I Am Rooting For You, Opening Band

Dedicated to Shortly, a band from Detroit I did not know existed before last night but nevertheless am now hopelessly devoted to

I’m not on time for a lot of things. Most people know that about me by now, adding a few minutes on to whatever time I say I’m going to arrive to get a better picture of my involvement in an event. There’s only two things I’m incredibly punctual for.
The first is the airport, for obvious reasons. Your friends might forgive you for being a minute or twenty late to the party but the plane will absolutely leave without you and never give you a second thought.

The second is less apparent. If a concert ticket says doors at 6, show as 7 I will be there as soon as I can.

I will never miss an opening band.
I refuse.
Somewhere hidden at the top of the card might be the next band I pledge my life to.
Maybe it’s the old critic in me that constantly wants to find my next love, something that I can share with everyone I’ve ever met.
And that band that plays at 7 when the headliner isn’t going on until 9:30 might just be it. I’ll never know if I’m not there.
And even if it’s not, every band needs someone to cheer for them, to dance, to be a part of the collaborative work of performing.
I’ve dragged friends onto the dance floor to save a band from playing to no one
I’ve had my heart broken as I can see a band make the decision to play their closer a few songs early to get off the stage
And maybe that’s because I’ve been that band too.
I’ve played shows where more people helped us set up than attended, and those that did looked like they couldn’t wait to leave.
I still remember the vacant stares as we kicked into my favorite one of our songs.
It was as if each side of that stage existed in a dimension without the other.

So maybe that’s why I’ll always be there for you, Opening Band.
You’ve made something you love and have taken it on the road to share it with the world
You’re taking incredible risk to even get to this show, driving through the night without the accessories of success.
You’re showing up dead tired to play for people who have never heard of you
Who for the most part aren’t there because they want to hear your songs.
And you deserve better than the roar of an uninvested few.

And so I hope at every show you reach at least one person who won’t stop talking about what they just saw.
I hope you turn into the show people lie about having been to.
“Oh man I saw them when they opened for…
There were like 5 people there. I couldn’t believe it!”
Or at least get to the point where a cult following loudly declares to anyone who will listen that they bought tickets for you, not the headliner
I hope your live show gets even better and that the best songs you write are still to come
I am rooting for you, Opening Band. I hope you know that
And I don’t think I’m alone.

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This is a God Dream

The following piece was written for and dedicated to the Oklahoma Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church

If we’re going to call it a quest we should probably think about what that means
Because our words have more to say than the images they conjure in our heads
A quest is more than a fantasy of figures in shining armor returning triumphantly, a hulking beast laid slain in their wake
It often comes with a lack of direction
A time spent wandering, searching for anything that would lead forward
It means that above all, what makes this special is the beginning that leads to an end
All quests have the same starting point; we are offered a task and a purpose from God that we are willing to see through no matter what the cost

So that’s where we have to begin

We must realize that what is asked of us is much more than retrieving a goblet and bringing it back to a trophy case
We are asked to be the ones that help transform the world
Our quest that we embark on is at its core a rescue operation
We are sent to hear the cries of those who know there has to be something more for them
We are sent to bring hope and justice to those who feel chains tightening around them.
Chains of poverty, racism, discrimination and exclusion, an emptiness of spirit

We are sent forth as the heralds of the good news, that through Christ a better world is possible
And we don’t have to wait for it, we can begin building it now

So, we ask God to deliver us serenity
Deliver us peace
Deliver us loving
This is what we need today

And so, let the gospel be our map, our guide, our bread for the journey
Let this be our God dream, our imagination soaring to the limitless possibilities
Because we follow in the footsteps of the one who conquered death
The one who bends the impossible into reality
May we not quit
May we not settle
May we pick each other up when it seems like we cannot continue

But most of all may we never be satisfied to leave things as they are until we can truly and confidently say it is on earth as it is in heaven
May we be restless in our pursuit of the Kingdom of God
May we dream together with God to create a new thing
God, send us out to dream

Album Lyrics – Complacency

Here’s the link to listen: click here

The Plan

(Demetri Martin, from If I)

It was a crazy moment, to have a plan from eleven years old
Every choice, every summer: classes, extra activities, SATs, essays,
Leading to that one big goal, and then being that close to it and realizing,
“I made a huge mistake, I have to admit it, cut my losses, I’m out of here.”

