Immovable

The Lord is watching patiently

His eyes are on the fold

But my eyes are closed in self-defeat 

I remain immovable 

Titans and Marlins

Yes, I'm glad the Titans are now 7-0.  But, it just isn't the same not being able to see my roommate play.  Now I have to cheer for the Marlins?  Sigh.

I miss him.

Forget It.

Seriously.  Forget it.

How My Heart Behaves

There was a time, about two years ago, that my mom told me about these tapes my dad had of my brother and me when we were young.  She said that I had to watch them because they were so cute.  I didn't really think much of it.

Thanksgiving, 2006.  We were all gathered at my dad's and step-mom's, and someone randomly slips in the tape on an old VCR and plays it on the big screen.  Here I am, this little boy with big brown eyes looking into the camera, telling my dad that I miss him (my brother and I made this tape for my dad because he moved to Florida for work).  We were telling him about what was going on with us, what new dogs we had, what new karate moves we could do...  The list goes on.  So, anyway.  Everyone watching this is laughing at the cute stuff we're saying and doing (and stuff my brother is doing behind me when I get close and talk into the camera).  

2006's Thanksgiving was the period of time I like to call The Surfacing.  Everything was in question, no one could be trusted, and nothing was safe.  Seeing myself at the young age of 7 made me want to jump into the TV and pick myself up and run me away from my life.  It made me want to be my own dad.  I wish I could've hugged the little boy who was carrying so much weight on his shoulders.  I was sitting on my dad's couch that Thanksgiving day, no longer thinking of a blurred, failed childhood, but I was actually seeing the little boy who was going through it.

That Thanksgiving day was the first time in my life that I met my pain head-on, and it was by looking into my own eyes.

I don't really know why things feel so fucked up right now.  You can call me dramatic and you can say that I'm over-analyzing things, but I can say confidently that I had my childhood robbed from me.  I was asked to carry responsibility that no child should be asked to handle.  I saw things that turned me wayward.  I saw money take the place of love, and I saw lies take the place of reality. I saw two very lost and confused adults use their careers and alcohol to escape the hurt their parents' placed on them when they were kids.  On three occasions, I saw a man hit a woman.  I put headphones on and pillows over my head to block the yelling and arguing that came from a downstairs living room.  I prayed to God, trembling, that He would make the screaming stop, but He never did.

I talk about healing a lot, because I want it so badly.  I want to know what it feels like to use things as stepping stones and not stumbling blocks.  Perhaps I am a house that burned down.  Maybe I was made long, long ago and in a day, I turned to ashes because of someone else's fire.  

It may take a while to build me again, but I will be made new.   

New Record and a Party or I Am Different.

So, I've been playing in this band for a few years and we're finally (finally) releasing our record.  It comes out today.  October 14th.  It's easiest to find on iTunes, but you can probably find it at your local independent record store.  The record is called The Sleeping House.  We're having a party in East Nashville to celebrate it.  Dinner at 6:00, we play at 8:00.

October 14th stirs up a few emotions for me.  It is exactly two years ago that I met someone I thought I'd spend a lot of my years with.  It was exactly a year ago that I ran into that person after not speaking for about nine months.  Fast starts and fast endings.  I think we all know about those.

After "we" ended whatever we had, I went to Atlanta to record The Sleeping House.  It was a really, crazy dark time for me.  Secrets.  Fear.  Lies.  Mostly fear, though.  But, the head-space I was in created an amazing opportunity to channel all that into a record that I'm very proud of.  I think you'll hear the pain in the notes.  But, you'll also hear the undeniable hope in the lyrics.

Life is sometimes bleak.  I don't know how theologically correct that is, but it's a blog so I think I can be a little more honest than correct.  I imagine the River being muddy; the Green Pasture withered and brown; the Well having no bucket to reach its water.  But, my imagination runs wild, you know?

Life is, in fact, good.  Life is great.  My life (my masks, pretense, my struggles to appear to have it together) is not great.  It will never be great.  The bucket will never draw anything of worth from my heart.  But, it is this conclusion that makes me sleep easier in the hands of God.  It makes me want to walk dusty roads on a summer night, hand-in-hand, and alone with my most intimate Stranger.  It is in these moments that I learn that there is a God to be touched and drank and shared. 

Today, I celebrate the release of a new record, but I also celebrate two years, alive and beyond the lowest hell of my life (though, not low enough for the love of God to reach).  I still feel empty.  I still get sick to my stomach.  I still wonder what if?  I still grieve.  But, I couldn't imagine a life without grief.  Because, as someone once told me, the grief is a celebration.

The Rapture or The Lonely Man

I've literally called 10 people and not one of them has called me or texted me back.  The only logical conclusion is that the rapture happened and I was not taken up in glory.  Fine.

