As I write this, Taya and I are on our flight home from Hutchmoot 2010, set to arrive just in time for our twin boy’s birthday party.The Hutchmoot was delightful!
We feel so privileged and grateful to have been a part of it and for all the people who came from all over the country to participate in the weekend.Our only regret is our exhaustion that made it difficult for us to be as present as we would like to have been (this weekend was the last stretch of a marathon summer schedule, and Taya and I remarked that we can’t remember a time when we felt more exhausted than this week).I wish I could have given more of myself, and for all of those I wish I could have been more present for, I do apologize.The spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.(Taya just said to me, “I’m afraid I may have disappointed just about everyone at the Hutchmoot.I was just too tired to have a conversation with anybody.”)
But in spite of that we met some wonderful people and enjoyed our conversations, though too brief.
In preparation for the Hutchmoot, I kept trying to think of what we were aiming for. What were we gathering around?The Rabbit Room is such a varied place it was hard to say–were we gathering around the arts?Books? Music? Storytelling? Cultural commentary?Jesus?Yes on all counts, I’m sure, but as we gathered to pray for the weekend on Friday, the larger answer began to emerge for me.I think for all of our talk about music, stories, and whatever else it is that Rabbit Roomers are inclined to talk about, we were gathering around Christ centered, story focused community. Read the rest of this entry »
While I was happy with “Better Way To Live” as a pretty solid pop/rock song built around one of the hookier choruses I had at the time, it wasn’t necessarily a song that I was particularly passionate about including on the new record. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it, but I think maybe it felt to me like a song that I would have expected from my previous record, and I wanted to go to new places. It also didn’t hit me as an especially singer/songwriter kind of lyric. But everyone else involved in the project was really excited about the song and it seemed like it could be a potential single, so it made the cut. It’s the kind of song I rarely do well: a punchy pop/rock song with few words and a big old hooky chorus. I wrote it with my friend Chad Cates and have been blessed to find that my lack of enthusiasm was misplaced as I’ve gotten numerous emails back from people who are fans of this song in particular. I love being wrong in cases like this.
It turned out to be one of the songs that the players were most excited about and even Jason Ingram, the producer, told me afterward that this song was his favorite drum performance. I think for the players the song provided the best opportunity for a groove to happen and their enthusiasm and investment in it elevated the merit of the song in my mind, making me grateful for it’s inclusion. I loved Gabe Scott’s dulcimer and lap steel flourishes, too. Paul Mabury, an amazing drummer from Australia, set up his flip camera to record his performance while we were tracking and sent it to me. Hearing/seeing this song from the perspective of the drum room gives me a different perception of the song. Watching Paul play this brings back good memories, I remember how wore out he was after this track – he laid into it, giving every hit everything he had in order to get the tone he wanted. Here’s his video, I hope you enjoy it!
A few weeks ago I reposted a blog that my wife, Taya Gray, wrote. It went over so well I decided to post another one! She’s a wise and reflective woman, but very modest about her blogs, quietly posting them and letting who will discover them. But I thought readers here might be encouraged by this and with her permission I’m posting it here. I shared this story of the wrong box of cookies with Andrew (Peterson, in case you didn’t know) late one night at his house a couple months ago and we were both struck, as parents, how even the slightest and most innocent off hand comment can be so consequential… I’ll admit that in that regard it is a cautionary tale that made us terrified, but also all the more committed to keeping short accounts with our kids and most of all, dependent on the grace of God to fill in where we will inevitably fall short. But enough about all of that, there are more significant treasures to be mined here… Rabbit Roomers, a word from Taya Gray:
I really like Girl Scout Cookies. If the truth be told, I can eat an entire box in one sitting. It’s good that I have kids now, so that they can share the burden of eating the darn things. As if that burden needed to be shared. The chocolate peanut butter cookies are our favorites, but Samoas are sneaking up behind. I actually put the Thin Mint cookies in the freezer. It gives them an extra icy crunch that I love! Actually, I love them all, except for the Lemon Chalet Cremes. I don’t care for those, which is strange since Read the rest of this entry »
One of the things I’m most grateful for about the Rabbit Room is the opportunity it affords me to have conversations about some of my more self-indulgent enthusiasms. Take, for instance, today’s specimen: the music of Aimee Mann.
