won't turn back (song)

Just sitting down on Sunday
With a hangover of art
Hearing all the voices saying
“Son, now get a job”

“Cause the music and the words and film”
Will never be enough”
“And you’re going be a Dad someday,
Son, now get a job”

But I won’t turn back
Cause I feel this burning in my head
But I won’t turn back
Cause I feel this beating in my chest

Now your lady’s coming faster than
You ever thought she would
But she’s living on a shoestring
And, God, I think that’s good

That she won’t demand a million dollars
To give of all her love
And we’ll give each other riches that
We never dreamed we could

And we won’t turn back
Cause we feel this burning in our heads
But we won’t turn back
Cause we feel this beating in our chests

And the bills will keep on coming
But I know that we’ll survive
Cause we’re following the narrow path
We’ve jumped the great divide

And the blessings whether rich or poor
Til’ death will do us fine
And you’ll share with me your life, my girl
And I will give you mine

And we won’t turn back
Cause we feel this stirring in our heads
But we won’t turn back
Cause we feel this beating in our chests

And we know, what it’s like to be alone
And we know, what it’s like to made whole

What it’s like to live with nothing
What it’s like to live with gold
What it’s like to live in isolation
What it’s like to live in love

And we won’t turn back
Cause we feel this stirring in our heads
But we won’t turn back
Cause we feel this beating in our chests

Follow Us for 24 Hours

At 9 p.m. tonight, The Compass Academy 24 Hour Film Festival begins.

We'll have 24 hours to write, shoot, edit and score a 5-minute film, using four elements drawn from a hat: prop, line, location and theme. Everything's original, turned in by Saturday at 9 p.m.

I'm blogging the process throughout the weekend (at the business blog), not only for my own sleep-deprived sanity, but also for the enjoyment of others. We've got great people lined up, including a talented crew, Courier for music, fresh actors (and a lot of coffee).

If you can't follow along live, check the blog next week to see how it went, or attend the top ten showing next Thursday, April 23rd at 8 p.m. at Celebration North.

It's going to be fun.

P.S. Watch Spish, our top ten entry from 2008.


Spish from Creo Productions on Vimeo.

lost

On Saturday I stopped by work to pick up my mountain bike and change clothes in the office.

As I was leaving, my mother called, and we began to talk about wedding planning. I load the bike into the car and drive to the gas station 15 minutes away to fill my bike tires up, still talking to my mother.

Then I realize my wallet is missing.

Internally and externally cursing, my mom is wondering what's going on, and probably where her son learned some of those words.

Back seat? No. Trunk? No. "No. No. No."

I must have left it on the curb. So I tell her, "I've gotta go," and floor it back downtown. (In no way am I blaming this on my mom). My own anger and cursing turns to prayer.

Then I start thinking about how God bailed us out when we accidentally left the side door of the office unlocked for two hours and returned to find the GR police sitting there and nothing missing. Surely mercy for carelessness has run its course, I reason.

So I think of how I'm going to cancel the debit/credit cards and get a new driver's license and how I can buy food for the weekend and if there's honest people left on earth.

(When I left for Europe in 2006, I tagged all my electronics with a note that read: "If lost/stolen, please email aaroncarriere@...")

As many of you know, our office is located in a strip where homelessness and panhandling are prevalent. I drive up and see nothing. Frustration sets in. Then get out of the car, look near the garbage and see my pants and shoes. I'd left them there in a plastic bag with my water bottle; the bag and Nalgene were missing.

But the pants and shoes. Still there. "There's no way the wallet is there," I whisper. Then I pick it up and feel a rectangle. "No way," unbelief still ravaging inside my head. I take out the wallet and rip open the contents, counting cards and blessings.

Upon closer investigation I find the water bottle in the trash can, but whoever found the pants missed the gold. God is good.

I called my mom and told her the news and how I'm wondering how many lives I've got left. As I'm writing and remembering these events, my thought process reminds me of doubting Thomas.

And I've put my hands into the side of the risen Christ.

easter sunday song

Rolled Away
by Aaron

And ‘round the table
Where Judas stood
They all did eat and drink
His flesh and blood

And in the garden there
Where tears turned to blood
“Father, take this cup”
“Take this cup”

With lights of fire
The crowds did come
To take away the Lord
The willing One

To the death they did look
For a crime in His eyes
“Are you the Christ, the One
That’s been prophesied?”

“Oh You will see”
And the times they will come
On the right hand I will sit
with the Mighty One”

Before them He stood
As they made their whips
A crown of thorn and purple robe
And silence from His lips

The brought the Lord
To the place of the skull
Crucified the Lord
And gambled for his clothes

He said, “Oh my God”
“My God, will you forget?”
He said, “Oh my God”
“My God, will you forget?”

