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bradyb1234
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Name: Brady
Birthday: 3/25/1986
Gender: Male
Interests: I play guitar (mostly electric), piano/keys, some drums, bass, mandolin, ukulele, and hopefully more in the future. I love SNOWBOARDING!!! I wish I could play guitar and snowboard at the same time and get the rush of both things. That could be disastrous. I work as a computer networking technician and make money to buy guitar gear. I've found that God is the only One worth living for and thats why I worship. True dat.
Expertise: making hot tea, talking down salesmen, cooking (but not cleaning up), macintosh computers, computer networking, never sleeping, wearing black shirts, wireless technology, camelbaks, coffee drinking/coffee making/coffee in general, listening to David Crowder Band, trying to make loops, audio programming, synth and guitar ethereal effects, etc.
Occupation: Artist
Industry: Entertainment
Message: message me
Website: visit my website
AIM:  guytotally4god
Member Since:
5/21/2005
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| I was asked the other day what my favorite childhood memory was. As I thought about it, a wave of memories came back and it was hard to choose from. Many can't be beat. I have memories of travels in Washington D.C., New York, and all over the U.S. I have fond memories of camping and hanging out around a campfire playing cards and roasting s'mores. I have memories of white-water rafting, rappelling, 4-wheeling, and roller coasters. I have memories of walks at the park, swimming in lakes, and spending time with the family around games, books, and ridiculous storytelling.
It was when I tried to pick one that I realized that I didn't have a normal childhood. I had parents who overcame their past neglects, family issues, and new territories and spent time and money to show us their love and show us the world. I don't have a father who spent his life in his office or stuck in business affairs, but was the leader of our household and showed love by spending valuable time with his family.
As I thought about how much time and money had to have been spent with our family where he could have been making more money to provide more things and easier living I realized he made the wiser decision. Though I'm sure money was tight at times and trips had to be budgeted, trips and family events were never forgone so that more money could be made. It showed me the priorities my father had placed on us. It is rare to have a father who would get on the floor and play with his kids rather than be stuck in other matters. It served as a warning to me to not miss out on life and really digging into what I have now instead of always striving to acquire more.
Here on Father's Day I honor my father who has shown me so much invaluable wisdom and who has given me about the best representation of our Heavenly Father as an earthly father can do. You will carry on a great legacy not just with your biological children but your innumerable sons and daughters in Christ that look up to you and have been influenced and encouraged by your wisdom. I love my father very much and am thankful for his love, time, and wisdom in bringing me up, teaching me great things, and showing me the world. Happy Father's Day! | | |
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:::2:11 am:::
To he who doubts, what is proof?
Questions of “Why does God let evil happen?” “Why would a loving God send people to Hell?” “Why would God make us suffer on this earth?”
These are prominent questions of doubters. I know my theology. Those are easy... I can answer those.
Those who are the real skeptics know the answer too. You can’t convince them with your theology. There are questions such as, “How do you know God is real?” “How can you prove scriptures are right?” “Why should I love a God that I don’t feel indebted to?”
What if I don’t feel like I need grace? Yes, we all make mistakes, but does that send me to hell?
And the average Christian comes in and stamps “yes!” Oh - they sure know their theology. The Bible says so right? Whether it is true or not, how do you respond to the doubter and the skeptic. They’ve probably tried and been disappointed. They’ve probably loved and been hurt. They’ve probably shared joys and feel alone and disconnected. Did you just make them feel connected and closer than when you started?
How do you know God loves me? Does, “You just do. You just know. Believe in faith...” feel right to a skeptic? Does that give them a boost towards truth? Have you met them where they’re at?
I’m sorry doubters and skeptics for our stamps and our labels. Whether theology says so or not, God would meet you and put a stamp of approval upon you where we have said, “You are going to Hell for your sins.”
Did Jesus ever, EVER get mad at an unbeliever or show disapproval of someone that sinned? The only people he got pissed at were hypocritical Christians like me. I don’t want to stand between Christ and the doubter with my stamps. I want to show the way, even through my doubts and my frustrations. I want to eat with wretched people like Christ did with the tax collectors and sinners. Because I’m no different and no better. At least they didn’t claim to be.
