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Another list: 1. Started at 10 AM with Raisin Bran. 2. Dove in with “Dancing in the Minefields”, a song about marriage. I wrote it after an argument with my wife a few weeks ago. (Don’t tell anybody, but sometimes married people who are Christians and love each other dearly get in arguments–I can’t even remember what it was about now, but I got a song out of the deal.) 3. Ate a magnificent sandwich for lunch, then played Burn with the fellas. Current game score: Todd (2), Gully (1), Gabe (1), Ben (2), AP (1). 4. Worked on “Minefields” until dinner, then came back and finished it a little after 11:30 PM. Whew. It’s a new day. We’re getting a ton of work done, and are now hard at work on “God of My Fathers”. Ben’s finishing up his accordion part right now, so I have to go. Thanks for reading. AP

What a day! I don’t use exclamation points lightly. They are dangerous and are to be employed only after much consideration and when absolutely necessary. But today was a good day. I’d love to write an actual post about it, complete with paragraphs and sparse exclamation points, but I’m just so tired. So another list will have to do. 1. Woke up in the Northern Cascade mountain range. The world outside is white and majestic. I spent some time jogging on a treadmill next to Gabe and Gully, then scarfed a bowl of Raisin Bran. 3. Spent the next few hours setting up, which is a boring but necessary step towards actually making music. It means Todd (the engineer) and Ben place microphones, baffles, run cables, and turn knobs. It means each of us takes a turn sitting on a stool playing whatever song we can think of (mine was “Hello, Old Friends”, by Rich Mullins) while Todd dials in the sounds. 4. Finally, once everyone was sounding good in the control room, we donned our headphones and started work on “Fool With A Fancy Guitar”. We chose that one because I’ve been playing it since last June and we have a decent arrangement worked out already. It made sense to start with a song we could knock out pretty quickly, just to get our feet under us (sorry for the mixed metaphors).  But with Gabe on dobro it meant we had to chase down a part for him too. The team at casinogentleman.com herare true experts when it comes to reviewing online casinos and the gambling experience in general. I always find their articles to be relevant, interesting and filled with useful tips. In the spirit of full disclosure, I was asked by a representative from casinogentleman.com to write this article. I will however mention that this is my honest opinion and that I was not compensated for writing it. I highly recommend checking out their services if you are interested in the online gambling experience. Once we figured it all out we recorded it live fifteen, maybe eighteen times, addressing new ideas as they arose, nailing down specific parts. We weren’t quite there yet, but it was lunch time (2 PM). 5. Lunch. 6. We came back in, refreshed, and on the second take played a keeper. We all knew it as soon as the last note faded out. That’s a good feeling. 7. Gabe and Ben spent the rest of the afternoon adding percussion, more dobro, piano, and bass. 8. Meanwhile, I wrote a bridge for a new song called “World Traveler”. Gully was off somewhere making a video. 9. Dinner. 10. We got back to the studio around 9:30 PM and started on the next song, called “Many Roads”. As I said on Twitter, it is not about universalism. We worked hard on it until the yawning started around 12:30 AM and called it a night. And that, in case you were wondering, is why we’re recording in Washington. If we were at home there’s no way we would have gotten that much work done. If we can keep up this pace, we’ll be on track to come home next week with a mostly finished album, which is impressive if you know that Resurrection Letters, Vol. II took about three months to make. Once again, I can barely keep my eyes. open. More to come tomorrow–hopefully a little video, too. And stay tuned, because we may figure out a way to set up a live stream of the recording, so you can tune in and see for yourself just how tedious this process is. Guaranteed to make you sleepy. I’ll let you know here if we figure something out. In other news, if you’re a Twitterer, you can search #APAlbum for updates from all of us throughout the day. It’s like being here, only not at all. Thanks for reading. AP!

Attention Rabbit Room readers! Today it is my great pleasure to introduce you to the music of Melanie Penn. I wish I were the sort of musical genius that could expound on the particular and fabulous nature of her debut record by saying things like: “The relative consequence of the parallel diminished fifth when contrasted with the dissonance of the augmented fourth chromatic in the 32nd measure is nothing so much as a simple and sonichordial effulgence of tympanic magnitude.” But I’m not. And that’s probably a good thing. Near super-human and noted Captain Courageous, Ben Shive, produced the record and pulled in all sorts of familiar folks to play on it. You’ll find names in the credits like Ron Block, Andy Gullahorn, Andy Osenga, and Gabe Scott doing everything from singing to plucking strings. Wake Up Love is Melanie’s debut album and today is the official release. We’re happy to be offering the record here in the Rabbit Room Store and I know that I, for one, am anxious to see where her career takes her. I hope you’ll support her as well as you support all of the other artists here in the Rabbit Room. Below, you can listen to one of my favorite songs on the album. It’s called “Ordinary Day” and it’s a delightfully catchy song from the perspective of. . .well, you’ll see. . .https://rabbitroom.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/OrdinaryDay.mp3

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.” —St. Julian of Norwich One Sunday after church my family and I ended up at a craft fair. Under the big trees were hundreds of white tents, booths where local artisans peddled their wares. The weather was fine, people were everywhere, sipping lemonade and licking powdered sugar from their fingers. Every few minutes we had to stop so our kids could pet a happy dog while its proud owner looked on. It was a good day. We spotted one booth that boasted wooden signs and swings, hand painted with the words “All Is Well.” Flowery vines looped the letters. The signs were pretty. They looked like something you’d find at your grandmother’s house, or at a Cracker Barrel. But there was something about the cute little signs that bugged me. It more than bugged me. It’s too easy on a perfect Sunday afternoon to believe the lie that “All is well.” All is not well. I wonder how the same words would feel if the sign hung on the wall of an Indian brothel? See the cruelty, the broken people, enslaved children? All is well. Or if the sign hung over a casket at a funeral? Sure, you’re grieving, but don’t worry–all is well. Empty words. They offer no peace because they’re so jarringly untrue, and our hearts know it. But surely that Sunday afternoon the sentiment rang true, didn’t it? The sun was shining, our bellies were full. I had just eaten a glorious funnel cake. But when I saw the sign I couldn’t stop thinking of the brokenness of the world. It was as if the sign was nailed to a picture perfect cottage surrounded by a slum. The people feasting in that perfect cottage can tell themselves “All is well” as much as they want, but it won’t make it true. They’ve closed their eyes to the truth. I’m not suggesting we mope. I don’t think we should stroll the park on bright Sundays with our faces dark, just because the world is fallen. To the contrary, acknowledging the great sadness of Creation makes us more grateful for the blessings when we see them. Sometimes at funerals people say things like, “Dying’s just a part of life.” That may be true now, but it wasn’t always, was it? In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth, and Adam and Eve had the world for a playground. But they broke it. Sin blighted the land. But we are given the mighty blessing of living in the wake of Christ’s resurrection. We can see the beginning of the story, when all was truly well, and we can read of the darkest day when Jesus died, and the holy morning when he rose again. We live in the meantime, when the Church is charged with unraveling the curse, pushing back the Fall, proclaiming not that “All is well”, but that all shall be well again. We shouldn’t mock the pain of the world by telling the wounded that everything’s fine. We remind them that if there’s pain, it points to healing; if Creation is groaning as in the pains of childbirth, it points to a new Creation. I was lucky enough to wander away from the craft booth before I opened my big mouth and hurt the artist’s feelings. I know she meant well. But on those days when the kids aren’t sick, the car isn’t in the shop, we haven’t lost our jobs, and all seems well, we must remember that it isn’t a picture of the way things are but a precious glimpse of the way they will be, forever, for everyone in Christ, when the Kingdom comes in its fullness. “We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved.” Romans 8:22-24

Six years in and sometimes I’m still no better. In fact, I’ve gotten worse. Much worse. The reality before me as a church planter and pastor is an oddly exhilarating one – giving me the highest of highs and lowest of lows over the last half-decade. Actually that word “low” is incorrect. More like “empty.” The excitement is obviously quite easy to describe – and the most enjoyable. It’s in the sermons that resonated the most over time. It’s in the leaders that blossomed in only the way the Spirit can direct. It’s watching your failures and foibles turn into strategic masterstrokes – as if you always knew it would happen that way. It’s the feeling that you’re really being used for something eternal on this side of the cosmic canvas of time and space. But those low, low points. Those empty places. They’re enough to sabotage the whole affair. One disheartening episode will dissuade you more powerfully than 50 joyous ones. They erase endless memories of the positive, replacing them with just one brush with the negative. It’s not the people who feel moved by your message that stay with you. It’s the people who left in the middle that you know aren’t coming back. It’s the back-handed compliments where you hear what people really think about you. It’s the weight of a dream of what the kingdom of God truly looks like and the sad state of affairs in the reality before you. I’ve often said the wrong thing at the wrong time. I’ve left many leaders out in the lurch because I didn’t respond properly. I’ve watched my fair share of people never return to our place of worship, because it wasn’t their thing. Because *I* wasn’t their thing. And whether or not it was your fault, it doesn’t matter. The fact is: you can’t shake it. You can never shake it. Even those who say they can are lying. I’ve been in this long enough and met with enough people to learn this is true. When I’m thinking clearly, when God is whispering gently in my ear my plan for the day, when the proper planets are aligned over my head, I realize this is essential. The humility slowly unfolding amidst my failures keeps me grounded for the long haul. But those days rarely come. Most days, I’m stressed by the endless to-do lists – the myriad of things I can do to sing and dance the right tune to people please my way to acceptance. And I have it easy. After all, I started this church and can’t imagine the pressure that comes with statements like “well, we’ve always done it this way.” I need a King of Persia. I need something, anything really, in a moment like this. In one of my favorite songs, “Raining in Baltimore,” Adam Duritz sings, “I had no intention of living this way. I need a phone call. I need a plane ride.” In other words, I need some way out of here, some distraction, in a moment like this. Back to that Persian guy. In the book of Ezra, God moves the heart of the King of Persia. Cyrus. Cyrus, this foreign king of a foreign land dedicated to any foreign gods not named capital-G God, finds his heart moved by God – not his god, but God. It’s amazing really. I often hear friends of mine in various places of ministry say that they can’t get people within their church to listen to God or to act on God’s behalf. Yet here, outside of the church if you will, God moves. And it’s with this key person that God declares he’s going to rebuild his tabernacle. The King of Persia, in other words, will build God’s church. There’s a beautiful refrain here. And it only gets better. Cyrus orders everyone in the entire land to get behind this project. Give them silver. Give them gold. Give them freewill offerings (which is quite humorous to say it’s freewill, when… you get the picture). But there it is. He frees God’s people from their captivity and exile and gives them the resources to build the tabernacle again. He’s not on the right side at all, for those keeping score, yet there it is in black and white (at least in my Bible which is rather unadorned). The beauty of those first few chapters in Ezra reveal a God who moves the hearts of absolutely anyone he chooses – whether in or out by my standards – to accomplish his purposes. I’ve seen this in action with my own eyes – people who should be opposed to the gospel giving themselves to a cause greater than their own life. God alone is the builder of his church. God alone is the architect of his kingdom. My work on his behalf has nothing to do with my own ability to perform, but instead it’s about my ability to discern. It’s not my ability to teach, but about my ability to listen. Where is God working? What is God doing? Because spiritual reality dictates that God’s always working and always moving. I don’t have to hope that God will do something in my community. It’s already happening. I’m the one who has to arrive, not God. And I don’t have to worry about getting others on board with this either. Somehow I already know that if I find myself in the middle of the work, I’ll look around find the very people within my community on either side.

Neil Gaiman’s work is not going to be for everyone. Let me just say that up front. But I’ve now read Coraline, The Graveyard Book, and I’m halfway through Stardust, and I can tell you there are fantastic moments of Recovery to be found in his work. And when I’m escaping into fantastic literature, I want recovery. I’ll give you, by way of a teaser, two moments of Recovery – of “regaining a clear view” of our own world by visiting another in story – to tempt you to read this excellent work. Nobody (Bod for short) is speaking with his guardian, Silas, about the unconsecrated ground in the cemetery – the little overgrown plot of land where the suicides and witches were buried. When Silas explains that many suicides are just trying to find a way to be happy, Bod asks if it works: if they are happier in death than they were in life. Silas responds: “Sometimes. Mostly, no. It’s like the people who believe they’ll be happy if they go and live somewhere else, but who learn it doesn’t work that way. Wherever you go, you take yourself with you. If you see what I mean.” Those of us who believe in a Fall – that we are the problem that needs a Remedy – know precisely what Silas means (whether Gaiman intended that or not!). Later, Bod is struggling with why one of his friends would want to forget him. Bod, of course, is not a regular human – he can see and talk with the dead, and do things that only ghosts can do. Silas responds, again very wisely: “People want to forget the impossible. It makes their world safer.” This reminded me of the moment in Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wind in the Door, when the cherubim Progo explains why people usually can’t see him: “Humans can bear very little reality.” These two Recovery moments are combined in my mind: We can bear very little reality, and we want to forget the impossible, because we know there’s a big problem with the world and that we’re a part of it. But the great, seemingly impossible truth is that there is an Answer that does not lead to despair. The Graveyard Book is not Christian fiction, and as I said at the beginning, not all Christians will be a big fan of Gaiman’s work; but this book–winner of the 2009 Newberrry medal–is worth your time, because the Christian heart and mind will find Truth in its pages.

