I speak on behalf of Compassion International almost every show that I play about what it means for the body of Christ to actually BE like Christ…about what it means to truly serve the “least of these.”  I speak about our tendency here in the developed West to feel like the issues of poverty, injustice, and “serving orphans and widows” are too big for us to really tackle, too daunting for us to even really get our hearts around, much less do anything about.  In light of that we tend to rely on the “powers that be” to push into those issues on our behalf.  We tend to think that tackling governmental corruption in third world countries or governmental bureaucracy in developed nations would be really getting to the heart of the matter because that’s where the real power to change things really lies.  And although those are indeed noble intentions, the sad truth is that we’ve bought into the idea that the real power on this earth lies in the hands of the governments of this world. Please don’t misunderstand me, there is an absolute need to dive into the issues of corruption and bureaucracy and do whatever we can to change our world through those political and ideological avenues; but we cannot, as followers of Christ, cling to the idea that real change, real power in this world lies in the hands of politicians and police forces.  Is our God not the Author of this world?  After all, it is not the job – it is not the CALLING – of the governments of this world to serve the least of these.  It is the job and it is the calling of the Body of Christ. If you are a Believer reading this right now, it is not a question of IF we are serving the least of these, according to Jesus, that is an absolute…the question instead is HOW are we serving the least of these?  There are so many beautiful ways to do this, from the local food bank around the corner to organizations like Compassion International.  I have been so deeply inspired and moved by the friends in my life who have taken this calling personally, and PERSONALLY decided to dive in.  Whether it’s my friends from the band Jars of Clay who just celebrated digging 1000 wells in Africa through their Blood:Water Mission, or friends like Stephan and Caitland Sharp who are in Rwanda as we speak processing through the adoption of their new son, who they’ve named Crew, so they can bring him home to meet his new big sister, Sadie.  These are the people who’s hearts have been inclined to serve the least of these in very specific ways.  The truth is, not all of us have the means or platform to dig 1000 wells in Africa.  Not all of us are called to adoption.  But we, every single one of us, can be a part of these specific callings in the ways that we chose to give.  I’m asking you today, if this inspires you the way it inspires me, to help my friends Stephan and Caitland with the adoption of their new son, Crew.  As it turns out, they don’t necessarily have the “means” either, but they do have hearts that were called and compelled to have one less orphan in this world…and one more child in their home.  Please go to the link that I’ve posted below to a short video that the Sharps made just before they left for Rwanda 9 days ago.  You will hear just a bit of their story and you will see how easy it is to give to their specific calling to bring Crew home.

CLICK HERE TO VIEW THE SHARP’S VIDEO

One of the things I am most thankful for in playing music for a living is that it was never my intention.  I am an accidental musician, at best, who sort of stumbled uncomfortably onto this journey half-protesting and with great trepidation.  Admittedly, much of my fear was based in the mystery of the unknown and the lack of control of things, much like any graduating college student heading out into the real world, but quite a bit more was based in the fact that I never quite felt “cut out” for this sort of work.  I always felt like a bit of an imposter…like I would some day, inevitably, be “found out” and everyone would realize that all this time I was just pretending to be a songwriter, just posing as an artist.  So many of my counterparts in music seem to live and die by the art they’re creating and, to be honest, I have many times envied the passion with which so many of these artists carry out their calling.  They cling so desperately to the art and creation and delivery of music that I think it quite literally becomes their lifeblood.  It’s as if the act of creating is as vital and involuntary as the act of breathing.  As if without it they would cease to exist, and with it, they have something to really live for. Truthfully, though there have been times that I have tended in that direction, I fear that that sort of singular passion toward what we do, or even who we think we are, can pull us away from our one, truly singular identity in Christ…and Christ alone.

All I know for certain is that music was meant to be part of the story God was choosing to tell for me, whether I planned it or not.  I was just a college kid with a Biology Degree and firm sites set on absolutely nothing apart from medical school.  But I also wrote songs.  My own little “personal therapy sessions,” as I like to call them, were never really intended for use outside of my living room walls.  But thanks to a few close friends who quite literally forced me to face the possibility of “seeing what would happen” with music, here I am today.  A 1-year “experiment” before planning to apply for medical school has turned into a 15-year career of writing and playing songs.  I can say with all honesty that I have no idea how it happened.  People ask me all the time how to “get started” in music and I have to tell them that I quite literally don’t know.  I can say this.  It was not comfortable for me.  It was not my dream.  It was not my life’s ambition.  I was afraid.  I was insecure.  I was not up for the task.  But I believe that God was.  I believe that God saw something in me that I didn’t see in myself.  I believe there was a Spirit flowing in a certain direction and I knew only enough to not try to swim against it.  I’m actually excited to see where God takes me when music is done.  I am not nearly naïve enough to think that it will last forever.  And to be honest, I don’t want it to.  Because I know that music is not my life source.  It is not my identity.  Music is not who I am.  I have tried to run from it, even prayed that it would end at times.  What I know to be true is that, for whatever reason, God is for us and He chooses to use us.  And He wants to use us right where we are.  And this is where I am right now:  I am a husband and a father, a friend, a brother, a son, and yes, sometimes a musician.  It has been a beautiful story to watch unfold.