The first pastor I ever worked for, who was also my mentor, shared an old, hackneyed proverb with me once, but with his own fresh twist: “Jason, it’s true that while you can lead a horse to water, you can’t make him drink,” he said, and then pausing to let the next statement gather some heat… “But you can make him thirsty,” he said with a sly grin, pleasurably anticipating the reveal: “you can make him thirsty by mixing salt into his oats.”
This folksy wisdom has stayed with me all these years and remains a guiding philosophy in my ministry. It’s only the thirsty who want drink, and helping awaken people to their thirst can accomplish more than throwing a cup of unwanted water in their face – even if it is living water.
And this brings me to the music of Aimee Mann. Besides being immensely gifted, I always experience her music as a profound kind of primer for the gospel, asking the kind of questions that the gospel is eager to answer. Read the rest of this entry »
Here’s a song I wrote in 2003 as a new dad – I just came across my demo of it last night and thought I’d share it here for free. It’s an oldie, but I hope you like it! (I would probably write it differently now, but part of the charm of it to me is how uncrafted it is.)
It was born when I was humbled by my little boys’ capacity to forgive so easily, to love unconditionally, and countless other virtues that they taught me that I in turn had to teach them in the beautiful paradoxical journey of parenthood.
Was it in the heart of God above
That I should finally learn to love
At the hands of a little boy
When I thought I could think of only me
It was then you came and set me free
You helped me find my joy
Like the song that gives the singer his worth
Like the land that shapes the water
Gentle and wise since the day of your birth
You have been raising a father
And where my patience ran a little thin
Was just the place you would begin
To break then make me new
I was afraid that I would let you down
When I held you in my arms I found
The strength to carry you
Like the song that gives the singer his worth
Like the land that shapes the water
Gentle and wise since the day of your birth
You have been raising a father
Time reveals a deeper mystery
As the things I learn from you, in turn you’ll learn from me
For I know I’m not only raising my own son
But I’m raising the father that one day you will become
Though I’m not all I would like to be
When I look into your eyes I see
The man I might become
The following is an email conversation I had with Ben Mace of the Smyrna/Clayton Sun-Times in Delaware in support of a recent concert I did there. I thought readers here might enjoy it!
BM: How did you get “discovered”? What was the break that led to being signed with Centricity Music?
JG: Well, Tom Hanks is said to have told an audience of drama students who asked him what the secret of his success was that for him, it was not quitting - that if you hang in there long enough, you’re likely to get noticed. I guess that’s my experience - I’d been doing music independently for years and over time had crossed paths with enough people and nurtured enough relationships that it accumulated to bring me where I am now. I’d known John Mays, director of A&R at Centricity (my label) for years and we’d always talked about working together, and I guess the right time to do that presented itself. Labels are looking for artists who don’t need them, or in other words have their own momentum. That’s who they prefer to partner with, and I think they saw in me an artist that already had the ball rolling a bit and fit with the personality of their label. But it wouldn’t have happened if I hadn’t developed relationships years earlier with the people there. I really feel like God opened doors over the years, and I just did my part to walk through them. So it was less a “break” than it was a steady faithfulness, in the same direction. Read the rest of this entry »
Anyone who knows my wife, Taya Gray, knows her to be a person who possesses a rare depth and transparency.She’s also quite the writer, though she’s very modest (and even secretive!) about it.She has recently been writing a good deal about a season she is in of self discovery and reformation, and one of her recent posts was so good I thought I’d share it here, trusting that rabbit room readers might enjoy and be encouraged by her reflections.Rabbit Room readers, I present, Taya Gray:
I got to fly home to visit with my family for a few days. It was a nice visit. With new tools tucked neatly in the spongy tissues of my brain, I was able to experience my family in a fresh way.