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. RUSS RAMSEY Films: The Hurt Locker I wrote a piece about this for the Rabbit Room here The Road After reading the book, I had a hunch this film would hit me at this stage of life in a similar way to how Braveheart hit me in when I was a college student. I suspected it would move me to consider what mattered most to me, and how far I’d go to take care of those God has given me. I don’t know how filmable this book was, so the film left me wanting a bit but I can’t really think of any ways Viggo and the boy could have turned in better performances. Up When a computer animated montage without a single word has me blubbering in my chair as my confused daughters wondering if their daddy is going to be okay (and if they can have another twizzler), how can I not put Up on my top three. Who knew Pixar had it in them to create such powerful imagery of growing up to be a man who lugs around his past like a burden out of a sense of obligation to the dead? Who knew I’d exhale when his burden finally drifted off into the expanse? Books: Gilead by Marilynne Robinson. Finally got around to this one. The imagery of the boxes of sermons in the attic no one will ever read again struck me as a pastor. I have boxes like those. And I’m continually making more. The Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones Sally Lloyd-Jones has crafted something I hope stays in print and becomes the gold standard of children’s bibles for generations to come.  Why, you ask? Because there isn’t a parent alive who won’t come to know Scripture better as a result of reading this to their kids, and there isn’t a kid alive who won’t have wonderful images planted in their minds, if God so graces them, of stiff-necked people butting up against the truth and truth prevailing. The Book of Genesis. Have you read that book lately? The saga of Abraham and his descendants clues you in on why Jacob called God “the fear.” Oh man. Music: Andrew Osenga- Choosing Sides I have decided the word I am going to use to describe Osenga to folks is “vibey.” I’ll be on this record for a while, I suspect. Andy Gullahorn- The Law of Gravity Gully gives us art that steeps over time, getting richer, sweeter, stronger and dare I say, darker. By darker, I don’t mean sin-dark. I mean, plumbing the deep waters of the heart, going places that don’t see the light of common day very often.  And the confounding thing is he does it without a shred of manipulation, except for four tracks. (kidding) Paul Simon- Surprise This wasn’t released this year, but this was the year I spent time with it. I can’t say I’m a huge Paul Simon fan, but I have come back to this record more times than I can count this year. I especially like “Outrageous.” THOMAS MCKENZIE Andrew challenged us to give our top 3s of 2009.  I took this very seriously and made two rules for myself.  First, it had to be a piece of media that I have actually consumed.  No claiming movies that I will probably love that haven’t been released yet.  No claiming to adore the Hurt Locker, which I missed in the theater.  Second, it had to be something that was actually released in 2009, not just something I read in 2009.  Finally, I decided not to mention any Rabbit Room contributor so as to expand our horizons, and so as not to make Andy Gullahorn mad at me when I didn’t choose him.  Not because I don’t love his music but because he shames me in bowling.  Cheating? Maybe, but who cares? Films: An Education The film that you most likely haven’t seen but you really should, because it is just that funny/beautiful/thoughtful. Inglourious Basterds Get over your prejudices and Tarentino’s silly showmanship, close your eyes 3 or 4 times, and watch the best picture likely to be made this year. Up Because if I can’t stop crying in a film, and I can’t stop thinking about it later, it has to be in this list. Books: Justificiation by N.T. Wright Not his best book, but better by far than any other theological book written this year (I assert having not read all those books).  He is humanity’s greatest living theologian.  Anglicans Rule! Lost to the West by Lars Brownsworth Based on a fantastic podcast, this history of Byzantium is well worth your time. The Prodigal God by Tim Keller Didn’t love the last half of this little book, but the first half unveils the heart of the Gospel. TV: Glee Yes, it has its Christian bashing moments.  But it is the one TV show guaranteed to make me laugh, smile, shed a tear, and feel all warm and fuzzy. Battlestar Galactica, the final season If you have not watched the new Battlestar Galactica from the beginning mini-series through the end, you are missing out on the best television show of this decade. Mad Men The music isn’t just the notes, it’s the silence between. MATT CONNER Films: Star Trek In all seriousness, this film is near-perfect in every way. A proper summer blockbuster that paid proper homage to the source material enough for the nerdy cult following while still being absolutely fun for the rest of us. The Hurt Locker Riveting, absolutely riveting filmmaking. Goodbye Solo Small indie film chronicling the unexpected friendship between an old man wanting to die and a young immigrant just trying to start his life. Affecting in every way. Books: The Fidelity of Betrayal by Peter Rollins Rollins, an Irish philosopher/pastor/theologian, delivers a thought-provoking (and Spirit provoking) work on the necessity of betraying the very religion we love as a part of our spiritual journey. Juliet Naked by Nick Hornby The latest novel from the author of High Fidelity and About A Boy strikes gold with this novel about an out of work songwriting legend. Provenance by Laney Salisbury Fascinating non-fiction work detailing an insane fraud ring in the world of European art in the ’90s. Music: Vic Chesnutt – At the Cut Paraplegic songwriter and session guitarist in Athens, GA makes the best album of his decades-long career with absolutely heart-wrenching songs about bravery and cowardice, life and loss. The Doves – Kingdom of Rust An absolute tour-de-force of a British rock album that shows there’s more than Radiohead and Coldplay out there. The title track alone is my favorite track of 2009, moving like a locomotive from the Doves’ signature rock sound to Johnny Cash to an orchestral explosion. Metric – Fantasies Canadian synth rock that mesmerizes from beginning to end; not a bad track on the entire disc. S.D. SMITH Films: UP A beautiful, truthful story about father hunger, loyalty, love etc. The entire family will enjoy, unless your family is dumb. Star Trek Beam me up for this thrilling…oh, nevermind. Collision A telling contrast of lives and views in this Darren Doane documentary (featuring Christopher Hitchens and Douglas Wilson). Actual debate. Not like the yelling TV “news” shows. Books: Notes From the Tilt-a-Whirl by N.D. Wilson An artful apologetic for joy and thankfulness. Seven out of seven stars. Best book I’ve read in years, as the saying goes. North! Or Be Eaten by Andrew Peterson The adventure continues for Janner, Leelie and Tink. A wonder hardly to be believed at the heart of the world, terrifically dark peril, outstanding. The ESV Study Bible Useful notes, particularly on genre, literary aspects of the different types of books of the Bible. Cool pictures and maps. On the downside, it’s very heavy. If you strictly enforce the “No AP” policy…. Fitzpatrick’s War by Theodore Judson A story set in a future with no electric power, a second steam age, a dominant feudal culture, a conflicted hero and a charming tyrant-in-waiting. Loved it. Music: Eric Peters – Chrome An honest, difficult, delightful record. Bonus: Songs that confuse my brother. Sara Groves – Fireflies and Songs Feels like life, as usual. Good. Coldplay – Viva La Vida Because of Pete’s review I got this and I liked to listen to it with the ear area of my head. A.S. PETERSON Films: I tried to narrow it down to my three favorites and I just couldn’t do it. I comes down to these four and I can’t bring myself to cut one of them. Watchmen Despite flaws like a horribly crass “love” scene and trying too hard to be an action movie, this is still one of the most visually beautiful films I’ve seen in years and one of the best science fiction movies since Blade Runner–and I mean science fiction in its true sense of speculation and consequence, not in the sense of space ships and robots. Like the graphic novel, it’s a movie that asks a lot of really good questions and is smart enough to follow its drama to its logical conclusions while leaving the viewer to decide who was right or wrong long after leaving the theatre. Complex questions + complex answers = great art. District 9 This movie reignited my belief in the power of cinema. Hyperbole? Maybe. There might not be as much depth to it as I’d like but it’s so well done and so completely sweeps you into its story that I found myself grinning like a kid throughout the entire thing just because I was so happy to be watching a story unfold in such an original and compelling way. Inglourious Basterds If there was any doubt that Tarantino is a genius (and there really wasn’t), can we please put it to rest? Riveting from the first frame to the horrifying finale. I think I saw it three times and it just kept getting better. Where the Wild Things Are A movie that is nearly a miracle. There is every reason for it not to work, and yet it not only works, it excels. I can think of no other movie that so perfectly captures the complex nature of boyhood, not on an explicit level, but on a visceral, deep, emotional level. Music: Mew – Frengers It might not have been released this year, but I discovered it this year and wore it out. It’s not the sort of music that I’m typically drawn to, but it’s complex and beautiful and I just can’t get it out of my head. Sara Bareilles – Little Voice Once again, it didn’t technically come out this year but this was the year that everybody heard it. You might be sick of “Love Song” playing on the radio but the entire album is beautiful and her writing is incredible for a girl of her age. The Killers – Day and Age I fell in love with The Killers thanks to Guitar Hero and Rock Band. I had never heard of them before playing “When You Were Young” on the Xbox. When the new CD came out I jumped on it and it’s one of my favorites. “Dustland Fairytale” is just plain epic, not to mention that any album featuring lyrics about spacemen, neon tigers, and asking the eternal question of “Are we dancer?” has simply GOT to be genius…I’m not sure if I’m kidding or not. Books: This list is seriously limited because I read very little that actually came out anywhere near this year. Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell A book that examines some interesting theories on why people are successful. It’s a fascinating read and there are a couple of chapters that have seriously affected the way I think about my writing and what I do with my time. Well worth reading. And because it’s the only other thing I read that came out anywhere near this year: The Manual of Detection by Jedediah Berry If the Coen Bros. decided to write a book starring Adrian Brody, this would be it. It’s a strange, surrealistic mystery, that’s fascinating in its voice and imaginative scope even if it loses some of its narrative steam in the last few chapters. I look forward to reading Berry’s next book. ERIC PETERS Books (of which I’ve barely read three this year): Every Man A King: The Autobiography of Huey P. Long A book every Louisianan should read. Mr. Long, easily the state’s most colorful and entertaining governor-character. The Reason Why by Cecil Woodham-Smith I read this in college, forgot what it was about, so I pulled it from the shelves and read it again. The history and story behind the fatal, and ridiculous, Charge of the Light Brigade. So Brave, Young, and Handsome by Leif Enger I’m unable to adequately put into words why I like Enger’s works so much, but his characters possess that trait of humanity that can never ultimately be erased or forgotten: the comprehension of truth. Music (of which I’ve barely listened to three albums this year): The Weepies – Hideaway I honestly believe I like this album MORE than their previous, more widely acclaimed album, Say I Am You. I don’t know how Deb Talan does it, but her quirky voice is my gold standard for believability. Jill Phillips – The Good Things This album is my favorite of Jill’s thus far. It feels like the most vulnerable project she’s done to date. Killer, memorable, singable songs. The string parts on this album clobber me. Kudos to Jill, Andy G., and producer Cason Cooley. – ?? Beats me. Movies (of which I’ve barely seen three this year): Up “I barely know you, and I love you.” Laugh, cry, laugh some more. Pixar understands storytelling. Cars My three-year-old son’s favorite movie, even though he hasn’t the focusing ability to sit through the entire thing yet. I still can’t watch the three-car race finale without tearing up. Pixar understands storytelling. Land of the Lost I cannot recall a third movie I’ve seen this year, so this will have to do. This movie is terrible, but it’s funny in a few places if only because of Will Ferrell. Sorry – One-Minute reviewer, Thomas McKenzie, I am not. RANDALL GOODGAME Music: Sara Groves – Fireflies and Songs because the songs about marriage and family on this record are so beautiful, to me they are already timeless. Films: UP because I’m just so thankful that I can be so deeply moved by something that my kids want to experience over and over as well. books: I’ve only read 2 books from this year, and North or Be Eaten was my favorite.  And I say so in direct defiance of Andrew Peterson’s ban on listing his works on our lists. It is excitingly fast paced, it is so convincingly written that I believe the characters and scenes and harrowing plot twists and get caught up in the story.  I would read ahead every night after I stopped reading to the kids so that I could find out what happened next. TRAVIS PRINZI Films: Star Trek Can’t believe how impressed I was with this. I also can’t stop watching it over and over. Being a fan of the original series, I have to say: this is how you reboot an entire series. To accomplish a great piece of film-making in a well-loved series without dismissing its entire history and giving it a chance to start over – simply brilliant. X-Men Origins: Wolverine In another year, this wouldn’t have made my top 3 list, but I’ve barely been interested in or seen many films this year. Overall, well done and a nice addition to the X-Men series. Half-Blood Prince And to round out this trifecta of geekyness, despite several big complaints about choices made in this film, it was paced well, mostly told the story it needed to tell, and was visually wonderful. Books: I read plenty of books this year, but only three from 2009. Two of the three are from the Brothers Peterson (North Or Be Eaten by Andrew Peterson and The Fiddler’s Gun by A.S. Peterson). All three would have made my top 5 books of the year list. Here’s the third 2009 book: The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman Excellent Gothic children’s story. Deserves the awards it’s won. Music: Only bought three new albums this year: One of the three is Andrew’s, of course. But I’ll follow his rule and only list my other two 2009 albums: Bob Dylan – Together through Life Bluesy with lots of Texas influence. Really great stuff, with a couple skippable tracks. Robert Hunter’s influence is definitely there. Bob Dylan – Songs for Christmas I was intrigued and a little scared when I heard this was coming out. It’s genius. I’ve been playing it regularly since I bought it in October, despite my “No Christmas music before Thanksgiving” rule. CURT MCLEY Films: Into Temptation It’s about a Catholic priest who learns that a high ticket call girl is going to commit suicide and feels compelled to do something about it, despite the fact that he would have to break rules of the church to do so. The ending isn’t sappy and tidy, like some of those less than honest Christian films. This film contains one of the best forgiveness scenes I’ve ever seen on film. Now I have a school boy crush on Kristen Chenoweth (I watched YouTube talk show videos of her for 1/2 hour after I watched the film), who incidentally is a believer. Jeremy Sisto as the conflicted priest was excellent too. Goodbye Solo This one was directed by the quietly emerging Ramin Bahrani, who was also responsible for two other critically acclaimed films, Chop Shop, which I have seen and recommended here in the Rabbit Room, and Man Push Cart, which I finally saw this summer. It’s an unconventional friendship movie. Solo wants to be friends with a man that is too far gone to be anyone’s friend. He’s the most gregariously, likeable movie character I’ve seen since Sally Hawkins in Happy-Go-Lucky. In one form or the other, most of us carry an array of masks. How pure and refreshing it is to observe a character that hasn’t learned the art of sophisticated deceit in any form. Solo’s only agenda is to be a friend to a man that needs a friend. The Hurt Locker Despite growing weary of war movies, I was inspired to see this movie after reading Russ Ramsey’s review here in The Rabbit Room, and the subtext he highlighted, which on some level amounts to seeking fulfillment in all the wrong thing (s). Music: David Mead – Almost and Always Melancholy goodness. It’s a musical journal of Mead’s divorce, but despite the sad topic, it doesn’t seem doleful. In fact, there’s a tone of forgiveness and compassion which comes through. Mead is to words and phrases as Grace Kelly was to elegance. Jill Phillips – The Good Things I’ll admit it: this one caught me by surprise. It transitioned me from Jill Phillips fan to Jill Phillips superfan. And I didn’t realize it until my iTunes play count reminded me that I was playing it more often than anything else I bought in 2009. “Cool” is typical of the kind of courageous candor and empathetic vulnerability that oozes out of this project, like a salve for the soul. Andy Gullahorn – The Law of Gravity I knew it. Andy’s debut, Old Hat, told me so. Songs like “Better Things,” “Bonsai Tree,” and “Steel Bars” made it clear that Andy didn’t need bells and whistles to sell a song. And now that he’s implemented some tailor-made bells and whistles (and snaps and claps) on The Law of Gravity, I think it will make his skills more obvious to those that may not have heard it in the subdued vibe of his first two records. Andy Gullahorn is a songwriting thoroughbred. Books: The Fiddler’s Gun by A.S. Peterson When the author places a quote from your book review on the cover, how can a guy avoid putting the book on his list of favorites? But seriously folks, this book is everything one might expect from the brother of Andrew Peterson. Ahem. Let me quote myself: ” …beautiful, lyrical, and redemptive.” And besides, now I can use the word “blunderbuss” in a sentence and know exactly what I am talking about. Through a Screen Darkly by Jeffrey Overstreet I’ve known of Jeffrey Overstreet for a long time, having written for at least one review website at the same time, so I expected a quality book, but Jeffrey exceeded my expectations. This is a book about watching and discussing film as a Christian. I felt like I was reading the words of my long lost twin brother because he words resonated so deeply. The author thoughtfully dissects the nuances of film with spiritual themes, which are not always hit you over the head with sledge hammer obvious. A major bonus of reading this book was the sometimes obscure film recommendations. North! Or be Eaten by Andrew Peterson It’s hard to believe, but I am nearing my 10th Anniversary of being an Andrew Peterson supporter. I’m certainly a little biased at this point, but no less accurate when I say that Andrew Peterson is one of our most gifted communicators in the Christian world today. As one might expect from Andrew Peterson, this book is full of humor, which lubricates an already joyful ride. The spiritual themes will move you to the point of tears. AND A LATER COMMENT FROM THOMAS: First off, some of you should see some real movies.  Not you, Curt, you are artsy and I bow before your limited release chops.  But Travis and Eric, I am definitely looking at you. JASON GRAY Films: King Of Kong: A Fistful Of Quarters A treasure of a documentary about the reigning champion of Donkey Kong and the underdog who would be his challenger.  Hollywood couldn’t contrive a better underdog and villain than Steve Wiebe and Billy Mitchell.  I’ve watched it several times this year, and one of them was with a big group of college kids who erupted into spontaneous boos and cheers at various moments in the movie. A thoroughly entertaining look at human nature and a bizarre sub-culture. Wow. Originally recommended to me by our very own Andrew Peterson whose copy I watched repeatedly before begrudgingly returning it to him. Where The Wild Things Are As Thomas said in his one minute review: it’s a children’s psychodrama for adults.  