Dead, dormant, or perhaps cryogenically frozen. That would probably be the best description for a very special part of me:
But the next two days are personal. I’m here to find something I lost.
Between 2001 and 2008 songwriting was a normal outflow of my life. My buddy Nathan and I wrote songs. A lot of them. A few were even worth keeping around. Over time, a culture of songwriting actually began to emerge amongst our church community. It was a beautiful era.
But a series of painful transitions and new responsibilities have left my piano mostly untouched for the last few years. It just hasn’t felt right. So when Jared Anderson sent me a personal invite to a two-day songwriting collaborative, I immediately told him no. Didn’t even have to think about it.
“I’m a pastor now, not a musician. Those days are behind me.”
“I don’t want to face that pain. Please leave the giant millstone tied securely to that gift.”
That was an unfortunate form of self-protection. Songwriting goes far beyond recording albums and working with record labels. It’s an unmatched form of human expression. Glenn Packiam would even call it a spiritual discipline. One I allowed to be stolen from me.
I’m here to get it back.
Today starts two days of collaborative songwriting sessions with 25 other writers from around the country. I feel incredibly vulnerable. Anxious. Rusty. And I can’t wait to see what happens.
Has pain stolen a piece of your identity? Is there a gift buried deep inside that you’ve simply stopped expressing?
Go get it back.