The Alchemist

The Alchemist album is an ode to the journey we take when we accept the fatal call to follow Christ. We all begin our journey with a heart of lead - we begin with unbelief. Inevitably, we must die to ourselves in order for God to make something beautiful out of us- gold.

I drew inspiration from my own experiences and took the entire project as an exercise to stand in awe of the changes God has made in me. My hope is that whoever listens to this album will be as challenged as I was to live a life in this reality - a reality of freedom from our old selves.

As a highlight, songs such as “Come to the River” talk about the turning point of our salvation or perhaps for some, the point of surrender in order to reconcile with “The Alchemist”, or become gold.

The flow of the album moves from dark to light and ends with the challenge to take that light back to the dark. Hence, we end with one of our most cherished songs- “Run Into the Dark”. Our call, our action, as a church is a necessary indication of the completeness of our salvation (James). Look out for the “Run Into the Dark” music video coming out this week.

Worship and the Words We Don't Say

For the past four (almost five) years, I’ve been serving as a worship director in a small church in a small suburb in Illinois. For those who’ve known me longer than that may find that surprising. Prior to my position in the church, I was labeled as a secular musician; and I loved it. I loved the freedom it brought. I was allowed to write and create as an individual with all my frustrations, edges, and dirt. I didn’t have the need nor the desire to mask the things that the church would have deemed embarrassing. While I certainly am not asserting that I celebrate my imperfection, I believe it is a sign of maturity to sit as I am before God, knowing that I am covered by His blood.

I remember a conversation I had with my wife a week ago. We talked about how the language in music labeled “worship” was often bland and repetitive. I noticed that the vernacular used in Contemporary Christian Music was judged based on how well it fits in its narrow spectrum, rather than the content or message of the song. It got me thinking – what is worship? Or what are the characteristics of worship? And most importantly, is my art worship?

At the heart of the matter, I believe that your view on worship is dictated by your view on your relationship with God. For example, should you view your relationship with God as a mere compartment in your life, and hence void of significance in other areas, then your worship may be sterile – a representation of a nice and neat factory-cut delivery of praise to the doorstep of God’s Sunday apartment. But if you realize that God is the god of your entire life, including the dirt and the areas you are yet to be fully sanctified in, then sing to God as such a person.

Create art that speaks of your brokenness, even if it isn’t “Church ideal”. Is true worship not honest and raw? Why would we sugar coat the truth to the God who knows and is the hard truth? If anything, labeling a song as secular (meaning void of God) because of arbitrary reasons such as the use of uncommon vernacular or a cynical take on the writer’s walk will make us guilty of diminishing God’s all-encompassing presence in life. So artists, don’t create as if your walk with God is perfect. We all know it’s not. Write about this bumpy journey with all the bruises and cuts – this is true worship for the artist. ~ Daniel Lim

Stephanie chiming in here. I know there are so many directions we could run in defining worship, so sorry this isn’t and exhaustive perspective. But what got me thinking about this topic was the fact that the type of music labeled “worship” has become smaller and smaller. I remember being so excited to hear a new melody played during a worship service a while ago. To my disappointment, the words were the exact vocabulary and lines from other worship songs, almost verbatim. There are the exceptions to this rule of course and I thrill to worship to these songs or different forms of worship. But I believe that as a Christian culture we are absolutely starving ourselves of true worship. And for what reason? That’s something to think about. ~Stephanie Lim

The Open Hand of an Honest Christian

There was once a man who told me to hold my faith with an open hand. Isn’t that the point of faith? Believing that it will stay, not because of the strength of your own grip, but the strength of the One you placed your faith in. I have grown to believe, that should anything arise to question my faith; I would face it unafraid. This means that I will allow myself to relinquish my hold on to what I know to be true, and trust that the beauty of God will draw me back time and time again. There will be many who will feel uncomfortable about this, and I don’t blame them. Deconstructing yourself is a terrifying process, even if it isn’t done in its entirety. It even feels unfaithful at times. But what is more unfaithful – to understand so completely that faith is a gift, that you can trust the One who gave it to you to keep you from falling off the cliff even if you leaned forward, or to second guess this gift to the point where you find yourself in the fetal position as far away from the edge as you can get?

A quick aside – this is what my song “God of My Doubt” is about. I looked at the terrifying prospect – that my doubt was not my enemy, neither was my lack of faith, but a tool to sharpen me as I navigate a world that is deliberately foggy and mysterious. I don’t need to know the future. I just need to know that God is there, and what better way to experience that, than letting Him hold you?

There are many ways that God moves me. Through His Word, the preaching I hear while I’m sitting in a pew, the stinging rebuke of a friend, or the gentle encouragement of a listener. But I’ve found that God has spoken to me most, through my own songwriting. I know how that sounds. Rather strange to learn new things by talking to yourself. But perhaps the pacing and mulling does knock a few things loose for me to begin to shift and sift through the tightly knit mess in my mind. Or perhaps, there is a more mysterious work at hand.

When I write a song, I withhold all judgement for the moment. There are no awkward cadences, cliché lines, even theologically questionable lyrics. It is just God, my guitar, and I (and maybe every now and then He brings His guitar too). This is a time of vulnerability. All the wondering about whether the Church would give my song its stamp of approval goes out the door. I do this for two reasons, and in my opinion, they’re very good reasons. Firstly, I want my songs to be honest. If there is a theological flaw in my thinking, I want it to show. This is because I’d much rather my theology be fixed in my life before it gets to my listeners, than for my listeners to agree with my music, but find out that I don’t. If faith is a journey of imperfect souls, why should my music be perfect? Secondly, I want to hold my music with an open hand.