On some levels it was unsatisfying, but I think intentionally so – it’s less about redemption than it is about what it feels like to be a kid. And it’s a singular film, unlike any I’ve ever seen.  It was a ride that was unpredictable at every turn, and for that alone I would be grateful for it. The Fantastic Mr. Fox I haven’t laughed out loud this hard and this often since… I can’t remember.  Another singular film that was unpredictable and unlike anything I’d ever seen before – even unlike Wes Anderson’s previous films. I’m realizing that my list features films that have a certain cool, aloof quality, and so I would like to add UP to the list as well because it’s a movie with a huge heart. In fact, I’d probably pick it over Where The Wild Things Are because of it’s heart, but since everyone else here already mentioned it, I thought it had its fair share of representation.  I mean, they had me crying over husband and wife characters I didn’t even know or care about yet!  Oh, wait a minute… they actually had me crying over my own relationship with my own wife… Music: I spent much of the year working on my own new record, and was in a kind of self-imposed music blackout, so I had very limited music discoveries this year, and it all happened in the last quarter. Besides rediscovering the Beatles with their remastered re-releases (lots’ of “re”s in that sentence), these are three (or th”re”) records I loved this year: Fleet Foxes – Fleet Foxes My favorite discovery since my obsession with Arcade Fire a few years ago!  Beautiful, haunting, melodic… To my ears it’s a blend of Simon & Garfunkel, The Byrds, and CS&N, and yet very modern.  Soooooo good.  Check it out, it’s enchanting. Andy Gullahorn – Law Of Gravity Another amazing record from Gully.  Of course.  I wrote about it here: http://bashful-building.flywheelsites.com/?p=5096 Derek Webb – Stockholm Syndrome I never saw this record coming. Bold and adventurous in both concept and production.  And so dang groovy… It’s a really smart, relevant record that you can dance to. Books: Again, an exceedingly busy year with the new record that didn’t leave much time for books, but I did read a few good ones. Bel Canto by Ann Patchett My wife lost her heart to this book and made me read it, and then I lost my heart to it, too. Patchett has such a confident grasp of her storytelling.  Her voice is so sure and she knows how to tell an amazing story.  It’s about an opera singer and a room full of international businessmen and diplomats who end up being held hostage by a group of terrorists in a bungled attempt to overthrow a government.  But it’s also not about any of that. At all. It’s like a love letter to music, an amazing read – I can’t recommend it enough. A Million Miles In A Thousand Years by Donald Miller I thought I was over Donald Miller.  There’s a part of me that didn’t want to read this book just because Don Miller is so cool that it feels kind of cool to not like him.  And then I read it.  Dang.  One of the endorsements for the book says that it’s more of a book that reads you than one that you read, which is a true statement.  Truly a great little book that engages you in a conversation with your own life and the God who wants to make it a meaningful one. Christ The Lord: Road To Cana by Anne Rice I was unsure going into Anne Rice’s novels about the life of Jesus.  I mean, c’mon.  She’s Anne Rice, author of the vampire novels.  But Randall Goodgame swore by this book and left it with me when he came for a weekend of concerts in MN.  I read the first one and then this one and was profoundly moved.  Maybe not necessarily great literature, but a competent writer offering up a bold and reverent  imagining of the life of Christ preceding the gospel accounts.  The author’s notes about her spiritual journey are the best part of the books. Honorable mention: I read The Jesus Storybook Bible by Sally Lloyd-Jones to Gus this year, and it is a gift of a book, for young and old alike. AND A FURTHER COMMENT FROM TRAVIS: Shoot! How did I completely forget about Where the Wild Things Are? Bump Wolverine from my list and put WTWTA in there instead. AND A FURTHER COMMENT FROM GOODGAME: OK – I will bow to the pressure and pick the only non-AP book from 2009 that I actually read.  In Don Miller’s “A Million Miles in a Thousand Years” – Don embraces the challenge of living proactively with a mind on writing a good story with his life. He does a great job of sharing his process without insisting that you are a loser if you don’t see it that way.  I listened to it on my way to Africa and it was profoundly moving and inspiring. AND A FURTHER COMMENT FROM JASON GRAY Dude (as in Randall) you also read “Christ The Lord: The Road To Cana” – I know because I watched you reading it, and then you loaned it to me, told me I had to read it, and then I added it to my best of 2009 list.  But you didn’t.  And now I don’t know how to feel… STEPHEN LAMB books: The Sacredness of Questioning Everything by David Dark I can’t say enough about this book.  I count David’s second book, The Gospel According to America: Meditations on a God-blessed, Christ-haunted Idea as one of the few books that has actually shaped my thinking in very explicit, discernible ways, helping me to look at the world differently.  This is David’s most accessible book, with many, many passages that are quotable and that have provided the starting point for countless conversations.  The book opens with a quote by Augustine of Hippo – “What do I love when I love my God?” – and in the following pages, David asks us to question, among other things, our religion, our offendedness, media, language, and our interpretations.  To what end?  “We ask the questions with a sense of renewed attentiveness and a hope for renewed invigoration in trying to be agents of redemption, good rememberers, and witnesses to the promise that all that is and was – and is even now damaged by our perversity – will be healed and made whole.”  Before giving a copy of this book to everyone on my Christmas list, I scribbled in the front cover a sentence that bears repeating here: “May you be appropriately challenged.” The Orthodox Heretic: And Other Impossible Tales by Peter Rollins I read all three of Pete’s books in a row this year, starting with How (Not) to Speak of God, continuing with The Fidelity of Betrayal, and ending with The Orthodox Heretic.  One statement in his first book I quote often to help describe what I think Pete is doing with his writing is this: “The difference between the idea that our Christian traditions describe God and the view that they are worshipful responses to God is important to grasp, for while the former seeks to define, the latter is engaged with response.” The Orthodox Heretic is a good entry point into Pete’s work.  A phrase coined by David Dark, explaining the value of certain kinds of media, is that they “expand the space of the talkaboutable,” and Pete’s parables here do just that. Tie between two memoirs A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Don Miller The Unlikely Disciple: A Sinner’s Semester at America’s Holiest University by Kevin Roose I’ve written before about Don’s book so I won’t go on about it here, other than to say that it is masterfully written, fun to read, and, like most great memoirs, provides a space for us to consider our own lives. As for The Unlikely Disciple, Kevin Roose’s story about how he, as a sophomore at Brown University, decided to spend his “semester abroad” at Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University, I don’t think I read a more enjoyable book all year.  As someone who, while in high school, did not consider attending Liberty because it was too liberal, I found this a fascinating read, in part because these days I’m in a similar place as Kevin in the way I view that kind of conservative evangelical Christianity.   Contrary to what one might at first think, Kevin does not use this book to mock those different from him, but rather to try to find common ground.  He wasn’t able to make fun of the stereotypes he expected to find at Liberty, because while there he found the stereotypes didn’t fit his new friends.  The fact that The Unlikely Disciple received a favorable review in Christianity Today from a professor at Liberty should tell you something about it. Music: David Bazan – Curse Your Branches This album, by far my favorite of the year, is simultaneously a hard album to listen to and one that I can not listen to enough.  David, formerly the lead singer of the band Pedro the Lion, presents here his most personal work, full of questions about God, faith, doubt, and what it really means to bear witness.  He grew up the son of an Assemblies of God music minister, and after walking away from his faith of his youth, came to realize that he was rejecting, not God, but rather the version of God he had grown up with.  This is an album he didn’t want to write, but after fighting it he came to terms with the fact that this is who he was – who he is – and he had no choice but to wrestle with these questions.  There is a line in “In Stitches”, the last song on the album, about the questions his daughter is now asking him about God, that keeps me awake at night. Joe Henry – Blood from Stars After hearing about Joe Henry from some of my favorite music critics for several years, I finally picked up this album when it came out back in August and was immediately blown away.  I don’t know of a better way to sum it up than Andy Whitman did in his review for Paste Magazine: “Joe Henry is a world-weary romantic; too jaded by false claims and hyped hopes to swallow the vapid Hallmark Card cliches, too cognizant of the tiny miracles of everyday existence to write off the promise and redemptive power of love.” U2 – No Line on the Horizon What really needs to be said about this album?  It’s U2 being U2, easily among their best work.  In the middle of the turn-up-your-stereo rock tracks like “Get On Your Boots,” the slower, meditative songs like “Cedars of Lebanon,” and the breathtaking “Magnificent,” we find gorgeous string counter melodies and even an eight bar French horn solo in “Unknown Caller” that adds exactly what the songs need.  And we find lyrics like these, in the middle of “Stand Up Comedy.”: Stand up, this is comedy / The DNA lottery may have left you smart. / But can you stand up to beauty, dictator of the heart? / I can stand up for hope, faith, love, / But while I’m getting over certainty / Stop helping God across the road like a little old lady. Films: I wasn’t able to narrow it down to only three, so here are my top four. Silent Light I saw this stunning Carlos Reygadas film at the Belcourt theatre here in Nashville on my birthday last year, and it ended up being a perfect way to end the day.  Set in a Mennonite community in Mexico, this is a film of breathtaking beauty, opening with a shot of early dawn, the mountains off on the horizon, a tree halfway between you and the mountains, the sounds of nature filling the air (there’s no soundtrack to distract you).  And then, over the next six or seven minutes, we are shown the rising of the sun.  It is a moment that forces you to put distractions out of your mind, to focus on what you are seeing, to be still, to meditate.  The film ends with another shot of the mountains, a sunset this time, and in-between those bookends we watch as the father of this family of seven kids struggles with whether to end an adulterous affair, to be faithful to the life he has or to pursue what he thinks he wants.  It is a film about grace and compassion and hate, about the soul-destroying cost of unfaithfulness and about love – what it demands and what it offers – and in the end, it becomes a parable about redemption. Summer Hours In this French film by Olivier Assayas, with a great ensemble cast including Juliette Binoche, we are prompted to ask questions about what makes art truly valuable, about how a global economy impacts our lives, about what it does to a society, to a family, when we have no place to go home, no place where we know we belong.  It’s a meditation on death and what we leave behind and the value of relationships.  One of the things I loved about this film was how the siblings all interacted with each other differently, depending on which siblings were in the room.  Not in a back-stabbing kind of way, but simply showing how different people, siblings maybe more than anyone, bring out different sides of us. Up Because several others have already talked about this, I’ll mention only how much I loved the music – it’s my favorite soundtrack of the year – and how amazed I am that in the second five minutes of the film – an animated film, no less – with no dialogue, only music, we are witness to the best love story that has been on the big screen in a long time. (500) Days of Summer The tag-line for this movie, starring Zooey Deschanel and Joseph Gordon-Levitt, let you know what you were in for: “This is not a love story.  This is a story about love.”  We are shown, in random order, scenes from their relationship, from when it seemed everything was perfect (with some hilarious scenes at the greeting card company they work for) to scenes from after things don’t work out.  My favorite moment involved a short black-and-white sequence where Joseph Gordon-Levitt is playing chess on the beach with Cupid, an obvious homage to the scene in Ingmar Bergman’s 1957 Swedish film The Seventh Seal where the knight is playing chess with Death on the beach.  This was the most fun I had at a theater last year. ANDREW PETERSON: Films: Where the Wild Things Are This was a close tie with Up, but it won out. Why? Because I think it took more heart, more ambition, and was a much bigger risk than the Pixar film. Oh, how this movie could have gone wrong. There could’ve been a plush toy campaign, and an annoying Eddie Murphy character or copious CGI. Instead, we got a film with lines like, “Can you take the loneliness away?” We got a film that defied convention, was beautiful, frightening, and so very true to the messy, selfish, heartbreaking, and beautiful heart of childhood. I’m thankful that in a world where films like Transformers 2 and Saw XXI are being made, Dave Eggers, Spike Jonze, and Maurice Sendak took a deep breath, a step back, and a big risk to tell this story. Which leads me to… Up Pixar is batting a thousand. True, some of their films may have missed the mark by a little (Cars comes to mind), but even their less-amazing films are heads above the competition, and they all manage to get to the heart of something. Sure, it was beautiful to look at. Sure it was suspenseful and funny when it needed to be. But in the end, this company in Hollywood released a film that was an ode to marriage. And not just marriage, but a long, faithful one. Millions of children and parents alike were given a glimpse of the fact that sometimes the husband and wife actually grow old together, selflessly love one another, and treasure the heart of another. I loved my wife more after watching this movie. Crazy, I know. Star Trek Now for the less heady fare. I’ve never been a Trekkie, but I watched plenty of the original Star Trek series when I was a kid. I also, like Andrew Osenga, have a weakness for spaceships and laser guns. So I was pumped about this film, especially knowing J.J. Abrams was at the helm of the ship. The best thing I can say about it is that when I watched it I felt the same as I did when I was a kid watching Raiders of the Lost Ark. I only wish it had been less sexy so I could bring my kids along. Food, Inc. I like meat. And I like casseroles. I don’t like Michael Moore-type films that skew the facts to push an agenda. I could be wrong, but this documentary didn’t do that. I’m sure there are more sides to the story than a 90 minute film can show, but if even a fraction of the facts this film exposes are true, then I want to know more. I’m a Wendell Berry fan, and I think he’d applaud the point this film is making. District 9 Once again, laser guns and spaceships abound. If Michael Bay and Jerry Bruckheimer (whose films I loathe) believed their audiences were intelligent, and if they were interested more in storytelling than explosives and hand-cams and frenzied editing and Aerosmith soundtracks, they still wouldn’t have been able to make a sci-fi movie this good. I saw this one with Russ Ramsey, and we both left the theater heartily surprised. I loved the unfolding realization that Wykas was in fact the hero–and his transformation (literal and figurative) was satisfying to watch. Also, spaceships. And laser guns. Inglorious Basterds Poor Thomas. This was his first RR One Minute Review, and he was lambasted with a zillion comments, some of them pretty heated. (Glad you weathered the storm, TM.) It was a good conversation, in the end, and while we may have lost a few readers, I think some folks may have reconsidered their stance on how to think about a story like this one. Of course, this film isn’t for everyone. I’m no fan of violence for its own sake. But I think Tarantino marketed this film to appear more violent than it actually was in order to draw a certain demographic into the theater–only to hold up a mirror and show us how despicable is the enjoyment of violence for its own sake. Apart from the violence (and, don’t get me wrong, after three viewings I still won’t watch some of it) I’m convinced that it might just be an ingenious film. I have a hunch it’ll be studied for years. Books: (I only recommend a few of these with a caveat. I have thus applied the MPAA rating where appropriate. Also, these aren’t all 2009 releases. Big deal.): Teaching a Stone to Talk by Annie Dillard Oh my goodness. Annie Dillard. Her writing is electric in the way that Mark Helprin’s is, but I resonate stronger with her because of her faith. If you’ve never read her work, and if Pilgrim at Tinker Creek is too intimidating, this is the book for you. It’s a collection of her non-fiction essays, none of which are too long for those of you with a short attention span. I can’t recommend this book highly enough. When I re-read it this year I stumbled on lines and ideas that I basically stole for my own songs (like “Lay Me Down”, “The Far Country”, and even “Mohawks on the Scaffold”). 100 Cupboards by N.D. Wilson Nate Wilson is one of my new favorites. I read this one aloud to my kids, and bought the sequel, Dandelion Fire, as soon as it released. The third one, The Chestnut King, releases early this year, and I’ve already pre-ordered it. Why do I like it so much? Because it’s clear that Wilson cares about sentences and words and Story–and he’s a Christian. There are moments where he speaks with a sort of literary accent that reminded me, after I thought about it, of Lewis and Tolkien. We’ll have these in the Rabbit Room store soon and very soon. Winter’s Tale by Mark Helprin I got into Mark Helprin because of Jason and Taya Gray. Jason recommended A Soldier of the Great War and I went for it–all two zillion pages of it. I’ve been a fan ever since. This is a story about New York City–sort of. Jason Germain from the band Downhere described the book to me this way: “It’s like New York City is telling you a bedtime story.” As weird as that sounds, he’s exactly right. Here are broadswords and flying horses and mysterious cloud walls and thugs and newspaper tycoons. Best of all, here’s a love story that defies the chains of Death and Time. Helprin’s sentences were dizzying. He does things with words that I would not have believed possible if I hadn’t seen the pages all but glitter before my very eyes. Helprin isn’t a Christian, but there are moments in this story when the story itself was electric with Eternity. I know that sounds weird, and there’s a better than good chance that you may read it and wonder what on earth I’m talking about. (Rated PG-13) Notes from a Tilt-a-Whirl by N.D. Wilson Here’s another from Wilson, but this one isn’t fantasy. It’s more of a wild, poetic statement of faith, and a call to reverence. Way to go, N.D.–do you mind if call you N.D.? The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet by Reif Larsen I can’t tell if this book made the list because I just finished it, or because it was that good. It’s about a twelve-year-old genius cartographer from Montana who runs away from home to visit the Smithsonian Institute. The book itself is a beauty, with the margins of nearly every page full of the boy’s maps and drawings. It’s funny, scary, thoughtful, and mysterious. The ending didn’t knock it out of the park, but I closed the book satisfied none the less. This was Larsen’s first book, which makes me a little angry. (Rated PG-13) A FURTHER COMMENT FROM JASON GRAY Andrew, first of all, I LOVE Germain’s description of Winter’s Tale!  That’s perfect… and second, I love that you rated your books.  I guess you learned your lesson after The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier And Clay incident.  (Somebody should ask Andrew to relate that story here…) And there you have it!  What do you think?  What are some of your picks for the best of 2009?

