What I Write About

I write about the infinite number of intersections between every day life and the good news of the God who has come to get us.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Chilin' with D-Webb

This past weekend InterVarsity brought in singer/song-writer Derek Webb, formerly of the band Caedmon's Call, for a concert on campus. We marketed it only to students, thought it was going to be a great night. It was a disaster. We expected around 450-500 students. Only 150 showed up. Bad publicity on our part, I guess.

Afterwards, I got to get dinner with Derek. At 10:00 p.m. we were sitting down to Qdoba burritos along with my co-staff John Farmer, and we got to talk.

Derek's music was extremely formative for me when I was a college student and he was just getting started with Caedmon's. I knew the word "grace" but my time as a student was crucial for understanding what it really meant...and much of Derek's music paralleled and informed my journey. So I was geeked out to talk with him about his work and life.

At one point he bemoaned a couple of his older cd's. I told them that I had both of those albums and I loved them. He said that being a songwriter for as long as he has is kind of like having poetry you wrote in junior high circulating around. Some people like it, but you're kind of embarrassed that you ever had anything to do it.

As we talked, it became clear that we had some things in common. We both got started doing what we're doing about the same time. We both have young families in jobs that at times allow us to spend luxurious amounts of time with our kids and at other times severely strain our families.

Our conversation meandered to music that we loved growing up. We both loved the cd that most shaped my junior high experience, Lisence to Ill by the Beastie Boys. Eventually conversation turned to concerts: Van Halen, Guns 'n Roses, and Metallica cemented it. We were ready to be best friends forever.

I dropped him off at his hotel and apologized for about the sixth time for the anemic turnout at the concert. He said not to worry about it, that he'd love to come again sometime. We shook hands and I pulled off. A couple of guys in their thirties, juggling family and ministry and faith and doing the only thing that we've ever known to do.

1 comment:

Amanda said...

low numbers don't always equal disaster.