It was my dad who drove me back to the airport. Normally I would be a little stressed by this hour-long ride in the front seat with my dad. What will we talk about? What if it’s quiet for too long? Maybe I should have some things prepared for us to talk about. I should certainly be prepared to answer any questions he might have with strong, confident answers. This is how I bring myself to most people and situations in my life – prepared.
Today, the day I write this, my wife took me to the places of her daily walk. Tomorrow is the first day of Spring, but Winter is already in retreat here – though today’s sunny walk still required we bundle up with scarves, gloves, and stocking caps. Her walking path took us to the edge of town past what I assume is an irrigation ditch that is swollen to nearly a full blown river right now! I walked down to stand on the very edge, and the sound of the water flowing was like a chorus of little bells… so beautiful, the most moving music I’ve heard in a long time – and I’m not waxing poetic, I mean this sincerely. It was music, and I wanted to sing along.
I met with a friend in Minneapolis a couple of days ago who was talking about how grateful he was that Spring was upon us and how much he hates Winter. This is par for the course in any conversation between two Minnesotans, but I told him I didn’t feel that way this year. Part of it, I told him, was that I’ve been gone from home so much on tours of the south that the winter cold was refreshing and invigorating to me this year. I couldn’t get enough of it. Read the rest of this entry »
In the book of Hebrews is the passage that says “the word of God is living and active… dividingsoul and spirit”, and though this may not be the application that the writer intended, I’m reminded of the verse today as I think of the difference between the spiritual and the sensual. While they are different, sometimes they intersect, and the places where they meet are often a beautiful occasion for joy and delight.They complement each other, the sensual introducing another layer of enjoyment of the spiritual, and the spiritual providing boundaries and context for a right enjoyment of the sensual.
It’s obvious that the sensual instinct is a strong one and easily exploited. At its worst it’s like the person at the party who wants everyone’s attention, talking too loud, flirting with everyone, and cutting in on every conversation.It’s allure can be seen on every magazine cover in the grocery check out line that brazenly tugs on the sleeve of our sensual self, asking us to give our money, attention, and worship to empty promises of gratification that it can’t deliver. Read the rest of this entry »
A while back I posted a blog here about finding God where you’d least expect Him – about how he seemingly takes delight in jumping out of the shadows and showing up in the unlikeliest places, making it impossible for us to defend our hearts against this God who is always catching us off our guard.
A good example of this, in my humble opinion, is a film called Magnolia.
Pete Peterson and I share a mutual love for this film. For the uninitiated, Magnolia is a movie directed by P.T. Anderson (Boogie Nights, Punch Drunk Love, There Will Be Blood) that was released in 2001 and stars Tom Cruise (in one of his best and most surprisingly vulnerable roles), Julianne Moore, Phillip Seymour Hoffman, John C. Reilly, and Jason Robards in one of his last performances. It is sometimes dark, often offensive (Tom Cruise plays the part of a motivational speaker whose seminar “seduce & destroy” is one of the worst examples of misogyny in cinema), and profane. It has also been hailed as one of the most significantly “Christian” films of our time by many religiously oriented critics.
But just because some one presumes to call it thus, is it true to say that Magnolia can be called a Christian film? That’s at least a part of what Pete and I hope to talk about here. Read the rest of this entry »
One of the great privileges of my vocation is getting to meet extraordinary people and be a part of the significant moments in their lives: weddings, funerals, celebrations, commemorations, hospital rooms, and even shanties in the outlands of Africa. Taya and I have been blessed to be witness to people of great spirit in defining moments.