As a reader of books who also writes, I often feel a distinct, conflicting emotion when I read great books written by great writers. There is the delight, of course. Here is a person made by God doing something beautiful. Then there is the (often very slight) tinge of despair as I recognize I could never do this. This is less pointed when the genre and style are out of my own vein of writing (such as Patrick O’Brian’s books, which are, for me, an unmixed joy I hardly experience in any other fiction). I have written before on, and firmly believe in, the well-worn wisdom that it’s no use in copying others, or feeling bad about how you compare. It’s best to find your own voice and write what only you can. But still that feeling comes. “Am I kidding myself? I can’t write like this. This is art. This is compelling.” I guess part of it is simple envy, ordinary coveting. This of course, like all sin, must be rejected. I want, rather, to be the kind of man who says in his heart, like Robin Hood to Little John in the Errol Flynn film, “I love a man who can better me.” This runs quite counter to the self-important manure which passes for a philosophy of life in our envy-based culture. May it not be so in us. God be merciful to us.

“That’s the beauty of music and art is that there’s no right or wrong. Whichever way you paint the picture, you’re still painting the picture…” – Jonathan Chandler, vocalist – Amos the Transparent I was speaking with some of the members of Amos the Transparent, an up-and-coming indie rock act (aren’t they all) out of Ontario, but since they’re not really the point here, I’ll stop the bio. Our conversation turned to the subject of creativity and the beauty of art in general when one of the guys said the line above. It’s something that I agree completely with, yet I often find myself responding in the opposite way to it. “That’s not good enough!” That’s the common mantra in my head at most things I write. I can nod my head in an “Amen, sister!” sort of way when someone speaks a beautiful statement of “there is no right or wrong.” Then in a solitary confinement of my own making–surrounded by the smell of fresh coffee, the glow of my MacBook and the sounds of William Fitzsimmons–I become judge and jury to my own creative works, generally delivering a death sentence to each and every one of them. We’re all our own worst critics. I hear that from countless artists I interview and I know the dozens of unfinished projects, essays, books and articles of my own speak to the same fact. Precious few walk this earth who can care less about the interior voices, who feel free to display their paintings or writings or speeches to the greater public without fear. The last time I unveiled something with a wide smile and brimming confidence probably coincided with my fifth birthday. Since then, it’s been a downhill slope of fear and frustration. I go back to that quote however and love the way that Jonathan said it. Part of the beauty of art lies inside that freedom from the confines of what’s right or wrong, in or out. If I fail to find the freedom of that, then I lose the beauty of it–at least if the above statement is true. In other words, when I am lost in a pursuit of perfection and driving myself mad with an inability to “get it right,” I’m losing the beauty of what it is in the first place. In the endless struggle to create beauty, I’m missing the beauty in front of me. I’d love to be free again, or at the very least, to learn to be a bit more free. Of course, I want to work hard, develop my craft, hone my sentences and relentlessly edit. But often I simply shut the treasure chest and shove it back under the bed deeming all things unworthy of release–losing the beauty in the process.

