worship video: sunridge church.

rich being out of town, my intern duty this past sunday was to help lead worship at sunridge church. although we had a few minor mishaps musically speaking, God was really doing some great things in the room. i can't tell you how thankful i am that rich gave me this opportunity to cover for him while he is on vacation in canada. who goes to canada for fun? but that's besides the point. the service wouldn't have been the least bit successful if rich hadn't have taken the time while i've been out here in california to help grow me both musically and spiritually as a worship leader. my summer internship is almost over and i'm still learning so much! but my grandma told i can't stay out here, that i better come back, so i guess i have to do what she says.

and check out chris justice's new suhr gold top "tele" guitar. it has such an incredible tone. when around the guys in the band i feel like i'm in this scene of the movie spinal tap (click here).

check out the video below.

Untitled from Jim Frederick on Vimeo.

#sundaysetlist:
happy day- timothy hughes
cannons- phillip wickham
give us clean hands- charles hall
our God- christopher tomlin

stop preaching at me.

i'm tired of talking about God.

we all pile into a room, with the lights turned down low, so nobody can see our flaws, and the music cranked up loud enough to drown out the sound of our broken self, and talk around a subject. and the subject is, of course, "what everybody else needs". sometimes, i want to stand up and blare out:

stop preaching at me, let God do His thing.

here's an analogy: it's like we are in a room full of people, and i'm telling you all about one of my friends (why i like him, what he looks like, what he does and says) when we easily could have just gotten up and walked across the room, spent time with, and talked with him. getting up and walking across the room is the hardest part.

if we even feel the hint of butterflies or our emotions get prodded in the least bit, we say "oh, the Holy Spirit was really moving this morning!". correct me if i'm wrong (and i mean this), but that's not where the Holy Spirit, the Holy Spirit that i have read about in the Bible, comes to a stop. what if the butterflies and the tugging at my emotions are only the beginning, and when we stop there, it's as if we are sprinting towards the edge of a cliff and then sliding to a halt right as our toes cross the edge.

what if i jump? does that make me one of "those guys"?



do we keep God locked up in the church walls because we are afraid of being let down that He wont come through. we talk about his power, we even sing about it, but do we ever truly experience or even act on it?

on many accounts Jesus healed people because they had "faith". they knew, they believed, and there was action. Have we dumbed down God's power?

we come to church dressed in our sundays best for a whole hour (that's if we're not late) all the while talking about where we are all meeting for lunch after "we finally get out of here" for some "extended fellowship". and if you have sunday school, that's two whole hours (oh wait, i'm not supposed to call it "sunday school", that's not edgy enough for todays time, i meant to say "small groups"). and then we are mad if we don't get refreshments, donuts and a good social time in.

maybe its just me. or maybe there is more.

does it say somewhere in the we should have one all powerful pastor or committee and a big, nice 21st century building to ensure that we drown in a financial dependency of our congregates to pay for the fancy light show, the prime real estate, the top of the line worship center, and the salaries of our staff. (i'm hoping to be on a church staff one day, this isn't a low blow directed at anybody). does this lead to the leadership doing anything and everything they can to please the people that are writing the checks that help them pay their car note? i'll ask the question again, are we dumbing down God? are we making him "safe"?

i will quote c.s. lewis what i'm sure most of you have already heard:
'Susan: "Is he safe?" [in regards to Aslan, the lion (of Judah?)]

Mr. Beaver: "If there’s anyone who can appear before Aslan without their knees knocking, they’re either braver than most or else just silly."

Lucy: "Then he isn’t safe?"

Mr. Beaver: "’Course he isn’t safe. But he’s good. He’s the King, I tell you."'

where is the risk? is the risk deciding what color carpet should be in the worship center, or if the service should be at 10:30 or 11?

i can't stop thinking about the scene in the movie gladiator (watch it here), where after maximus slaughters all of his competition in the arena, he looks to the crowd and yells, "are you not entertained?" they came to see killing, and they got it. did you come to church to sit through an hour and fifteen minute production (don't worry, there's a clock in the back), sing along with some songs, have the pastor scratch your back a little, and get a gold star under your "God column"? or did you come expecting to meet with God Himself?

not to long ago, a close friend told me that God will give you as much of Himself as you want. if you want to keep Him "under your control" and for "only when it's convenient", then that's what you'll get. but if you want more, God is more than ready for you.

in the past 6 months ive seen alot of different churches, and in many different places. not that it's an excuse, but this is probably why i'm ranting and raving on and on.

are we going about it all wrong? this isn't a rhetorical question, let me know what you're thinking.