As He took His last
The curtain split
The earth it did shake
While the women wept

And when He rolled
The stone away
The angels stood
While Heaven sang

He’s alive
He is risen
He’s alive
He is risen

-Sunday, April 12, 2009

missing her

Emily arranged for her roommate Katie to send me an email with a video message from Emily (recorded prior to going to Zim). I'm a lucky dude, crazy in love, missing her.

After speaking to Em on the phone yesterday prior to the youth conference that the team was safe inside the country, I received word from Craig through Simon this afternoon that Emily gave an amazing talk last night ("Hope in a Godly Marriage") to the Zim youth by candlelight. Keep on praying.

This morning's song:

And in my arms
I will greet you
When you come back down
And in your arms
You will greet me
When you come back down

But I want you to fly
I want you to burn with all your light
Love I want you to fly
I want you to shine with all your light

For your soul’s a garden
Love a river
Spirit running wild
And your laugh’s an angel
Singing for me
Love is here tonight

story on creo

RG ran a story on the audio studio. Check it.

be my wife

Friday Night/Saturday Morning, 1 a.m.:

Tonight, I asked Emily Anne to be my wife.

This writing is saved in a folder titled “Hope,” created shortly after my first date with Electric Emily in September. (The song “Electric Emily” was penned while driving up to the U.P. immediately after our second date. I knew there was something special about her before she even said a word to me).

Tonight, I stopped in at my house to pick up the ring and iron out some last minute details before picking her up.

Opening the ring case, I felt moved to fall to my knees.

There were words, a simple moment of thanks and gratitude to God for this woman and the confirmation of the Spirit on our lives together. With her tireless love, this woman has completely captured my heart.

As usual, I picked her up in the (extraordinarily loud) maroon ’98 Saturn, trying to play it cool, while paranoia of strange acting left me overanalyzing every move. We talked about our days as we drove a mile downtown and left the car in the ramp.

During our half-mile walk to the Grand Rapids Art Museum (GRAM), I kept trying to keep cool, yet knowing internally that the next twenty minutes would change our lives forever.

We arrived, gave our free tickets to the receptionist and stood on an elevator to the third floor. (The hook to bring Emily to the museum was a Rembrandt showing on the life of Christ). While I told her the exhibit was on the third floor, the sign clearly read: “3rd Floor: Permanent collection.”

She’s quick; I think I’m busted.

It was one of those elevator trips you think will never end.

We arrive on the third floor and I begin scanning the ground for people.

Inside my head: “These people have to go. Could I ask them to leave?”

Walking around and furiously looking for plan B, the security guard caught wind I was in the house and moved people out of gallery seven on the other end. Emily and I walked around and ended up standing in front of the freight elevator, clearly marked for employees only.

I pushed the button.

“What are you doing?” Emily asks. “I don’t think we can use that.”

The elevator is taking forever, so I respond, “We do what we want.”

Classic inside joke.

As soon as the freight elevator opens up, I dash inside, uncovering my guitar case under a moving blanket I’d placed there earlier. They told me I only had about 20 seconds to get it before I’d get stuck in the elevator, so I panicked and pull it directly through the legs of the ladder in the way.

Thankfully, as it’s about to close, Emily’s standing in the doorway.

(She always seems to have my back).

I look at her; she knows.

We’ve been planning our wedding since Valentine’s Day, a bit non-traditional, but time is ticking. Surprising her was going to be a challenge, but I think I succeed.

Nerves are kicking in, I don’t know what to say, as we walk in almost silence minus her comment, “What are you doing?” to gallery seven. It seems like a mile.

When we arrive, I look around the room and have her sit on the wooden bench. Fiddling around with the guitar case, shaking, I put it on and start thumbing through the pile of lyric sheets in the bottom of the case.

The first song I sing to her is, “Song for Her,” a song written nearly two years ago. It hadn’t been heard by a soul prior to recording it in the studio this week. It was a song I’d kept for the woman I would marry, written for Emily, as we’ve discovered so many songs have been over the years before we met.

Her tears begin to flow, triggering mine while I’m trying to play guitar and sing. The strap falls off; she helps put it back on during the song. (Again, she’s got my back).

After it’s finished, my knee hits the wooden floor and my left hand goes for my pocket. In a near whisper, I tell her numerous times, “You’ve stolen my heart,” as well as other words difficult to recall in the moment.

At the end, I ask her: “Will you marry me?” as I hold the ring in front of her.

“Yes,” she says.

I try to put it on. The ring is a bit tight. She quips, “Just shove it on there.”

We laugh through tears. It fits. It looks beautiful on her.

Tears flow; we embrace, kiss, love.

It felt as if the museum was still.

It was a sacred moment; reminiscent of the first time we spoke about marriage.