Time and again, we read in the Bible (and in modern day testimonies) about how God uses weak and untalented individuals with open hands (even reluctantly open hands). I want to be David, when He got up to worship after his son with Bathsheba died. I want to be Jonah, after he rose from the ocean to preach to Nineveh. I want to be Moses, after hesitantly picking up a snake which turned into a staff. I want to be a musician, leaving my music and lyrics open for God to use to touch the lives of people in spite of myself and shortcomings, and I urge you to want the same.

It's Not Over Once You're Married

As I began to set up my guitar at a café, the sound guy and I started a conversation. We talked about music genres, what audio gear we were into at that point, then it began to get personal. I slipped into my conversation that I was married and had a son. This shocked him. He told me I was brave for pursuing music even though I had settled down. Unfortunately, I’ve heard this before – many times. There is a strange notion among artists that once you are married, your life of freedom is over. Perhaps this notion stretches far beyond the artistic circle and into the general public. While I don’t subscribe to this mindset, I do understand the heart behind it. We can try to brainwash ourselves with as many underdog stories that tell you to follow your dreams, but when real life happens: bills, mortgages, taxes, wants and needs, our idealism crumbles and you do what you need to do to survive. And survive you must. Work the job you work and do it with excellence.

But here’s the part where I speak as an Evangelical. I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that I give glory to God as a musician and a songwriter. I know that He will provide for me, even if it means working a nine to five job on top of my music. There is certainly pressure when your life is eternally bound to someone else. Every choice you make must be made in tandem with your partner. This can sound very restricting to the artist who would be happy with a can of beans every night as long as his elbow rests on the edge of a guitar. But as an Evangelical, confinement and enslavement are defined by being estranged from the will and heart of God. Yes, God provides food and shelter. But don’t forget that He also provides a way for you to worship.

When my son Kai was born, I feared that that was the end of my music. But something unexpected happened. I wanted to become a man that he would look up to as he grew older. As I evaluated what that entailed, I realized that the example I wanted him to follow, was that of a man who served God, abandoning the tight grip of fear, fully trusting God to provide both for his family, and for his vocation as a musician. I am testament to that.

When I received my calling as an artist, I kicked back. I said it was impossible to do so with a wife (let alone a child). God brought me to the point of certain death and back to show me how small “impossible” was for Him. It is only in hindsight that I’ve come to the understanding that I’m not to juggle my music, wife, and son, but that my wife, son, and I had to juggle the music. As I said – God provides a way for you to worship. If not for my wife and her encouragement; if not for my son and my desire to be a better man for him, I would have left my music a few years ago. God used what society saw as my ball and chain to set me free. He is the god of all; not to mention the god of irony.

So here I am now, a musician by vocation, an artist by calling, and a missionary at heart. God will provide, even if it’s in the form of fundraising. To the artist who feels tied down and domesticated. If your spouse has always supported your craft, you not pursuing it is on you.

True Songwriting

A word to the aspiring songwriter. I don’t claim to be a master, but in my decade and a half of fervent songwriting, I’ve learnt a few things. This quick blurb is not a tutorial on how to write a song (I don’t think anyone can learn how to do so from reading a blog) but I do hope you will walk away with something – a new perspective, some extra drive to write, or simply a little encouragement.

Firstly, songwriting is not one of those skills where you either have it or you don’t. Sure natural born talent helps. But as a guy who sucked at literature in secondary school, I think I can give testimony to the fact that hard work can get you somewhere. I started writing when I was 15 (I’m now 28… Do the math) and I churned out songs like a burst water pipe back in the day. I’m talking up to 4 songs a day. I wasn’t trying to show them to anyone, or even create anything I thought was radio worthy. I was just experimenting and expressing myself.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I was honing a skill – songwriting. As I got better, I realized that while I wasn’t famous or rolling in the green, people were moved (sometimes to tears) by my music, I figured there was something to my writing. Only then did I start to write more intentionally. I slowed down my pace and expressed myself with more precision. But even then, I was pretty quick. Some songs would take a little longer because I’d revisit them a few days later. But for most songs, I’d finish them in one sitting, sometimes as quick as half an hour. I’m not deliberately rushing the process. I just knew how to put an idea into a song proficiently.

So if I had to give a new songwriter practical advice, I’d say, finish your songs. Don’t wait for them to be perfect. Don’t wait for inspiration to hit. Just write, sing, perform, receive criticism, feel bad, write again. Sounds like grueling work doesn’t it? Well, it is! Which leads me to my next and final point – where does your motivation come from?

If it comes externally, from a cheering crowd, or your loving grandma who buys your album from Bandcamp, then your motivation is short lived. At best, it’s hinged on the response you get from your thousands of adoring fans. But even then, there’s a huge draw back. You see, we are wired to create to please. If you are pleased by the adoration you get from your fans, you’ll write for your fans.

This is toxic to the songwriter. Songs written for fans (even fans as sacred as Christian congregations) are impersonal and false. They’re impersonal because you’re not communicating with a specific person, you’re communicating with a statistic. It’s false because what pleases your fans isn’t what’s truly on your heart, and if it is, it’s really just a coincidence. You should always write to an audience of one – yourself. If you’re writing a love song, write it as you would a letter that you don’t intend to send. When you do this, you’re free from any expectation, and when you’re free, you’ll realize how much pain, emotion, and sincerity can fall onto your paper. This goes for songs written as prayers to God. Sure He knows what’s on your heart, but you can always trick yourself into writing this way.

I see this as true worship because when you offer your songs to God (regardless if your songs are praise or lament), you’ll be offering all of you, not just the parts you want Him to see. This can be applied to your fans. Your fans, or the recipient of the love song, want to see what’s really on your heart. For that’s where the true beauty of songwriting, or any form of art, really lies. It doesn’t lie in polished recordings or insane vocal riffs. It lies in the space between your pen and your paper; when it’s just you, your instrument, and an empty room.