People have asked me often lately for the meaning behind my Christmas song “Born to Die.” It actually begins with an old hymn that I discovered a few years ago called “Angels from the Realms of Glory.” If you’ve heard it, it paints a stunning picture of the very first Christmas morning. It’s an image of the angels of God – the very same heavenly hosts who once “winged their flight o’er the earth” singing the marvelous story of the first creation at the beginning of time – this time filling the shepards’ sky singing a very different creation story – the birth of the Christ. I’m not sure why, but reading the lyrics to this hymn was the first glimpse I ever caught into the heavenly vision of angels actually singing the stories and the history of God. It was a stunning thought to me – the idea that perhaps the angels of heaven have been and continue singing – not just telling, but singing – the stories of God. And it’s as if the angels have no choice but to sing. It’s as if the awe and wonder at the glory of their God spontaneously pours from their souls as a chorus like no other. I can only liken it to the barely audible sigh at the first glimpse of a sunrise, or some other wonderous thing, that rises from our hearts and over our lips before we can stop it. That’s how I picture the birth of the songs of the angels…but instead of a quiet amazement, the angelic response pours out into a perfect chorus of ten thousand tongues in spontaneous response to the glorious work of their God. For all of eternity. What a beautiful picture.

And then I imagine those very same angels contemplating the idea that that very same God would somehow choose to clothe Himself in humanity, in flesh, that first Christmas morning. And not only flesh, but the flesh of an infant, helpless and vulnerable, willing and planning to ultimately become the sacrifice for all sin on the cross. Why? Of all the ways to save mankind, why this? Who knows if the angels contemplated such things, but if they did, the weight and conflict of emotion, I can only imagine, would be overwhelming. Hard as it is from our own earthly perspective to understand the reality of what God did in becoming flesh, I imagine it infinitely more difficult from the perspective of heaven. And so that is what “Born to Die” is…a Christmas song from the perspective of heaven, best as I can imagine it. God, in all his glory, ruling the heavens for all eternity, choosing to insert Himself into time, into flesh, to become a living sacrifice for humanity…heartbreaking and heroic…baffling but so beautiful.

CLICK HERE TO LISTEN TO “BORN TO DIE”

Here Goes is a song that I wrote with my longtime friend Brandon Heath.  It’s really just a simple pop song in a lot of ways, sort of the only one of its type on the new record.  And although I don’t think we realized it at the time, it’s really the culmination of dozens of conversations that Brandon and I have had over coffee or lunch or on some random tour bus throughout the years that we’ve known one another.  You see, I think that in a way, people like Brandon and I are sort of “accidental” musicians – not the types that would have imagined ourselves living our lives on stage, standing in any sort of “spot light.”  Truthfully, that sounds more noble than it really is…the reality of our not envisioning that scenario had more to do with our own personal fears and insecurities than humility.  My conversations with Brandon very often leaned in the direction of that conflict between what we felt we were being called toward and the overwhelming insecurities that made us so uncomfortable with that calling.  And the truth is, I think more often than Brandon or I would ever care to admit we tended to err on the side of fear rather than faith in the face of those difficult moments.  But the thing that I love most about this song is that it is a celebration of the fact that God’s goodness and faithfulness won out over our deep-seeded apprehensions and insecurities.  This song is about the moments we all face every single day that require us to either trust in a God who is bigger than we are or turn and run.

http://www.bebonorman.com/2010/08/13/200/

Eugene Peterson writes in the preface of his book Christ Plays in Ten Thousand Places that “writing about the Christian life is like trying to paint a bird in flight.  The very nature of a subject in which everything is always in motion and the context is constantly changing – rhythm of wings, sun-tinted feathers, drift of clouds (and much more) – precludes precision.  Which is why definitions and explanations for the most part miss the very thing that we are interested in.”  Our perspective on life, (more…)

For the entirety of my adult life, almost like clockwork, every two years or so I have been given the gift of being “forced” into taking stock. I’ve often told people that I don’t know how to write songs if I’m not writing them out of my life, out of my own personal experience, and so for me I think it’s inevitable that any new group of songs will tell some sort of story about where they have come from. And so for the last 15 years, 8 times to be precise, thanks to the deadlines that the powers that be “impose” I have been given the gift of taking stock, of evaluating where I have come from, what God has been unfolding – to unpack, assess, organize, (more…)

I can pretty much say with confidence that I don’t think I would be married or still playing music right now if not for the ministry of Porter’s Call.  Almost a decade ago, I was told by a dear friend that I needed to not only meet, but meet with, a man named Al Andrews.  At the time I was reveling (or spiraling, depending on the day) pretty dramatically in a world of on-the-road-unfamiliar-faces that somehow always seemed to be “impressed” with me, my first legitimate radio “hit” in the form of a song called Great Light of the World, my second headlining tour with sold out shows almost every night, no real sense of home, community, accountability, or structure, and a heart that was depleted, lonely, and spiritless.   (more…)

I’m watching the sun rise over California through an airplane window this morning.  I am on my way back home again.  I don’t know why but there are random moments such as these when I really do understand with clarity the absolute goodness of God.  I have struggled lately in a much longer story with feeling a certain separation from the real source of all that is good in my life, but today it is very clear to me. (more…)

It’s 4:30AM and I’ve been up for about an hour. This seems to be my pattern lately for some reason…I usually wake up sometime around 3 with my mind running and I can’t go back to sleep for an hour or so. I’d love to be able to say when this happens that there are some profound “goings on” going on in my brain because it might make me seem deep and introspective so that I may perhaps impress you a bit, but the truth is I usually spend my middle of the night hours mulling over pretty normal everyday stuff like schedules or projects I need to do around the house. This time, for example, I woke up thinking about my garage. Deep. (more…)

There isn’t any place on the planet that I would rather be than exactly where I am at this exact moment…sitting on the front porch at our family’s river cabin down here in Georgia. My wife says it’s unfair to call it a cabin because after 30 years and a handful of renovations, it’s really more of a house now, but all I know is that when I was about 3 years old, my father paid $7500 for a two-bedroom, tin-roofed CABIN. My wife is also prone to remind me that anyone with any sense would also lose the “river” part and just call it what it is, a ”lake house.” (more…)