Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Sabbath

1 CommentApril 26, 2012

Six days ago I wrote to you from high above Mid-America on our way to the West Coast. Here I am again – Same 737 with the blue and orange seats, same flight attendant (Armando with the cool glasses), same playlist of timeless Any Grant songs, opposite flight path. It’s like the past six days didn’t even happen. Tomorrow we’ll wake up in our own beds in Mayberry and have cereal and toast like every other day. We’ll probably walk to town for lunch and at some point maybe take a bike ride. Then on Friday we’ll drive to the airport to do it again, this time Minnesota.

It’s not that simple though. Our family didn’t just check another road trip off of our list. We experienced new life in a place we’d never been. We immersed ourselves in the culture of the Silicon Valley, where only 5% of people go to church and where only half of those living there speak English at home. We made friends with the brave men and women who are laboring there, away from their families, to build a solid foundation for an influential Kingdom community, even amidst $3500 per month rent payments. We broke bread with a few special South African families and reminisced about the Cape Town summer. We listened to them talk and delighted ourselves in their accents. We played on the beach in Santa Cruz and saw the Otters play in Monterey. We visited some friends who we hadn’t spent real time with in nine years and it was like we’d never been apart, proving again that the Kingdom of Jehovah knows no boundaries in relationships. And over the weekend we led Jesus’ family into a time of worship, which included moments of sweet rest that they were so desperate for.

At the hotel, Oscar served us breakfast every morning. His oldest son will go to UCLA next year on a scholarship, his ten-year-old is in Mexico with his mother. He hopes to see him someday. Its a long story; it usually is. This Oscar knelt by our table, the same one we sat at everyday, and asked if we could be friends. I told him that we already are friends and we exchanged numbers. He hugged the kids and we said goodbye, hopefully not for good.

So much happens in a week, whether we’re travelers, or laborers at home. That’s why we have Sabbath – to reflect and process what just happened. Experience without reflection is worthless.

They just turned the lights off on the plane and my kids are transfixed by the glow of the laptop and an episode of the Backyardigans. Jennifer is chatting with the girl beside her and I’ve got a little time to think. We live in a time when we have to take Sabbath when we can get it. My heart is aching about something and hopefully, with the help of these old Amy Grant songs, I can figure it out in the darkness of the airplane.

Lead me on, the place where deliverance comforts the seeking,

Saved by love-
Jeromy

Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Categories: BlogPosted Under: Family, Sabbath, Travel@10:38 am

Thirty Thousand Feet

1 CommentApril 20, 2012

This letter comes to you from thirty thousand feet above America’s Heartland. The kids and Jennifer are together in a row across the isle. I’m listening to songs on my iPad and trying to figure out when we were last in CA. It’s been a while. The clouds are stretching out in long billowy rows and we are chasing the sun to the coast. Almost everyone is on an electronic device (including my kids) and paying no attention to the beauty going by out the window.

I’m listening to a playlist of Amy Grant records and wishing that we’d been around the music scene when she was making those first ground-breaking records. But in 1982 I was eight, and all I could do was listen. We played a show with her five or six years ago in Houston and she was incredibly gracious. It’s weird to think that much of our success is because of her pressing forward into the unknown. She unknowingly created an entire industry. Then we got angry when she wanted to keep moving forward. Shame on us.

My friend Omar came over to the house yesterday morning to talk to the guys and I about the state of the Middle East. Omar is an American born Lebanese super hero who is a former Delta Force medic. He’s also an expert Bible teacher, a classically trained opera singer, a concert trumpet player, a practicing ER doc, a father of four, a husband of one, and an expert on end-times prophecy and all things Middle East. He also has great hair and a perfect tan. I’m a guy with a buzz cut who plays music.

People like Omar and Amy Grant make me feel silly for the relatively small life I lead. But this is what God gave me. I’m pretty sure Amy Grant didn’t set out to create a music genre and I know Omar didn’t plan to effect as many people as he has. They were just living out their journey and God did what He wanted.

As I ponder this I look across at the little boy who thinks I hung the moon. A while ago he and I were talking about God and how He’s all around, and we can sense Him and see what He does, but we can’t see Him. I told him how we don’t really know what God looks like. Then he says, “Daddy, you look like God.”

Heaven help me. How this boy sees me is going to shape how he sees the Living God for his entire life. That brings me back to reality and reminds me to journey well and not worry about changing the world. If, as I travel, God chooses to leave a world-changing wake behind me, that’s His choice.

For now , Lord, lead me on to the place where the river runs into your keeping.

Chasing the Son-
Jeromy

Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Categories: BlogPosted Under: Family, Travel@1:12 am

So This Is What It Feels Like

1 CommentApril 11, 2012

So for the past couple of weeks I’ve been uninspired to write much of anything; music, blogs, my book, etc. I’ve been experiencing God though, and I’ve felt joy and lightness. I’ve seen His beauty and glory in Jennifer, the Kids, Friends, and Creation. I just don’t have anything to add to it right now.

So this is what that feels like.

