Behind “Weight of the World”

This project, Colma, started a few months ago when my friend John Murphy told me he was working on an EP of original music. Murph plays for a jazz fusion band called Dynamo (if you haven’t heard them, I’m very sorry), and the group has a VERY distinct sound. If I threw out a hundred words to describe their sound, nothing close to ‘folk’ or ‘Americana’ would ever pop out of my mouth. So it came as a huge surprise when I found out Murph’s originals gravitated toward the acoustic, the sensitive, and the deceptively simple.

For several weeks, we e-mailed back and forth little ideas for songs–he would send me a riff, I would send him a section of lyrics to see if the tone was anywhere near what he was looking for. And then occasionally we would sit in the same room and try the two halves together and tweak the details. Thus went the process for the first two songs, “Every Time You Go” and “San Francisco, 1906”.

For the third song, however, the process looked very different. I remember seeing a quote on Facebook one day. It was posted by my old Houston church, Ecclesia, and it was from an old favorite guest speaker, Gideon Tsang. “I don’t think we’re called to change the world,” it said. “God is changing the world, and has been. We’re called to find our place in the garden, and tend it faithfully.”

I had had one lyric swirling in my head for a few days, but it didn’t make any sense to me. I just loved how it fit with the guitar part. When I saw that quote, though, it all came together. This was going to be a song about how we navigate the world’s craziness without letting it destroy us.

So within a few minutes, I had written the first verse and a chorus (save a minor tweak we made later, because Murph said it sounded too much like a Carrie Underwood song when I used a certain phrase. Oops). And here’s what it said:

Sunrise, you’re sittin’ on eighty acres, lookin’ out at your quiet town
Can’t drown out the voice on the televesion, says we’re all on a steep slope down
Right now, you can’t put the two together: nightmares and American dreams
Right now, the problem’s gettin’ bigger and the whole world’s goin’ batshit crazy

Hold on, it won’t happen like lightning, keep workin’ in the garden
Stay true, and the weight of the world ain’t meant to fall on you

This song is meant to address various perspectives on the question of what to do with a world that is going utterly insane. If you’re offended by my vocabulary in this song, I do apologize, but I also dare you to disagree after watching or reading the news for a few days. The world has been and is going batshit crazy.

Sometimes, we feel a pull to go out and save the world. We go on mission trips so we can feel like we’re fixing things. And anyone who’s done further research into the topic of mission trips knows it’s not that simple… Short term missions can be like a hit and run and, if done incorrectly, can cause more harm than good. Side note: I love mission trips. There are plenty of people who do them right. But that doesn’t mean all mission trips are effective or carried out with the right spirit or follow through.

Other times, we’re so overwhelmed by what’s going on in the world that we bury our heads in the sand and refuse to hear what’s going on. It’s generally unintentional; it’s a defense mechanism. You know you should be moved by hearing about some tragedy but your emotions automatically shut off and distance you from the problem. How could we possibly feel the weight of all the world’s tragedy and still manage to do anything at all?

Some people teach a simplistic viewpoint. They offer a tidy answer to all the world’s problems. Their answer is often presented in simplistic catch phrases (or rhetoric like referring to the president as B.H. Obama). Not particularly helpful.

All in all, knowledge of the world’s problems is utterly overwhelming, and can either leave us feeling like we must personally be responsible for saving the world, or like we have no responsibility to act because the world is just too messed up and how could I ever change anything?

Both of these responses are incorrect, I believe. I think Gideon Tsang sums up beautifully how people should respond to the world, whether they’re coming from a faith perspective or not.

You were made for a purpose. You were made with likes and dislikes, skills and struggles, strengths and weaknesses that make you perfect for a unique purpose. You were placed in a place intentionally. You have met people and experienced pain and joy that make you a beautiful tool to be used for improving the world. You don’t have to fix the world on your own, but you should acknowledge your unique skill set, calling, purpose, or whatever you want to call it, and tend to your place in the garden.

I am a musician. Much of what I write is inconsequential. But some of what I write influences people, or encourages them, or helps them to experience something outside of themselves, which is a minute reflection of what life with God is like.

My friends Jessi and Hannah are starting to sell produce from their own garden. I can guarantee you they won’t end wars with their cucumbers, but I can also guarantee they will change their plot of earth for the better by carrying out their calling.

My father is a pastor. He has never led a megachurch, nor has he brought the masses to salvation. His calling might not feel glamorous, but he has faithfully tended his place in the garden for decades and I believe that his work pleases God very much. And I know firsthand what an incredible and positive influence he has on people around him because of the love he shows.

My mom and brother both work for Visa, and I promise that this is not their life passion. But they carefully tend the relationships in their lives, perform their jobs with excellence, and by very nature of approaching their piece of the puzzle with love and hard work, they are making the world a better place.

We are neither called to complacence nor to the delusion that we will personally be the world’s savior. But stay true, keep working in the garden, and trust that something bigger than you is holding this mess together.