to lighten up the mood, listen to my good friend's new music:
"We Are Pioneers"

stan the man

upon finishing up my last blog post i struck up a conversation with a man sitting at the table across from me. his name was stan, he had all of his art supplies strung out on his table and even the table next to him. stan was watercoloring a dolphin on a little cutout the size of a bookmark. he showed me all of his paintings he had with him and described to me, in the most basic art jargon possible, what techniques he used and why.

stan then looked up at me and said with a big grin on his face, "are you ready?"

i was hesitant at first, but he persisted that i at least give it a chance. after pondering what i would create, i decided to attempt a hot air balloon. and i thought i would show you guys what resulted.


we kept a steady conversation going until the same barnes and nobles lady that gave me attitude, kicked us out because they were closing down. we talked about where he draws his inspiration and creativity and his other hobbies, turns out he teaches billiards down at the local pool hall. he had tons of stories to share, he even had one about a hot air balloon that his close friend owns.

it was a pleasure meeting stan from barnes and noble. i'm going to begin to open myself up to meeting new, unexpected people anywhere and everywhere i go.

as of late.

before you read this blog post, i want you to know i'm kinda heated because a lady that works at barnes and noble gave me some attitude when all i did was simply ask if there were any plugs in the coffee shop area (of which "the man", starbucks coffee, has taken over). i didn't buy anything, and i'm stealing their internet. therefore, i'm sticking it to the man once again.

i wanted to catch you guys up on my life as of late.

five days and four nights after my aforementioned jazz tour i flew out on a plane to sunny california. i always get so excited the time leading up to a flight. something about the mystery of who i will sit next to and their story, and walking down with all my luggage hanging off of me in every direction as i walk down the terminal into the gateway of the city that awaits, gets me every time. well as it turns out, i never sit next to the cool guy with tattoos, the cute girl, the sweet old lady that is somebodies grandma, or anybody for that matter that is as interested in me as i in them.

rich kirkpatrick, worship pastor at sunridge community church, picked me up at the airport right on time. rich is my direct superior (aka boss, but don't tell him he's my boss, he might start getting some crazy ideas or something) throughout my two month long stay here in temecula, a suburb 50 miles north of san diego. i met rich at a worship conference in kansas city in the summer of 2009. that's my fancy way of saying last summer, sounds much more grandeur. after only a few minutes of talking with him, i soon realized he he has much insight and wisdom on music, the church, and worship. he's a thinker, in a good way, and he challenges me to think. i am already learning so much about the art of worship leading just by being around him, i think its osmosis or something. he blogs at rkweblog.com . more to come about this in the weeks following.

lucky me, only a few days after arriving at sunridge church, the church was hosting "john mark mcmillan" and "gungor" for a monday night concert. this was an incredible experience because i got the opportunity to catch a glimpse of what life is like on the road as a travelling musician. i want that. i think.

now, i'm making new friends. having some success, but some short comings. as i try to build foundations of new friendships, i have to get over myself and actually talk with people and care about what they have to say. these new people haven't spent the last 20 years, or four semesters with me. they don't know me, i have to tell THEM who i am and what makes me, me. and that means I need to know who i am and what makes me, me. i wish i knew.

i'm learning a lot about myself out here in the sunny state of southern california. maybe i will know more when i return, if so, i'll let you know.

enough for now. the barnes and noble smell is getting to me.

currently listening to: "all the bright lights"

natchez, mississippi

this blog post is long overdue.

the latter half of may i had the pleasure of travelling to Mississippi with the umhb jazz combo to play at the Natchez Music Festival. the jazz combo group is a division of our "big band" that consists of only a piano, guitar, drums and upright bass.



the town of natchez is right on the mississippi river bordering louisiana. the "old southern" feel, the downtown antique shopping, and the historic plantations have created an attraction for tourists from all over the surrounding area. from what i could tell, there is a lot of "old money" in this town. it seemed to me that most of the places (and people, for that matter) were all very fancy schmancy and high society.

we played for food and tips at about ten different venues around town, to name some: castle plantation restaurant, manmoth plantation, natchez coffee company, bowies tavern, mighty martini bistro, eola hotel. i think the final number was 24 gigs in 14 days. after the first week my forearms and hands were in so much pain, i learned that playing the upright for long periods of time will do that to you.



one event we played for was the "bud scott memorial expose'" at the african-american museum. bud scott was a banjo player that had his own dixie-jazz big band in the early 1900's. supposedly, he is also the illegitimate father of the world renowned louis armstrong, a trumpet player from new orleans.

although we were essentially in the armpit of america, great memories were made that will stick with me forever. rena jean (rj), prego chicks (she has a kid!) [that's for you austin], crawfish, mississippi stank, "freak you!", the texada, the massage chair, the corner far... ohh the memories.