Enjoying His resurrection-
Jeromy

Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Categories: BlogPosted Under: Inspiration, Rest@4:21 pm

So This Is What It Feels Like

3 CommentsMarch 13, 2012

Where to Look

I’m writing from downtown Nashville today, the 12 South area. This is has become the cool part of town in recent years, where all the Belmont grads and young artists types want to live. I’m meeting my new friend Seth, the one I was telling you about last week, here at Portland Brew, “A Taste Of The Northwest”. It’s about 95% humidity in here and I’m wondering when one of the beatniks having coffee is going to ask them to turn on the air conditioning. I don’t feel like I can ask because this is my first time here and I have on a collared shirt and I don’t have a mustache, which makes me seem out of place. Maybe Seth can ask – he’s pretty hip.

It’s weird – I’ve driven by this place a hundred times and never even noticed it. I only found it when I was looking for it.

Jennifer’s older sister, Shantel and her family are moving from St Louis to Alabama this spring because Cameron’s job is taking him there. They were there this weekend to look at houses and schools and since their youngest son and Hutch are really good buddies, and since Huntsville is only a ninety minute drive from us, we met them half way and brought Elias up to Franklin for a sleepover. The boys had a good time together Friday night and on Saturday morning they let Jennifer and I sleep in past 830am, which is nothing short of a miracle. By the time we got out of bed it was warm and beautiful outside so I suggested we walk to town for brunch.

It’s about a thirty-minute walk to Main Street from our place, and the boys ran on ahead most of the way while Jennifer and I followed behind, pushing Sadie-Claire in the stroller. We had Fritz with us so we had to sit outside at the Mercantile (one of Franklin’s quaint sandwich shops) and have cinnamon rolls instead of going in for real food. Fritz doesn’t know he’s a dog and his feelings would have been hurt if we left him tied up outside while we went inside to eat. The only time Fritz ever gets into trouble in the house is when we leave him at home without saying a proper goodbye. When that happens he acts out in anger. I’ve actually been in my car to leave and come back in the house to say goodbye to him, knowing that he battles codependency and that it will throw him into a tailspin if he feels under-appreciated or unseen.

After breakfast the boys got to go around the block to the toy store by themselves while Sadie and I watched Jennifer try on jeans at the boutique across the street from the café. She bought a couple pairs, took them home, tried them on, and took them back, as usual.

On the walk home the boys didn’t have as much pent-up energy so they stayed with us instead of running ahead. About ten minutes into the walk the subject of Heaven came up. I can’t remember what turned the conversation in that direction but it wasn’t intentional. The boys had a few of questions and I tried to answer them as best as I could. They wanted to know about our Heaven bodies, and when I thought Jesus would come to finally make everything brand new again, and if they’ll be able to teleport or walk through walls. They asked if there will be money in Heaven and I said I didn’t know. We walked and talked and it was completely and beautifully natural.

As we turned down our street we heard an SUV honking at us and soon realized it was our friend Dian, whom most kids at Fellowship call Gigi. (The same Dian from Texas that I told you about a couple of weeks ago, who told me I didn’t understand Texas because I hadn’t been enlightened) Gigi learned to teach the Bible from Kay Arthur and as she pulled her car over I asked her there if there will be money in heaven. She said she didn’t think so because right now we need to earn money to provide ourselves with what we need, but in heaven we’ll have all we need, so there might not be a need for money at all. Hutch and Elias were satisfied with that answer and went on frolicking back to the house.

For a few minutes on Saturday we walked the Ancient Paths, and it felt right, and timeless. The opportunity to see the Kingdom was always there; I just didn’t think to look for it in something as simple as a walk to town.

Have a good week discovering where to look,
Jeromy

Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Categories: BlogPosted Under: Nashville, Where To Look@10:51 am

So This Is What It Feels Like

6 CommentsMarch 6, 2012

The Guys

I’m sitting at a small table in the Barnes and Noble Coffee Shop waiting for a new friend to arrive. The sun is beating through the storefront windows warming my feet. I’ve turned the corner to flip-flops and there’s no going back, even though it’s only fifty degrees outside. Spring comes on March 1st in our house, no matter what the weather is like. We celebrate the day by eating ice cream for every meal. By the time evening comes the kids are begging for salads.

I’m waiting here to meet Seth, who is dating a friend of mine and whom I’ve never met. He’s apparently about ten years younger than me and is looking for some advice on his life and his career. I’ve never seen myself as much of an adviser, but a lot of my time at home over the past couple of years has been spent in meetings like this. I’m glad to do it, especially since some of my closest friendships have started in meetings like this.

Back in 2010, a group of younger guys and I started getting together to share and read and pray once a week. I’d been sensing the Lord inviting me to do some mentoring but I’d never led a group like this before. The guys will attest to the fact that I entered into it with apprehension at my capability, and still do most weeks. For the first couple of months, all our group did was re-copy the Proverbs of Solomon on our own each day, and then we’d talk about them at the meetings. There was no lesson plan, no study guide, and no commentator. We grew close in those months as we just lived in the Word together, and strong relationships started to take some roots. Over time we added a few more guys to the group, which is now at ten members, all of us artists, and all of us trying to find our life in the KINGDOM while we live in the SYSTEM. We know there’s an Ancient Path through this life, even though our modern world keeps it hidden. I’m proud to say that every guy in our group is searching for that subversive, time-tested, Ancient Path path.

