a side note, I have had the same thing happen to me and I found great comfort in this common issue throughout our country. Every discussion, every controversy, is about religion and politics. Religion is about our relationship with God and politics is about our relationship with our neighbors.

        As Chesterton again stated: “We are told to love our neighbors and also to love our enemies: probably because usually they are the same people”

        A great thank you to Dale Ahlquist and G.K. Chesterton Norm Peterson aka Jack Gator