i got to experience what it would be like to travel and play music, and being stuck in a van with the same four people for 14 days, not ever being able to escape. it has its pros, and its cons. and although we had no responsibilities whatsoever except to play music, it was a daily struggle for me to take the time to find God. i have always thought that if there was ever a long period of time where i didn't have anything to do, that i would have plenty of jesus time. but i've learned without my close friends support (more like expectations), my church congregation, and the umhb christian bubble that i live in(which i am forever thankful for, i chose this school afterall) that it is harder than ever to stay close to God. even when i do have all those things i still am not where i act like/want/need to be.

overall, i am glad to have had this experience of travelling to mississippi as a part of a "band", and wouldn't trade it for the world! i am now in california as an intern at sunridge church, i'll keep you guys posted!






the south will rise again!
what happens in natchez stays in natchez.

old and busted

for some strange reason, it seems to me
that i am invincible to time.

me, becoming old? no, not i. well... eventually, but not any time soon.

there's no way around it, soon and very soon time will
catch up with me and i will look into the mirror and
wonder to myself who that old man staring back is?

there will be a day when my musical taste will become ancient, fancy iphones and gps devices will become cryptic antiques. a day when
everyone will have realized that justin bieber was an absolute
joke. and, in the same way that i see my mom and dads pictures growing up, in the "old days", my children will look at
pictures of me in my glory days and giggle about silly
haircuts and clothing styles.

i look back to high school. where did that go? such a monumental period of life gone in a flash. life is happening. i'm going to take a moment and look around in an effort to remember and embrace where i am now, what i'm doing, and how i happen to get here.

basically what i am getting at is:
this is the time in my life where memories are made that eventually become the stories that i tell my grandchildren. the stories of my life. real events that actually happened, that i experienced first-hand in the short time that i walked this planet.

and one day, when i look into that mirror and see myself. i
want to be old and busted. i want to have scars, scars with stories behind them. i want to have taken up God on His grace. i want to stare into a set of eyes that pierce back into my own soul and can say without a doubt that i am content with where i've
been and what i've done.



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"call me a relic, call me what you will
say I'm old-fashioned, say I'm over the hill...
i reminisce about the days of old
with that old time rock 'n' roll"
-bob seger

"time without courage and time without fear, is just wasted, wasted, wasted time."
-hootie and the blowfish

ms. mullins is the man

it never fails, the most dreadful experience of my life happens the first day of
class every year, the teacher calls out role. i'm usually first, my last name begins with the first letter of the alphabet "A":

"john arbuckle?"

arrggghh... i can't just let it slide. i'm forced to halt the tedious process of role call and draw all the attention of the class room, full of people i don't know, to myself?

"i go by nick... here."

my face beams red, full of embarassment. all my peers in
the room giggle to themselves. so much for trying to play it cool, and put out the vibe on the first day of school.

then the cute girl, whom i have so strategically manuevered my way in to sit by, usually says something along the lines of:

"oh my gosh! like, from now on, i'm going to call you by your first name, john! okay?! hee hee!"

i go on to say "oh that sounds great". knowing full well she wont remember to call me john ever again (though it never ends well, at least a girl talked to me. i don't have any game). this has happened, too many times to count.

so it has it's downfalls, but it's not entirely all bad.

i do get to carry on the name of my father, the real "john arbuckle". he is someone who i respect and admire. i am just now coming to the realization of the knowledge and wisdom he can share. i don't tell him that enough. having his imprint follow me wherever i go is something i wouldn't trade for the world.



from time to time, i get the question:
"do you own a cat name garfield? tee hee hee!"

"as a matter of fact i do, he's orange and he really likes lasagna."

i dont really have a cat named garfield. i lie to them. it makes the story sound better, and the look on the their face is great. truthfully, im not a big fan of cats, i'm highly allergic to them. my face swells and my esophagus slowly begins to close up whenever i near a feline.

yes, the owner of garfield, from the comic strip, is named "jon arbuckle". scouts honor, wiki it.

i have to wake up and battle that little fact every morning.



im still holding on to the dream that starbucks may have derived from a distant relative's coffee business. you have to admit, it's close... arbuckle's coffee... starbuckle's coffee... starbucks. just a thought. (tangent: when ever starbucks "the man" merges with walmart "the proprietor", the apocolypse is not far off. they will have no other agenda but to conquer the world.)

they even ripped off my great-great grandfathers logo. they just drew a green circle around it and substituded an old scraggily cowboy for a godess.

i'm on to you starbucks, i'll be looking for my royalty check in the mail soon. i have hope.



this was a meaningless post. i'm sorry for wasting your time. but you did find out a little about me. i do go by nick, i'm not too fond of cats, ms. mullins is the man, and i like coffee.