Proverbs 22:29 says: “Do you see a man skilled in his work? He will serve before kings…”
I wouldn’t presume to call myself “skilled” in my own work, and on the contrary I consider my talents, whatever they may be, to be quite modest. But I’ve often reflected on this verse when I’ve found that my music and ministry have brought me before remarkable people of kingly character. I’ve talked in other blogs about being invited to visit and sing for a woman affectionately known as the “Queen of Iowa”–a name coined by Andrew Peterson in his song he wrote about her–whose throne is a couch and Read the rest of this entry »
As I mentioned in my last posts, Josh Petersen (marketing, Centricity) and I hit the road for a week to meet with radio stations between TX and MN in January. If you’ve followed my career over the past few years, you’ve heard me talk about Josh.
I think nobody has worked harder to help grow my ministry than Josh Petersen who has logged countless hours with me in rental cars over the years, driving me across the country to introduce me to the world of radio, making it possible for me to share my story and make many new friends. I think Josh has made it his personal mission to help me succeed and his belief in my calling is a gift.
This most recent trip was to introduce my new single, “More Like Falling In Love” to our friends at radio, a trip we began in Houston and then worked our way North to Minnesota. Whenever Josh and I travel, we try to see historical landmarks along the way. This time, we visited the Read the rest of this entry »
I’ve been talking about our recent radio promotional tour in support of the new single, “More Like Falling In Love”. I went on the road with Josh Petersen for a week to visit our friends at radio stations between TX and MN and more often than not they’d invite me on air to talk about the story behind the song. So far, the song is gaining a lot of support and we’re so grateful. This was the song I’d always hoped would connect at radio.
I’d been kicking around the idea for “More Like Falling In Love” for a few years, writing it once as a ballad, once as a brit-pop kind of a song… I always suspected that it was a simple and potent enough idea for a song that if written right could have a wide appeal. When I started working with Jason Ingram, I brought the idea to him and he jumped in with me, helping me make the most of it. It became a groovy kind of summer-time love song, which of course is exactly what it should have been all along. I mean c’mon – it is a love song after all. Ever since we wrote it, we’ve been excited to send it out into the world and see what would happen. I’ve been blessed by its enthusiastic reception. Read the rest of this entry »
As I write this, it’s my birthday and I’m writing this from several miles up in the air as Taya and I fly to Nashville to join the WAYFM tour with Jeremy Camp, The Afters, and Chasen. It was hard to say goodbye to my boys, but it’s a short run and we’re so grateful to be a part of what will be the highest profile tour I’ve ever been invited on. We’re so grateful. Being on a tour with rock acts gives me a nice little niche as the introspective singer/songwriter guy who gets to bring a unique contribution to the evening. I can’t wait to see old friends in the audience and make some new ones on this tour. It’s a pretty decent birthday gift, really – and a great way to start the year.
The best birthday gift I got, though, was when Gus climbed into bed with us in the early hours of the morning and snuggled up beside me before I had to get up to go. I didn’t even think I’d get to be home at all before late February, but things worked out for me to spend a couple days in my own house, eating my own food, sleeping in my own bed, and of course hanging out with my boys. (We played video games and built snow tunnels)
I want to update you on some exciting developments with my new single, “More Like Falling In Love”. I’m going to break it up into three parts and give you a little peek into the process of releasing a song to radio. I’ll begin the story here…. Read the rest of this entry »
Let me start by saying that half of the fun of writing for the Rabbit Room is finding the perfect image for your post.
Moving on… In late 2009, Andrew Peterson, esteemed proprietor of the Rabbit Room, sent an email to the contributors inviting us to offer up our top 3 “best of” lists for 2009. The only rules were that we needed to have discovered or consumed the said title this last year and he also modestly requested that we exclude mentioning his books or records in our list, not necessarily presuming that we would have thought to have included them anyway.
I, for one, followed his rules. Several of the others, though, are lawless rule breakers who seem shamelessly determined to get on his good side… but given that it’s Andrew, and that we’re all here in one way or another on account of our love for his work, I won’t cry “nepotism!” His work speaks for itself.