And it was a total crisis, a total crisis of relevance.
Because I was now an adult – yes, okay, it’s cool to be quirky, maybe, on the side.
Do some puzzles, make puzzles, whatever, you learn how to ride a unicycle,
That’s cool when it’s on the side, right? And you have a plan.
What happens when you remove the plan?

Florida Coast

Take me through the everglades
Take me to the top of this mountain I’ve made

Keep your head above water
Keep your head above water, you’ll
Keep your head above water, you’ll
Keep your head above water

I miss places I’ve never been
Got to stop thinking “remember when?”

Get Through

Maybe the sophomore slump will end soon
I thought I could be like Xaphoon
I thought I could write songs like songs “for emma” too
I can’t promise it’ll all be good
But I can promise you we’ll get through

Birds

Circle all you want there
I won’t let you nest in my hair
You’ll keep it up long enough
That’s not belief, that’s fear

Circle all you want there
I won’t let you nest in my hair

Interlude

I revolve around you
Your shadow becomes my shape
My path is mostly yours and my
Kingdom is your tide
My path is mostly yours and my
Kingdom is your sky

Your shadow becomes my shape
My path is mostly yours and my
Kingdom is escape

Sacred Spaces

The places I love are scattered everywhere
They’re sinking and floating
Drowning, dehydrated
I don’t care
They’re sacred

The places I miss are scattered everywhere
They’re haunted and empty
A ghost like me can’t stay
I don’t care
They’re sacred

Reckless

There’s a vast blank wall up ahead
Useless and frightening
The clouds might swallow you whole
With an ominous flash of lightning

No longer staying silent
Your dreams have gotten violent
You tossed and turned last night
Fumbling and shaking
You panic and drop the flashlight

This is as reckless as you’ve ever been
Time and time again
There’s no way to win

I lay on my back
Dreaming of ways
To hide from prying eyes
I grew up under an endless sky
Where sunsets can last for days

Complacency

I could say that I’m happy
But that would be a lie
Under the oppression of a perfect blue sky

I’m trapped
By the light reflected in your eyes
I’m trapped
Under wishes and hopes
I’m trapped by childish fears
And the urge to keep chasing ghosts

Maybe that’s dramatic
I shouldn’t be so dire
But sometimes it feels like I’m the last one
Standing up to the empire

I could be quiet and call it maturity
I’d know that it’s complacency

I was ready to run away
But now I can barely stand
My legs are getting heavy
I’m sinking into the sand

I was ready to run away
But now I can barely stand
My legs are getting heavy
I’m sinking into the sand

Invisible

At the supermarket checkout
A sandwich and a bottle of tea
I’m tired and awkward
But she stares right through me

Standing on the bus I pull the stop
The driver doesn’t hear, I know
I should say something
But we’re already past and I’m too slow

I glance up and he looks away
You walk out when I want you to stay
Maybe I’m invisible today

Late night at work
I walk to the car in darkness
Nobody pauses, nobody steps aside
I’m not bothered, through the crowd I glide

Put on those headphones and press play
They’re staring at me but I’m far away
I know I’m invisible today

#TrustTheProcess

Sam Hinkie was innocent.
Or at least as innocent as someone with that much control over someone else’s livelihood can ever be
Imagine training your whole life to be good at this one particular thing
And the only person who wants you to use your gifts doesn’t want to actually do well with them
Hey pal, I’m trying to lose as much as possible to cheat the system and I think you’re our missing piece”
Do you take that deal?
Do you make the tacit admission that you’re better than most but among the best of the best you’ll only ever be a space filler?
At best the answer to a trivia question?
And yet Sam Hinkie asked over and over for people to say yes to this offer.
He told them to trust the process
To know that they must be bad so eventually someone can be good
It just might not be you.
It probably won’t be.
Sam Hinkie remains innocent because he never pretended to be anything else
But this is what the process demands
The churn of those who were never all that remarkable and who no one will remember

