overproportioNATE

A gun shot was the only word you said And all of my defenses came out red Love was red, love is red She left with you, you left me lying dead So I watched her as you put me in the dirt She had my wallet tucked inside her skirt And I went numb, I went numb So I'm not dead if what you did don't hurt -Betrayal, Fiction Family I'm a sucker for story songs, what can I say. The lyrics to this song display 3 of my very favorite things that can be done in a song. 1. An incredibly interesting hook. "A gun shot was the only word you said". You can't forget that. It is different enough to be remembered. It's talking about something not spoken, but communicated. The shot said more than any word could communcate. Such a beautiful line there. 2. Mentioning something, then finding out just how true it is, so it repeated as fact. "Love was red, love is red". Love wasn't just red, Jon found out. Love is red. As if to say, "How could I have misse

“I found myself thinking about President William McKinley, the third American president to be assassinated. He lived for several days after he was shot, and towards the end, his wife started crying and screaming, "I want to go too! I want to go too!" And with his last measure of strength, McKinley turned to her and spoke his last words: "We are all going.” ― John Green, Looking for Alaska We are all going. I've been thinking a lot about the things I wrote about yesterday. It's hard to decide on the best way to live life. And when we've decided on the correct way for us to live, it's easy to believe that everyone should, or must, live that same way. The last few weeks I've thought about devoid of much of what I've done. Of giving it all away, surrendering much of what I know of joy. Just rolling it over in my mind. I know people that have done that. And I have less of a problem with those people today than I once had. But I also know that ma

Just a heads up, this one may get a little heavy. Also, there may not be a conclusion. I just finished reading my 3rd John Green book, "Looking for Alaska", and well, it's a tragedy, and also something far from a tragedy at the same time. But it made me think, because it asked some good questions. They main one being: "How will you escape this labyrinth of suffering? What will give you hope? I often shy away from that question, and hang on to my old adage that I do not doubt in God, I doubt in myself. Or I get off on some tangent about purpose, or greater hope, or first steps. I have preached more "first step" sermons than I care to admit. I feel like we are in a world of first steps. We never really answer the question, we never really reveal how to make it out of the labyrinth. And if anyone ever makes it out, I'm screaming as to why they never share it with the rest of us. As if there's some way to transcend all of this. Like this maze can b

Oh, I guess they'll say I've grown I know more than I wanted to know I've said more than I wanted to say I'm heading home Yeah, but I'm not so sure That home is a place You can still get to by train -Southbound Train, Jon Foreman I absolutely love that song, if you haven't heard it, you're doing something wrong, so give it a listen. I don't have anything just absolutely profound to share about this song, I just want to say that it rings true. There comes a point in life where you can't get home, by train, by bus, by car, by long walk. You can't get "home" anymore. "Home" doesn't exist. The home of your childhood is replaced. Your parents move away, or it doesn't feel the same. You walk into the home of your youth and can't find doorknobs or light switches. The family, even the family that you know, is different. And it cannot really be made "home" again. But it is almost required. Just like

You are no the contents of your wallet. You are not the space you rent. When you’re eighty-five with no scars to show the winner of our discontent Whose lips have you been kissing? Hang your future from a blade Win it all, but something’s missing maybe drank the wrong Kool-Aid? -I am Jack's Smirking Revenge, Five Iron I think this song is a call to be in the world but not of it. I think sometimes we feel as though we can get by with the same things. We can fight, and fuss, and get angry. I absolutely love the line "Whose lips have you been kissing?" I wish I would've written that. What a straight to the heart way to dig into you. At the end of the song, they keep repeating a line from the chorus: "If you change your mind." If is the key word there. Who among us are willing to have our minds changed. Anyone thinking that they are living just the way they should, thinking just the way they should, has no place in what God is doing. We need to be teacha

Take all of them If you've ever stood in front of a large display of televisions, you know the feeling. They're all playing some Disney movie, and all have varying degrees of quality. You can already tell that some are going to stand the test of time, and some are already breaking down before they even leave the store. But when your eyes are allowed to fall on all of them at once, to take them all in, it's just a blur. And the communication can mean almost nothing. It takes focusing in on a single television to follow the story line. If they were all displaying the weather, you'd need to watch the hand motions of just one weatherman to know the movement of the storm. And so it is in life. We all have a lot to watch. We each have a hundred faces, looking at us and talking. Dishing out advice, disappointing news, judgement, and hope. It matters what few we decide to turn to. And even just the idea of focusing on a few is important too, I don't want to overshadow