Still, Andrew, I hope you appreciate that at least I was a good rule follower… (and that you make me your favorite because of it)
(Speaking of rule following, one of my favorite things about this list is reading through and seeing all the ways us creative types bent the rules. Some only list one thing, some create their own categories, and even our own proprieter names more than 3, but of only two categories. Sheesh. It’s also fun to see common denominators throughout. Could UP be the best movie of 2009?)
So, what follows are some of the books, films, and music we enjoyed in 2009. We hope that you’ll discover a new film, book, or record that you can lose your heart to listed here, and we also hope you’ll suggest some for us and add to our list with your own faves. Read the rest of this entry »
Well, Thanksgiving has come and gone, and among other things we all know what that means – time to bring out the Christmas music! Actually, this year it seems like Halloween was the time to bring out the Christmas music, but we resisted here in the Gray household… kind of.We kicked things off a week early when I bought Bob Dylan’s new Christmas record, “Christmas In The Heart” (which is… strange? really cool?).
Which brings to mind the question of what your favorite Christmas records are and why… Read the rest of this entry »
A couple nights ago, as I was in the throes of carving our family’s final jack-o-lantern – feverishly cutting out the stripes of Charlie Brown’s shirt (we usually fashion our pumpkins into Peanuts characters) – Taya gave a gentle, reflective laugh. “I love what you’re doing right now”
“What?”
“I love how you’re really digging into that pumpkin”
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember when we were first married?” she asks, and then brings our boys into the conversation. “When we were first married, you guys, your dad wouldn’t allow us to have pumpkins, dress up, or even have candy to give out.”
“Really dad, how come?”
Taya continued, “As I recall, you didn’t even let us have a Christmas tree that first year.” She said with a soft and gracious smile, remarkably without a note of accusation or contempt.
“Why?” one of the boys asked again.
I was having to put my elbows into it now, hollowing out the flesh of the pumpkin so the candle would better show through the carving.“Ahhhh, you guys…” I said with a tone of regretful concession…
For lovers of stories, of which I assume there are a great many here in the rabbit room, you might be interested in a unique contest being held at Jesus Freak Hideout where you can win one of the uber deluxe packages of my new record “Everything Sad Is Coming Untrue”.The contest is running for a few more days until Oct. 12th, and the prize is the Special Edition of the new CD as well as:
- A custom hand crank music box that plays “Everything Sad Is Coming Untrue”
- A T-shirt with the album art
- A regular copy of the record to give to a friend
- A comment from me on your Facebook or MySpace every day for a week
- A personal phone call or a 15 minute video chat with yours truly
- An autographed pair of red shoes like the ones from my photo shoot
- As well as the entire collection of my Centricity album releases.
How does one qualify to win such a bounty?Well, it’s easy, really.And kind of beautiful, too, I think.The price of admission is just a story…
I had the best day I’ve had in a long time yesterday. But to understand why, you need to know that of all the commandments in the bible, the one I’m the most guilty of breaking is the one about taking a day of rest.Especially these days on account of the new record releasing.So much to do… a lot of plates to keep spinning… I could tell that I was feeling the burn from the schedule I’d been keeping because my crankiness had a hair trigger and it didn’t take much to send my attitude off the deep end. I’d like to think that I’m usually very pleasant under normal circumstances :-) (smiley face employed to depict my generally pleasant demeanor). But by the end of this last weekend, my mood took a darker turn.