The worst day of my life came with a greeting card
It’s hard to really articulate this particular brand of misery
Of going to finally accomplish something for which you’ve been working for half your life
Of taking the last step to obtain something that you believed was your purpose, your reason for being, the means by which you got out of bed because you believed yourself remarkable
And then a small group of people in an ever shrinking room tell you you’re not special.
Not only are you not special, but you may as well be worthless
You were a fool to think that you belonged here.
You are made to endure the slings and arrows of those who have never met you for far too long
You leave that room broken. You might never recover.
And then you go home, wait a week or so, and check the mail
And those people who have told you that you are not good enough, that you have no value, have the audacity to send a card
A serene nature scene adorns the front, and on the inside is just the names of those who destroyed you, and a simple phrase
Trust The Process
As if that is supposed to bring comfort
Sure, you have fallen down the stairs, but you got to the bottom SO FAST
As if I needed to be torn up to become anything of value

Trust the Process
It is a cousin to the watchwords of the well-meaning but unhelpful
Everything happens for a reason
It’s all part of God’s plan
Trust The Process


It is hard to climb out once you have resigned yourself to being a part of the churn of the unremarkable
It is hard to see that you are not as broken as they said you are
It feels like defeat to attempt to join in the process that crushed yourself
It does not always get better.

But what I have learned from the bottom, I carry with me
If this is a process, it means this is not the end.
There are still things in motion
There is still hope that might be waiting
There might be brighter things coming
I reject the processes that aim to add to that great churn
But there must be a process by which we drag ourselves out of it
We will make something worth remembering
We will become remarkable
One step at a time.
That, I can trust

Aliens Exist

The government says they have alloys from another world

I have no clue what that means or what those would look like

They’re probably just something that seems a little different from what we’ve got already

But a little difference is all it takes for something to be “out of this world”

I hope that what it all means that it’s a little less weird for me to be convinced that aliens exist.

Because they have to, right?

How arrogant do you have to be to look at all there is, all this undiscovered, uncharted, unexplored space and say “No, actually, it’s just us. It always has been”

There’s no wonder to that, no longing to venture into the unknown to discover something that may have always been just out of reach

Or even better still, to meet that hand that has been stretching towards the infinite for God knows how long

To give it something to hold on to, a welcoming embrace

A chance to hear what it means to be something else entirely, and share our own existence in return

Maybe we don’t have to look all the way to the outer reaches of space to find that

Maybe it’s just comfort to believe that somewhere above that star-spangled blackness, someone is looking back

Maybe I look to the stars so when I feel small it can be by design

Secret Handshake

In high school I drove a purple Honda Odyssey

and I named it Ulysses, because that’s what the Romans called the hero of that story

and I told people that it was to see who was smart enough to be my friend.

And that joke was more than a little arrogant, looking back on it.

But in the mid-2000s I was the proud owner of an Odyssey and the knowledge that I’d never be cool

So I’d send up these flares, these light-up signals over Gotham to see if anyone would answer

and I never stopped

I still write messages from rappers into my sermons

and I call them poets, call them by their real names

and I recite them with the gentle prompting nudge of an elbow into the ribs of the person sitting next to you

and I can’t decide if I hope people get it or if I’m doing this for me

and it was never really about being smart enough or clever enough, was it?

It was about finding someone who would see these things left like post-apocalyptic graffiti and say: “Oh, I get it”

About finding someone who had devoted the same brain capacity to knowing these things so you can feel like you hadn’t wasted your life engaging with all of this stuff

To know that you’re not alone

We could share in the secret handshake that our lives had become, knowing that someone finally knew the other half

Like drawing half of a fish in the dirt and seeing who’d come along to finish it

 

Paraments: A Holy Saturday Meditation

No one else can see this.

