I sit near my friend Curt today. It’s a darkly blue lit local pub, but with lots of life, all sorts of nuanced sparkles, the way a pub gathers community over time into each evening–in that golden azure neon beer lit sign sort of way; where everyone is equally shaded to be and become, and able to finally speak their truth.

We are both pastor’s sons, and both have known the strengths and weaknesses of the church experientially, existentially, and in terms of seeing which part is which–discernment, they used to call it. In our case, telling the difference between Jesus and His church, and somehow still loving both! Both of us approaching it as artist, seers, dreamers, symbols and symbolizers, those who want to believe in the inner glory of each hymn we sang growing up.

His dad, a famous old testament scholar. Mine also a sort of hero of the faith. So we recognize what it’s like to be sons of greatness, faith greats, and still have to find our own ways “in Him”, our own spiritualities in order to know, even ourselves. It’s a unique challenge. And neither of us is bitter about it. More like Johnny Cash, we just want to sing a few great songs well!

We can tell when someone, a new leader for instance, carries intellectual truth mixed with a true heart. We can tell if their theology is revealed or just soul learned. We can sense the music of other’s soul’s. Perhaps we have some sort of discernment, gifted and earned over time, and still caring, or simple Grace. Yes, at least that. I’m not sure. But, we are both musicians by heart really.

Musicians, us both, in the sense of interpreting things through the inner tone of things-knowing them from depth, tone, the melody of being, encounter from within. Sensing where God is in things. Where He actually is, and what is the good soil of planting the right note or seed in His tone and pace.

Yes, that is true, ok, i will listen. That part is God, that part is his or her own wound; got it. I receive the part which is true. And needed water! We both sense the inner fluidity of water in people, and which parts are parched. Maybe we inherited that sense-either way it’s inescapable.

I’ve helped many pastors sons not to hate the church, but to find Jesus nonetheless. To forgive her shadows, and labor for and with her Light, in other words. Since, He hasn’t give up, why us. Or at least to not throw our The Baby in the bathwater. But curt is different. He cares about music, and still likes the church. He chose to love what Jesus loves even if he didn’t. The music of the church.. And church history through music. He was a choral singer as a kid, and watched the church go through stages of musical evolutions. Some more or less relevant.

Turns out though, you end up loving what your Friend loves. If you find Jesus, you end up liking what He likes. He still loves the church, and so do we, despite herself, and despite ourselves. I suppose that’s a particular type of Grace, or maybe God just feels sorry for those who grew up entirely under the church’s roof. I myself was conceived in a parish house, and have listened to over 5013 sermons over the years, and counting. Curt’s journey has been similar.

I’ve hung out with Curt for many years, his dad was a great old testament scholar. And he never got bitter about the church, but does question where it’s at now.

We finally got a live baseball game as we talked.

Ok, look, the younger pastors are great, but they really need to be in His spirit to make it work. Not too emotional but enough. And super smart. They need spiritual intelligence, which is downloaded, not just book smarts. Anyone can become spiritually smart. He tells me, as he leans back into coding on his computer. He used to work for NASA, and since for the biggest churches.

It’s a hard time to represent Christ, even as fools like us, who had to discover Christ despite Christianity.

Curt’s personally more interested in Greek Orthodox, and the Anglican form or worship which he feels is closer to the Source. Something which reflects the silence of that intimacy with Christ and His Journey. I’m more interested in sheer Friendship with Jesus, and getting to come close to The Father, outside of our current expressions of it. I like all the generations of expression, but some are richer than others. Both of us know it’s true. And desire to do our part in making it so. And there is love between us, which we both recognize as home.

I love people who grew up near the church, and still somehow still feel attracted to her. Or maybe more to Him! We are remarkably, still friends with Jesus, despite our stories. And, still leaning into a larger context of Kingdom for the significance and interpretation of our stories. Thankful for that type of brother today.

It’s nice to meet other pastor’s sons. We have a way into Him which seems to make interesting art, if nothing else. Lot’s of very famous musicians, and artists of all colors, are pastors kids. It rears you with a yearning, as one friend put it. A yearning for something higher and Real.

Curt studied music for many years, here and all over Europe. But he’s always had a heart to somehow serve the church. It might be in his blood like mine. Still, he’s often been more honored in the secular rather than sacred venues.

“A workers worth their wages, and the law of sewing and reaping includes artists.” Curt pipes in again. The lament of the Levites, and yet also the privilege of downloading centuries of praises and prayers.

Maybe that’s the gift of growing up in close proximity to the church, even before you know what’s at her heart. You encounter the cultural building before you meet Her Heart Beat, or Core Identity, but at least you are in the parking lot of the Holy. It’s an easier, if more ironic route to Christ. And He tends to take note of the challenges. You are also able to tell the difference between culture and The Actual Christ, more succinctly and quickly. You can read the fruits of the Spirit more quickly. That’s another benefit of growing up under the cloth.

Back with Curt, it’s always talking over or through the cleft notes of our own spiritualities, bringing sonnets into now, and still keep finding Christ somehow, in the cracks and broken light shimmers, of our stories and the small glories of daily lives.

Some days, it’s enough to be be alive, much less, the sheer melody of the privilege of being alive here in our endless story-the poetry of small moments together. Each one so specific, yet pointing and signing into the Same grand Story, and Glory. With both appreciate the opera of daily life in all it’s unseen nuances. Like two pastor’s sons talking religion versus spirituality, and actually enjoying it.

I guess, we must still believe in more than Jesus, but also His people. Yet, we both now like simple glories. Good conversations. The miracle of kindness in some passing person’s eyes daily. Or just meeting someone else with a similar journey in life.

Curt’s last lament went like this: “The words and language need to work with the lyrics, I studied and taught music history, focusing on sacred choral music; when you take German and Latin and English and try to throw them all into one some contemporary praise worship, something doesn’t feel right. I’ve done choral music in Latin, Greek, and German. It depends on the music. The music itself can reveal the whole thought, prayer or meditation. But people these days want to be so contemporary. It’s nice to overhear the older prayers, though. This friend goes on and on, about all the possibilities–it’s ok to use Bach, but they only let me do so with the ones he wrote in Latin. He wrote most in German, and there is some resistance there. Alas, the lament of the levites, never ends. Still, we get it. The music is the most direct way to enter in, and encounter God, so it’s worth it eventually. It’s ok, to be ancient sometimes, if its still true.”

As it turns out, that particular Glory’s long story, is still present today, in a simple but, evening blue light conversation at the end of a day between us, with the right care, we might all make it; remarkably respelendent story, and a certain type of wounded glory in two preacher’s kids sitting simply in beer light, having a conversation of Grace.