fall to summer

On Saturday night we had a show at our studio, where I sang a song called “Summer to Winter.” It’s about the last couple of years, the struggles and low valleys of the business, and ultimately, the value of surrender.

Heard the summer out calling
Singing, “Winter, come in”
But my eyes keep on falling
Asleep at the wheel

And I’m sick of rejection
So tired of projections
That keep falling short
Leaving my imperfections

And my legs have grown tired
From walking on a wire
So I reach out to You
A sinking man with the blues

Singing, “Come quick to save me
Cause I’ve fallen in too deep
Need your oceans of mercy
Cause You promised not to leave

This morning I received two packages. Expecting a winter jacket delivery, I opened up the boxes and discovered a piece of paper with a list of groceries. Neatly packed are enough groceries to last for weeks. It’s from my sister, who lives 400 miles away.

I didn’t bring any lunch today.

I’m running low on food at home.

This is love and grace and generosity.

Thanks Ali and Matt.

I’m not great with numbers. Recently, I calculated the sales for the business, and discovered we’re over double than all of last year, with checks arriving in the coming months that may take the edge off winter’s sting, or help us make a few dents with our gracious lenders.

So often I forget to give thanks, always looking ahead to the next big thing, forgetting to look back at the evidence, to discover the stories birthed through struggle.

All this has happened during an economic crisis and an international climate of panic. I’m far too uneducated in economics to predict exactly what it should mean for the business, but I know enough that it shouldn’t mean growth. All I know, as the evidence and my Dad suggest, is that we’re wrapped in unfathomable Mercy and Grace.

As Jon Foreman wrote, “Let that be enough.”

tell your friends

Simply summarized, daily life in Zim is a mess. This morning I received this email:

Back here its bad to mention for things ain't going on well. We thought the power sharing was going to change things, turned to be worse. Anyway, hard times never kill. For Paul says consider it all joy in times of trials, for we can do all things possible thru him who strengthens us. For all the things that I want to overcome now I need God's power my brother. Things are going up everyday again.

On Thursday, November 13 from 7 to 9 p.m., we have a chance to respond. Vital Connections is hosting a Celebration and Silent Auction to raise awareness and support for Zimbabwe. It'll also be the official launch of the Zim Worship Project, the 16-track CD we recorded in April.

All proceeds from CD sales will go directly to orphans in Zim.

Tickets for the Celebration are $20.

There's stuff up for auction (Wii, iPhone, Hotels, etc).

To order tickets, contact Josh at 269.303.8649 or josh.white219@gmail.com.

Mosiac Space
25 South Division Ave #225
Grand Rapids, MI 49503

(I'll be posting more media in the coming weeks as the CD is completed, the website launches and the videos are ready. Please email me if you have any questions or want to get involved, there's opportunities available for anyone.)

walking on water

“The writer does want to be published; the painter urgently hopes that someone will see the finished canvas (van Gogh was denied that satisfaction of having his work bought and appreciated during his life time; no wonder the pain was more than he could bear); the composer needs his music to be heard. Art is communication, and if there is no communication it is as thought the work had been still-born. The reader, viewer, listener, usually grossly underestimates his importance. If a reader cannot create a book along with the writer, the book will never come to life. Creative involvement: that's the basic difference between reading a book and watching TV.”

-Walking on Water by Madeleine L'Engle

venue change

The venue for next week's show changed. Details above.

my first presidential rally

I went to a Barack Obama rally downtown today.

This doesn’t mean I support Obama, nor does it mean I support McCain. I’ve assumed the stance of an Independent this election, though my voter registration card (and brief voting history) would tell a different story.

This was an experiment in observation.

I’ve never seen a U.S. President (or candidate) in person.

Perhaps, when Palin and McCain come back around, I’ll see them, too, though last time, I opted for Jim, and I wasn’t disappointed with that decision.

The gates opened at 7:30 a.m., and by the time we arrived at 7:40, we were about a quarter mile down from the entrance and wrapped around a corner, amongst a sea of people. The political evangelists must’ve arrived at 5 a.m.

I guessed early on that about 80 percent of the people in line were under 25, but the age diversity leveled off as the morning went on and the crowd got bigger. I commented how young people (myself included) have little historical perspective, something my Dad has been quick to remind me of during our lively exchanges this season.

My generation has been too busy having everything handed to us on a silver platter.

Obama’s speech was set right outside city hall, with a couple kids hanging on GR's giant signature artwork while Secret Service guys kept watch on the roofs of surrounding buildings. Someone opened with a prayer, throwing out a heap of pious language that sounded distant, like the monotone King James Scriptures read to us in Sunday School.

A few local politicians spoke; a small plane buzzed overhead, dragging a sign to vote for another local politician. Time passed, I sent photos and emails as a play-by-play of sorts.

The crowd got excited.

They chanted for Obama and change.

They waived signs.

Obama was introduced by a local blue collar worker hit by these hard times, who, bless his heart, made a few nervous mistakes telling his story, “My husban—wife,” and, “I’m looking forward to retiring my wife…retiring with my wife.”

We’ll give him some grace. I’d probably stand up there and just stare at everyone.

Sometimes I can't even play a guitar in front of people without shaking.

Obama came out to energetic music and an equally energetic crowd. Hands holding cameras and cell phones flooded the air. He spoke about the bailout plan, the bleeding auto industry, economic policies, health care, government reform, Iraq, hitting all the stops on the campaign trail.

If you watch the news, the media is pretty much predicting an apocalypse.

The debate on Friday night literally put me to sleep after an exhausting week of work. I’ve been having discussions with people I trust, talking politics over hot drinks, reading a book or two, watching the news, paying attention for the first time in years.

But something doesn’t sit right with me on either side.

I will vote on November 4.

But we’ve pigeon holed each other. I don’t like labels. It’s like playing the gnome game at a carnival. You can hit some issues right, but others inevitably pop up.

Honestly, I wish there was more to say.

I thought the rally would be a bit livelier, but it is West Michigan.

I thought there would be better stories to tell.

But if you’d heard one speech, you’ve heard them all.

I felt like I could lip synch portions of it.

I’d feel the same for McCain and Palin.

After the rally, someone said they experienced an emotional, not rational response to Obama’s speech. We've become enamored with the idea that either candidate will make everything new.

Maybe those of us who hope in Jesus have lost hope in real change. Obama made a comment saying that we are the change. We control our own destiny.

For some, it’s easier to believe in a tangible in-the-flesh politician than a Jesus who rose from the dead, and called the rest to do the same, spiritually speaking.

But I guess we’ll all have our say when November comes.