In your dreams
you saw water and death.
In your days
you saw darkness and evil.
How far we have come
from the gates of paradise,
spewing a wretched trail in the wake,
vomiting the rotten fruit of our first sin.
how does this horror of water and blood
manage to be our sole salvation?
I run to the secret place and hide,
resolving to cling to the dark mystery of grace.
When bands have the opportunity to create their first concert film, they usually have one of two options—create some sort of slick and energetic extended music video that gives the viewer a sense of being at the show, or find a way to reveal something more about their identity through the means of film and performance. I think the latter tend to be more interesting, as they try to unveil some of the mystery behind the always elusive creative process and understand the alchemy of sound that emerges from a group of musicians.
Back in January 2012, on the heels of their most creative work yet, Ghost Upon The Earth, the worship collective Gungor started a Kickstarter campaign for a live album/DVD project. Being a huge fan of their work, I readily donated to the project and eagerly awaited the results. Later in the year, their fantastic live album A Creation Liturgy arrived. But no film. So I waited, and waited. The project went through numerous delays, much to the frustration of Gungor and their fans I’m sure. Finally, just a few months ago, the digital copy of Let There Be arrived in my inbox, and it was entirely worth the wait.
[Editor's note: Say hello to Chris Yokel. Chris is a poet and a teacher (as well as a self-proclaimed part-time stickfighter) and he's one of the newest voices at the Rabbit Room table. Give him a big welcome. We're excited to have him aboard.]
A few weeks ago I woke up to a powdered-sugar dusting of snow on the ground, rolled out of bed, and opened up my computer to Facebook. The headline, “Why I Bought A House In Detroit for $500” caught my eye, and soon I was engrossed in the story of Drew Philp, who at 23 decided to purchase an abandoned house in Detroit in an area that many people are deserting as the city slowly crumbles into chaos. He and his neighbors rebuild their homes, grow vegetables, raise chickens, start schools, build ice rinks in abandoned back yards in the winter, and generally create community in a place that most of the nation has consigned to hell. They are doing something amazing in the face of despair. As he says at one point in his adventure, “It was the first time I really felt I was bringing something back to life, like performing CPR on a corpse that just took its first greedy gasp of air.”
There’s something strangely and fascinatingly pioneer about his story, like a 21st century explorer plunging into untamed wilderness, except this “wilderness” is one of America’s best known cities. Drew and his friend share a Promethean moment of glee when he turns on the electricity in his house for the first time. It feels like something out of a history book, and yet, when have I ever been so simply happy over something like that?