unexpected places

Much has happened in the last few months.

So many stories have become endangered of falling away, if not captured soon. Last night, after the show, I was thinking about my lack of focused prayer, but this morning, I’ve realized there have been so many answers.

My car beloved Jetta broke down. My sister gave me her car for Christmas. My friend Bobby Cheeks had given us an extra Mac that we couldn’t use at the office, so I wrapped it in a box and gave it to Ali for Christmas.

She had been praying for a Mac that week.

Another time, as I was leaving work, Doug, a neighbor from upstairs asked me where I was playing that night. We talked music for awhile (I was carrying my guitar; he’s a drummer), then he got up real close and stared into my eyes, slurring his speech, "You must have the Spirit of Christ."

"That's right," I said. He does too. He shared a bit of his testimony about his struggle with alcoholism and the hope he’s found in Christ. Then he gave me his white teddy bear, saying, "I don't know what to do, man. We need to hang out or something. That's all I have."

He asked me what I was doing that night, and I told him I was meeting up with my girlfriend. “Oh, you lucky dog,” Doug says, smirking.

“I know it,” I reply.

Later the next week I stopped to talk to him on the sidewalk outside the ministry. He introduced himself again. "Hi, I’m Doug. Have we met?" he said. "Yeah, we talked last weekend," I replied. "Was I hammered?" he asked.

"You had a few drinks in you," I reply.

But yet, the Spirit of Christ rests on him, regardless of the alcohol on his breath.

Another day, a man named Clay came into our office. Big and tall, in his 60’s with a graying beard and dark black skin and piercing eyes, he immediately informs me to not judge him by his appearance.

We talk about what we do, and he starts telling me about his passion.

“I’m a handyman by trade, but I love poetry. Christian poetry.”

I nod my head.

“Mind if I share some?” he asks politely.

I comply, and he looks directly in my eyes, explaining the piece is “taken from the book of Genesis.” His rich, deep voice speaks poetry for seven minutes with little pauses or mistakes. He rhymes clearly and simply about the Garden state, the fall, Eve taken from Adam’s ribs, obeying God’s commands and reconciliation through Christ.

After it’s over, I give him my card. He calls back the next day and we schedule a meeting.

On Monday he came in and he met the guys, calling them by name, “Nice to meet you, Mr. Matt and Mr. Derek,” and again, shares the seven minute poem with the guys. Then he starts telling his testimony of his adolescence somewhere in or near Chicago.

“When I was sixteen, five boys were selected go away who could read and write, but I couldn’t. You know, I cried about that. But then I was in my room, someone came in, and said there was a terrible car accident. Those five boys were killed just after they left, and I would’ve been the sixth if I could read and write,” he says.

“God saved my life. He’s just given me this poetry,” he says. “I know it’s from God.”

We record Clay’s poem in our studio on-camera, telling him we just need a record of it. “I know you aren’t trying to take advantage of me,” he says. “I can see it in your eyes.”

And perhaps, despite my lack of perseverance in prayer, I am privileged that Christ meets us in different places.

fiction family

Emily and Danimal and I checked out Fiction Family last night. It's Jon Foreman of Switchfoot and Sean Watkins of Nickel Creek. Seabird opened and were fantastic.

After the show, Jon and Sean held a Q&A in the auditorium, talking about their art. Jon said that if songs are real, music will traverse from the writer to listener, and vise-versa.

The music was tight. The inspiration was better.

mini-show this weekend

Dan and I are playing a few songs Saturday night for a show...

Date: Saturday, January 17
Time: 6 p.m.
Who: Jake Smith, Dan & Aaron, Little Tree Worship, Josiah Gentry.
Cost: $5

Keystone Eastside
2119 Lake Dr. SE, East Grand Rapids, MI 49506

Hope to see you!

words and emotions

Parking downtown isn't easy, but we have great metered parking on our side street. However, the city blocked four or five spots to make way for a trash dumpster and trucks and workers tearing up the space next door.

Last week, I was looking at the tag on one of the unusable meters.

It read, "The City of Grand Rapids Has Reserved This Space for: Quality Air."

"Quality Air?"

Immediately I started ranting inside my head about the loss of a great space and the underlying belief that eliminating one parking place is going to somehow save the city and the environment. People are going to drive, I reasoned, why waste a perfectly proximal space to my building?

Fireworks were blazing. I spewed to a few people about it.

Then, just now, on my short walk to drop a bill in the mail, a truck was parked in the space.

The side of the vehicle read, "Quality Air Heating/Cooling."

And I am a fool.

thanks everyone

Thanks to everyone who came out to Tour//Creo on Friday night.

We had a great turnout and a lot of fun celebrating the new space.

If you missed it, contact us to set up a time for your own tour.

rip: 1996-today

The Jetta died today.

(It's not technically "dead," but dangerous to drive and the fix-it bill is ridiculous.)

I'm still in shock. It hasn't sunk in. We've been through so much.