For starters, we did two outdoor festivals.Now, I’m often asked why I don’t play more outdoor festivals, and while I know they are a lot of fun for concert-goers, I try to avoid them since they tend to be challenging for a guy who does what I do.Festivals have kind of a social gathering/party kind of atmosphere, and it’s hard for a guy with an acoustic guitar and penchant for earnest storytelling to achieve the desired kind of intimacy that gives my work the best chance at connecting. I need four walls and a hushed low-lit room to coax people’s hearts out of their myriad hiding places. Maybe I take myself too seriously by expecting such a level of attention, but this is the kind of environment that I seem best suited for. Deep connections are always the goal. Without that, I’m always suspicious that I’m wasting the time of everyone involved. Read the rest of this entry »
The Fiddler’s Gun, A Review: Making History Come True
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Shive Arrives: A Song by Song Commentary on The Ill-Tempered Klavier
One listen to Ben Shive’s debut The Ill-Tempered Klavier will provide obvious evidence of why this young man has secured the respect of peers and colleagues on the inside of the Nashville music community. With The Ill-Tempered Klavier, Shive’s skills are now planted in the public garden.
Heretofore, there have been unsubtle hints: Andrew Osenga pronouncing Shive as his favorite songwriter, Andrew Peterson naming him as producer of The Far Country, his ubiquitous presence as a studio piano ace on a wide range of mainstream CCM records, Sara Groves choosing him to produce her next record, and the majestic arranging of the strings for Andrew Peterson’s Behold the Lamb of God, The True Tall Tale of the Coming of Christ. Like a fast growing wildflower, Shive seems to pop up everywhere, though always in the background. Now, the secret is out. Raise the curtain on Ben Shive.
I just stumbled on a copy of O’Connor’s complete short stories at a used bookstore here in Nashville and listed it in the Rabbit Room store. Years ago a friend bought me this same edition and I read it with a sense of creepy amazement; it was like nothing I’d ever read. I knew Chris Slaten was a big fan of her work so I asked him to write a recommendation for the book. We only have one copy, so if you click here and can’t find it, someone beat you to the punch.
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This collection is essential to both long time fans and first time readers interested in the work of Flannery O’Connor. My first time to read a handful of her short stories I was helpless to interpret them. One would expect that reading the 1950’s work of a female “Christ-centered” southern fiction writer would be a simple, modest or at least predictable experience.
Several people in the last few weeks have commented to me about how glad they are that they discovered Wangerin’s The Book of the Dun Cow here in the Rabbit Room. It really is a remarkable book, and I still can’t recommend it highly enough. It won the prestigious National Book Award when it was first published in 1978, and was only the beginning of Wangerin’s career.
I just stumbled on his most recent novel, Saint Julian, and was so captured by it that it bumped aside the other four books I’m reading. Last Sunday afternoon–a perfect Spring day–I sat on my front porch swing and read the last half of the book, savoring the careful prose, the pastoral tone, and even the look and feel of the book itself. The cover illustration fits the epic, vivid quality of the story perfectly, and the fonts (I’m a sucker for a great font) added just the right atmosphere.
RELEASE DAY REVIEW: On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
But once a year the Sea Dragons sing just off the coast of Glipwood. With their song, life reasserts itself in the hearts of Skreeans who have long since learned to numb themselves:
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
Arkadelphia from Randall Goodgame: Music in Motion
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Walt Wangerin is a name I’ve seen in print many times. My dad had Ragman and Other Cries of Faith lying about at home for years and I remember thumbing through it at Christmas or Thanksgiving, reading bits here and there, and being intrigued by the style of writing; the words on the page had a canter to them, and a sparseness that gave them strength.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Do you have any CD’s in your collection that will be forever associated with some event or season of life—like the soundtrack to your last high school summer or what you listened to over and over again on that one road trip to wherever it was?
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.
As I write this, Taya and I are on our flight home from Hutchmoot 2010, set to arrive just in time for our twin boy’s birthday party. The Hutchmoot was delightful!