In a few more days we’ll begin a new year and once again disappoint Arthur C. Clarke by failing to discover a mysterious black monolith in orbit around one of Jupiter’s moons (or Saturn’s depending on how you look at it). What can I say? Sorry, Mr. Clarke. I’ve been busy. So while I fear that I won’t be birthed out of the dawn to become the new Star Child and will therefore have to bow out of leading humanity on to its next revolution of progress and identity, I do have a few things that I want to get done and I’m excited about all of them. What follows is a list. The various items upon this list are things that, if I were the Star Child, I should like to make my top priorities. Sadly, though, Star Children are more prone to wandering in and out of the space-time continuum, being desperately cryptic, and dancing to the tune of Thus Spake Zarathustra than doing anything strictly practical. Hence my decision to decline the sojourn to Jupiter/Saturn and the subsequent star-navel-gazing that would surely follow. Note: if you aren’t a Science-Fiction nerd like me, the previous paragraphs likely make zero sense to you and you should probably just ignore them and read the following list after which you are welcome to mock my nerdery in the comments. I’ve decided to limit my list to twelve items. This gives me exactly one month to accomplish each item. Completely doable. Next year maybe I can fit in the trip to Jupiter. In a mildly particular order: Finish writing Fiddler’s Green and have it in readers’ hands by next Christmas Avoid going broke (yet again). Release three books from the Rabbit Room Press and ensure that they are not only filled with great writing but are beautiful to look at and hold in your hand. Own a bed (haven’t had one in 3 or 4 years.) Read more books than Andrew does (fair warning: this is a pipe dream). Get Sarah Clarkson’s book, Read for the Heart, into the hands of a whole bunch of people so they can learn what a great writer she is. Hear Fin Button’s name on NPR (Aim high, right?) Read more from the Bible than I do from the internet. Find a way to make 20,000 people buy the most under-listened-to album of last year, Eric Peters’s Chrome. Pay the bills by writing instead of by destroying my back and knees. Read an S.D. Smith novel. Open a physical Rabbit Room location to teach storytelling, sell books, and drink coffee.

Jesus said “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” –John 14:27 There are two seasons taking place right now. Both are filled, in part, by hope and expectation. Both have music and holly and sparkling lights. One is the Holy Season of Advent, the other is the Christmas Shopping Season. Both seasons are building up to December 25th. We live in both seasons at once, but they are not the same. Advent, on the other hand, is a peaceful place. It is peaceful because none of it depends on you. Christ came, and you can’t change that. Christ is coming, no matter what you do. You can participate by choosing to pray for his grace, by choosing to keep your eyes open. But, whether you do or not, he is likely to come and be right where you are. He comes and makes you sane. You and I experience two seasons at once. We live in Advent and the Christmas Shopping Season. By God’s grace, we can focus on one more than another. We can set aside a little anxiety today and ask for a little more peace. Perhaps, a little at a time, we may find ourselves living for a minute, or an hour, or even a full day completely in the Holy Season. Henri Nouwen, one of my personal heroes, wrote a prayer that speaks to where we are. I would like to share it with you. I commend it to your use in midst of these seasons. An Advent Prayer by Henri Nouwen Lord Jesus, Master of both the light and the darkness, send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas. We who have so much to do, seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day. We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us. We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom. We whose hearts are heavy, seek the joy of your presence. We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking light. To you we say, Come Lord Jesus…. Amen.

I love Luke’s “orderly account” of what has been accomplished by Yahweh in the first advent of Christ. We remember the true tale of how the angel Gabriel came to two people (in Luke’s account), one was a priest and the other a virgin. The priest’s wife, Elizabeth, and Mary both get a lot of time in the early part of Luke. Both are women whose station in life is in relationship to their husbands (or, in Mary’s case, her betrothed). One woman’s husband has a “secular” career, the other a religious one.  Both have a humble calling, a vocation for the lowly of spirit. Elizabeth might have had some status as the wife of a priest, but she describes herself as having a reproach upon her from her people (because she was barren). Mary would have likely had almost no status at all on her own. So who are these women in the economy of the world (especially today)? Nobodies. Both women are blessed by God in a miraculous way by miraculous pregnancies and births. Both women became catalysts for the greatest event in the history of mankind. It was not to, or through, Herod the Great that such things were accomplished. It was in spite of him. He was a mighty, important, powerful man who ruled the land. He was a man of intelligence, strength, and creativity. He was, perhaps, a genius. Let’s contrast this great man of his time with two Jewish women. Elizabeth and Mary were humble-hearted believers. What does Elizabeth say of Mary in vs. 45? How does Mary respond to truth that is good beyond measure? “Behold, I am the servant of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” What profound humility. What submission. What simple, astonishing beauty. Do not believe the horrendous, and popular, lie that “History Doesn’t Remember Obedient Women.” “From now on all generations will call me blessed,” sings humble Mary (in a Gospel-drenched, deeply theological, and lovely song). She believes. Mary hears…and believes. What is our calling? It is the same as Mary’s in that way. We must hear, and having heard: believe. Hear and believe. This requires a humble heart, because it is the abandonment of whatever status we have held on to as a coin to buy God’s favor. It is a filing for bankruptcy. It is a kneeling surrender of our sword and our rank. It is, as a wise man said, a “glorious defeat.” In Christ’s advent we celebrate the happy end of our pretended reign. There is no room for Herod the Great -clinging to his murderous self-interest. Let us look instead to believing Mary, and Elizabeth –two beautiful, humble children of God– and let us imitate their faith. Hear –and believe.

Amazing. Staggering. Jaw-dropping. Groundbreaking. Revolutionary. These are all words that have been used to describe James Cameron’s new movie, Avatar. I’m a child of the Star Wars generation so I was as eager as anyone to see something so superlative that it could “change cinema forever”. The reality is that it’s one of the most frustrating movies I’ve seen in a long time. In many ways all those adjectives people keep throwing at it are deserved, but for every moment of cinematic wonder or breathtaking beauty there’s another moment that’s hollow, wooden, corny, or ill-conceived. There’s no doubt of the movie’s visual beauty or scope but instead of a film that soars like the characters of its story, it falls to the ground in a sloppy mess that somehow manages to get back up and sputter along in spite of itself. The problem, Mr. Cameron, is writing. This is a script that a film school drop-out could scratch up in a couple of weekends. For crying out loud, the film’s McGuffin is called “Un-obtaintium”. You heard me right. Un-obtainium! Sadly, the true unobtainable element here isn’t some rare metal, it’s depth and grace. I simply cannot understand how or why someone would spend a decade of their lives and hundreds of millions of dollars pouring their heart and soul into a creation that is not only fundamentally flawed, but could have been easily fixed and elevated to the level of a masterwork by someone with an eye for cinematic poetry, an ear for dialogue, and a knack for sub-text. There’s nothing wrong with the story itself here. Sure, it boils down to Dances with Blue Aliens, but that’s a solid storyline with the potential to resonate deeply with a lot of people. But even a great story needs to be written in a way that’s compelling. And a great storyteller, especially a filmmaker, has to trust his audience enough not to tell them everything. It occurred to me while watching it that while James Cameron is brilliant at orchestrating action, he hasn’t yet in his career learned to communicate more than one thing at a time with his camera. You won’t find any mise-en-scene in a Cameron picture. You won’t hear any depth to what characters say; they say exactly what they think and if someone hasn’t said it explicitly, then instead of letting the camera do the talking (or the audience do the thinking), Cameron inserts a clunky voice-over just to make sure we understand. He assumes we are unable to interpret the images on the screen ourselves because he is himself unsure of what he is using them to tell us–unless he’s telling us about the action. In a way, Avatar is like the malformed mirror image of a good book. With a book, the characters and the world are never seen. It’s the job of the reader’s imagination to flesh them out and make them real and the cinema of the mind will always rise to the task given it by the written word. On the other hand, in Avatar the imagination is all up on the screen just as brightly and majestically as we’d have created it in our dreams but regrettably, there’s little in the prose calling it to task. To be fair, in the end I liked the movie, I really enjoyed it and I’d encourage people to see it (do NOT wait for the DVD.) It’s truly amazing to watch and when it’s good, when there’s action on the screen, when it’s doing something other than exposition or clunking its way through the story, it’s breathtaking. But I’m so very disappointed that I can’t say i loved it. I can’t say it moved me. It should have, I wanted it to, I tried to let it, but James Cameron is going to have to learn something of the written word and the language of cinema before he’s able to draw me along with anything other than his spectacle and action.

“Every place that the sole of your foot shall tread upon, that have I given unto you.” (Josh 1:3) This blessed inspiring word greeted Israel as they faced the Promised Land. They had the promise of it before; now they must go forward into it and place their feet upon it. The promise is in the perfect tense and denotes an act just now completed – “That have I given unto you.” Our Joshua gives us the same incentive for conquest: every promise in the New Testament that we put our feet upon is ours! The upland of spiritual power is yours though Anak may live there! It is yours if you will but go against him and drive him out of his strongholds, in the might of The Name. If we dare to place our food on anything God has promised He makes it real to us. So take Him as the supply for all your need: believe He is yours and never doubt it from this moment. It may be your need is for spiritual cleansing. His promise covers this: “Now ye are clean through the word which I have spoken unto you.” If you can believe this you shall be sanctified and kept.. Take the promise that suits your need, and step out on it; not touching it timidly on tiptoe, but placing your foot flat down upon it. Do not be afraid it will not hold your weight. Put your whole need on the Word of the eternal God for your soul, for your body, for your work, for the dear ones for whom you are praying, for any crisis in your life: then stand upon it forever! All the blessed promises of the Old Book are yours, and why are you so slack to go up and possess your land? The size of your inheritance depends upon how much land you have trodden underfoot, really stood on or walked over. Between you and your possessions that huge mountain looms up. March up to it and make it yours! Go in this thy might and God will get glory; and you, victory. Footprints mean possession, but it must be your own footprints. Written by A.B. Simpson Albert Benjamin Simpson (December 15, 1843 – October 29, 1919) (A.B. Simpson) was a Canadian preacher, theologian, author, and founder of The Christian and Missionary Alliance (A.W. Tozer’s denomination), an evangelical Protestant denomination with an emphasis on global evangelism.

What makes for great art? I won’t say I have no idea, but I am certainly on the shallow end of the pool, treading slowly and carefully deepward. One thing that does appear essential to me is the idea of limits. Without limits, and maybe more importantly, contrast, we don’t have much to show that will harmonize with reality on any level. Never mind delight. When I had the rare chance to learn from the brilliant Orson Scott Card, one thing he emphasized in world creation was this idea of limits. Our group had a long, involved, discussion that he directed on the limits of magic in stories. He emphasized that characters who can do anything and are not opposed by evil, even strong evil, are not memorable, or worthwhile. He pointed out that Superman, at one point, had blown out a sun with his breath (like a candle). Boring. Good job Superman, but what now? Can this be the least bit interesting from here on? He said that shortly after that kryptonite was introduced, saving the character. This is why, perhaps, Batman is so much easier (seems to me) to tell a good story about than Superman. Give me a limited, even a self-limited, character any day. Limits are essential; cost is essential. Pain, suffering, and struggle are central to all worthwhile storytelling. And so it is with the life of man. We are, after all, art.

