the one about Our Town

I'm unsettled. In my spirit. Unsettled.

Before I get to that, a quick update: my ADX friend's brain tumor is "very operable" which is good news. We'll know after her surgery tomorrow if it's benign or not. Please continue to pray. AGO and ADX had an awesome joint prayer sesh for her today.

Ok, so. *huffs readily*

I recently asked a girl if there was a work of literature that has changed her life. She didn't have one, but I had one in mind for myself--Thornton Wilder's Pulitzer Prize-winning three-act play Our Town. If you haven't read it, find a copy as soon as you're finished reading this blog, and read it cover-to-cover. It will change your life. (This is not an Angeleno exaggerating. If you *get* the play, it will change your life.) The plot is basically about George and Emily, next-door neighbor adolescents who fall in love in a small town in 1930s New Hampshire.

Then there's Act III. Emily's died during childbirth and she joins others who've died before her at the cemetery. Emily's ghost learns it is possible to relive parts of her past life and decides to relive her 12th birthday. She only makes it half-way through morning breakfast before she can't stand it anymore. She freaks out yelling how everyone should stop, slow down, look at each other, appreciate the faces in your life, and value life "every, every minute." She asks the Stage Manager whether anyone realizes life while they live it, and is told, "No. Saints and poets, maybe. They do some." It's a brilliant and eloquent piece of dramatic lit with one of the simplest, most powerful messages humanly possible.

But that's not what changed my life.

Simon Stimson changed my life.

In the play, he's the church organist and ersatz choir director who has a rep for being perpetually tipsy. Everyone gossips, looks the other way, and no one says anything to him. In Act III, we find he died by hanging himself in his barn. It's a small part, but Simon rang so true for me. There was a girl in high school, beautiful girl, who kept her hair buzzed, self-mutilated, and tried to commit suicide at least once while I knew her. While I was always nice to her, I never once told her about Jesus. Not once did I open my mouth and tell her about Love. It's my biggest high school regret. And Simon's character made me cry to God...

"Please. Please please, never let me be the person who says nothing."

Flashforward about five years to tonight. I was at Souplantation with five other Christian guys. At the booth next to our table was a very thin young guy... who may not always have been a guy. (Is it sick that we took a vote trying to decide?) He ate bowls and bowls of cookies and brownies and ice cream. Like, a revolting amount of dessert. We're pretty sure he was going into the bathroom and throwing it up. Then he'd repeat the process.

I sat in my seat for a long time. Trying to decide what on earth to say to him. "Do you need help?" "Do you want prayer?" "Are you okay?" All of it sounded so rude in my head. So socially unacceptable. I could not think of what to say.

So I said nothing.

Even after we left, I contemplated going back. I just, *sighs* I don't know where to point the finger or... I don't know. There are a few people in my life I felt God asked me to talk to, but I didn't because I was busy. This guy was simply because I didn't know what to say.

Father, next time, give me the words to speak... or the boldness to just start speaking, trusting You'll take over. Amen.

Okay, well, I'm songwriting tonight with up-and-comer Josh Cumbee. Update ya'll on that later.

A mere mortal

From the City of Angels

Livin his dream