I give up my stamps, my labels, my opinions of disapproval because they do no one any good. Especially not me, now that I look down and see that the stamps I’ve put on others are all over me. I have anger, rage, lust, doubt, hopeless, conceit, selfish, pride, and stuck written all over me. I’m ready to wash these indelible marks off. Off me and the world I’ve put them on.
If I don’t see Him stamping, I sure as heck won’t be. Who am I to give such a mark?
I’m sorry God.
I’m sorry world. | | |
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:::12:44 am:::
Even the wise fall.
I've realized that as I've grown older there are some things I've changed in and some things I've not. Some change has surprised me in how much I've grown and learned in; I know a heck of a lot more than I used to and am much better at a lot of what I do. Some things I've been stuck in or habits I have that I've never grown out of.
I don't want to be like some of the older people I know that still act clueless and act like a high-school girl in their old age. I want to be wiser as I grow older. I never want to stop attaining knowledge.
I have gained wisdom. I've learned from life experiences and often the hard way. But even the wise fall. There are some things I know I should not do, yet I find myself doing them. Things I should not say, yet I say them anyway.
I've grown all my life in Christianity and I know what I believe to be true, I honestly do, but even after pursuing it there are days of doubt. "I believe what!?!" "Is this really believable?"
Doubt is comfortable. You can just sit back and watch everyone and be skeptical. I feel important and superior with my doubt sometimes. I watch over the Christian crowd and smile. Sometimes it all just seems weird or far-fetched, even if it is highly misrepresented.
How do you get out of doubt and skepticism? How does one escape from the comfortable claws of disbelief? How does one stop his condescension?
I'm looking for a way...
I think the only way out is to be convinced of something. To try it out and weigh what satisfies.
I think that's why people turn to drugs, alcohol, sex, eating, tv... it makes you feel alive. When I think of satisfaction, does my mind first go to sitting in a church service? Perhaps I understand why people dislike Christianity so much.
Do I blame the world? Haha, no... Can I look down on people for making decisions that are against my convictions? Heck no. They're living a fuller life than most Christians I know. They're seeking satisfaction while most of the church tries to deny it. I cannot look down on anyone. Except those who try to deny freedom and satisfaction.
I just want to be satisfied.
I want to be convinced. To draw nearer to something powerful and exciting. To be a part of something tremendous. Something that I will risk my life and my dreams for. Have you found it yet?
:::12:58:::
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:::12:27 am:::
This is the good year.
The pessimist in me cringes. Can he say that?
I prayed and prayed for doubt to be removed. I've wondered if I've been called or if I'm stuck or if I'll always be worrying about bills, how I'm going to plan for a wife and my financial future. I've been worrying sick.
Now business is booming. I've got cases out my ears to build in short amounts of time, a large band that I'm endorsing with cases, sales online going crazy, dates being booked up for the next few months, and quite a few open-ended possibilities of more recording in a world-class studio, doing a 6-8 week tour with a decently large band, several ep sessions. I know stuff falls through and is expected, but I can see that this year holds more than I gave it.
Would you raise my expectations. Would you take me into the world. Would you get me away from myself. Would you help a dying land.
Yes, for once in a long while, I'm excited. I'm preveniently awaiting the future with great anticipation. Let it come for us all... | | |
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:::5:36 am:::
(In efforts to provide new blogging ideas, I was struck with the most bizarre idea. I won't hide it. This is probably the strangest thing I have written. But it's almost a true account of what goes on in my head. And that may be more than you want to know. I also realize it is frapping long and you probably don't want to read it and that is ok. Do realize this is written fairly late and I have been writing for hours already about other things, but when an idea hits, I take it. Give me some grace here).
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Breakfast is cold again this morning. That's ok though; it's normal and perhaps healthier, some doctors may say. I hurriedly finish up and put the dishes in the sink. What disarray the kitchen has fallen into! It seems as though I'm more comfortable living like that, so I guess it is permissible this time.
I open the door to the outside world. What a cold and rainy day! I trudge along happily to my car whistling a sentimental tune, hoping my beat-up lincoln shares the same sentiments as I and decides to start on this good morning. A few cranks gives evidence that this isn't the day for driving. But at least it's a good day for a walk. It's just a few miles down to the next bus station and I could use a good bit of exercise.
