A Quest for Lost Authenticity

Authenticity. It might as well be an ancient myth.

We’ve exchanged empathy for superficiality and unflinching transparency for plastic masks hiding our deepest fears, hopes, and aspirations. Human relationships have never been so bereft of meaning.

Superficiality. It’s weakness. It allows us to hide our imperfections from others, never to be challenged, never to change, never to grow.

Society’s aversion to the truth has seeped into our relationships. We are afraid to face one another with pure candor, so we play the depthless game of intermittent small talk and call it friendship.

What did we expect? We’re flawed beings. The resulting alienation is inevitable. But not unbeatable.

A cynical thought pervades: “If superficiality permeates all relationships, what’s the point of pursuing the myth of authenticity with another person?”

It’s tempting to want to escape to an uninhabited utopia to dwell in blissful solitude, but:

• We are not called to be alone. Our purpose is fulfilled in pursuing significance outside ourselves, which prompts whole and unequivocal investment in others, expecting nothing in return.
• We must empathize with the triumphs and failures of others, serve them, and daily choose to die to self. 
• We must care. Deeply care about another person’s interests, hopes for the future, and fears. Deeply care, and they will blossom.

Investment in others can be risky, exhausting, and even heartbreaking. But if you truly take the time to unearth the multi-faceted complexities of another soul – willing to approach them with relentless honesty and Christlike love – it is vastly worth it.

How I Almost Never Existed

This year marks the 100th anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, when 1.5 million Armenians were systematically killed.

Although other members of my family were killed, my great-great-grandmother and her children survived, and without their survival – a few drops escaping from the ocean of 1.5 million dead souls – I would have never existed. This is one of the many stories of their resilience:

In the Armenian wilderness, my 25-year-old great-great-grandmother holds her two-year-old little girl in her arms. Three other children cling to her, terrified.

Once a wealthy aristocrat, she is now desolate. Her home has been ransacked and husband slaughtered — she is forging a path for her four children against all hope.

That absence of hope materializes as a Turkish soldier storms on horseback behind her and snatches her daughter out of her arms, a scene straight out of an Armenian mother’s worst nightmare.

Falling to her knees, my great-great-grandmother cries out, begging God to save her little girl, fearing the Turk’s intent to kill. Prayers pour out of her like rain. Her little girl—my great-grandmother—cries with the same terror.

The soldier becomes a pinprick on the horizon. All hope is lost. In the careless flick of a trigger, I cease to exist and my family disappears with me. Everything I know vanishes like an elaborate illusion. 

But God works a miracle.

The pinprick grows larger and larger until the soldier returns. Irritated by the crying toddler, he releases my great-grandmother and rides away. My surroundings sharpen back into focus. 

I’m alive. 

The women who came before me were resilient; they were survivors. When they were spared, it ensured that I could write this 100 years later. That is not something I can easily dismiss. I cannot carry on with the mundane without understanding that I wouldn’t have the ability to experience it without the survival of that frightened yet determined 25-year-old mother and her children.

I don’t take my existence for granted. I am so thankful for the chance to live – to live fully, vibrantly, and without reservations.

I am not the product of random occurrences, and I refuse to be told that I am. I am part of something vastly greater than myself. God spared both my Armenian ancestors and me for a reason. And in that I find comfort.

I Am Afraid of Commitment

I am afraid of commitment. There, I said it.

It took me far too long to admit it, but commitment terrifies me. The persistent paralysis induced by an active fear of committing to anyone or anything prevents me from truly living.

• This fear prevents me from pursuing what I love — namely, writing: writing on this blog and writing to challenge myself in the pursuit of excellence. I fear falling short of the insurmountable expectations I have set in place for myself, and I fear falling short of the expectations of others. That fear is unimaginably crippling.

• This fear prevents me from experiencing healthy relationships. Beneath my ferocious loyalty to the people around me lies a fight or flight instinct that either tempts suspicion towards the motives or legitimacy of interpersonal relationships or tempts me to flee any and all emotional attachment before it destroys me.

I have come to realize that there is risk involved in anything worth pursuing. I fear relinquishing my grip because it means risking criticism, heartache, and vulnerability.

Commitment is a scary thought because I recognize my own weakness and it frightens me. Despite this, the essence of a life well-lived is understanding there will always be unpredictability, messiness, and inevitable suffering, and still choosing to move forward.

It is only when I embrace vulnerability and let go of my imaginary grip of control that I find true freedom from fear. I used to think that my attempts at planning the entirety of my future were freeing. Attempting complete and utter control over all aspects of life is not an expression of freedom.

The key to escaping fear is a trust in something outside of yourself — a trust in the sovereignty and goodness of God. Freedom is found in Christ, and with that assurance, fear is nowhere on my radar — is it on yours?

