do not conform

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dear homies,
I’ve been thinking lately:
how tempting it can feel
to shave off a bit of yourself to fit in.
it doesn’t hurt that much.
that part of you is not that important.
the magnet is so strong towards social cohesion.
there’s a cool/right/smart/best/most viral way to do things,
and somehow you’re always a bit off the mark…
is there something wrong with you?
are you too old?
too fat?
too skinny?
too nerdy?
too pretty?
people don’t take you seriously?
people take you too seriously?
I wonder what it is…

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you feel like you need to find out,
because there is this apparent race to the top…
race for attention…
race for money that’s constantly tumbling down in big fat wads,
down this hill you’re all climbing…
and resting is sliding down.
virality is the carrot on the stick.
relevance and feeding the algorithms,
all while trying to gauge whether or not
AI is going to cause societal collapse…
which single should you release first?
do people still release singles?
check what your friends are doing…
check what Beyonce and Taylor are doing…
they have a budget though.
you’ll never have a budget like that.
can your shoes even handle a hill like this?
so many people get sick and die on this hill…
some rolling down limp, unable to stand it any longer…
they check themselves into rehab…
sometimes just to recharge for another go…
there are days when the whole hill seems dripping with oil
and you can’t take a step without slipping.
is this the Sisyphisean futility bound
into the minds and hearts of all who seek glory?
the ungraspable trophy? the endless climb?
the empty applause because none of the people who know you
cared about whether or not you made it to the top…
they liked you already.
make it to the top and lose it all?

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our culture is sick from this up-and-to-the-right mentality.
it is particularly insidious to the arts
because there is a prophet role that the arts are connected to.
and it’s one we can’t play from the inside.
you can’t play the prophet if you are always the guest of honor.
and what prophet is always fighting to be the center of attention?
they are those who look for God, often in the wild places,
and who return to the culture to bring remembrance back to the others.
this can happen in the banqueting hall,
but the message the artist brings isn’t something
that the artist will receive at the feast.
they have to leave.
when we artists do not turn Godward, we forgo our birthright
to meet with God in the lonely places, and to hear him.
and if we don’t know him,
then we have nothing of substance to bring back.
a pretty tune with no substance.
jasmine rice with no meat or vegetables.

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every time we hear the siren call towards the top,
we must stop and reorient ourselves.
if the way isn’t up, then which way do we go?
I can’t answer that for you.
but maybe I can give you a better question to ask:
God, how are you working, and how are you wanting to work,
in my life and in the lives of all those around me?
and then, how do I join in?
this is not a multi-polar changing political landscape.
this is not a thriving economy
with a side of recession and high gas prices.
this is not a reward ceremony for the rare, lucky moment
when you get special recognition from a jury of your peers.

Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.

from Paul’s letter to the Romans

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homies, my homies,
don’t conform to the expectations that endless others
put and put and re-put on you. you will die exhausted,
only having never made it to the top… which somehow
has many false peaks, and seems to move…
you do not have to conform to the way
that is typical to the world.
but the world owes you nothing.
God has given you everything.
he cheers for us when we waste on him and on others.
this is our shape, if any—to offer one’s self on behalf of others,
to see the God-man’s love reconcile God and man.
for the artist what does this mean?
it means that the artist is the delighted beggar before our lord.
a beggar because we have nothing special to offer, but to receive…
delighted because he always fills our bowl and invites us in,
and because friendship is more his aim, and because, yes,
he feeds us. but when I leave my stomach is full and my bowl
is somehow overflowing… surely meant to be given away.

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some of my favorite music is not popular.
I hold it close to my heart because my heart needs to hear it.
and some of my favorite music would not have been made
if the artists had been busy climbing to the top of glory hill.
and some of my favorite music was not made in the cool way.
it doesn’t sound slick, and sometimes it even has obvious
mistakes or imperfections.
but maybe as special as the songs themselves,
is that the artists are whispering to me downstream:
it’s okay to be yourself—beautiful even.

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it is one of the greatest gifts an artist can give us—
to be themselves.
(this is part of why AI is so deformative in the arts—
it does not help us to become a full version of ourselves.
it stunts our growth and makes our art more like
all of the art that the models have stolen from).
true artists do not make us more like them,
they inspire us to be more fully ourselves.
and so I say—ask—plead:
DO NOT CONFORM.
weirdos, odd-ducks, introverted prophets,
and grandmothers who have not written a song in decades…
the whole world does not need you.
glory hill is no longer accepting new applicants…
but WE NEED YOU.
with so much love,
Zach