Hello, friends!
It’s 7 PM… let’s get after it.
Sorry for the sporadic newsletter posts, but March has been something…
Here are seven things on this Good Friday:
1. A Big Idea: You may not care about Good Friday, but the cross of Christ speaks a hopeful word to the injustices of the world. The evil we often overlook, perhaps forget. Sometimes it’s good to look evil in the face, and remember we still have lots of work to do… and yet, we have hope in the work. I revisited two documentaries about the L.A. Riots. One by John Singleton (RIP), and another produced by National Geographic. I lived through these riots growing up in LA. A unique experience watching this go down as an adult.
2. Eye Candy: One part music, one part documentary, equals joy. I watched a Chuck Berry documentary. The pioneer of Rock n’ Roll. You might also enjoy the origins of 60s music birthed in California.
3. Ear Candy: today marks the tenth anniversary of a great John Mark McMillan album. Spending time with this one.
4. Books: a good one on Christian discipleship. What did Jesus come to do? Another one from my favorite poet. Part poetry, part memoir, part outstanding.
5. The Pods: I interviewed Ali Horriyat, who is doing some cool stuff in book publishing. I also enjoy the Bill Simmons podcast, which is about sports, pop culture, and broader cultural issues. The latest one about making sports documentaries, and The Last Dance is fantastic.
6. A Quote: to consider on Good Friday and Easter weekend:
“When we learn to read the story of Jesus and see it as the story of the love of God, doing for us what we could not do for ourselves--that insight produces, again and again, a sense of astonished gratitude which is very near the heart of authentic Christian experience.”
― N.T. Wright
7. A Poem: Our daughter Samantha passed away fifteen years ago. Here is a poem I wrote on her birthday:
#15
Among beeping and shuffling feet
Whispers and darkness light
A baby is born
We call her Sam
Where time is fleeting
And like the preacher said:
Vanity, all vanity
Our hearts are bleeding
A daughter brief as a summer breeze
In her absence, the Man of Sorrows sees.
Strawberry locks, like mother before,
A wide nose, like siblings to come.
Each year we mourn with shadows cast,
In search of memories from a hazy past.
We stand along your makeshift tomb
And launch to flight resurrection balloons
Gone too soon, like a blink and a dream,
Life's cruel hand, a raging stream.
Yet in the depths of sorrow's veil,
We cling to an ancient tale
That one about empty tombs
And garden cities
And never ending feasts
And where resurrection balloons,
Are not required
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Grace + Peace,
Ryan