This is one of my favorite songs of all time. It’s from Sufjan Stevens, an folk/experimental songwriter who also happens to be a devoted Christian.

You can listen to the song here.

His father was a drinker
And his mother cried in bed
Folding John Wayne’s T-shirts
When the swingset hit his head
The neighbors they adored him
For his humor and his conversation
Look underneath the house there
Find the few living things
Rotting fast in their sleep of the dead
Twenty-seven people, even more
They were boys with their cars, summer jobs
Oh my God

Are you one of them?

He dressed up like a clown for them
With his face paint white and red
And on his best behavior
In a dark room on the bed he kissed them all
He’d kill ten thousand people
With a sleight of his hand
Running far, running fast to the dead
He took of all their clothes for them
He put a cloth on their lips
Quiet hands, quiet kiss
On the mouth

And in my best behavior
I am really just like him
Look beneath the floorboards
For the secrets I have hid

The song is not only beautiful, it’s also dreadfully honest. I think that part of the reason I’ve liked this song so much. Sufjan acknowledges that at his core, he’s no different from one of the last century’s most horrific serial killers.

I think it doesn’t take a very long honest search of ourselves to see the grace of God more clearly.

Consider these two quotes:

“The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom…”

and:

“To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom”

These two quotes are in direct opposition to one another. One says that fear must be overcome for wisdom. The other says that fear itself is where wisdom is found. The first quote comes from Psalms 9:10. The second comes from British philosopher Bertrand Russell in the 1800’s.

The philosophy of the world says that our fear is a hindrance. God says our stubborn confidence is.

I remember going to Disney world when I was really young. Although I don’t remember just when. I suppose I was around 11 or 12. We saw a show in 3D. It was neat, but it was also clearly a gimmick. I remember specifically seeing a scene in where a witch with very long fingernails seemed to reach out of the screen at the audience. Again, I’ll say it was neat, but that’s about it.

I think the new Era of 3D might be different. It started with Monster House in 2006. The movie was one of the best executions of a cartoon story I’ve ever seen. It was a great movie by itself. It wasn’t made to exploit 3D technology, but the 3D added a new and exciting dimension nonetheless. It wasn’t about stuff popping out of the screen at the audience, it was more about the screen itself having depth. Kind of like watching a stage play where the director also has control of the audience’s point of view.

Then, last year, Wal-E used 3D just as effectively. The movie stood on it’s own treads. The 3D just invited us into it more.

Now, last night, I went to see the premiere of Up, the new Pixar animation and the 3D, again, was no disappointment. Of course, there were a number of times where objects would seem to come out at the audience, but by and large, the 3D was more about depth and perspective. It didn’t distract from the film. It enhanced the experience of an already excellent movie.

Speaking of which—Up is one of Pixar’s best yet.

So, in conclusion, the new 3D seems to be more than a gimmick. And, it’s usually only an extra couple bucks. So you should try it out.

My mother had her knee replaced on Tuesday. She’s been in the hospital since. She’ll be returning home on Friday, but with a lot less mobility than she had before. To help ease the situation, my older sister suggested that I put together some meals that could be stored in my parent’s refrigerator and easily reheated without making too much of a mess.

Well, since my parent’s house always seems to be a busy hub of family related activity, I made a shopping list and preparations to make chicken chili, red curry, BBQ pulled pork and fresh pizza.

Hoping not to consume my entire day with cooking, I started almost all the meals at once. Boiling chicken and pork, rising dough. But, about the same time, it occurred to me that my father hadn’t had time to mow his lawn since most of his time was spent with my mother in the hospital. So, as the chicken and pork were cooking, and the dough was rising, I quickly ran out to mow the lawn, in hopes of beating an imminent thunderstorm.

I was successful at that.

Coming back inside, I got back to the food. The chicken and pork both needed to be shredded. Vegetables needed to be chopped and all of it needed to be combined.