Alone in the sanctuary I move from pulpit to altar to lectern

Exchanging bare wood for the white paraments of Easter.

The sanctuary is uneasy when it’s left unclothed

Maybe it’s because we only leave it that way once a year

On the day where we remember that God died

On the day the light goes out.

It doesn’t feel right. It shouldn’t feel right. But it’s reality

But  now, we can begin again.

The sanctuary refuses to stay bare forever.

It refuses to stay blank for long.

When the congregation files in tomorrow I hope they see something beautiful

Life returns to a place that desperately needs it.

The smells of creation filling this sanctuary as I drag in lilies that we had to hide on Friday.

And the cross, so recently a symbol of death and decay stands triumphantly empty, silhouetted by white blossoms and buds still waiting to bloom.

New life continues to grow

And so I keep moving from one place to another around the room, transforming a place that was left barren not a day ago into a place where life is found again.

I wonder if this is what God felt like

Working and preparing a display of new life in a place that had so recently been barren

No one else can see this

But we have to make ready anyway

Reflect

I WROTE THIS ONE IN THE SKY WE’RE LIVING IN THE FUTURE

Now we see in a mirror dimly but then we will see face to face

What are we looking for?

What are we hoping to see reflected back at us?

Are we looking to see the divine, somehow captured in our own visage?

I mean, that’s the image we were made in after all.

Or maybe we’re desperately hoping that God looks more like us, that we can be ourselves and know that we’re still doing okay

But that dimly lit reflection, that fog on the mirror that develops after we clean ourselves up keeps us from seeing the whole picture.

Because it’s dangerous to say that God looks like me

Because then God can’t be you, or anyone else. In that reflection only lies saying what God cannot possibly be and I don’t think that God works.

It’s not about seeing ourselves in God but being able to know that there is a divine spark present in us

Maybe the reflection we need isn’t our own face but to examine what we need to see staring back at us.

And eventually we’ll stop looking at ourselves to find that, transfixed by our own reflection, and go become that mirror for the world.

Reflecting back the beauty that was always there.

Anatomy

So they say it’s kind of like being a body

That we’re all connected together but we have different parts to play

Eyes can’t see without hands that can’t move without feet

Each one with a different role to play that allows us to function as we were intended

Roles that we were designed to fill, that we can fit into perfectly if only we can find out what we are.

Maybe we are eyes, looking forward, examining things, finding what lies ahead for each of us

Maybe we are those ears, listening to others, processing perspectives that may not be our own

Maybe we’re a thumb, helping to hold on to things that we can’t bear to let go.

Maybe we’re a stomach, taking things in, breaking them down, making them possible to consume and provide energy.

But what Paul didn’t talk about is the days where you feel like an appendix.

Feeling like no one understands your purpose.

Maybe you don’t quite get it either.

That you feel like you’re an unsung hanger-on.

But even in those days, there’s a purpose.

The appendix is a safe-haven for the bacteria that help out in digestion, in taking the food and drink that we take in and turning them into energy

When they get pushed away from their homes by some outside force, the appendix welcomes them in.

And I know this is a little more gut science than you find in most poetry but it needs to be said that even this organ that for the longest time seemed to exist only to cause pain and be removed has value, has a purpose, has a reason to belong to the body.

And on those appendix days, I hope I remember that. Sometimes it takes a long time to discover a purpose, a reason to realize you belong, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

The body needs all of us, no matter what we decide we are.

Lights Will Guide You Home

I’m fascinated by lighthouses

With all the advances we’ve had in technology there’s still a need for these pillars to shoot these radiant beams out over the water

To show that there is a safe place waiting for people

A port in a storm.

Built to hold up against the wind and the waves that rock ships and brace against the foundation of the lighthouse itself.

Because somewhere along the line people realized that all of these other things can fail

But the light? The light never does.