Sunday, November 13, 2011

Owl City @ The Crocodile Rock - November 12, 2011

Towards the end of the show, someone threw a moose hat on stage. Adam promptly put it on and played the rest of the show like that. I have a video of this awesomeness, but it's too big to upload here. I'm wary of putting things up on YouTube because my understanding is that then Google owns the content. I could be wrong about that, though--not sure.

Anyway, in this video, Adam makes a really humble speech. He doesn't do a lot of talking during concerts, but when he does, he is very gracious. It's really nice to see someone in mainstream music living for Jesus and representing that in their work and their performances. Seems like a cool dude.

Well, I just wanted to share this little tidbit with the interwebs. That's all for now.


Friday, November 4, 2011

More Than Words

“Oh, Jesus, give me more than words.” – Jimmy Needham, “Come Around”

            I like words. I like words and I am good at using them. I know a lot of words and I like learning new ones. I love language.
            I like words. I like dictionaries and thesauri; I like obscure words; I like studying classes and categories of words; I like letters and punctuation and languages and alphabets and fonts and typography. I’m intrigued by orthography (which is a nifty word that means “spelling”) and etymology (which is a nifty word that means “the origin of words and phrases”). I’ve studied a couple of languages and I have a list of about a dozen or so other ones that I’d like to learn. I like sentences and paragraphs and stories and poems and books. I like words.
            God has given me a gift with words and language, but sometimes I don’t use it the way I should. Sometimes I try too hard. Sometimes I try to be clever with my words—sometimes I use words to try to seem clever to others, so that others will like me. Sometimes I take the gift that God has given me, and instead of using it to glorify him, I get hung up on myself, and I try to use it in a way that makes it all about me.
            I’m just being honest.

            The truth is that words can be powerful, but not all words are powerful—that is, not everything that’s said is powerful. And even of everything said that is powerful, not all of it is good or worth listening to. Not all of it is worth your attention.
            And if all you have is words, then words are not enough. At least, my words are not enough. There is Someone else whose words are enough, but that is not what I’m talking about here. Here I am talking about my words and your words. My words are not enough. Your words are not enough. And people will only be impressed with your words if you back them up with something more—if they are a reflection of the something more that you have to give them.
            If you really want to give people something wonderful, something that will change them, then give them what they need. And the something that they need more than all the words that could ever pour from your mouth or your pen…is love. It does not matter how impressive you think your words are. Even if your words are true, if you offer them in a manner devoid of love, no one will want them. Certainly no one will thank you for them, although being thanked shouldn’t be your object. But no one will want them, no one will use them, they will not change anyone, if you words are delivered without love. And truly, is a gift really a gift if it is not given in love?
            There is enough self-centered noise in this world. What the world needs is not mere words, but words and music and art and wisdom and all good things, delivered with love.

1 Corinthians 13:1
If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal.

Wednesday, November 2, 2011


And I saw the sky as a great expanse, dizzying in its immensity. The stars punctuated the darkness, and some were brighter than others. I saw Vega, and the North Star, and even a couple of planets. And I saw you in all of it.
            There you were, in every cubic inch of it; you permeated the darkness and the light. Over space and time you were and you conquered, through and through. Past forgotten planets and ancient moons, your hand swept across lightyears, and all in an instant. You traveled across unknown worlds and infathomable depths—a distance between us that I had foolishly chosen—to mend what I had torn apart, and you called me by name.
            You had breathed out the galaxies and all the spaces between them. And with just as much deliberation and care, you stitched back together what I had rent asunder: the binding between us. I cried out and you folded me back into yourself, into what I was made to be. You brought me back—you bought me back. At great cost to yourself, you rescued me. You spared nothing. You gave up your own life, and you’re willing to give up my comfort; and you teach me to see that this is beautiful and good. You teach me to see clearly.
            And through it all I see how you love me and how you always loved me, more than the beautiful stars that point to your brightness, more than the wild seas that echo your power, more than the birds of the air that display your grace. You have clothed the flowers of the field in beauty; how much more have you taken care of me.
            You bridged the gap, you conquered the great divide, and now there is no distance between us. You call me by name. You call me “Daughter.”
            I rub my eyes, and then I open them a little wider. What I see takes my breath away. I see your love as the great expanse, dizzying in its immensity.