summaries
breaking locks off of thermostats so we can breathe. faulty vacuums. having so much sound equipment that it takes us an hour to set up our practice space. moving from a claustrophobic square to a less claustrophobic but still claustrophobic square and organizing the storage rooms of lee university in doing so. wondering what the nondescript black residue is on the floors. wincing as clark warms up and tunes the drums, my ears embracing the first pummeling of the seven near-straight hours to come of practice. they’re still ringing. they will be for a while. a whole other day on two nearly four minute songs and a catalog to learn behind us. so many new ideas. so many laughs. jamming kenny’s genius folk songs. being thankful that i’m blessed with such committed and wonderful gentlemen as friends and fellow musicians. rededicating our passion and purpose to the Lord. it’s hard. but it’s ridiculous to think we could go it alone. we love this. being so tired by the end of the night that we leave thousands of dollars worth of precious gear to be retrieved and easily accessed the next day. ready for what unfolds itself tomorrow.
knowing this is different. knowing this is God-ordained. trying to be mysterious and subtle and non-explicit with the things i’m feeling but so overflowing and full with grace-bestowed joy that i can’t help but constantly express it. the anticipation i get. the thoughts i think. the embraces we share and prolong and repeat again. the way my hands smell after holding yours. the walks home and watching you ascend the stairs. the conversations, the prayers together, hearing your voice beside me in worship. the TLC. the walks, the trains rattling by us at midnight, scaring us to death and sparking all the more memories. you tying my shoes. the support. the texts. the simple moments, the sleepy mornings, the bowling plans. the absolute perfection in the matching of our voices. the intimacy of baring my soul in song beside you on a piano bench. the way my chest is beating at the moment. the desire to backspace all of this and conceal my blushing. the decision not to. the readiness to wake up every day and see where it takes us, to cherish every second, to see how God is faithful in us and through us and to us. so good.
dealing with unforgiveness in thought-to-be-forgiven things in my heart. processing through things said. calling out lies where they stand. girding up walls of truth, but widening the gates of love. non-stop impression upon my heart: your boast is in the Lord. not in talent. not in friends. not in experiences. not in personality. not in dress. my boast is in the Lord. an identity, a spirit of sonship that is lifted above the curse. that is lifted above anxiety and elevated into peace under Your wings. releasing anger and unclenching fists. letting go of my endeavours to produce something in my life worth setting my pride and identity firmly on and allowing your spirit to bear fruit. pulling my faulty seeds out of the garden, tilling the soil, ready to grow. grow. leading worship—but that’s a ridiculous term, i’m a kid with a guitar, singing with 30 other voices and there’s nothing “leading” about it, it’s community and i’m the smallest part—for my brothers in medlin. hearing their voices resound in that second floor lobby. i will exalt You, You are my God. taking communion. feeling the fresh breaths of new life. inhaling. writing down promises and hopes and ways that You’ll be faithful. wrapping them in envelopes for later use. excitement rising, love in every circumstance.
i’m an excited human. i’m a stoked little boy.