It was a long, long time ago. We were all alone on Christmas Eve. Having read the second chapter of Luke and as the tree lights blinked slowly in the dark, my wife Debi, son Eric, and I considered what to do.  Traditionally, one of our family gatherings—the McLey side of the family—took place on Christmas Eve. But as sometimes happens in families, in an attempt to accommodate multiple scheduling considerations, the McLey’s joined together on another day. So there we were, alone, quietly pondering what to do on the night before Christmas. Open Door Mission. We had long written checks to the Mission a few times each year. They were on our list of favorite charities. One Thanksgiving, we drove up to the back door and dropped off a couple of turkeys and some old clothes. We felt so noble. But in fact, it was the closest we had ever come to the inside of the building, or the people inside the building. As my wife hung up the phone in the kitchen, it sounded like we had an invite. She said the person that answered the phone cheerily invited us to “Come on down.” Indeed there was a Christmas Eve service, it started in an hour, and we were invited. We had just enough time to change clothes and drive to the east side of town for worship. As we headed out the door, I ask my wife what kind gathering they had planned. It’s been long enough ago, that I can’t remember her exact reply, but the bottom line was—she didn’t have a clue. I remember being warmly welcomed. Our hosts were gracious as could be. The usher wanted to make sure that we were comfortable and had a good view, so he took us to the middle section, about three rows back, as if we were special guests of some kind. First, there were gifts for all, mittens, gloves, and warm winter coats. Toys for the children. Bags stuffed with toothpaste, shampoo, and hand soap. Each person had a wrapped present to open. As names were called, each person made the walk from the pew, down the aisle, and up to the front. As each present was given, many of the residents had tears in their eyes. A few seemed embarrassed. Their sense of gratitude was palpable, as if each one had been given a rare diamond. As I surreptitiously glanced around me, watching the charity procession, something didn’t seem quite as I anticipated. I had expected a mixed group, patrons, donors, staff, and some residents. What became slowly, but increasingly apparent was that we were the only non-residents in the entire congregation. That horrible feeling of being overdressed and out of place rushed over me, a nauseously sheepish sense of foreboding. We had crashed a private party and I nervously started looking for the nearest exit sign. Before we could escape, the first group hymn commenced. As the early bars of “Hark the Herald Angels Sing,” filled the room, I smelled beer wafting through the congregation. Half way through the song, when the feeble old man to our left—with a weeks worth of beard stubble and a crooked smile—leaned down to put his arm around my eight year-old son, I realized the source of the beer smell. Pastor Bob Timberlake delivered a message of hope and joy. It was short, sweet, simple, and moving. As the night continued to unfold, I remember forgetting about myself. A warm glow, a relaxed sense of well being, saturated my soul. As millions worshiped around the world with us on Christmas Eve, I had the sense that on this night, we were exactly where we needed to be. Then the band played. You have never seen such a rag-tag group of musicians in your life. The brass was tarnished and bent. Their clothes were threadbare and their instruments were out of tune and out of time. Still, they played. And I cried. In “Hold Me Jesus,” Rich Mullins wrote: And the Salvation Army band Is playing this hymn And Your grace rings out so deep It makes my resistance seem so thin Whenever I hear that song, in my mind’s eye I see those homeless men playing their hearts out, with kindness, gratitude, and love in their hearts. The lump in my throat twitches, and nearly explodes. And I’m thankful and joyful. Not because I’m not like them, but because I want to be like them. It’s the opposite of superiority; it’s something like humility. As the service concluded, we were greeted sweetly by our new friends. Pastor Bob smiled, approached us, and hugged our necks. He asked us to come back for a tour after New Years Day and we talked about more personal ways in which we might be able to help the Mission. As we left, he apologized that the group didn’t have a gift for us. Pastor Bob has since gone on to be with the Lord, but I hope on this night—The Night Before Christmas at The Open Door Mission—that he sensed through our misty eyes and feeble, Thank you, that his group had delivered a most precious gift, a heartfelt memory which our family opens every year at about this time.

Jesus said “But understand this: If the owner of the house had known at what time of night the thief was coming, he would have kept watch and would not have let his house be broken into. So you also must be ready, because the Son of Man will come at an hour when you do not expect him.” Matthew 24:43-44 Two nights ago. At one o’clock in the morning, I was downstairs in our den. I had twisted the television set around so I could get behind it. Squinting, I was writing down the serial number written on the metal plate on the back side. For whatever reason (fear mainly) this seemed like a good thing to do in the middle of the night. As a husband and father of two little girls, I am very aware of the threat of home invasion. We have an alarm system which we arm at night or whenever we leave the house. We have a dog. We have a fenced in backyard that I keep chained and locked. We lock our cars and our house. We are also capable of defending our home if we are present. And now I have recorded the serial numbers of all our major electronic devises. We are careful. As careful as we are, however, I know that a person who really wants to break into my house can do it. With all the burglaries of the last few weeks, I’m even beginning to get this sick feeling that such a crime is inevitable. If not soon, then someday. Preparation is important, but ultimately I am not in control. There is nothing I can do to stop it. In the Bible reading above, Christ compares himself to a thief who breaks in to someone’s house. Jesus says that if the home owner had known when the thief was coming, he could have stopped him. If my friend down the street had know what time the burglars were coming, I guarantee there would have been a shotgun waiting for them! My friend didn’t know when they were coming, and we don’t know when to expect Christ. Advent is a time of preparation, but it is also a time to expect the inevitable. Yes, we can pray and fast and give and prepare our hearts for Christ. We should do these things. Yet Advent is also a time to be aware that we are not in control. No matter what we do, or don’t do, Christ is going to show up. He’s going to come into our lives whether we ask him to or not. We might as well get used to it. I have a sign on the door to my office. It reads, in Latin (because I’m just that pompous) “Vocatus atque non vocatus Deus aderit.” Translated: “Called or not called, God is present.” The Christ who came as a baby, the Christ who will come as judge, and the Christ who comes into our daily lives will come, whether we call him or not. He doesn’t need our summons. I don’t know if that comforts you or scares you today. Maybe a bit of both. Either way, this Christ is the one who loves us. As C.S. Lewis said of Aslan, he’s wild but he’s also good. I welcome his coming.

Much of the Christian life is confronting the difference between our programmed world-think and the Word of God. We’re to make a faith-choice on the side of the Word. Author Dan Stone once said, “People say what they really think after the ‘but’.” Like this: “She’s really a nice person, but…” “Yes, the Bible says we’re saved by grace through faith, but…” We often take a truth and plunk a big but down on it in an attempt to suffocate the truth’s implications. How many of us believe the Word without putting a “but” afterward? “But” is like “positional” in that both words are often used as an end-run around the truth to lessen the showdown between world-think and Word. The word “positional” often pushes the truth into some far off some-day rather than allowing us to access and appropriate the truth here and now when we really need it. Word: “And having been set free from sin, you became slaves of righteousness.” Rom 6:18 World-Think: Yes, we’re set free from sin and slaves of righteousness positionally, but we’re still sinners so we sin. Word: “Therefore, my brethren, you also have become dead to the law….” Rom 7:4a. World-Think: Yes, of course – but we’re dead to the ceremonial law, not the moral law. Word: “I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” Gal 2:20 World-Think: We have been crucified with Christ – positionally. We have to die to self because the old man comes down from the Cross. Word: “My little children, I am writing these things to you so that you may not sin.” 1John 2:1 World-Think: Yes we’re not supposed to sin but we can’t really help it because we’re sinners. Word: “If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins, and cleanse us of all unrighteousness.” World-Think: Yes, that’s wonderful, but my particular sin is too awful (or besetting, or addictive). World-think robs us of using our inheritance in Christ now, when we really need it. This is our one chance in all of eternity to appropriate real, usable power and virtue in order to spit in the face of world-think. Here and now is where we choose to rely on Christ within us as the source of everything we need for life and godliness – or not. Our choices here will resound throughout eternity, rewards eternally given or eternally lost. World-think says Don’t take the Word literally; it can’t mean exactly what it says. Put a “but” after it and qualify it, weaken it, water it down. World-think is insidious, detrimental, and ultimately devastating to our Christian walk. It has its origin in Satan’s own mind.