It's lightly raining and quite frigid, but I walk briskly as if it were a summer afternoon in the park. People pass by in their cars with strange concerns and dubious countenances on their face. Perhaps my laughing to myself and talking out loud seems abnormal to some. Carrying on a conversation left off is usually very enjoyable. It can be irritating when life's interruptions take place in the middle of one's most important visits and sharing of personal matters, but it's life, it does what it wants and that's ok. I see the bench up ahead and there is a man sitting down. I study him carefully - I think I've seen him before, though I just can't quite place where that is. He has on a dull, gray suit with a top hat that looks rather old and worn and he is fixed on something in his lap.
I come a bit closer now and can see what he is doing. He is writing. He has an old brown journal that has seen use over the years and some of the papers wildly stuffed inside look like parchment; perhaps older than documents such as the Declaration of Independence and the like. Perhaps not. I just notice his gaze is fixed and he is writing, writing, writing.
When I'm nearing the bench I call out a heartily, "Good day!" He looks up from his writing, his glasses perched on his nose, struggling to hold on, and he gives me a sort of grimace. He moves his lips to the side with an awkward expression and says, "Day, to you too. I'm not sure if good is the word, but it is a new day, I can't argue that with you. You're back again, eh?"
"Again?" I reply. "Have we met before?"
"We talked here yesterday, if I remember right."
I'm sure I make an expression of deep thought, hoping to convey apologies for not remembering. "I'm sorry, I don't recall that we did."
"That's ok," he said, "You rarely do. You don't remember that I'm insane?"
I'm a bit nervous by now, as I'm sure you would be too, but I haven't the mind to recall what information this gentleman is offering. "We've met numerous times before today?"
"Yes, you're me."
I give a short chuckle at this humorous fellow. "You are strange, I'll give you that. What is it you are writing?"
"A blog."
"What's that?" I had heard the word previously, but never was into writing much, nor pop culture, and I thought maybe he could fill me in.
"Must we go over this again? My gosh, I'm beginning to feel that you're insane as well."
I must admit, I felt a bit insulted. "What is the topic you are writing about?"
"I'm writing about you. Well... us, particularly. You are always so optimistic. You like walks in the frigid rain and laugh when your car doesn't start and sing with joy when a storm arises. It's stark madness! I, on the other hand, hate discomfort, any slight inconvenience (especially noises, little squeaks, high-pitch sounds, etc), and I'm just generally unhappy. I figured maybe we could even each other out, but I find every day we just squabble and think better of ourselves and disagree with the other. It's enough to make someone insane!"
"Hmm... I suppose I can't help you out much. You are a strange fellow. I imagined you would be good-natured. Perhaps a traveler documenting your journeys about to take the next bus to the next city to explore. Do you travel, my good friend?"
"I try. Although life's responsibilities keep me here. And you."
"Oh dear, how do I keep you from traveling?"
"You're stuck."
I look down at my feet and even give them a small kick. I look up quizzically at myself and smile and give a wink.
"Where are you going?" He asked.
"I'm going to church. Well, I'd like to at least. It's safe there. Didn't you see that's where everyone else is going right now? Everyone is happy at church. Maybe you should come. You look oh so depressed. It'll cheer you up. In no time!"
"I'm far too busy writing about myself. I think people are fake."
"Oh, everyone is happy deep down, right? When you're a Christian, life is easy and you should be happy. Besides, you've been sitting on this bench for days, right? Maybe you should move on..."
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turn around and greet him - well, me. Again. I introduce myself to myself. I give him a pat on the back. The writer just points his pen in a mocking salute. The new guy looks expressionless back at us.
"How are you?" I ask. "Isn't this great weather?"
"Oh, it's what I would have expected."
"Hmm... a realist, I gather." Said the writer. "I'm still the pessimist. You - " He points sarcastically at me "are Mr. Optimisto. What a excellent team we make. You guys want to have a boxing match right now or just stick to angry, argumentative dialogue?"