These ten guys are now among my closest friends; an unexpected consequence I wouldn’t have predicted. Our culture, especially our Church culture, tends to separate us out by age and peer-group. These guys are all between ten and fifteen years younger than me so we’d have probably never gotten close inside the normal church context. This experience has taught me how seriously flawed that system is. Having these younger men in my life and in our home has been more of a blessing to me that it has been to them, I’m sure.

Craig is on the far left. He’s married to Laura who’s a writer and works at a PR firm. They’ve been married for about a year. When Craig isn’t producing records or playing guitar, he substitute teaches at an elementary school in Nashville. I think it’s so cool that someone as gifted as Craig would give his time to kids as well. If you are into guitar and studio gear you and Craig would get along well. Laura and Craig are both avid writers; if you find me on twitter you can get to them and their blogs.

Beside Craig (clockwise) is Alan. He moved here from Arkansas with his band to record an album and make a go at a full-time music career. He’s a killer drummer, even though he’s the bands lead singer. Alan is single and available, but right now he’s married to the band. He’s probably our most stylish dresser, if you are into the skinny jeans and girly boots. Hopefully you’ll be hearing Alan on the radio sometime soon. I can’t think of someone I’d like to see that happen to more than him. I’ll send you some if his music in the next month or so.

Steven is next. He’s available too, but it’s going to take a pretty chill girl to match up with him. Steven’s dad is an artist and he was raised in a very relaxed and artistic atmosphere. I envy Steven’s seemingly low-stress approach to life. When I’m with him I feel my shoulders loosen up a bit. Steven is a great singer and musician but right now he feels compelled to spend most of his time hanging out with students and teenagers and leading them in worship. Those students don’t realize how fortunate they are.

My shoulders also relax when I’m with Tim (seated beside Steven). That’s because he usually greets me with a quick shoulder massage. It’s special to have a friend who isn’t afraid to touch you, and that’s one of Tim’s gifts. He’s the worship pastor at our new Fellowship Campus in Franklin and a great guitar player as well. Tim is from Portland and totally carries that earthy northwestern coffeehouse vibe around with him. His wife Allyssa is studying to be a counselor, and Jennifer and I are enjoying getting to know her as well. Tim is an Eagle Scout and a Coffee Snob.

Beside Tim is Brett. Of all the guys, I’ve known Brett the longest. We met several years ago when he was interning as a worship resident at Fellowship Bible. Rob, our pastor, required him to be at our leaders breakfasts each Tuesday, and for several months I don’t think I heard Brett say a word at those meetings. I sent you a song from Brett’s latest record a few weeks ago. He’s doing well and has just signed a songwriting contract with Word Music. He’s still working at the smoothie shop a couple days a week, just for fun, and just to stay grounded. That’s so Brett. He and Steven are both from Alabama and are currently roommates. (Roll tide)

Next is Matt Armstrong, our newest member. A few years ago I ran into Matt at Starbucks several times in the same week. Finally, I introduced myself to him and suggested that maybe we were supposed to write a song together or something. He agreed and we did and have stayed friends. Early this year he asked if he could join us and the guys were all excited to have him. He’s from Buffalo NY so he plays hockey, which makes the rest of us feel sort of wimpy. But he’s afraid of flying which sort of evens it out a little.

Matt Kierkgaard is sitting beside Matt Armstrong. I met him at the Franklin Starbucks when he was working there as a barista. We began talking one day when he served me a drink and we ended up sitting down at a table outside and spending some time together. Matt is a classical pianist who moved here from California to expand his musical borders. I was totally captivated by his journey and we met together a few times after that just to be friends. Come to think of it, it was actually my meetings with Matt that prompted me to start this whole group in the first place.

Just in front of Matt is Jon Smith. He the one who produced the Daniella Mason single I sent you last month. Shortly after I met Jon, he and his wife Anna began coming over once a week to keep the kids so Jennifer and I could go to a book club. We’d come home from club and sit and talk with Jon and Anna till midnight. Soon, we stated hanging out just for fun and now they are in our home at least once a week. Anna has recently introduced Jennifer to Pinterest and I blame her for the deterioration of our marriage since then.

You might recognize the guy in front of Jon, because he’s been playing bass for FFH for over a year now. That’s Brian Yakaboski (Boski), from Milford, PA. He’s one of the original members of our group and I’ve really enjoyed getting to be a part of his journey. Boski recently released his own album and has begun traveling and playing shows on his own and as part of the duo, “For The Fatherless”. Nobody hugs like Boski.

That’s me at the end of table.

Two years ago I barely knew these guys and many of them didn’t know each other. Now we are intimately acquainted with each other. We know what each other is battling with the most as well as each other’s dreams and fears. All this because we decided to hang out for one hour each week and be open and vulnerable. From there God did the rest. It isn’t rocket science really, it’s just looking for the KINGDOM and saying yes to it. It’s choosing the Ancient Paths (Jeremiah 6:16) for an hour or so each week rather then rushing into a meeting or sleeping late. And it’s worth it.

If you happen to be in Franklin on any given Wednesday, stop by Merridee’s about 830am and look for us at the back of the bakery. We’ll be there, eating 50cent day-old pastries and drinking coffee, talking about things guys don’t usually talk about and laughing a lot.

