I can vividly remember shouting at God in my car 4 years ago. Full voice, totally unmitigated anger, sorrow and pleading, in the form of me shouting at the top of my lungs while sitting in a parking lot over my lunch break.
My wife and I were walking through a season of loneliness and uncertainty that we had never experienced before, that felt as though it would break us. A major thing to note is that, even in this difficulty, we were by no means the only ones hurting in this—there were a number of friends of ours that were deeply affected in this time, and there was fallout that followed this experience that I never would have imagined (not directly because of the church split, but closely riding on its coattails).
There were moments, when walking through that pain, that I didn’t think that my trust in God’s people would be restored. At the tail end of this time, when all of the pain, change and struggle was actually fully hitting me (it takes me a while to process things), I couldn’t sing songs to the Lord without weeping. This desperation has completely changed the way that I worship God. This impartial lens of weakness has opened my eyes to who I really am, who we really are, and who God truly is — there is no true life for the follower of Jesus apart from weakness and dependence on God.
I’ve asked myself and God a lot of questions about this time, but the reality is, God has proven Himself faithful tenfold in this struggle. To a further measure than my inability to imagine the difficulty we would walk through, I couldn’t have ever imagined how that pain and loss would be used to show God’s depth of care and wisdom in our lives. It’s truly cultivated in me a level of joy and trust that run so deep that no amount of pain and struggle could ever take it away.
It’s taken me a long time to figure out how to share this project with the world. It’s such a personal record, and I wasn’t sure how to package it in a way that would make sense to other people. What does it sound like? What does it look like? Even more, will people understand these deeply personal songs? They feel so closely connected to who I am, that I’m fearful of showing them to anyone. I have a nasty habit of hiding when I truly care about something, and this process has taught me a lot about how much I’ve hidden in the past. It’s also shined a light on how inexperienced I am in sharing music + artwork with the world, so I’m thankful to be able to say that it’s also steadily been teaching me about the role that confidence plays in creating and sharing things with other people.
I’ve written a lot of songs. Most of them never to be heard by other people, and I’m okay with that. In fact, much of the time, I’m too okay with that — that’s why it’s taken me so long to actually put together a real project, do all the legwork to finish, and get out in front of people. But all those artists out there who have talked about writing 100 crap songs to get to one good one are not lying [insert statement here about how I’m not even comfortable making this assertion, because I am not on the same level as any of those artists].
A couple of these songs have existed for more than 10 years. Yes, this is pathetic. I’ve put out previous versions of a couple of these songs before, and to listen through them now puts a lot of things in perspective for me (they’re still up online somewhere, on a site that I can’t find a login for to remove…). I’ve been afraid to truly release much of anything for a long time, and this record has been my attempt at shedding that skin — it’s easy to talk yourself out of doing anything.
I’ve changed a lot over the last few years. I think it’s fair to say that this record deals with that change—a devastating season of fractured community and loss, to close relationships splitting apart, to struggles within family as we get older—and God filled my soul with songs and melodies that speak of this time, and that memorialize it as a means of setting my face towards Him. It’s worth noting that this has occurred over a long season of time for me, and that life has by no means been a constant flood of difficulty over these last few years, but moreso a process of deepening trust and joy in God, in the midst of whatever weather is occurring in life—be it rain or shine.
Some songs on the record sit firmly in the camp of “I’m recognizing there’s hurt deep down in me and Lord please give me strength to deal with that”, and some songs that are a gift of joy in the midst of, and following that struggle. I was watching an interview recently with Michael Shannon, and he shared a harrowing truth that has lingered in my mind following: “There’s always a storm coming.” As I’m finishing this project and looking back, I’m seeing more and more that this speaks as much to what’s happening inside the person as it does to the circumstance(s) outside.
Last year the Lord allowed this storm
To rage and carry on
While He restedLast year my heart began to hurt
With the changing of the seas
This storm inside of me
Was growing strong, growing on
During the process of writing, compiling, producing and releasing this record, I’ve learned a lot about myself. Looking back is almost like looking in a mirror; some of it is difficult to look at. I can see that my soul was so deeply stirred and overburdened from that time of turbulence that, not knowing where to turn, I retreated into music. At times, it was for good, and in other times it’s been out of despair and has been self-indulgent in that. In compiling everything, I’ve attempted to really lay my soul bare, to pour out my heart, and to remember what God has done and is doing. I hope it can shine a light in your life.
Thanks for reading!
