Wedding Preacher

Slept with the wedding preacher. We shared a bed, although I think I'm the only one who got any sleep. I snore something fierce--that's what they tell me.

Madison, Indiana, celebrating the marriage of dear friends. Ryan was the preacher and I the wedding singer.

He's a great speaker. Passionate, challenging, insightful. A witty man, and playful, both on and off stage. I'm remembering his competitive bowling game when the boys went out for Alburn's bachelor party. Not bad, dude. We should go bowling again.

There are now three wedding sermons that I remember. One by Sam Leonor a year ago in Riverside, one by Andy at Liana and Jason's wedding, and Ryan's from yesterday: That marriages are meant to be live-action models of Grace, deployed so the world can see how God loves.

Ceremony completed, we had a smile over the ying-yang of his black-tie-on-white-shirt against my white-tie-on-black-shirt.

Then good times at the reception (I suck at blowing bubbles...) chatting with Kentucky Darren and the Michigan Smiths. That'd be a good name for a bluegrass band, right?

Found out this morning that Ryan likes bluegrass. I didn't know that. Wouldn't have guessed. And that's exactly what I liked about this trip.

I see him leading community actions in Hollywood and participating in the public conversation on healthcare reform. I hear him next door in his office, moderating a conference call between various church leaders and President Obama.

But it's these one-on-one moments when I see this man I respect in a different way.

Sitting in Starbucks at Louisville International Airport, planning the worship service for this coming Sabbath, I remember how much I enjoy working with him. I don't think I yet know half the reasons God aligned us in mission and ministry, but I know it's been an honor for me.

We board different flights to Chicago, whence he'll drive to Michigan and I'll catch Southwest to Portland. We'll both be back in Hollywood by weekend, God willing.

As he rises in the public scene, the activist minister, holding tightly to faith in one hand and reaching intently for social justice with the other, I think of him most fondly as the guy who showed me how to use the Iphone I borrowed for the weekend.

A single phrase to describe my friend Ryan Bell: Jetset Bowling Preacher

Smoke and Alcohol

I loved, and I do mean loved, working for Jeff Meader and Laurent Montalieu. Their collaborative companies, Oregon Wine Services and NW (NorthWest) Wine Company produce and/or store many of the great wines of the Willamette Valley.  They are also two of the finest gentlemen I've known. 

Most wineries delivered by tanker-truck. The guys in production would quick-connect the tanker and pump to our stainless-steel storage and let me know when it was all in-house so I could schedule a crew for bottling. 

This job was different. The wine was in two one-thousand gallon plastic tanks and we were going to bring them in by loading the tanks into the back of our 24-foot box, used-to-be-a-moving-truck. 

Both tanks forklifted into place, securely strapped to railings, the roll-down door padlocked, I set about a lovely 15-mile drive through vineyard and country back-road.  

I figured on driving gingerly with that much weight in the back. But even my 35 mph beginning was dangerously ambitious. Sloshing liquid so disheveled my truck that around an early corner one side of the truck started lifting off the road.

As I felt the wheels lifting, I thought, 

"Wow, mom was right, alcohol's gonna kill me!" 

Pleased with my own cleverness, I renegotiated a slower pace and settled in for the return trip. And then the thought, 

"This is gonna be a long, hard ride."  

For some reason my mind turned to the story of a guy coming home from a long, hard ride. Doesn't have a name, we call him prodigal, but I think prodigal's an adjective. 

Might be the gorgeous scenery, or the woody fragrance of pinot wafting forward from my cargo. Might be the steady maintenance of adrenaline to my heightened senses. Whatever it was, the muse stayed with me while I drove, and the entire song downloaded during those 90 minutes in the cab of a 24-foot box, used-to-be-a-moving-truck. 

I wanted to remember it, so I called myself on the cellphone and sang it to my voicemail. 

The song is "Smoke & Alcohol" and it's available on my website starting today, September 1st. Click here to download it for $1 US: 

Well, I don't need no more pictures

Took my pictures off the wall

And I tried to drown these voices 

In a blend of smoke and alcohol

Leave no reminder that I'm traveling all alone

Been a long, hard ride

There's only one road coming home

Well, I'm the blacksheep in my family

And I disappoint my wife

But I'm driving this new highway

It's called the way, the truth, the life

Your folks can't get there for you

You got to drive it on your own

Been a long, hard ride

There's only one road coming home

There's only one way

When I returned to my senses, I said I wanna go home

There's only one way

I been livin' like an animal, don't wanna do it no more

There's only one way

I was thinking I could get me a job down at the family store

There's only one way

He said come to me when you get tired and you're feeling heavy laden

I'll take your load and I'll give you more than you have ever taken

One condition, you got to follow where I go

Been a long, hard ride

There's only one road coming home

There's only one way

When I returned to my senses, I said I wanna go home

There's only one way

I been livin' like an animal, don't wanna do it no more

There's only one way

I was thinking I could get me a job down at the family store

There's only one way

People, they gonna disappoint you

People, they gonna let you down

Don't leave your treasure where the moth can find it

And don't build your shelter on shaky ground

There's only one way

When I returned to my senses, I said I wanna go home

There's only one way

I been livin like an animal, don't wanna do it no more

There's only one way

I was thinking I could get me a job down at the family store

There's only one way

Well, I don't need no more pictures

Took my pictures off the wall

And I tried to drown these voices in a blend of smoke and alcohol

But it ain't workin'

My head is ringing like a phone

Been a long, hard ride

There's only one road coming home

photo by Sean Amlaner