Thanks for reading, have a great week as you search for folks to walk the Ancient Paths with,

Jeromy
www.ffh.net

*Kenny Davis is missing from the picture. He couldn’t be with us last week because he had to take someone to the airport. I had lunch with him today though, and he is doing fine considering his schedule. He and his wife Hillary are about to enter a month away from each other. She’s an Audiology student at Vanderbilt and he’s on the road playing drums with a Country artist. They are walking out this first season of marriage amazingly well considering their circumstances. Kenny and Tim were roommates at Belmont so those guys are together a lot when Kenny is off the road.

Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Categories: BlogPosted Under: FFH, So This Is What It Feels Like, The Guys@12:00 pm

So This Is What It Feels Like

2 CommentsFebruary 28, 2012

Texas

Texas pride really does run deep, as was evidenced by the backlash of comments after my letter last week. I had no idea that my remarks were going to be so inflammatory, but after talking to Missy, our manager, I understand it much better. She’s from East Texas, and when I told her about the comments she said, “Yup, don’t mess with Texas.” After several people requested to unsubscribe from my blog, I decided that I should send a list of things I DO like about Texas to try to build that bridge back up again. He’s a quick top ten list off the top of my head.

Tex-Mex (specifically Papacito’s). We ran into Chris August at the airport in Dallas last week. He’d cashed in some miles and flown in the day before to have supper. No kidding, it’s that good.
Texas-sized concert venues that we’ve played in (The Astrodome, The Alamo Dome, Woodlands, Six Flags, etc.)
Texas Toast
Dallas, the TV series. (My Mom was a fan. I had a crush on “April”, I don’t think Mom ever knew that. A few years ago we played an event at South Fork but none of the cast were there and I was disappointed.
The San Antonio River Walk.
Austin, the birthplace of Whole Foods. (This one is for Jennifer)
BBQ Brisket
GWB
GHWB
The Wide Open Spaces

It’s interesting – the different sorts of things that will get people in a tizzy. A couple of months ago I posted an update on Facebook stating that I finally decided once and for all that Diet Pepsi tastes better than Diet Coke. I was flooded with comments from people who agreed or disagreed and their reasons why. People are loyal to their brands, especially their soda. (As I write I’m thinking of all the brands I’m loyal to: Apple products over PC, Old Navy undershirts, Brad Paisley, Jeep, Lego, Alka-Seltzer, and Advil, to name a few.) I think loyalty is in our DNA. It’s tribal, and makes us feel a part of something bigger.

Some of my friends are serious football fans and have season tickets to the Titans home games. When the Titans have a good day, they’ll say things like, “WE played great this week,” or “That was a big win for US.” I wish we had this kind of tribal loyalty in the family of Jesus. When one of us wins or loses it usually not “We” or “Us”, most times it’s “Him” or “Them”. Maybe it would be better if we had more of a Texas mentality. Maybe then people would be naming stuff after us because they knew that you don’t mess with us. I’m thinking things like Christian Toast, or the Christian Two-Step. Never mind, that would be weird. But it would be nice to be a part of a community that stood by one another no matter what. Sounds kind of Texas like.

Speaking of tribes, several people have asked me about Brian Smith over the past couple of weeks. He and his family are doing well. He’s busy with his career as a financial manager for artists. Our families still see each other a lot. This past weekend he and Allyson celebrated they daughter, Brinley’s, second birthday. I ate way too much banana bread at the party. Brian and I are both counting calories and I think we both lied to our calorie-counter apps later that night.

If you are into the Great Wide Open you might like the song we’ve included below. If you do, it’s off of our newest studio release, aptly titled, “Wide Open Spaces”.

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Enjoy,

Jeromy

Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Categories: BlogPosted Under: Facts, Pride, Texas@12:17 pm

So This Is What It Feels Like

2 CommentsFebruary 23, 2012

Long Story

I wasn’t in the mood to lie when the guy at the coffee bar asked me how I was doing this past Saturday morning. He and I were dancing around one another trying to put cream and sugar in our drinks at the cramped hotel breakfast area, when he finally broke the ice by saying, “How are you?” I normally would have said, “Fine”, and gotten on with things, but I just couldn’t do it. The three flights we had to take to get to Amarillo the night before were quite tiring and I’d been in the middle seat most of the time. We didn’t have a long enough layover to grab supper so I snacked on the trail mix that Hutch had made for me at Whole Foods earlier that afternoon. By the time we got to the hotel that night it was too late and I was too tired to eat anything real. I woke up hungry and with a sore throat on Saturday and tried to quietly get out of the hotel room and down to breakfast without waking Jennifer. When I got to the lobby on the first floor I could see that the ground was white and snow was falling sideways. It wasn’t before I needed to pack back up and leave for the three-hour drive to Kansas, and I was getting grumpier. I didn’t want to tell all of this to the guy who was trying to get his half-and-half and out of my way, but I couldn’t bring myself to lie either. So I paused for a second and answered his question by saying “It’s a long story”. He laughed and said that he understood.

