I intended to write on some more influential albums from those days at the Mug, like City on a Hill: Songs of Worship and Praise, POD's Alive, or some early David Crowder Band. I wanted to go from 2002 into 2003 when I saw the rise of Todd Agnew firsthand at Metro every Monday night at Germantown Baptist to Tuesdays at the Loop at Highpoint, which was followed by his Grace Like Rain release and how I'd play it in my first apartment at Georgian Woods. But, no, I'm not going to spend time there.

I'm fast-forwarding things to 2004, a time if there was ever a time of uncertainty in my life, family, career and even where to live. I sang along to the worship in David Crowder Band's Illuminate while heading down the main drag of Flagstaff as I lived the words of Jeremy Camp's heartfelt Stay CD.

In the dark of a pre-dawn, as I was leaving behind my remaining family members and their thrust into Arizona, I said my goodbyes and with only that Chris Tomlin's Not to Us CD riding shotgun in that Silverado truck. I drove into the sunrise of I-40...

...I was alone...and I was hurting, but inexplicably, I knew I HAD to return to my home; I had to return to Memphis. Things with my family would never be again like they once were. Arizona was never me, even if I moved back there on a couple more occasions in the upcoming years. But, on that morning, the feeling I felt on that early drive, what I felt, is this moving song, Only You, off of the previously mentioned David Crowder album:

YouTube Link

And It's just You and me here now
Only You and me here now

I had a terribly uncertain future ahead of me and just a concrete bed waiting for me to lay my head. All I had was trust and a tankful of gas. Even now...my heart is moved...so many miles ago it was. Many times in my life, for a moment, I wondered why couldn't I be like my peers? They had their settled-down lives with their mortgage; they all seemingly had perfect lives; they were hired right after college graduation. They had stability and love. I seemingly was forever destined for the road.

But, then I remembered: God chose my life. He knew that if I didn't have a Fall 2000 when I had that anti-Midas touch, I would have never experienced the fullness of what an actual relationship with Him is like. I would have never found a place like the Mug if I had that corporate achievement mindset—and how this petulant child still wanted it: "Be GREAT in the eyes of men! Buy the houses, the cars, the clothes!" Is this really what I want? Stuff? I love these words from American Dream an album I listened to 2003 from Casting Crowns:

I'll take a shack on a rock
Over a castle in the sand

I had to be broken to be delivered.