It's funny.  I usually work on the weekends and get invited to do a few things, but when I am finally off, I not only get no invitations, but I don't even get call-backs.  Fine.

The good news, however, is Copeland's new record is streaming on their MySpace and I've been listening to it all morning.  The other good news is that I'm making a chicken salad and and I'm going to top it with a new ginger soy dressing I got last night.  Divine.

So, to all of you who have not been raptured and are not calling me back, I'm afraid our friendship contract is forfeited, effective immediately. 

As sure as the floor meets my toes

And somehow not surprised

That I was superimposed

Somehow in this life

And if my friends and my foes

Would just drop me a line

It'd be nice

You see love is a drink

That goes straight to my head

And time is a lover

And I'm caught in her stead

And the sentiment there

Follows me straight to my bed

Through the night

I've got my life in a suitcase

I'm ready to run away

I've gone no time

Because I'm always trying to run away

Cause every day in here

Feels like it's only a game

I got my life in a suitcase

What could be an anchor here

With a storm on the rise

You never mean to see so clear

When smoke gets in your eyes

Goodbye 24, hello 25.

Birthdays are a funny thing.

It seems the older I get, the more lame my birthdays are.  I slept in until about 10:00, wrote some music, and went to work around 11:30.  I worked until a little bit after 8:00, went to the pool to swim for about an hour, came home, fell asleep on the couch, and now at 1:00 in the morning, I am awake.

That was my October 7th.

People asked me all day at work, "What are you going to do tonight?"  When I responded, "Go swimming after work," I just got a strange look and then, "Why aren't you going on to celebrate?"

Well.  I don't know.  

I mean, honestly, I was quite looking forward to swimming, as I haven't been able to do anything regarding exercise since Friday.  So, when people asked about my plans, I kind of felt silly for not having any kind of party planned.  But, I mean, am I supposed to plan the party?  I just feel a little out of place doing something like that.

Every now and again, I would get the somewhat-militant-party-people shocked that I wasn't going out partying.  Some people would look at me like I was crazy, and keep and keep and keep and keep asking me questions about why I wasn't going to do anything.  I just wanted to say, "Because no one is throwing me a fucking party, okay?"  I didn't, of course.

But, in comparison to last year's birthday, this year's birthday was a blast.  Sure, there wasn't a cake, presents, or a party... but there were also no tears, a broken transmission in my car, and an almost negative balance in my bank account.  And, I can say with certainty that last year's birthday was an accurate introduction to my entire year, so if today is any indication of what I might expect as a 25-year-old, then bring it (minus the rain, dry contacts, and the hordes of dumb people).  

24, I was a bore.  25 is when I come alive.

(You like that, don't you?)

Teacher, which of us will be the greatest?

There was a time, a little over two years ago, that I found myself driving up to Nashville in a van that didn't belong to me.  I didn't have any CDs with me, and my iPod's battery was dead.  I looked in between the seats and see a CD.  I put it in, and for the next three-and-a-half hours later, I listened to it on repeat all the way from Atlanta to Nashville.

That CD was by a band called As Cities Burn, and every song had me thinking about things.  The first song, in particular, talks about humility.  About what it means to give God our heart and try to steal it back and lay it at the feet of men.  It talks about reputation, surrender, and pain.

Every time I listen to that CD, I always think back to driving up 24-W and feeling the wind blow my face.  I think about the warmth of the air and the anticipation I had in my nerves.  I think about a simpler time where I knew what I wanted out of life.  I couldn't think past playing music. Everything was music.  

I feel like I've grown up so much since then.

Dreams are dead.  Emotion is only a balance between laughing sometimes and feeling empty most of the time.  Money is hard to come by.  Honesty is a memory.  Smiles are for hiding the pain instead of revealing a genuine feeling.

But, you know?  I've been thinking.  All this "growing up" has done me good.  I've realized that life isn't about solitary moments, during warm summer nights, driving from Atlanta through the mountains.  Life isn't about old dreams.  Life is about living.  And, by God, I'm alive!   

No matter how much I convince myself that things used to be better or that things will be better, there's no greater reality than to know that God loves me right now.  He loves me just as much as He did when I thought everything was perfect.  He loves me at my darkest.  

It is a joy to get a glimpse of the love of God.  It's the joy that makes me want to smile (and dance and love and sing and cry and serve...).  I love that God is not done working in me.  I don't care how much money I'll ever have or how hot my spouse will be... it truly is the love of God that pulls me into the direction of living.

A year after discovering As Cities Burn, the band I play with was able to tour with them for an entire month.  We would open for them, pack up, and I would sit and watch their set every night. 

Thank you, Lord.  You are good to me.