2014 Summer Playlist

We're in the throes of summer! These are the days when one has the most time on one's hands, so what better time to discover new music? "Best Friend" - Foster The People. Combining familiar elements of a FtP song — Mark Foster's seemingly ubiquitous voice and hugely catchy hooks — this song thrives on a big band sound. A song about the paralyzing nature of writer's block, it matches the rest of the songs on Supermodel in both energy and eccentricity.

"Weight of Love" - The Black Keys. For those with an affinity towards blues, The Black Keys' new record is chockfull of gorgeously lush psychedelia. Just as the title implies, the track delivers a lot of weight and is one of the most resounding and impacting album openers I have ever heard. Dan Auerbach's magnificent guitar solo wraps around your head and is hard to shake off, making the song a perfect earworm for a summer day.

"Thinking About You" - Calvin Harris (ft. Ayah Marar). As overrated as Calvin Harris usually is, this song from 18 Months is an under-appreciated gem. Ayah Marar's vocals are a breath of fresh air; she sings with an effortless confidence that imbues the mood one is in after listening to the song. The pure infectiousness of this house track begs its status as a quintessential summer anthem.

"Hunger of the Pine" - alt-J. Although it may not seem like the obvious obvious choice for a summer anthem, there is a breezy, beach cruiser quality to alt-J's latest teaser from their forthcoming album This Is All Yours. Clocking in at just under 5 minutes, the song is a veritable journey in and of itself. It has everything from fiery female vocal clips to wavering saxophone to complex rhythmic syncopation to chanted French poetry. And yes, French poetry. It doesn't get much better than this.

(Click on each image to listen to the corresponding song.)

Beautiful Eulogy's Instruments of Mercy Album Review

Beautiful Eulogy, a Portland-based group composed of three hiphop artists, has far too rich of a sound to be mainstream. In their second album, Instruments of Mercy, that sound is exhibited, stretched to the limits, and ultimately shown to be resilient – as resilient as the message it conveys. The opener, "Cello from Portland," is organic and earthy, with an engaging beat reverberating throughout the rest of the songs. "Vital Lens" is an exquisite track, emphasizing the importance of a biblical worldview. Much like the rest of the album, it is a complex song that is lyrically dense but well worth a listen or two to catch the clever wordplay and heavy doctrinal truths.

"You Can Save Me" is a soulful soul-search accompanied by MARZ's chocolatey voice and a trip-hop beat. "If God is love, why does he allow the hatred/If he wiped out the wicked, the whole earth would be vacant.” "Symbols and Signs" observes shrewdly, "Don't you find it interesting/How most of the time your self-interpreting/Seems to coincide with what's deep inside your heart's desire/Seems rather convenient, doesn't it?"

Instruments of Mercy is mind-glowingly straightforward and powerful. It shows how believers, endowed with the power of God, are instruments of mercy. Their entire mission statement can be summed in lyrics from "Vital Lens": "We, the Beautiful Eulogy, attempt to communicate audibly and visually to help you hear and see the glory of God clearly." Experimental genre-blending through organic yet urban sounds has never sounded so sweet.

Swimming With Dolphins' Ambient Blue EP Review

Swimming With Dolphins' Ambient Blue is exactly as the title implies. The music has an ambient quality to it, eerie and ethereal, but with a tinge of melancholy – "blue" – lurking beneath the surface. It is music fit for dusk on a beach, sitting in cool sand, but also an apt soundtrack to a drizzly midnight stroll illuminated only by hazy streetlights. Together, Austin Tofte and Adam Young have masterfully crafted a dreamy synth-pop EP, evoking a wide range of emotions.

"Silhouettes" is breathtaking and heartbreaking all at once. The lyrics seem to drive a stake through the listener's chest, somehow in a good way. At one point, the breathy Breanne Duren ponders, "Who really needs the past/with the allure of something new?" And later: "I am sure, I never will be sure/we were in love." An outcry against an increasingly distant lover, "Silhouettes" is incomparable to the other tracks. Tofte's voice gives the listener chills, and Duren is the perfect complement. The mid-song musical interlude evokes visions of an underwater cave orchestra. Tofte closes out with an exasperated and vulnerable, "So hold on tightly to your vices...no matter what, you'll always see/the aura that is left from me."

"Pajama Party" begins with a chiptune melody, reminiscent of a mid-1990's video game. It morphs into an endearing, (and somehow enticing) invitation to "sleep on the beach/with blankets made from leaves of palm trees/we'll say let's never leave." It soon becomes apparent that the singer is, in fact, imagining all this in his head. He wistfully leads into the chorus with, "I'll always wake up so confused/each time I have that dream of you/So if you dreamt of me, too/Does that mean we dreamt the same dream?"