Brian, my brother-in-law (our drummer), showed up a few minutes later and we sat and had breakfast and tried to make a plan to get up to Kansas. He cooked a waffle with the instant waffle machine and when he sat down we realized that the waffle was the shape of Texas. Texas pride gets on my nerves. I texted that to my friend Dianne, who is from Texas, and she said that I haven’t been enlightened yet.

Our show Saturday night was in Liberal, Kansas; a town that you cannot get to from here. The drive there from Amarillo takes about three hours and goes through towns that have dirt roads for main streets. If you need wide-open flat spaces, this is the place for you. Brian said that if he stood on his toes he could see the back of his head. Pulling into Liberal was like entering an oasis of civilization at the end of a very long runway. Folks there were very welcoming and the concert was a special couple of hours for all of us. I think all of the schlep it took to get there made it even sweeter. The promoter, Jeremy, brought us in as part of the annual Pancake Festival, which is a pretty big deal. There’s a lot of history in it, and I found out early on that it’s a serious thing, not something to be made fun of. The next morning we were in the car headed back to Amarillo to fly home; another twelve hours of travel. When we got into Amarillo again, Brian said he wasn’t sure why George Straight was in such a hurry to get there. My friend Dianne said it’s the good-looking women that are there. Maybe so, but it’s so dusty I don’t know how you’d see any of them.

Jennifer and I like to have the kids on the road with us as much as possible, but this was one of those weekends where travel was too complicated and they would have been miserable, so they stayed at home with a sitter. Before we left we tried to map out everything the kids need to do to stay on the detox schedule. I thought it would be best to write it all down for her on the chalkboard for her…

When we got back to the house on Sunday, after we hugged the kids and looked at the “Welcome Home” signs they’d made, the babysitter asked how our trip was. (Again, how do I answer that in one word?) I’m not sure exactly what I said, but it surely didn’t describe all of the events and emotions of the weekend. I probably answered with a quick sound byte and we moved on to the next topic.

On that barren three-hour drive on Saturday our only option for lunch was a Pizza Hut in Pampa, Texas. Nothing has changed about Pizza Huts since we were kids; the French dressing, the décor, the jukebox; it’s all been suspended in time. Pizza Hut used to be a treat for us in Lancaster PA. My Dad’s mom, Grandma Zieber, used to really like their food, and some Sundays after Church we’d drive into Lancaster from Quarryville to have a special meal there. Back then eating out was a treat. Lack of money and restaurant choices made eating at home the norm, and often friends and family joined us for our meals. I remember finishing my suppers and lying on the floor under the table listening to the adults talk and have their coffee. It was so safe under there. Now things have switched and eating out is the norm and eating at home is a treat. I think I miss the old days. So this is what that feels like.

We bump into too many people too often to try to get the whole story, the long story, every time. But if we’re not careful, we never get past the headlines, or twitter feeds, with anyone. That’s why Jennifer and I have made a point over the past few years to have people in our home a couple times a week to just hang out and talk about details. It’s been wonderful and so many of the people we’ve had over have become close friends. Jennifer even threw me a sleepover birthday party last year with some of my guys, which was perfect. Having people into our homes, into our lives, takes us from knowing about our friends, to actually living life with them.

Jon and Anna are usually in our home once a week. Jon is record producer and songwriter here in town and Anna is an occupational therapist who works with special-needs kids in our local schools. I met Jon when we were playing together in the worship band at Church and we all eventually became friends. When they come over they often wear their pajamas and we stay up late talking. They don’t have cable so sometimes we’ll all four sit on our bed and watch TV. Usually though, we just hang out and talk, Jon and I about music and politics (*I’ve included one of his songs at the end of this letter), and Jennifer and Anna about what boots they are going to buy. Last night they brought their ice cream maker and we had ice cream and listened to music. After the kids went to bed, Jennifer and Anna cuddled up on the couch and looked at clothing blogs on the Internet. Now they want new clothes.

Sadie is beside me at the bakery as I write and she’s bugging me to go home. She’s not been feeling well so I probably should get going. I realize that this letter is getting to you a little later than normal. There’s a reason, and if I had a couple more minutes I’d explain. It’s a long story.

Peace and Rest,
Jeromy
www.ffh.net

*Here’s the song from Jon I was telling you about. The artist is a friend of his from college named Daniella Mason. Jon and his friend Casey produced her record, which I think you’ll agree, is killer. To find out more about Daniella visit www.daniellamason.com. To contact Jon about production or songwriting etc, email him at smithjonmusic@gmail.com.

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Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Categories: BlogPosted Under: FFH, Honest, Long Story@3:19 pm

So This Is What It Feels Like

4 CommentsFebruary 14, 2012

Tension

Winter has finally decided to visit Nashville and all of the ladies in the bakery this morning are in their long coats and sweaters. The cold moved in on Friday and we might even get a dusting of snow tonight. That’ll send everyone into a tizzy and schools will probably close for tomorrow even before a single flake falls from the sky. That’s how they do it around here. We missed the only other week of real winter chill back in January when we escaped to Florida for a friends wedding. These are the days when Jennifer and I ask ourselves why, with a job that would permit us to live just about anywhere, we still live in a place where it gets cold? I have some friends who live for this weather, getting bundled up and all. I don’t get it.