Following this, the next song I played was “Diamonds and Daises,” a new song that came to me after I found the ring. The lyrics read:

When the sun beats down on your finger, love
It reminds me of the light that you shine on me
When the daises smile on your finger, love
It reminds me of the garden that you saved for me

Singing, be my wife
Oh, be my life
Singing, take me in from the storm
And I’ll be your shelter
And I’ll keep you warm
And you’ll be my lover to the end of time

After that song, I played another new one for her called “The One,” written about our first “I love you” inside Tunnel Park, and the first time we talked about marriage on Valentine’s Day.

After the songs ended, people were allowed back into the space. We sat there in awe, soaking in the weight of the event and feeling “like a million bucks,” as Emily said. We embraced and talked and laughed and looked at her ring.

With too much excitement to look at the artwork (we’ll come back another time), we floated out of the museum and into the entryway outside. We asked multiple strangers to take photos of us; they offered congratulations and kindly obliged.

We ate dinner at XO, an Asian place across the street, telling stories of how smooth I wasn’t leading up to the proposal (she knew when I went ring shopping, when I talked to her Dad, etc.) as well as processing through the night.

Before dinner we prayed, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” It was a great time, fun to be out celebrating the next step in our journey.

Next, we walked back to our business downtown, where there’s a great couch and is generally quiet. We called our parents. There were a few additional songs I didn’t get a chance to sing at the museum, so we set up a video camera and retold the engagement story, playing through the songs from the night.

Hopefully, if we’re blessed with kids, they’ll appreciate the video.

The nightcap was a package, wrapped in the brown paper bag with a handwritten note on it. She opened it to reveal a case for a digital converter box, then uncovered the tissue paper to find a CD titled, “Songs for Her.”

It’s a CD recorded in the studio with all the songs I sang for her tonight, three of them written before we met, three after, but all for her.

We’ve seen God’s hand so strongly throughout this process. For me, music has been a vehicle of hope. There have been difficult years and amazing years of singleness, while many prayers by others and myself have been offered up for protection and provision for my future wife.

For Emily and I, it’s been a humbling experience to see all of these prayers answered in unbelievable ways. The strength of the Spirit over this relationship has been simply amazing. The depth of the lyrics written years ago and the relevancy to our situation can only be God.

She is an amazing woman; I’m humbled and honored that she will be my wife.

P.S. The wedding is July 31, 2009 (yes, this year), overlooking Lake Michigan. Here are a couple photos outside the GRAM.

tour creo

give them presence

At least weekly, I receive emails from Zimbabwe that are hard to read. 

Many of them are about serious struggles and financial needs. Emily and I were writing about the great cost of going over to Zimbabwe, that perhaps it would be better to just write a check for the travel expenses instead of traveling thousands of miles to be with them. 

But I was quickly reminded of something our Zim friend Pedzy told me in April. 

"You guys coming here speaks enough, man," he said. "It means so much." 

Presence. 

Yes, that's it. 

Money and relief are still critical, yes, but so is presence.

We can't solve the problems over there, let alone in two weeks. 

But we can offer listening ears, friendships, encouragement, perspective, prayer. For our friends to see there are others who care enough to fly over oceans and continents to be with them, it often means more than a check. 

Email me (aaroncarriere at gmail.com) if you want to help Emily. Or you can make a check out to Kentwood Community Church with "Emily - Zim" in the footnote and send it to: 

Kentwood Community Church

c/o Kim Rankens

1200 60th St SE

Kentwood, MI 49508 

P.S. Come support the 3rd Rock for Zim concert on Friday, April 3rd too! 

rock, bring friends

obama and jesus

A recent poll of American's showed Obama is its number one hero, followed by Jesus.

How sad. It makes me think of Psalm 146, which caught my attention shortly after the election.

Psalm 146

¹ Praise the LORD.
Praise the LORD, O my soul.

² I will praise the LORD all my life;
I will sing praise to my God as long as I live.

³ Do not put your trust in princes,
in mortal men, who cannot save.

⁴ When their spirit departs, they return to the ground;
on that very day their plans come to nothing.

⁵ Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob,
whose hope is in the LORD his God,

⁶ the Maker of heaven and earth,
the sea, and everything in them—
the LORD, who remains faithful forever.

⁷ He upholds the cause of the oppressed
and gives food to the hungry.
The LORD sets prisoners free,

⁸ the LORD gives sight to the blind,
the LORD lifts up those who are bowed down,
the LORD loves the righteous.

⁹ The LORD watches over the alien
and sustains the fatherless and the widow,
but he frustrates the ways of the wicked.

¹⁰ The LORD reigns forever,
your God, O Zion, for all generations.
Praise the LORD.

amazing video