"Sunset, 1989" is a defiant anthem, boasting lyrics like, "I know we'll always be fair-weather friends, to the end/if there's a cause, it's already lost/'cause I tried the last time and you tossed me aside again/but it won't happen again." "Everything's a Miracle" is a full, scrumptious dance track brimming with comparisons between the singer's love interest and the stars. "Up in the Stars," a ballad going from choppy vocals to crooning, "the days go by...the days go by..." is a perfect end to an equally satisfying EP.

I remember hearing Ambient Blue in middle school and being blown away. It still takes my breath away. Fresh, catchy hooks mask contemplative and often melancholy lyrics, a combination that is alluring and unforgettable.

Lecrae's Church Clothes Album Review

Whether Christian or not, nearly all can agree that Lecrae Moore has talent, and a lot of it. The fact that he uses his gift to rep the Kingdom? That's just a bonus. Church Clothes was Lecrae's second album released in 2012, a mixtape hosted by DJ Don Cannon. Oftentimes, rappers release an onslaught of songs in a single year to generate as much revenue possible, and the music suffers. In Lecrae's case, quantity does not diminish quality. His penchant for the genre of rap hasn't wavered since his first album in 2004, and he shows no signs of slowing down anytime soon. Church Clothes is unflinching in exposing the hypocrisy and self-righteousness in modern Christianity and just as open when it comes to soul-searching and confessing personal struggles, along with pleading with the listener to do the same.

"Church Clothes" is told through the eyes of a skeptic of Christianity, a masterfully crafted track with a luscious beat and solid lyrics – the best of the album. Lecrae cynically raps, "I walk in the church with a snapback/And they tellin' me that that’s a no-no/That’s backwards and I lack words for these actors called pastors." And later, "As long as the church keep wildin' out, I can justify all my foolish deeds...That might mean I'm worth more than money, cars, sex and pipe dreams/If God gonna take me as I am/I guess I already got on my church clothes."

Cotour's attempt at a contemplative chorus in "Cold World" sadly, falls short. Her vocals and Lecrae's rapping do not mesh well, in my opinion. "Welcome to H-town" opens with a Snoop Dogg-esque sleazy beat and Tedashii crooning accordingly. Lecrae jumps in to plead with his hometown, criticizing the rampant corruption present there and reflecting on his own struggle with sin. Speaking of Snoop Dogg, he receives a shoutout in "Rise," a nostalgic track throwing it back to when Lecrae and his friends were "...chilling in our tube socks/Dre taught us how to roll a 64/And Snoop Dogg taught us how to roll a sticky dro."

"Darkest Hour" challenges listeners with lyrics like, "If gangsters don't dance, why you tapping with the devil?" "Inspiration," despite decent lyrics, isn't a memorable track musically. Again, the one weakness in this record is the fact that it is a mixtape, and accordingly, there are several featured artists, some less equipped to work with Lecrae than others.

"Misconception," with a lineup of Humble Beast Records artists, dispels – well, popular misconceptions. Clever wordplay is abundant, i.e., "Those who have been abused view leadership as illegitimate/so they don't think it's necessary to play by the rules or submit/They see authority as nothing more than a power-trip/they don't want to be plugged into it; they'd rather see that power stripped."

Church Clothes is an impressive display of Lecrae in his element, in spite of, certainly not because of, the wide range of artists he worked with for this mixtape. Lecrae is one of those rare artists who takes the "Christian music" cookie-cutter label and utterly decimates it. As a result, the listener is treated with a musical roller coaster ride, as enjoyable as it is thought-provoking.

Live In The Moment

In the spirit of the New Year, I have a resolution. It's pretty simple, it's kind of cliche, but here we go: live in the moment. It may seem overrated and overstated, but in the sacred words of Ferris Bueller:

It may come as a shock to some, but time is constantly ticking by. You're getting older and you're hopefully getting wiser. Life is happening, as it does, and it's growing shorter. I'm sure you've heard the old adage, "Wherever you are, be all there." The challenge is actually living that way. Human nature seems to hunger for the supposed stability of the future. We are always waiting for the next thrill, something that we think will finally bring us contentment, because the moment you're living right now is desperately lacking.

Common mistakes:

X 1) Living in the past. Your experiences can weigh on you as much as the weight of the future. Regrets are abundant and nostalgia can be a vicious slave-master.

X 2) Living in the future. The next year holds many opportunities and terrors and adventures and soon-to-be-made memories. Anxiety can be paralyzing. That's not to say that you shouldn't have a healthy awareness of your future, or always be looking forward, but don't let that prevent you from fully living where you are right now.

✓ 3) Living in the moment. Easier said than done. Easier slapped on a hipster photo blog than carried out in real life. Time is fleeting and contentment is elusive. So wherever you are, be all there. Recognize the everyday beauty surrounding you. And be surprised by the surreal contentment that follows.