It was a busy weekend of music for us. We played four services at our church on Saturday and Sunday and then were the musical guests at a conference here in town last night. The kids were with us most for most of the weekend and it wore them out. They were on the front row of the auditorium last night at the conference, and when the lights went down between songs you could see the glow of their faces being lit by the screens of our phones. They used to sit up front and actually watch the concerts. They are over it now. If we don’t bring a helper to sit with them we just give them our phones to play on while we’re playing. It’s a cheap babysitter, but it doesn’t feel quite right.

There aren’t many people in the bakery this morning so it’s easy to overhear the conversation of the three people at an adjacent table. They are having what seems to be an important meeting about the construction of their new home. One of them must be the contractor because they’ve got blueprints spread out on the table and the other two are peppering him with a lot of specific questions. They’re picking color combinations and brick styles and trying to decide whether they should go with the Cedar Shake or not. If I had more nerve I’d walk over and tell them that it really doesn’t matter. I’d tell them how Jennifer and I have twice built a house and gone through the process of picking faucets and switch plates and all of the other stuff you have to make yourself care about when you are building a house, and how after they’re in the house they’ll go back to not caring. I’m not going to go tell them that because I don’t want them to follow me over to the studio and watch me argue with another musician about whether we should use a flute sample or an oboe sample on the chorus of the song we are recording. The contractor would probably tell me that it was those kind of petty decisions that led him to give up his dream of music and go into something more stable, like construction.

New technology gives us so many more options, but I’m not convinced that options are always good. For example, if those people building the house only had two choices for their hardwood stain it wouldn’t take four hours at the flooring store to pick a color. And if we didn’t have the option of several thousand instrument samples on a hard drive we’d actually have to hire a real flute player to come in and play the part, and that would be so much more musical. And if I our kids didn’t have our phones to play on we’d have to insist that they pay attention to the show, or at least draw or do something “real”.

I think all this new technology that’s designed to make my life better is actually complicating it exponentially. For example, since our time in Africa I’ve been trying to make space for an after-lunch nap whenever possible. I feel better when I get that nap, which makes sense when you consider that most cultures dating back to antiquity have practiced some sort of afternoon siesta. American scientists are now “discovering” that naps are good for us. My Pa Paw naps almost every day after lunch. He’s pushing eighty, and with the exception of the down times he’s had due to his hip replacements (which my Ma Maw often calls place-re-hip-ments), he’s been pretty healthy for as long as I can remember. He was raised Amish though, and Amish people understand simple rest. Anyway, now that I’ve got a smart-phone, I feel like I have to clean out my inbox, return all of my texts, and answer my voicemails before I can relax enough to take a nap. By the time I’m through with all of that my nap is history, unless I just ignore it, in which case I’ll be returning the emails when I’m getting in bed. My Pa Paw always says, “Don’t sweat the small stuff.” It’s pretty much all small stuff, but since everyone is sweating it, I feel like I’m going to get too far behind if I don’t keep up.

Jennifer is feeling the tension too. She’s told me several times in the past couple days that she’s ready to chuck it all and move to the middle of nowhere, to just drop out. It’s not going to happen though, because it’s not what we’re supposed to do. We’re supposed to make it work inside the tension of the System. The Kingdom of Heaven and the System of this world are happening simultaneously, and the tension between the two is mounting. I’d be surprised to find someone who’d say that their smart-phone is helping them cope with that tension, but to communicate in the modern world you have to have the modern tools.

My friend Adam was playing guitar with us at church this past weekend, and when this subject came up at coffee between services, he told us about the tradition of Shabbat that he and his family have been observing every Friday. It’s pretty simple really; they just make a special supper and then for the rest of the night unplug and turn off all of their phones, computers, video games, etc. He said at first they hated it. Now they love it.

In the Bible, Jeremiah talks about standing at a crossroads and choosing the Ancient Paths. When I first read this versed I imagined a-once-in-a-lifetime crossroads, where I had to choose the path I would follow for a long time, if not forever. There may be a context for that, but I’m beginning to think that these crossroads come much more often. Maybe even several times a day, like stop signs through a neighborhood. Each time we come to one we’re given the choice between the Ancient tested sacred path that leads to rest, and the lesser path that leads to striving. I think we get confused a lot and choose the wrong path, but that pretty soon God sends us another crossroads so we can choose again and realign. Does that make sense? It does to me, but I’m still sorting it out in my mind.

I’ve included a song at the end of this message that I wrote standing in front of one of the more poignant crossroads in my travels. Faced with the reality of the options, I realized that I didn’t care nearly as much about the things I always thought were so important. I wish I’d had this kind of conviction in every decision since then, but some days the Kingdom choices are harder to make.

Have a peaceful week as you try to choose the Ancient Paths amidst this tension,
Jeromy
www.ffh.net

“Stand by the crossroads, and look, and ask for the Ancient Paths, where the good way is; and walk in it and find rest for your souls.” -Jer 6:16

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Email Jennifer or myself anytime at ffh@me.com.

Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Categories: BlogPosted Under: Faith, Tension@1:07 pm

So This Is What It Feels Like

1 CommentFebruary 6, 2012

Stitches

I’m back at Marcia’s this morning, the little French bakery overlooking the bridge into Franklin. As you know, I usually write to you from Merridee’s, but I’ve gotten to know so many people there who use the bakery as their “office” that I’m finding it hard to get anything done in there. Marcia’s is completely empty, which can’t be a good sign. The waitress told me that it’s slow because of the late night people had at Superbowl parties yesterday. I’m pretty sure she’s wrong; the Superbowl was over pretty early. I was going to go over to Panera Bread because it’s next door to Sun Tan City and I could walk over and spend 20 minutes under some fake sunlight, but Panera seemed uninspiring so I’m back here. The tanning is something that many doctors, including Dr. Mercola, are recommending more and more for illnesses like MS. I started going last winter and I can definitely tell a bit of a difference. I’ve got this embarrassingly dark tan to explain though, and my kids laugh when they see me with my shirt off. I’ll include some links to Dr Mercola’s research at the end of this letter if you want to check them out. Beware however, if you decide to follow his advice on health issues, you’ll have to part ways with Diet Coke. Apparently Aspartame is the Devil in chemical form.

I was planning to get out a little earlier today but Hutch was really grumpy so I decided to sit with him for a couple of minutes before I left. I think I was also feeling a little guilty for the way I treated him this morning when he and Sadie wouldn’t stand still while I was trying to give them their medicine. I couldn’t get them to stop horsing around, so I hit Hutch on the head with a spoon to get his attention. I didn’t think I hit him that hard, but he cried, so I hit myself in the head with the same spoon just to check, and it did sting a little bit. Although, probably not as much as he made it seem. He sulked off and a minute or so later I called him back to sit with me on our favorite leather chair for a few minutes. Our friends didn’t want the chair anymore and gave it to me for my office, now it’s in our living room. It doesn’t match anything else in our house but we all fight over it, even Jennifer, who refuses to admit that she likes it.

This detox is taking its toll on our family. In all the craziness of touring and doctors and four different rental houses last year, we weren’t ever settled enough to complete the 90-day detox regimen that our expert Doctor prescribed for getting rid of the micotoxins in our bodies, which are still present as a result of the mold exposure we experienced in 2010. At the advice of our Pastor we decided that we’d take off from January-March 2012 and make it all about the detox. The doses of the meds have to be timed out just right since they don’t just get rid of the toxins, but all of the other nutrients in our bodies as well. To counteract that fact, high-powered supplements have to be taken in two-hour windows between the medicine doses to make sure we’re getting nutrients we need. Keeping all of this together has become a full-time job for Jennifer, who typically has trouble remembering what day it is, let alone what time it is. It’s making all of us tired and grumpy, but I think that’s actually listed as a side effect of the prescription. Here’s the array of meds that we’re taking twice a day as well as that wonderful leather chair…

I was listening to Janet Parshall’s show on the radio last week when she mentioned Jeremiah 29:11. I don’t really remember what the context was; I just remember that the verse stuck out to me, like I was supposed to remember it. I’ve always known what the verse says, it’s been one of Jennifer’s favorites since I’ve known her, but just for fun a took a closer look at it when I got home. Turns out the word “plans”, in the “I know the Plans I have for you” phrase means something a little more than I’d thought. When I hear the word “plan” I think of something pretty immediate, like what Jennifer is planning for supper, or my plans for the weekend, but the Hebrews would have understood that word as something much more. “To plan”, for them, was “to weave or fabricate something”, maybe a tapestry or a plot of some sort. It’s got the flavor of something much greater than an immediate outcome. The “plans” or “thoughts” God has for us do include what is going on today and this month and this year, but those events are just a small part of the whole fabric. Like any great plot, the story of our lives is filled with tension and angst and joy and relief, all at the same time involving the same characters. I’m pretty sure I needed to be reminded of that as these days of detox and gloomy weather drag on.

When I mentioned this to Jennifer she said that if we hold this fabric to close to our face we only see a few of the stitches, but if we step back far enough we can see the beauty of the whole thing.

This day is just a single stitch, a small part of a season, and this season is just part of a year, and we’ll go through this yearly cycle over and over again until we’re old enough to look back and begin to see the whole plot, not just the single stitches, that make up the whole fabric. God’s plans for this fabric are peace and not harm. The plot is infused with hope, even though it includes times of hopelessness.

Enjoy today as God continues to weave the hope and future He promises, slowly, one careful stitch at a time.

Jeromy

www.ffh.net

For I know the plans I have for you says the LORD, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans for a future and a hope.

Oh, and here’s the link to Dr Mercola’s site, specifically the tanning bed therapy… http://tanningbeds.mercola.com

Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Categories: BlogPosted Under: Plans, Stitches, Tanning Beds@8:59 pm

So This Is What It Feels Like

3 CommentsJanuary 30, 2012

Walking

It’s a crisp morning here in our little town. I know because I walked here. The back window zipper on my Jeep has been broken for a while and I finally just dropped it off at the repair shop to have it replaced. The stray cat that’s been sleeping in the back seat at night will be disappointed, but I needed to have it repaired because these January thunderstorms have been soaking my interior. The upholstery shop is only a twenty-minute walk from town, and since I can always use the exercise, I walked.