Russ Ramsey: On Andy Gullahorn’s previous release, “Reinventing the Wheel,” he sang, “I love the music that I grew up on, when the business was all about the song.” Jason, you have had the opportunity to write songs with Andy, and in fact one track the two of you wrote for your Acoustic Storytime record is also on Andy’s new record. Many people I know who have written with Gully have spoken very highly of his ability to craft a song. As a songwriter, what does Andy contribute to your songwriting process that you might not have working alone? Jason Gray: Well, let me begin by telling you that we have a stuffed Superman in our house that bears a remarkable resemblance to Andy, and I’ve told him that when I’m dealing with a particularly difficult lyric, I’ll prop up Super Andy to boost my morale.  It’s comforting to imagine he’s there with me…  (is that creepy?) But let me back up and name my 5 favorite living songwriters: Fans of folk music will recognize the name of David Wilcox, whose very name is like a secret handshake among singer/songwriter enthusiasts. He’s a giant of the genre, the epitome of the literate, brilliant, quirky songwriter.  And he’s a fan of Andy’s.  That’s a huge endorsement – though Andy hardly needs it since his songs speak so much for themselves. My experience has been that Andy is an artist’s artist, but he is also very conscientious of the audience he writes for, and you can sense that by how relatable his songs are.  Some writers pander to their audience (which is not love but manipulation), other writers are so passionate about their art that they can become self-indulgent (which isn’t manipulation, but rather self-love).  But Andy’s songs, while smart, are never out of reach for the average listener.  And though he’s incredibly intelligent, he writes from and to the heart – (and sometimes the gut when he lands another amazing payoff line, the kind that takes the wind out of you a bit when it hits you – like a sucker punch of love!) Our song “Why You Brought Me Here” is one of my three favorite songs I’ve been privileged to be a part of.  To have it included on this record… Well… To be honest, I’m kind of geeking out over the whole thing.  I love his recording of it. You asked what Andy contributes to my process, maybe the best way to explain it is that, while you know you’re in the room with a master, he makes you feel like he’s a fan of you and what you bring to his table.  He’s generous to write with. I should say, too, that he’s refreshing to write with in a town where it’s either all about the commerce or all about the art.  It’s hard to find a person who loves the art, but recognizes that if we’re to make a living doing this, you have to aim for a song connecting with an audience, and if we can shape a song to have a catchy hook that might help it’s chances at radio or with a broader audience, it’s a challenge he’s willing to take up. I think the work he’s done with his wife Jill Phillips demonstrates this.  Why she isn’t the biggest female Christian artist out there, I have no idea.  Both of them write songs of depth and intelligence that are so dang catchy… “Writing On The Wall” anyone? Why isn’t that a platinum record?! But back to Andy’s new record: All the usual things that I’ve come to love and expect from an Andy Gullahorn record are here, but it all feels weightier to me.  Andy and I are nearly the same age, and I know I’ve been grappling with getting older, realizing that many things I hoped I’d accomplish might be slipping beyond my reach, and a burgeoning awareness of how flawed I am and wrong about so many things – all of this accompanied by a mellowing and easy confidence in God’s grace and also who he’s made me to be.  I feel all these things at play with this with this record.  Parenthood, doubts, self-doubts, and even the clinging on to youth in the title track.  And then there’s the beauty of a line like “I could be nobody as long as I’m someone to you…” You perfectly summed up the Andy Gullahorn experience with your review of his last record in the words “nervous laughter”.  What do you think the source of our nervous laughter is with this record? Russ: Yeah, I was thinking about the whole “Nervous Laughter” concept with this new record. I’m going to risk the perils of comparison and talk about this record in the context of his other two—and please know I LOVE his other records, so the comparison I’m about to make is not about one record being better than another. In fact, I’ll even go so far as to say I believe Gully is one of those rare artists whose “catalog” of work holds together and, if the listener is willing, can take us to deeply profound places of humility, repentance and worship. His first record, “Room to Breathe,” is at the same time wise, sober and funny. It is a record we can take in from a distance if we want, as if Andy is standing out there in our front yard singing to us. The whole neighborhood comes out and listens. We learn. We laugh. It’s really great. Really. But then comes “Reinventing the Wheel.” It goes even deeper in its wisdom, sobriety and humor.  All of the sudden Andy is standing in our living room. Now it’s just us and our closest family members and maybe a friend or two.  He’s a bit more serious. He’s singing about miscarriage. He’s singing about how we become the people we are. He’s demanding that we not give up on our marriages. He’s telling us stories and challenging us to love well, live well and he’s still making us laugh. Only we’re wise to the fact that Andy’s humor demands something of us—vulnerability. But we trust each other, so we’re game. We’ll try to go where he wants to take us. With “The Law of Gravity,” it is as if Andy singles me out and leads me into the kitchen to have a frank, man-to-man conversation. He’s asking me if I’m only playing at marriage? Would I quit if things go bad enough? Am I digging in, resisting the change in perspective parenting requires? Are my kids a burden or a joy? Am I investing in them, regardless of their response? Is there anything God could take from me that would make me want to walk away from Him? Without a shred of malice, his questions are earnest, pointed and personal. I think this is one of the great benefits of having Andy’s entire catalog—we see him develop as a songwriter. But even more, if we’re careful listeners, we’ll see ourselves developing as men and women too. Jason: Russ, you’re insights here are so good, this is exactly what this record feels like.  Man, you should be Andy’s PR person!  (I’m just wondering if he takes us to the kitchen for this record, where will he take us next – the bathroom? Yikes. What will he think when he finds Super Andy already there?) The Law of Gravity” some more today one of the things that came into focus is the way Andy uses his amazing sense of humor. While most people use humor as a diversion – a way to hide and keep people at a safe distance – Andy does the exact opposite. His sense of humor draws you in and puts you at ease, like  it’s his way of whistling in the dark for us as he invites us on his guided tour of the darkened rooms of the heart that require our attention but that we might otherwise feel threatened by. He writes funny lyrics, but it’s rarely the laugh that he’s going for.  He’s going for our heart.  A good example of this on the new record is “New Pair Of Eyes”: He peed All over my Sunday clothes Just like a fire hose That left me soaking And you’d think That anger would rage inside But the opposite was true that night Much to my surprise Cause it’s amazing what you’ll do… When it’s a new pair of eyes you’re looking through… Then he cuts to the heart of parenting and how it’s the beautiful way that God begins to set us free from our selfishness with: Someday You might have kids of your own And everything you think you know Will be worth nothing at all But if you doubt you can love someone more than your life I think you’re gonna find When you hold that baby It’s amazing what you’ll do… When it’s a new pair of eyes you’re looking through…” Another great example of this is “I Haven’t Either”: Have you ever been so selfish that you let your baby cry While you finished up a video game I haven’t either That’s pretty bad He begins, and so does the nervous laughter, but then: Have you ever made a promise to yourself a thousand times Just to break it over and over again I haven’t either Only people with problems do that kind of thing… And of course this is his way of helping us to take a good look in the mirror, helping us to face up to not only our selfishness, but the crippling shame that accompanies it.  (readers will have to get the record to hear where the song goes from there ; -) Andy’s sense of humor is like a dose of anesthetic before he begins heart surgery on us.  I mentioned his relationship to David Wilcox earlier, and I’m remembering a conversation with Andy about how David really takes his vocation as a kind of healer very, very seriously.  Andy recounted how he was at a retreat where David sang an impromptu song  to someone who was going through a difficulty –  like he opened his heart and mind up to be a conduit of God’s grace and healing and a song came in that moment that was like a blessing over the person he sang it to. I wonder as I listen to this record of Andy’s if David’s reverence for their shared vocation informed these new songs.  I don’t mean to get all mystical here, but it feels like there’s a renewed sense of purpose in these new songs, and as I listen they come to me like little prayers for our healing and wholeness. Russ: I remember in seminary how one of my professors tried to convey to us that we were probably misreading the Old Testament if we were imposing pop-psychology on people like Abraham, Moses or David, reading their words and then asking “What did they mean by that? What were they feeling when they said it.” His point was that the Hebrew culture in those days was pretty direct. They were much more pragmatic than mystical. If Jacob thought Rachel was pretty, it was probably because she was, forgive me, smokin’ hot, not because she reminded him of his first broken heart from when he was just a teenager and the local bully danced with his girlfriend all night at homecoming. I say this because while you and I both notice and appreciate a mystical quality to Andy’s ability to craft and then deliver a song, correct me if this hasn’t been your experience, but Andy comes across as one of the least mystical guys I know. Don’t misunderstand. He is brilliant, sensitive, thoughtful—every bit the artist. But he is also very much a meat and potatoes sort of guy—which is evident throughout the minimalist production and instrumentation in every one of his recordings. And this is one of the places where I believe Andy is contributing something very important. I believe artists often run to a haven of emotionalism and mystical vagueness because we find in it a place where no one can really question our motives or recognize that our inaction is based in fear. We can talk about the messiness of our lives, but not in a way where we ever have to answer for it because we present ourselves as people who are too deep to know, too wise to access and too allegorical to question directly. Andy, on the other hand, stands with his feet on the ground. He doesn’t mince words. For example, he sings a song about how selfishness in marriage takes time to overcome. But we don’t have to wonder if his aim is merely that we would nod in agreement at his astute observation, because he ends that song with the ever so clear “Don’t throw in the towel.” In his songwriting, Andy isn’t just showing off his catalog of wisdom and insight. He is sharing his insights and then taking a stand, planting his feet with a clear statement we can either reject or accept. But at least it is clear. I think for any artist who really takes the time to digest what Andy creates, he will raise their game. He will help them be more honest, more direct, more transparent. He will help them be more than they are. Jason: This is something I was trying to get to earlier in our conversation, that he isn’t like most artist’s I know.  He doesn’t have the typical artist temperament.  He is very meat and potatoes, you’re right, and also brilliant (not that the two are mutually exclusive).  And even though he jokes about it on this record, he really does write songs for the “workin’ man” in that they are attainable for anyone – Andy knows some Kingdom secrets, but instead of making them the domain of the privileged elite, he’s making copies of the keys to unlock them and handing them out at the tail-gate party before the big game. I think too that his smarts are very inconspicuous, and with each album increasingly invisible, meaning that his intelligence doesn’t call attention to itself.  It’s the best kind of humility. And you’re right, there’s no ambiguity to what he’s saying.  Now I do love mystery and the mystical in art from time to time, and I can be a fan of arcane lyrics – I think of Sufjan Stevens, Mark Heard, or even Peter Gabriel – but even though Andy’s lyrics are straightforward, the truth is that he’s still mining the great mysteries.  And in fact, my own experience has been that the hardest song to write is the song of depth and complexity that has a simple lyric. He makes it sound easy. The funny thing about you and me talking about him like this is I imagine it might make him laugh – because every time I try to describe him, the descriptors I keep reaching for make him sound larger than life, but like you’re saying: he’s just Andy. Russ: Ha! I’m so glad you mentioned wondering about Andy’s reaction to this little conversation about him behind his back. You think he’d laugh. At a couple points I’m figuring he’s rolling his eyes. And yet that’s the intangible quality I think we’re both admiring here– his apparent effortlessness in saying something simply, clearly and powerfully. I’ve only had it a few days, so I’m still digesting it, but my early favorites are “Someone To You” and the two that were on Jill’s last record, “Any Other Way” and “Resurrection”. And though it feels a bit immodest, “Why You Brought Me Here”.  Andy’s version is so great!  He made a few lyric tweeks since I recorded it that I love and I think it’s just a great production.  I recorded it for a live record very shortly after we wrote it and barely knew it at that point.  Andy’s performance of it here sounds so mature and “lived-in”. And that guitar playing. Dang. There’s more production on this record than the previous ones – drums even – but it’s so inconspicuous you hardly realize it.  It’s all serving the lyric.  And the strings on this record sound really good, too – both the parts and the way they were recorded/mixed.  I think this is Andy’s best sounding record as well as some of his best songs. Russ: I love “Sins of the Father” because this is right where I’m living. I love how Andy doesn’t apologize for the fact that his best efforts as a dad probably still hit his kids the same as most other’s parents best efforts do. Some take root, some fall flat. Oh how we wish our kids could hear us. There isn’t a shred of “Let me teach you how to parent “God’s Way” with Andy, just a humble appeal for the grace of God to work through what he has to give, with a committment to stay engaged in his kids lives. Also, I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the opening line to the record. “If you came expecting to get nothing back, you’ll get nothing back. What did you expect?” It lands like a punch that asks the hearer if we’re willing to have our cynicism challenged. That line itself tells you the rest of the song will be top shelf. Jason: Yeah, that is a GREAT opening line. I remember Andrew Peterson sending me my first Andy Gullahorn record a number of years ago, and he told me that Andy was a part of a group of guys that would meet regularly and swap new songs they were working on.  He said it was a little irritating because Andy always won. Russ: Yeah, AP always says it wasn’t a contest, but Gullahorn still always won. I wonder if Gully ever cared about that? I seriously doubt he’ll tell us.

A “collect” (pronounced with the emphasis on the first syllable) is a short form of Christian prayer. It is written to be used in public worship, and has several traditional elements. In the Anglican Church, we are given a collect for each Sunday of the Church year. So, Easter Sunday has a special collect, as does the Sunday closest to September 22nd, as do they all. These are called the “Collect of the Day.” Having grown up in this tradition, and having now been ordained (in a few days) for eleven years, I’m familiar with all the Collects of the Day. Since I was a child, my favorite of all of them has been the Collect for the First Sunday in Advent. It was written by the great Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Cranmer, and first appeared in the 1549 edition of the Book of Common Prayer. Here it is, as he wrote it: Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life, in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious Majesty, to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, now and ever. Amen. Advent, the season that begins this year on Sunday, November 29, is the first portion of the Christian Year. It is the time in which the Church prepares for both the First Coming of Christ (the Incarnation) and also for the Second Coming (the End of the Age). You see both of these in this collect. ‘This mortal life in which Christ came to visit us in great humility” is his incarnation. “The last day, when he shall come again” is his second coming. The poetry of the prayer is based in part on the New Testament reading that was appointed for this day back in 1549. Romans 13:12 says “The night is far spent, the day is at hand; let us therefore cast off the works of darkness and let us put on the armour of light.” The prayer weaves together the reading, as well as the meaning of the season. More importantly, it asks God for a two fold grace. First, that by grace we will put away the works of darkness. With God’s help we will repent, leave behind our wicked ways. Second, that by grace we will put on the armor of light, the whole armor of God in Ephesians 6:10 etc. Both the First and Second Coming are about light coming into the world, as in John 1:4 etc. So the prayer uses the imagery of light and darkness, as well as other poetic use of the English language like “this mortal life” vs “the life immortal.” It is a beautiful prayer, a poetic prayer. It is a prayer that is founded in the Bible, as prayer is at its best. It is also a prayer that opens us up to God’s special grace during this holy season. In the midst of all the shopping and driving and football and everything else that these last few days have been about, it is a door to the Reality of the season. I commend it to your use, but today and in the season to come.