"Hmm... he's pissy today. And by the way, you should have said "an" instead of "a" in your sentence. It's grammatically incorrect." Says the realist.
"Look who is talking... You started a sentence with "and"."
"Ok, so you're unhappy, right? Nothing new."
"I'm discontent. I think we all are."
"Well... I guess I'd have to agree."
"Yea, but I think everything is going to be great though." I offered.
"We're sitting here debating about what's the right view on life, spiritual matters, church, traveling, our insanity in general... we don't really know anyone else. Why do you go to church?" He looks at me... Yes, it's a rhetorical question. "Why do I always expect things to go wrong. And yes, they always do."
"Not always!" I interject.
"Ok, not always. Just most of the time."
"What's your point?" The realist is not so patient. I can tell he's already had enough conversation and is getting antsy.
"I think we all want to change the world. I know we do. But we're sitting here on a bench by ourselves talking about church matters, life matters, and well - personal matters as both of you may know... When are we going to see change? I'm tired of sitting here writing and waiting and praying and seeing no difference. Ha... I have no friends but you two and that doesn't add up very fast."
"You have more friends than that. You're just stuck on yourself. You should get out more." I kindly offer. He didn't like that.
"I'm just tired of sitting here, wasting away, going to fake church, talking fake talk, making fake music, faking happy fakeness. I would like more meaning in life. I know I could get on this next bus and it would take me somewhere new. I could write another song and it might do well. I might, I don't know, make a successful business and strike it rich. But I don't want it to be with just you guys. I want people in my life. I'd like more than you and you and me and me consulting me and filling my head with adventures and responsibilities and doubt. When and how are we going to make it?"
"I see your point..." I said. "You think too much. Can I vote you out?"
The realist laughs with me and nods in humorous agreement. "You're quite a stick in the mud, my friend. But I do agree with you, no matter how deranged you are. I'd like to think getting on that next bus will take us to the next place, but I know that isn't true. What can I say, I know everything."
"A bit of a narcissist too, eh? We needed another character flaw in the mix here... I don't like you. Does that mean I don't like myself? Geez, I am insane."
"It's back to you again, isn't it my precious?" I ask in a Gollum-like voice.
"I'm trying, I'm trying!" He said. "But seriously, what's the solution here? I'm starting to lose any liking for this place, for what I do, for anything. I have no challenges it seems, except for the many ailments and broken things and missed buses that have passed us by. Seriously, it doesn't take much to "stand out" as a Christian or as anything at all here. Is it any harder to be a shirt in a shirt drawer? What's the solution?"
"Hmm... stop just for a second." I hear something in the distance. It's the sound of a horse and a carriage on the cobblestone road that we're waiting beside. I look up and see a man hoisting the whip, but he doesn't need to crack it down, the horse is doing his part and going fairly quickly. He pulls up with a smile and slows down the carriage. "Hey, it's me!"
"Oh gosh, it's you!" Said the pessimist. "I haven't seen you around in quite a while.
"Who is this?" I ask curiously.
"Well, you could probably guess it's you, there aren't any other characters in this God-forsakenly long blog but you (and I), and indeed it is. He's a passionate fellow though. He's been gone for awhile and, though he irritates the fire out of me, he's gonna be helpful right now."
Hmm... I'm dubious of this whole 'me' thing going on here and wondered if I should set up an appointment with a doctor... oh, my thoughts are straying. "Why him?"
"Well, he can give us a little head start at least. He can at least get us to church if we hurry, but he tends to write the best songs, draw the best pictures, and write the best blogs (as you can see he didn't write this one). Nonetheless, I'll feel less like I'm trudging if we bring along this fiery little fellow. He might be able to get us along for a bit till we see some change."
"Do we have an end to this?" I ask.
"To what? The blog? Oh no, I have no idea. This is real life. We never have any real answers until we get a little passion and try to go for it again a little bit more. There, you got the doubter/pessimist to say it. We'd better hurry before I get my second opinions and doubts about going."
"I agree." It's time to wake up. Or go to sleep. I believe it's the latter. "Good-night all!" I say.
"Good later!" They chime in.
You know? Now that I think about it a bit, I think I might be crazy after all. :::7:06 am::: | | |
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