The first restaurant that you come to when you cross over the bridge into Franklin is a French bakery called Marcia’s. It’s the only thing French about Franklin, and I’ve only been here once before, but it was another four blocks to Merridee’s, so I just decided to write from here for a while. It’s refreshingly non-southern. In a town full of meat-and-three’s and southern-fried-greasy-spoons, this is a nice change. A little bit of European sophistication right here in Mayberry.

When Jennifer and I and Hutch moved to Africa in 2006 we spent a few days in Paris on the way. Turns out that if you’re flight to Cape Town routs through Paris or Frankfurt you can extend your layover for several days with no additional charge, and then just proceed to Africa whenever you wish. We decided it was too good to pass up so we rented a car and tooled around Europe for a week. Paris was beautiful, but two days there was enough. The history of the city and the beauty are breathtaking, but it’s not nearly as romantic when you’re traveling with a three-year-old who’s got jet lag and can’t find anything to eat. Back then, Hutch always had a Hot Wheels Car in each hand and we were almost asked to leave the Museum De Orsey several times because he kept driving his cars down the ramps and isles of the gallery. Brugge, Belgium, was more kid-friendly, with bike riding and toyshops and chocolate parlors, but way too expensive for a normal family to stay for more than a couple days. Jennifer’s favorite stop of the week was Heidelberg, Germany. It’s only 90-minute drive south from Frankfurt, but it’s like entering a completely different era. There’s so much history there that it’s almost too much to absorb. The past comes alive when you are there, and if you like history like I do, it’s amazing. But it’s still Europe, and I can only take Europe in small doses, so this little taste of France right here in Franklin is good enough.

My table at Marcia’s this morning overlooks the Harpeth River, which borders Franklin to the north as it meanders around middle Tennessee. This spot has some pretty amazing history of it’s own. Just one hundred and fifty years ago this river ran red with the blood of 10,000 soldiers who were killed in one of the bloodiest battles in the Civil War. The Battle of Franklin was fought here on November 30, 1864 resulting in devastating losses to the men and the leadership of the Army of Tennessee—fourteen Confederate generals (six killed or mortally wounded, seven wounded, and one captured) and 55 regimental commanders were casualties. After its defeat in the subsequent Battle of Nashville, the Army of Tennessee retreated with barely half the men with which it had begun the short offensive, and was effectively destroyed as a fighting force for the remainder of the war. It was a pivotal point in the history of our country, and It happened right here where I sit drinking tea and listening to French music.

I’ve driven this stretch of road and crossed this seemingly insignificant bridge thousands of times over the past sixteen years, but this morning was the first time I ever crossed it on foot. I never took the time to think about what history, if any, lies in the waters below. But this morning I was able to discover it because I was walking, and walking requires more time, and time is what we need to in order to discover.

There a verse in the Bible that says “Be Still and Know that I AM God”. In Hebrew the word “know” means “to see, or ascertain”. So, in our amplified language, we could translate that verse, “Slow down, so you are able see and recognize the evidence of God, and His presence, in all things all around you.” We spend a lot of time asking God to come into our lives and our situations, to help us in our chaos, and there’s surely a place for that. But what if the answer to our prayers is less about God coming to us and more about us stopping long enough to discover Him, and in turn, re-discovering that He is here, and still very much in control? I believe this is the Ancient Path of Discovery that God is talking about in Jeremiah 6:16, and the path is becoming less and less traveled by our generation.

In my letter last week I briefly mentioned the battle with depression I’ve been fighting in my thirties, much of it due to MS. The song I sent talked a little about this as well, albeit indirectly, as well as the angst associated with waiting. Something I wrote must have struck a common nerve because response to the letter was unusually high. For the 36 hours following the post I was inundated with emails and comments from folks who are struggling with depression and anxiety and life struggles of some sort. I read all of them and was reminded again that we are all walking the path of brokenness in a world that has less and less time for suffering.

There’s a gift in brokenness though, and it comes in the way of time.

When we’re forced to sit, or wait, or walk, we’re given the opportunity to remain long enough to see God’s presence in it. Sometimes this “gift” is given to us by an illness or a layoff or a blown transmission, and other times it’s our choice. The opportunities to chose the slow “ancient” path are becoming fewer and farther between these day and so that’s why this morning, when the upholsterer asked if I’d like him to give me a ride back into town, I said, “That’s ok, I’ll walk.”

Even though it’s getting harder and harder to see, The Kingdom of Heaven is still at hand. The beauty and rest of Jesus and His realm is all around us, waiting to be discovered and rediscovered by those who take the time to slow down long enough for it to come into focus. I hope that happens for you today as you chose the ancient paths.

Keep walking,
Jeromy
www.ffh.net

“Stand at the crossroads and look;  ask for the ancient paths, ask where the good way is, and walk in it, and you will find rest for your souls.

Our church has been working on a series of recordings for our congregation. The songs are becoming the vocabulary of our worship times. This one, called “Always” is one of my favorites and I think applies to what we’ve been talking about on numerous levels. You’ll recognize me singing, but I didn’t write it, although I wish I had. For more information on the Fellowship Songs projects visit please www.fellowshipsongs.com. Enjoy!

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Jeromy Deibler (FFH)

Categories: BlogPosted Under: Faith, Walking@7:59 pm