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. The novel tracks the adventurous life of Phineas (Fin) Michael Button from birth to early adulthood, which happens to occur during the American Revolution. As an infant, Fin Button had the misfortune of being the thirteenth girl born to a father that wanted and expected his first boy. So he assigned her to a Georgia orphanage where she is raised by a cast of interesting characters. Phineas Michael Button’s name isn’t the only thing about her that is androgynous. In fact, androgynous may be a word that is too charitable. There is little about Fin Button that is overtly feminine, at least in the classic sense. She is irascible, rebellious, and opinionated, with an appearance and bearing closer to a man, notwithstanding her smallish size. Despite her petulant nature, we detect something good and honorable within her and Fin’s waspish behavior at the orphanage proves to be good training for that which comes later in her life. One doesn’t usually associate humor with historical fiction, but The Fiddler’s Gun contains hilarious situational comedy. It’s rare to laugh out loud when reading, even when something is genuinely funny, but I often found myself laughing aloud at the absurd, outlandish drollery of Fin Button. (Like the time she fills Sister Hilde’s shoes with cow dung.) We laugh in the same way a grandparent might; the responsibility of discipline rests with another, so we can cackle without consequence. One character that is particularly well developed is Sister Hilde, the head of the orphanage. Peterson spends a fair bit of time describing this self-righteous woman’s nose, which seems to have a personality all its own. It’s a nose that is perfectly at home on her face. Fin relishes the opportunity to pop the balloon of Sister Hilde’s often questionable plans and policies and conversely, Sister Hilde seems to have developed a personal vendetta against Ms. Button and takes every opportunity to prove it. Sister Hilde is Fin’s polar opposite. In Fin we see a person whose behavior is sometimes bad, but who’s heart seems like something closer to good. In Sister Hilde, we discern someone whose behavior is apparently good, but whose heart we often question. Sister Hilde will fool many with her pious, self-righteous demeanor, but careful observers will sense something more poisonous under her skin. It may be unfair to call her bad; maybe misguided is a better word. Brother Bartimaeus, the kindly cook, is a plain-spoken man who harbors secrets from a shady past. Brother Bart long ago found redemption, which finds expression in the way he lives his life and the lovely music he plays on his fiddle. If The Fiddler’s Gun, were a film, Brother Bart would be off-screen much of the time. Still, his influence on Fin extends much deeper than his “screen time.” To Fin, he becomes a father figure, spiritual mentor, and guidance counselor all rolled up into one. Even when he’s not referenced, we sense he is looking over Fin’s shoulder. The tension is multiplied when the American War of Independence begins to smolder. 9/11 notwithstanding, it’s been a long time since Americans have experienced the physical presence of the enemy in our own backyard. Peterson’s novel is a reminder of how terrifying such a situation might be. Like all historical fiction, The Fiddler’s Gun, is based on elements of true life and real people. For example, it may be said that Fin Button resembles the historical person, Nancy Hart (also known as The Georgia War Woman). Much of Ms. Hart’s real life is hard to separate from legend and folklore, which makes it perfect as a model for a primary character in historical fiction. The author can take what is known and speculated, and use his imagination to run with it. And run Peterson does. He carries us vicariously on a mad dash of high adventure, an obstacle course of pirate ships, mutiny, bloody battles, and Red Coats hidden in the shadows. A.S. Peterson is the older brother of recording artist/author/storyteller Andrew Peterson. It’s unfair to A.S. “Pete” Peterson, but for context and informational purposes, it must be noted. Younger brother, Andrew Peterson, has earned a reputation for top shelf, quality work which might seem to set an unfair precedent for his older brother. But this reference is not offered only for the reader’s information, but also to make it known that the elder Peterson shares his brother’s attention to detail, gift with words, and appreciation for beauty. I don’t think it’s a stretch to say that if you enjoy Andrew Peterson’s work, there’s high probability that you will appreciate the work of A.S. Peterson too. Fans of The Fiddler’s Gun will be delighted to know that there is a sequel on the way. The Fiddler’s Gun is the first of two books, concluding with the forthcoming Fiddler’s Green. Initially, The Fiddler’s Gun is exclusively available right here in the Rabbit Room but there’s an audiobook and a Kindle ebook on the way as well. It’s clear that A.S. Peterson has the writer’s gift. His prose is carefully crafted, with painstaking attention to detail. On the other hand, as I read The Fiddler’s Gun I wasn’t pondering the intricacies of his well-crafted fiction–I had my hands full thinking about the characters, the story, and considering what might come next. And after all is said and read, isn’t that one of the best compliments one can give an author?

“Kids deserve good music too.” That’s the philosophy behind the fantastic new record from Katy Bowser, Chris Donohue, and friends, Coal Train Railroad. Continuing in the grand tradition of great jazz music for kids like A Charlie Brown Christmas and the Peanuts specials, Katy has made a record with some of the best jazz players in Nashville with lyrics that kids – and adults – will love to sing along with. With titles like Belly Button, I Need a Nap, and Snuggling, you know you’re in for a good time. Here’s what Katy wrote on her blog about the project: “After many years of dreaming, writing, tweaking, recording and planning, we are releasing Coal Train Railroad on Thanksgiving Day. It’s great jazz for kids! Coal Train is a collaboration between Katy Bowser and Chris Donohue. It’s music about kid stuff- juice, snuggling, naps, getting along, sharing- with music that we can all enjoy together.” I can’t wait to play this record for my friends’ kids and hear them running around the house, singing along with My Mouth and Me, trying to make all the same noises that are on the record, or snuggling close while listening to some of the slower songs. One of Katy’s friends said it best: “Buy one for each child in your life. If there are no children in your life, get a new life.” I could have spent the whole blog post talking about how great Katy’s melodies are on this project. I haven’t been able to get I Need a Nap or What’s Mine is Yours out of my head since I first heard them. And the music, wow. Jeff Coffin, the saxophone player for the Grammy award-winning Béla Fleck and the Flecktones, currently on tour with the Dave Matthew Band, has some great solos here, and Rod McGaha’s trumpet tones are the perfect accompaniment. A friend of mine, Scott Hallgren, who has worked with Donna Summer, Elton John, Margaret Becker, and Fernando Ortega, just to name a few, is also a great jazz pianist, and his voicings support Katy’s voice beautifully. If you pre-order Coal Train Railroad before Thanksgiving, you get an immediate download of two songs, plus a bonus track on Thanksgiving. Time’s running out, so place your order soon.

My Mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer just a few short months ago. Despite my aunt’s continual efforts to study up and get her to the best doctors, and even after a completely successful operation at Johns Hopkins, a short time later the cancer went to her liver. Mom came to our house after that, to juice vegetables, to eat a raw food diet. In the end it didn’t cure her, but she never went through the uglier symptoms usually associated with liver failure – vomiting, and extreme pain. Her end was peaceful and with relatively little pain, which my aunt attributed to raw food and juicing. Beyond bodily illness, psychologically and spiritually it was a great gift to have her there sitting at my table every day, reading the Word together, talking, laughing. It was healing for me, and I know for Mom as well, on a level beyond the physical. God brought us a closeness in those last weeks that I will always treasure. In late October three of my cousins flew to North Carolina, where my aunt and uncle and Mom live. We loaded Mom into a padded and blanketed nest in the back of the van on a Thursday; she had been getting weaker in the past few days and couldn’t make the whole trip sitting up. The visit in North Carolina was deep and rich and hilarious; to have a bunch of us together again after such a long time apart was healing, strengthening. It was over all too soon, and on Sunday and Monday my cousins said their goodbyes to us all, and especially to Mom. Her passing the next day was one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. I had been playing guitar hymns for her that morning, and her breaths were getting more and more shallow, eyes half open and not looking at anything in particular. I called my aunt when her breathing changed, and told Mom that Jesus was going to come for her soon, that she needed to go with Him, that indescribable glory beyond anything she’d ever experienced was waiting for her. My aunt and uncle arrived, and for the last twenty minutes of Mom’s life my aunt laid behind her on the bed, hugging her; my uncle stood directly behind his wife; my wife Sandra sat next to me and held Mom’s hand as I held Mom’s cheek and forehead with my hands and looked straight into her eyes. We prayed, sang hymns, and told her to go with Jesus when the time came. She had been breathing through her mouth for awhile, and her breaths weren’t going down into her lungs much anymore. We were in the middle of singing “Jesus Loves Me” when Mom opened both of her blue eyes wide, and she looked above my head and past me. She held her gaze there, in wide-eyed wonder, for about twenty seconds, then closed them both shut and smiled a big smile. At that moment Sandra told my uncle, “Feel the goose bumps on her arms.” Her body lived for less than a minute more, but I know she left her body with the blue-eyed wonder, that smile, and those goose bumps. I saw no fear, only amazement and joy in her eyes. She reveled in His glory, felt the thrill in her body, smiled like a lamb, and took His hand. Blessed be the name of the Lord. Joyce Marilyn Block: Sept 1, 1940 – Oct 21, 2009

Android: A human-like machine. Factoid: People are becoming symbiotic in their relationship with their computers. Fact: Everyone is officially on Twitter. Plus if you’re really famous you’re probably on there at least twice, once with “fake” in front of your name. Of course most people are fake enough on Twitter anyway. Not me, but other people who hack my account. I made fun of Twitter publically in a Rabbit Room post a few weeks prior to joining up myself. Can you say “hypocrisy” with less than 140 characters? Ron Block promptly called me a “Twaitor.” That is one of the most brilliant rejoinders I have ever been on the receiving end of. He should have tweeted it on Twitter so someone could actually read it. I guess he can still share it in one of his thirty-or-so Facebook Status Updates a day –which is veeerrryyy different than a Twitter tweet. But in my (actual) view Twitter isn’t nearly as important as many of its apologists/cheerleaders say. Also, it’s not as egocentric and banal as its detractors say (or it doesn’t have to be). OK, now that I’ve done the most irritating thing in the world and set up two poles and put myself between them and called that “balance,” and “quite moderate,” I will now show you one reason why I love Twitter. If you hung out with really smart, wise, godly, creative, or just generally uncommon people, you would hear them say things in reaction to some bit of news (or whatever) and you would laugh, or ponder, or be very puzzled. But wouldn’t it be swell to hear some morsel of what your favorite artist is thinking right now, or your favorite author, or chef, or pastor, or whatever? Well, that is (can be) what Twitter is. I cite Al Mohler from 11.16.09. Mohler tweeted thus: albertmohler: Kanye West: “I am a proud non-reader of books. I … get information from doing stuff like actually talking to people and living real life.” Then he tweeted this follow-up… albertmohler: Please note that proud non-reader Kanye West is the author of a new book, “Thank You & You’re Welcome.” I am a proud non-reader of his book. Bam. Aside: It’s so very shocking to learn that Kanye West doesn’t read. Let me make it clear that I agree with the vast number of sentient beings who recognize that sitting around on Twitter or Facebook for hours is almost certainly a HUGE waste of time. But the doing of many things to excess is often an avenue to wasting life. I gotta hurry this up, there’s a football game on… Most of what is on Twitter and Facebook is not worth seeing. Lots. Of. Narcissism. And you can spend half your day just getting through the exclamation points on any tweets/status updates by teenagers you know!!!!!!!!! And like don’t even get me started on this jk/lol business. AND ALL CAPS!!! Blech. The truth is there are few who seem skilled at using the tool well, and I certainly don’t count myself among them (that would be a lot of work). But there’s some out there. Who are your favorite people to follow on Twitter? Why? Comment away. Oh yeah, follow me on Twitter and be my friend on Facebook. If you wish. Or don’t, snob. And here’s an easy way to follow some Rabbit Roomers on Twitter from @thomasmckenzie (he did it in one actual minute -seriously). Rabbit Roomers on Twitter. sdsmith_: Just wrote a post, now eating a cookie. Here’s a picture of me. It’s the one I use on Twitter! lol, jk, lol!!!!! Cookie now finished.

I just got back from a quick visit to Andy Gullahorn‘s childhood home in Texas, and it was exactly as you would imagine it to be: a picturesque ranch house, ATVs, big trucks, wide fields pocked with cow patties, and Andy’s dad in the backyard teaching Andy’s daughter how to shoot a gun. I’m not joking. If you’ve seen Gullahorn live, you’ve probably heard him talk about the fact that he’s from Texas. Most people from Texas can hardly stop talking about the fact that they’re from Texas. They brag about how everything in Texas is better than everywhere else, and how Texas was the only state that used to be a country, and how they’re allowed to fly their flag at the same height as the American flag, and how guns are cool and so is Texas. I remember, for example, George W. Bush responding to the accusation that he has a swagger by saying that in Texas they just call it walking. I tend to roll my eyes at Texophilia (a word I might have just coined), but I have to admit that there is some evidence that Texas is pretty great. Take my recent trip to Laity Lodge for example: three days with the Gullahorns, Buddy Greene and Jeff Taylor, Eugene Peterson, a delightful group of attendees, fine meals, mist on the Frio River, a Steinway piano and a library of my favorite books. Then there’s Taco Cabana, beef brisket, Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove (my favorite western book and movie), Lyle Lovett and a passel of other singer/songwriters like Townes Van Zant and Guy Clark. So yes, Texas has some cool stuff–but I think a lot of that has to do with its sheer size. It’s a matter of mathematics that they’re bound to have a few more notable residents than, say, Rhode Island. But when I watch Andy play his songs, I wonder if there’s more to it than math. There must be something in the water, I think. Otherwise, how could he do that? How did he just move an audience from howling laughter to deep stillness in the space of a few lines? And as a songwriter I wonder how he keeps finding angles, new ways of looking at things, new turns on old clichés. I wonder how a guy who grew up shooting deer, riding four-wheelers, raising cattle, and baling hay could have learned to write songs about not just funny things but wise things: faithful marriage, obedience, Christ, sin, children–Kingdom things. I wonder how a guy who never reads can be so deft with words. And so deft with sideburns. I wonder how someone from the cockiest state in the union–yes, union, Texans–can so humbly tell a story. I have a hunch Gullahorn will read this, so to preserve our friendship I’ll stop gushing. But I wanted to tell you his new record is about to release (December 1) and that you can order it here in the Rabbit Room Store. If you pre-order you’ll get an immediate download of the album. Like his previous albums Room to Breathe and Reinventing the Wheel, this one features little more than Andy’s voice and acoustic guitar. Of course, his wife Jill Phillips sings on it, and cellist David Henry added some pretty sounds. But what’s front and center here are songs. Excellent songs, from start to finish. And that’s exactly how Texas wants it.