If anyone hears any amazing deals on crappy cars, let me know.

media: studio launch

The Business Review wrote this story on our studio launch. Remember to check out our launch party on Friday, December 12 from 6-10 p.m. at 40 S. Division, as seen below.

tour//creo: you're invited

support zim tonight

Tonight from 7 to 9 p.m., 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.


Zim Worship Project: Official Trailer from Vital Connections on Vimeo.

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

Tickets are $20.

There's stuff up for auction.

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

See you tonight!

Visit www.helpzimnow.com for more information on VC.

november ride

I'd heard about Lake Michigan surfers before. Then I met electric Emily, who spent five years surfing in California before coming back to the people under the bridge.

This afternoon, she heard waves were out at Holland State park, so we headed west, surfboard strapped to the roof of her Lumina. Trees barren or bursting with color. It was 50 degrees out. Surfing in Michigan? In November? Really?

"This is my first documentary," she says, as I'm rolling video. Can't miss this.

We arrived and crammed into the wetsuits under towels (not as fluid as it sounds) in the parking lot with her other surfer friend, who thankfully let me borrow his extra wet suit hat. Emily had never surfed Lake Michigan, so I stayed back on the beach to absorb her wisdom and roll footage.

She rocked it. It was like riding a bike for her. She gracefully rode three long waves right away, flashing the peace sign before coming back in to fetch me. "I've never taught anyone who hasn't stood up," she says.

California girls. Did I mention she's battling a cold?

Talk about pressure. Your sick girlfriend just dominated Lake Michigan and you don't know what you're doing, only that you're wearing her extra wetsuit, and it's really tight. Really tight.

Emily tells me to stand with my legs at shoulder width, pushes me, calls me "goofy" (footed) and gives me a quick surfing lesson on the beach. We wade out in the great lake, dodging waves, my ankle strapped to the board, not knowing what to expect.

She tells me to get on the board, with my "chin by the marker" and points me in the right direction, her hand holding onto the tail. The waves start crashing.

Then she shoves me off and yells at me to start paddling when the right wave comes.

First try. Failure. Bail. Felt good though.

Second wave. We're moving. I try to stand up. Semi-success.

What!?

I'm in shock. I'm standing on a surf board, actually riding a wave without falling.

When I look back, her hands are in the air. I return the gesture. Air pumps.

Then I fall and it's over. But it felt amazing. Makes you want more.

"Second time," she says, smiling. Great teacher. Lucky student.

Third wave. Disaster.

I'm satisfied and quit before something breaks. I give her the gloves back, she grabs the key from the back of my (her) wetsuit and tells me to run to the car to change, while she wades out into the lake for another round.

We celebrated her first Great Lakes ride and my first ever surf by eating too much Mexican food at Tres Lobos.

It was delicious; and all is well.

my vote

Jesus for President.

viva la vida

Every 13 years or so, someone does something that flattens me. Last night, electric Emily picks me up at "4:30 sharp" for an engagement party in Ann Arbor. "I don't even know how to get to Ann Arbor," I tell her as we're nearing the freeway, still a bit frustrated from the day.

She's driving and looking at directions; I ask if she needs help.

She declines. "I got it."

As we're about to get onto the freeway, she hands me two tickets.

They say "Coldplay."

"Who went?" I ask, confused, curious.

"Nobody yet," she says, HUGE smile.

I look again:

November 3.
7:30 p.m.
The Palace of Auburn Hills.

At some point in the next 30 seconds, I begin to realize she punked me in the best way possible.

"No. You're not serious," I say, followed by a series of shock and awe stutters.

(She has this habit of stealing fluid language from my mouth.)

"Yes. I'm serious," she says. A surprise trip to Coldplay in Detroit for the Viva la Vida tour?

"You're crazy," I say. Wow. She was serious. This serious:

Serious enough to fabricate a story about her friend's fake fiance and ask me before if I like avocados and hummus for the amazing sandwiches and snacks neatly stored in the back seat.

Well into the morning after, I'm still in this "I-can't-believe-you-did-it-stage," but I realized during the show there's no reason, no earning, no scales, no paybacks; she did it because it's her nature to be giving and generous. It's an experience I'm grateful for.

The show was the best either of us has seen.

If the Palace wasn't sold out, it was about ten seats shy.

As she would say, "It was bomb."

The boys from Britain opened the concert as they open their album, plus explosions, laser beams, video, a tight stage and 15,000 people. They played almost the entire Viva la Vida album, including favorites "Lovers in Japan," "Strawberry Swing," "Lost" and "Viva la Vida" (Emily almost lost it here):



I also experienced a spiritual moment that's locked away in "Death and All His Friends," as confetti fell from the rafters.

At one point, they ran into the stands, where two acoustics, a mandolin and harmonica were waiting, and they serenaded us with "The Scientist." A quick shout out for rocking the mandolin, making Courier appear way hipper. (Here's a video from someone at the show):



My respect level for them as musicians and performers rose dramatically. They were spot on. At one point, Chris Martin messed up, laughed and moved on, proving they're only human.

They also played "Fix You," a personal favorite, and a fast-paced "Yellow" for the encore.

In the end, electric Emily got me good. Thank you. I don't know what else to say.