There is a need to take someone else down with you. Where on earth does that come from? It could be explained away with this want to make a name for yourself. People, feeling the need to commit suicide, take with them 20 little kids. Their name is remembered as more than a man that committed suicide, but now as a man that committed this terrible, thought out act. Klebold and Harris were thought of as martyrs by later school shooters. But I think it's more than that. Because there's stories of people killing one other specific person, or their dog before turning the gun on themselves. Hitler demanded that his military fight to the last man, even though he ended up killing himself. Why do we do these things? And maybe I shouldn't say "we", it obviously isn't the desire of us all. But it also isn't only in death and destruction. Like Jon Foreman writes, it takes 2 to go to war, but only 1 to fall in love. We also go down together in romance, in sorr

When I don't write. It isn't because there's nothing to say, or in my opinion, it isn't because I don't have the words to caption it all. It's mostly because there's simply too much. Life is overwhelmingly too much. But not overwhelming like a wall of water, not some crushing thing. Life hasn't been that for me yet. I'm not depressed by the massive amount of "stuff". Rather, It is overwhelming like a heavy fog of perfume. It's difficult to see through it all, but more that it overwhelms all of the senses. And like too much perfume, I have a hard time knowing whether I like it. I don't always know where it comes from. Pain or happiness. And much of this could be chalked up to coincidence and being either where I ought to be, or not where I ought to be. But I'd rather chalk it up to more than that.

It's takes one person. It takes one wonderful cabin counselor to make a week of camp that much better. It takes one teacher to make school worth it. It takes one student's appreciation to make the day. One girl to make it all alright, every night. What you do today does really matter. Even to give that one compliment that maybe you're a little too shy to give. To be a gentleman, to be appreciative, to tell the truth. To run from evil. It takes one person.

One lost night against a sea of troubles I could not hear You through the thunder's peal My only hope is that You cannot, not- be real My only thought pray for me now My only thought with my last breath -Five Iron, Against a Sea of Troubles This is their first song on the new album. It's this last ditch/if nothing else/ proclamation. No matter what else happens, please be real. Whatever else happens, I'll be believing it with my last breath. It's the way I need to see it, I need to adjust my vision that direction more and more. It's a lot closer to where I want to be. It doesn't worry about tomorrow you know?

It's been a good day. School started a couple of hours late, the sun is shining now, and has been for most of the day. I'm working on camp. Yeah, I know the snow just fell. But if anything, I wish I had most of my outlines written down already. It's a struggle for me to figure out a topic, or a way of presenting the truth clear enough, that I feel it's "worthy" of camp. Because I can think of plenty of messages, but to have one theme that is worth designing a year of camp around takes a lot. Usually it's a song. Or more specifically, a song title. That usually does it for me. Because to even come close to using the same kind of words, the same kind of tone, and to get the illuminating nature of Christ's words, music is as close as I can get. As Reese wrote in "Far, Far Away", Christ "Spoke His words as plain men sing". I always liked that. Music is thought out, more than my mumbling, more than my best put together message.

I'm pretty sure that the new Five Iron album is almost entirely about the frustration of having faith and losing it. Blizzards and Bygones (their last track) certainly is. There's so many people who have "had faith". Mother Theresa opened a "home for the dying." What kind of faith would that take. It wasn't a place for people to go to get better, but rather, to die well. She was once quoted as saying: "By blood, I am Albanian. By citizenship, an Indian. By faith, I am a Catholic nun. As to my calling, I belong to the world. As to my heart, I belong entirely to the Heart of Jesus." I buy into that so much. I am many things, but none of them, in the grand scheme of things, means much of anything to me. One thing is important. But 20 years before she died, she had serious doubts. "Where is my faith? Even deep down ... there is nothing but emptiness and darkness ... If there be God—please forgive me. When I try to raise my thoughts t

In the mail. It's been two years. I waited for his hands to scribble out, on paper that is probably wrinkled on the end. It may be frayed. Words might be crossed out, and re-written. Chances are that mountain dew and beef jerky stain at least one corner. And people will probably scoff at it. Displayed in a frame. It will be the first item I've ever framed. But it will be the words. To my song. The song that probably saved my life. I cannot wait to hold it in my hands. Every New Day.