Daughter's If You Leave Album Review

Ethereal. That's how I would describe Daughter's debut album If You Leave. The indie trio consists of Elena Tonra, a soft-spoken lyricist vocally capable of tearing apart an emotionally manipulative lover while pleading with him to stay, guitarist Igor Haefeli and drummer Remi Aguilella. In an interview, Elena quips that the record is "about certain breakdowns in certain aspects of life." As far as the largely ambiguous genre of indie-rock goes, Daughter is known to be refreshingly raw, their debut album no exception.

"Winter" sets a darkly contemplative mood in typical Daughter fashion, by Elena Tonra struggling to face facts about an estranged lover and comparing the previous heat of their relationship to the bitter cold it has become. Frantic guitar riffs and occasionally choppy percussion try to find their balance amid the frost appropriately, as Elena navigates the apparent wintriness of their relationship. Standout lyric: "Drifting apart like two sheets of ice, my love/Frozen hearts growing colder with time." The reverb on Tonra's voice conveys the icy yet desperate inferno of a soul in torment. She closes by begging, "Oh, winter come/Oh, winter crush all of the things that I once loved."

Steadily paced, but no less poignant, "Smother" is Elena Tonra at her peak of despondence, lamenting, "I'm wasted, losing time/I’m a foolish, fragile spine/I want all that is not mine."

"Youth" is a fiery anthem that involves Elena musing, "And if you're still breathing, you're the lucky ones/'Cause most of us are heaving through corrupted lungs/Setting fire to our insides for fun," over airy guitars and confident percussion. Despite relatively cynical lyrics, there is a quiet understanding that can be felt through the wistful melody, implying that in the despair, there is still hope. In "Still," a tense relationship is "spiraling down" with "biting words like a wolf howling." The effects on Elena's voice make it sound as though she's singing on one side of a bedroom, a silent observer of the tension between two individuals.

It's hard to pinpoint what exactly it is about "Tomorrow" that tugs at my heartstrings the most. Maybe it's the vulnerable lyrics, the frail wobbles of the guitar evolving into resilient chord progressions, the tone of someone who desires something so badly, but knows, "By tomorrow we'll be lost amongst the leaves/In a wind that chills the skeletons of trees," and, "By tomorrow I'll be left in the darkness/Amongst your cold sheets."

"Human" is a pleasant surprise, pairing dark lyrics this time with a folksy, upbeat tune. "Underneath this skin there's a human/Buried deep within there's a human/And despite everything I'm still human," is a realization of humanity, however deeply buried by affliction.

As dismal as it is, "Touch" evokes visions of a dull-eyed woman hungering for physical gratification, but realizing the emptiness of it. A softly urgent beat implies tenderness, but also infinite sadness. "Love, hunt me down/I can't stand to be so dead behind the eyes/And feed me, spark me up...So I can feel something." It exposes the superficiality of relationships that are purely physical, and the emptiness that both individuals are left with when it is all over. "Amsterdam" boasts lyrics like, "I used to dream of adventure/When I was younger...Good night with killing our brain cells/Is this called living?" It's a song about exploration, running away with someone and returning home, dissatisfied.

If You Leave is a raw, unprecedented album that may make many listeners uncomfortable. In a music industry full of lifeless, soulless music--as if artists are afraid of exposing their human vulnerability--Daughter defies preconceived notions about the callousness of indie-rock. This album unflinchingly explores, both musically and lyrically, the brutal realities of life, which makes it a heavy listen. But if you listen closely enough, through the pain there is an inkling of hope, and that leaves the listener both deeply moved and thoroughly uplifted.

(Click on the album cover at the top if you want to listen for yourself.)

I am convinced

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." (Romans 8:38-39) These verses leave me thunderstruck. There is such a calming reassurance that never fails to blow my mind. There is great confidence to be derived from the knowledge that "if God is for us, who can be against us?" as the chapter earlier states.

Death has been conquered, once and for all. Life has inevitable heartache and heartbreak, but you know what? The everyday struggles of life do not possess the power to separate us from the vast love of God, either. Angels and demons? Present circumstances and anxieties about the future? You have no reason to worry. God is, and always has been, in control. Paul gives us an important reminder that nothing – nothing that can even be thought to have enough power – can separate us from God's love.

We neither deserve nor earn that love. It was manifested ultimately at the cross of Jesus Christ; His final payment for sin – the outpouring of God's wrath on His only son – was what ensured our standing with God as righteous. Sin separates us from God, which should drive us to run from it. It causes a rift between God and the believer, but it does not change God's hold on that believer.

Our own personal sin, however base and instinctual the desire may be to give in to fleshly desires, cannot remove us from the love secured for us in Christ. If that isn't a reason to give thanks, I don't know what is. If you have acknowledged your sin and repented (Acts 20:21), cling to this promise, and have every reason to be as convinced as Paul was about its truth.