Story is a unique event for creatives in the church.  I have to say I’ve never seen anything quite like it.  It was the best experience at a conference I have ever had.

It had nothing to do with the quality of speakers, the music, or the free Nolan Bag filled with swag, though all of that was incredible.  It was the people.  There was a spirit of welcoming and a sense of belonging that filled the whole event, and it was truly special.

There were so many wonderful experiences at Story, to sum it all up doesn’t seem possible.  There were unexpected friendships, soul-stirring discussions over deep-dish pizza, and mind-altering insights, which my mind, in all it’s abstract wanderings, is still trying to process.

A good conference should expand community, and that’s what Story did.  Meeting other like-minded people, I was inspired to share more, to listen more, to write more, to be more intentional and patient in the creation process, and, to make a movie.

The last few days I’ve been letting the whole experience marinate.  My brain was full.  It needed to digest.

Yesterday I spent five hours in the car driving to the Outer Banks, and I came to a conclusion about the conference.

There are three reactions an artist can have toward others’ work:

1. Envy – a feeling of discontentment and covetousness with regard to what others have created
2. Aspiration – inspiration from what others have created, and a healthy (or unhealthy) motivation to be a part, or create more yourself.
3. Celebration – simply just to enjoy, share, and celebrate, with no agenda.

Celebration is what I felt at Story.

I use to go to conferences with a little sense of anxiety.  Feeling the pressure to meet a certain person, to sell myself, to hand out all my business cards and make the trip worth while.  This time I decided I was going to just be.  Build relationships.  Soak it in.  And see what the Lord does.

I gave away two business cards, because only two people said, “do you have a card?”

There are stories that need to be told.  But you might not be the one to tell it.  And that’s okay.  Embrace what is created by others.  Support it.  Share it.  Celebrate it.  There’s time.  Soon it will be your turn to create, and you will need the same support.  If creatives in the church grasp this mentality, we will create amazing, amazing things.

Because we can do more together than we can on our own.

My primary goal is to eat a breakfast taco.

I’m a newbie at SXSW, so I’m a little overwhelmed excited.  But I have good company (riding on the plane with my friends from Out:think Group).  My friend Dan tells me the conference is insane.  That is the word he uses.  INSANE.  Though he’s never been before so he doesn’t really know.

Looking forward to seeing some old friends and meeting new people.  I’ll be running a camera at this non-profit event, which is cool.  I’ve never been to Austin before.  It’s in the 70′s today, and sunny, which is, of course, also pretty cool.

I imagine I will be tweeting a lot.  You can follow me, but if you only want one person to keep you up to speed about SXSW, follow this guy.  Thanks, Abandon Films, for sending me on this trip.  I will do my best to be where I am.  I have packed some deodorant and Purell hand sanitizer, so I should be good.

The lowdown: South by South West is a trendy and cutting-edge convergence of music, film, and technology.  I will be attending the film and technology conferences.

Last Friday, I took a trip down to Charlotte with my friend Jill Nance, to see what ended up being the last stop of Coldplay’s Viva La Vida tour in the U.S.  The concert was amazing.  Coldplay delivered an incredible experience, both musically and visually.  But there was a little surprise that made the night all that more special.  And it happened like this…

When we first found our seats we were a little disappointed.  We were off to the side and far from the stage.  Not the seats we thought we had.

And there was this huge box right in front of us.

I made a comment about the box blocking our view, and the lady sitting next to us leaned over and said, “Don’t complain. You won’t be disappointed.”

She spoke like someone who knew something we didn’t.  She had this subdued excitement, but she wasn’t subduing it very well.  Then I noticed there was a foot switch on the box.  Rumors spread.  Anticipation grew.  There was chatter.  Interrogations.  Tweets.  Then suddenly, life was in Technicolor…

And it was all Yellow…

Halfway into the show, while we were all tweeting and losing ourselves in the Strawberry Swing, I stopped for a moment to contemplate the similarities between rock concerts and religion. Something about the way the guy next to me with the Bud Light was lifting his hands.

Then there was commotion by the box.  Some roadies next to us began to lift tarps, revealing a piano and guitars.  The crowd around us started to stir, and suddenly the box in front of us lit up, and two roadies lifted the piano onto it.  Coldplay finished playing Strawberry Swing, stepped off the main stage, and walked all the way over to our little box.

The entire band performed two songs five feet in front of us!

I don’t even remember what the first song was.  The second was a piano-solo rendition of The Hardest Part. Standing next to a professional photographer, who at this point was finding it unbearable that all she could bring into the show was a cheap point and shoot, I tried my best to capture the moment via cell phone.

And then I got video of Chris Martin shaking Jill’s hand…

It’s an interesting thing to me that Chris actually looked bigger on that little stage.  It was the way the energy of the crowd surrounded him.  In that moment, he was larger than life.  I kept having to tell myself he’s just a guy.  More talented and harder working is all.  But the music has a way of tricking you.

I am convinced that the music and spectacle we create are reflections of something greater, something we can’t quite put our finger on.  It’s beyond any one person.  We are drawn to it.  That’s why, among other things, we go to concerts.

I use to think those girls at The Beatles shows – the sobbing, screaming fans that maul each other for a closer look – were ridiculous.  And they are.  But in the same way we all are.  We are all drawn to something greater than ourselves.

I will not judge them again.