A few weeks ago I reposted a blog that my wife, Taya Gray, wrote. It went over so well I decided to post another one! She’s a wise and reflective woman, but very modest about her blogs, quietly posting them and letting who will discover them. But I thought readers here might be encouraged by this and with her permission I’m posting it here. I shared this story of the wrong box of cookies with Andrew (Peterson, in case you didn’t know) late one night at his house a couple months ago and we were both struck, as parents, how even the slightest and most innocent off hand comment can be so consequential… I’ll admit that in that regard it is a cautionary tale that made us terrified, but also all the more committed to keeping short accounts with our kids and most of all, dependent on the grace of God to fill in where we will inevitably fall short. But enough about all of that, there are more significant treasures to be mined here… Rabbit Roomers, a word from Taya Gray:
One of the things I’m most grateful for about the Rabbit Room is the opportunity it affords me to have conversations about some of my more self-indulgent enthusiasms. Take, for instance, today’s specimen: the music of Aimee Mann.
“L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux.” (What is essential is invisible to the eyes – from Antoine De Saint-Exupery’s The Little Prince)
Anyone who knows my wife, Taya Gray, knows her to be a person who possesses a rare depth and transparency.
Today, the day I write this, my wife took me to the places of her daily walk. Tomorrow is the first day of Spring, but Winter is already in retreat here – though today’s sunny walk still required we bundle up with scarves, gloves, and stocking caps. Her walking path took us to the edge of town past what I assume is an irrigation ditch that is swollen to nearly a full blown river right now! I walked down to stand on the very edge, and the sound of the water flowing was like a chorus of little bells… so beautiful, the most moving music I’ve heard in a long time – and I’m not waxing poetic, I mean this sincerely. It was music, and I wanted to sing along.
In the book of Hebrews is the passage that 
One of the great privileges of my vocation is getting to meet extraordinary people and be a part of the significant moments in their lives: weddings, funerals, celebrations, commemorations, hospital rooms, and even shanties in the outlands of Africa. Taya and I have been blessed to be witness to people of great spirit in defining moments.
As I mentioned in my last posts, Josh Petersen (marketing, Centricity) and I hit the road for a week to meet with radio stations between TX and MN in January. If you’ve followed my career over the past few years, you’ve heard me talk about Josh.
As I write this, it’s my birthday and I’m writing this from several miles up in the air as Taya and I fly to Nashville to join the WAYFM tour with Jeremy Camp, The Afters, and Chasen. It was hard to say goodbye to my boys, but it’s a short run and we’re so grateful to be a part of what will be the highest profile tour I’ve ever been invited on. We’re so grateful. Being on a tour with rock acts gives me a nice little niche as the introspective singer/songwriter guy who gets to bring a unique contribution to the evening. I can’t wait to see old friends in the audience and make some new ones on this tour. It’s a pretty decent birthday gift, really – and a great way to start the year.
Let me start by saying that half of the fun of writing for the Rabbit Room is finding the perfect image for your post.
Well, Thanksgiving has come and gone, and among other things we all know what that means – time to bring out the Christmas music!
A couple nights ago, as I was in the throes of carving our family’s final jack-o-lantern – feverishly cutting out the stripes of Charlie Brown’s shirt (we usually fashion our pumpkins into Peanuts characters) – Taya gave a gentle, reflective laugh. “I love what you’re doing right now”
For lovers of stories, of which I assume there are a great many here in the rabbit room, you might be interested in a unique contest being held at 
I had the best day I’ve had in a long time yesterday.
A.S. Peterson has crafted a work of compelling historical fiction which begs the question, “Can this really be a debut novel?” With dogged fidelity, Peterson captures the spirit, manners, and social conditions present during the American Revolutionary War. We meet colorful, credible characters who navigate the high seas of life and love, dependence and independence, war and peace, truth and consequence, and despite forays into dark places, The Fiddler’s Gun is beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.
Walt Wangerin, Jr. strikes again.
Janner Igiby lives in Glipwood, a nothing little village in the land of Skree, on the edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness. Manhood is on the horizon, but Janner finds it hard to feel much hope for the future. Skree is ruled by foreign oppressors, snake men called the Fangs of Dang, servants of a shadowy emperor named Gnag the Nameless. The Skreeans are weak and weaponless. They’re even tool-less. Any Skreean who needs to use a hoe has to borrow one from the Fangs (and fill out the requisite paperwork). And from time to time, the Black Carriage arrives in Glipwood to carry young Skreeans toward an unknown fate across the Dark Sea.
