September 2010
21 posts
Joseph has been on the phone with Spencer for the last 15 minutes attempting to find him on Google Maps via the landmarks that Spencer keeps telling him. I’m in a Starbucks that Donald Miller evidently walked into while Spence was here earlier. I’m drinking coffee for the first time in 3 days. It’s proof that recovery is possible. We have been blessed by ridiculously gracious...
Enchantment:
Spending days driving across, over, and around the Rockies has included a lot of open-mouthed wonderment and photographic venture. My imagination would suspect that, if the mythology of mountains would present they had been formed by giants, these titans exerted their energy on throwing their fists into the earth firstly here, sending the peaks to lofty heights and cutting their faces with...
The art of waiting:
My heart is heavy this morning, for various reasons. Many times I find myself in coffee shops for hours, watching heavy traffic go by the windows and I feel that there is a world about us unaware of real existence. We are here, in CO, for an indefinite period, attempting to apply ourselves in every manner possible in effort to gain ground and get home. Its an adventure that is quite humorous...
An excerpt from the Apology of Aristides:
This is a report by an ancient philosopher concerning all the religions of the realm of Caesar Titus Hadrianus Antonius.
But the Christians, O King, while they went about and made search, have found the truth; and as we learned from their writings, they have come nearer to truth and genuine knowledge than the rest of the nations. For they know and trust in God, the Creator of heaven and of...
Black jeans:
I bought a pair of black jeans the other day, partially because every time we make shirts I end up with pink knees (due to the red paint) and the other because I simply didn’t feel at all tough the past week. I’m sitting in a coffee shop whilst the boys are changing the air filter in the van, and I realize that there is nothing in me that sincerely longs to be “tough”. I...
Ate and Less
So, I’m in the dining room of a house. The whole of the furniture is shaking with the sound coming up from the floor. The band that is playing is from Connecticut, we are from Virginia. We’re both in Iowa. In the same basement. I have spent the past week on tour with the passionate, and I have played too many shows with the passionless. Watching bands that simply play for...
Expression vs. Phone Call
I sat on the railroad tracks today, wondering what life will bring in the next few months. A plane ticket? A new place to live, work, write, sing? I am unsure, but in reality, the uncertainty of my finite future is engulfed in the infinite. I find it strange to say that I love people. There are people in my life that I love, not in the superficial, easy way, but in the invasive, heart...
4:
1As a prisoner for the Lord, then, I urge you to live a life worthy of the calling you have received. 2Be completely humble and gentle; be patient, bearing with one another in love. 3Make every effort to keep the unity of the Spirit through the bond of peace. 4There is one body and one Spirit—just as you were called to one hope when you were called— 5one Lord, one faith, one baptism; 6one God and...
Watch
ilyaIAAAO: @donnyiaaao it's alright. vocals are... →
IL: Cut out apron patterns with amazing Romanian woman. Slept in a basement on couch cushions. WI: The prettiest country I’ve seen in a while. They have feather-fur trees. MN: Woke up with a lake out the window, the foot of my bed a picturesque sight. The water here is clear. In a lake. In the woods. With a catamaran in the trees.
Death Trap:
I believe there are 12 butterflies stuck to the radiator of the van. I’ve been driving while 10 of them met their doom. I think its odd that we put flowers in the medians of highways. While they make the roadway more attractive, it also attracts butterflies. So they flit and float around and above the 70 MPH winds off windshields until they are smashed into the grills of traffic. Butterfly...
I
You can keep your rock opera, I want a symphony. None of your stereotypes, Your fabrications, and petty Means to ends that you make art. Means to the end of real heart. Stop sweeping your hair and painting on clothes, Stop breaking down and upturning your nose. I want to hear truth and I want to hear passion, Not this monotony you’ve turned into fashion. I don’t care for the...
An analogy: A man comes to the gate of the city. The walls are high and thick, the door comprised of oak, barred with iron. He is a small figure in it’s shadow. There are many who live in this city, and he must tell them. The sweat from his brow runs into his eyelashes, his breathing labored from running. There are blisters on his feet that he cannot feel and an aching in his joints...