The chili was first. Everything seemed to go fine. Then the pork. There was more fat than I anticipated and therefore less meat than I’d hoped. All is well, I thought to myself. Since there was a whole host of other food to eat. I seasoned the pork, then baked it. It turned out tasting okay.

Then came time to work out the pizza. Which, between finishing the lawn, chili and pork had risen way too much. It was nearly impossible to work with. One lump of dough was thrown away entirely. The other three were make-shifted into pizza crust, although they were ridiculously thin.

Meanwhile, as the pizza is cooking, my sister has a bowl of chili—only to discover I accidently used cayenne pepper instead of chili powder. It was almost unbearably spicy.

It was frustrating to look back and see that nearly every nail had been missed to some degree. But it all comes down to doing too much. Cutting any one of the activities out would have probably taken all the others to success. But as is, too much made too little. I guess I’ll have to remember than next time.

I had a great conversation with some friends around a hookah tonight. Of course we jumped all over the place. But at once, one friend shared an excellent observation about faith. His faith specifically, but applicable to all honest faith, I think.

Faith cannot be because of the evidence; otherwise it wouldn’t be faith. But evidence can cause us to stand more firmly in the faith we hold.

I think this is an excellent observation. I didn’t search out the evidence supporting Christ’s lordship then make a logical decision to have faith. Rather, before I really knew what was going on, Christ changed me heart and faith was born. Now, I stand more confidently in my faith knowing that strong evidence also supports it.

I think this also is the trap of street-corner apologetics (so to speak). Souls are not won on the evidence, they’re won on the message.

So kudos to Zach for a thought provoking observation. And on that, lets try and save souls the way God would have us, with His message, rather than our argument.

Richard Sibbes writes:

"If we desire to end our days in joy and comfort, let us lay the foundation of a comfortable death now betimes. To die well is not a thing of that light moment as some imagine: it is no easy matter. But to die well is a matter of every day. Let us daily do some good that may help us at the time of our death. Every day by repentance pull out the sting of some sin, that so when death comes, we may have nothing to do but to die. To die well is the action of the whole life."

I think I’m too young for Sibbe’s comments to resonate so deeply with me, yet they do. Dying well isn’t a one shot deal, it takes a whole lifetime. I can’t think of too many things more frightening than lying on death’s doorstep and thinking how insufficient life has been.

I hope in Christ I never comes to that.

Last night, some friends and I made a trip to a local ‘haunt’ known as the Henryton Center. It was previously a tuberculosis treatment center built in the 20’s, but was later decommissioned from its original use then condemned because of asbestos.

You won’t find any ‘no trespassing’ signs on the property. It’s pretty much in the middle of nowhere, but conveniently seated less than a mile from a popular fishing site. If you’re careless and very noisy, then the police might show up. But if they do, a stern request for you to leave is all you’ll get. Unless of course you’re carrying drugs or alcohol. Then normal fare certainly applies.

Anyways, It seems that photographers love abandoned buildings. I’m no exception. I often wonder what it is that is so alluring about them. I think for me it might be the idea that a condemned building is like the shell of something once human. When you walk through the halls of this hospital, it’s not just a building. It’s like walk through the physical manifestation of some deceased being, or ghost. It’s fascinating. And of course, as a photographer, I want to capture that. Unfortunately, I haven’t quite hit the mark I’ve been shooting for you.

None the less. The picture above was captured last night with the help of a friend and a flashlight. It’s unusual for me to write a whole post for the sake of a single picture, but I very much enjoyed this one.

(If you feel so compelled to visit the Henryton Center, you’ll find it along a set of rail road tracks off of Mariotsville Road in Carroll County, Maryland. Nearly every visit I’ve made there, I’ve run into other explorers. Most of the time they’re friendly and happy to share the space. Sometimes their not. I’ve found the best policy is to make contact as soon as possible so that no one is accidentally frightened into violence inside the buildings. This also makes it clear if their friendly or not. If they’re not, the best bet is to leave. The last thing you want to do is run in to someone cracked out or on opiates or something. It’s just not worth it. An abandoned building in the middle of nowhere is no place for a serious injury.)