I am not a fan of Civil War literature; in fact, I have always thought of it as one of those weird sub-genres for obsessive types. They’re almost like Trekkies with their re-enactments and maniacal devotion to detail. It’s just not my thing (although I’m secretly jealous that they get to dress up and shoot cannons).
A Randall Goodgame song is like a great independent movie. Characters deliver lines like they were lifted from a break room, a truck stop, or a downtown diner. Seemingly incongruent scenes are juxtaposed and plot isn’t obvious; in fact, narrative–a good story–is often more evident than linear plot lines. An indie movie, like a Randall Goodgame song, seems to tell itself. Rather than being rudely yanked by a chain through a sequence of contrived events, with a Randall Goodgame song, I have the sense that I’m being allowed a willing, but vicarious sneak peak into the real lives of his real characters.
Sara Groves irritates me just a little bit. With each album she makes, she moves from strength to strength and is always raising the bar with the quality, depth, and lyrical ambition of her work. And as a fellow artist, that’s just a little irritating since it means the rest of us are going to have to work harder if we hope to keep up.
I am outside on my front porch. The yellowed leaves are methodically falling from the black walnut in the yard, my breath is chalky visible in the recent cold snap, and lately I have been exploring the unpleasant nuances of the dark night of a soul - my own, to be exact. It is a strange passion we live out on this over-glorified orb of rock hurtling through space at some rate that I’m sure would astound me were I to know what it was. It is an odd series of days, I am realizing, when you question your own faith more than you question your own doubt. And, indeed, it is these nagging questions which have prompted me to share my thoughts on Andrew Peterson’s 2003 album, Love and Thunder.
11-year old Reuben Land, a character in the 2001 book Peace Like a River, provides narration that is clear-eyed and insightful, yet retains the magic, wonder, and innocence of youth. I found it easy to entrust my imagination to the author’s clever method of telling the story through the sensibilities of a pre-teen boy. An author with lesser skill would have either made the boy too smart-alecky for his own good or impossibly cute.
I just finished a book that upon closing it, I felt like it finished me in a sense. A quiet meditative book that reached down and stirred the deep waters in me. It’s Marilynne Robinson’s 2005 Pulitzer prize winner Gilead, given to me by my friend Andrew Peterson.
Eric Peters’s body of work addresses a diverse range of topics, but hope is a recurring theme that gently percolates in the midst of it all. And yet, somewhere between the 2001 masterpiece Land of the Living, and Scarce, the flavor of hope that Peters’s work emits has evolved closer to a tone that is more resolute than what came before. And though the complexion of hope has a broad range, the lyrics from Scarce–while intermittently contrite and timorous as in previous efforts, are now strengthened and bolstered by roots that have grown deeper, radiating an underlying grit and security.
Having read The Great Divorce many times over the years, I’ve found this classic from the great C.S. Lewis to be full of startling clarity and depth on the differences between Heaven and Hell. The only thing both have in common is that both begin in the human will; we can either let Heaven enter us and rule in us to blossom into love and goodness, or allow Hell to infect and reign in our hearts by the daily refusal to submit to Heaven.
Even if you haven’t heard Room to Breathe, its still likely you’ve heard Andy Gullahorn. He’s what I’d call a heavy lifter by trade. He writes lyrics, plays guitar, arranges vocals and adds production help to the work of artists like Jill Phillips and Andrew Peterson.
Allow me to preface this by telling you that I am a great despiser of gushing reviews. I’d much rather write (or read) a scathing dismemberment of the latest Brett Ratner film or Terry Goodkind book than suffer through four hundred words of overblown hyperbole about even the best of things. But when asked to write some thoughts on Frederick Buechner’s Godric, no amount of distaste for high praise was able to intervene. I hope you’ll take what I say with the understanding that I do not say it readily or lightly.