Pam Destri was on call as a volunteer EMT the night Rich Mullins died and Mitch McVicker got seriously injured in a car accident. Many fans have wondered for years what happened on that night. While Pam doesn't have all the answers she does offer her experience, what she witnessed, some surprising revelations about what the EMT's found, and why she thinks God brought her there in those moments. Part of the episode features talks from me (Chris Marchand) and Pastor Mark Schoenhals (of Living Waters Lutheran Church) about Rich Mullins, a talk from Pam, and then an after-talk interview with Pam. You can read my full address from that night here: Rich Mullins, My Patron Saint
So, I suppose Rich Mullins died 19 years ago today and I suppose I'm still a bit in denial about it. Everyone's posting their tributes, so I thought I'd offer mine too.
Episode 09 of the PostConsumer Reports podcast features author Caleb J Kruse in a discussion about his new book Meeting Rich. In the fall of 1997, Rich Mullins, in the midst of touring and recording for Mitch McVicker's debut album in Elgin, Illinois, needed a place for him and his band to stay. Through a set of circumstances and acquaintances, Mullins ended up staying at Caleb's house. His new book Meeting Rich documents the three weeks Mullins was there, which just so happen to be the three weeks leading up to his death in a car accident on Interstate 39 in Illinois. You can stream the interview here (or on itunes) and also make sure to check below where you can watch the full concert Mullins put on in Caleb's house. It's pretty lo-fi but it is also mesmerizing and haunting in context.
This Sunday (the Twentieth Sunday After Pentecost, October 26, 2014) we be reading the story of the death of Moses. This is a reflection I wrote in preparation for that.
Ever since I started watching more zombie films and TV shows I have become more than a little paranoid in every day life (see here for my recent article on the many things zombies can teach us). Do so has resulted in an all-pervading mental state which leads me to believe the ensuing zombie apocalypse has either begun or is about to begin. In other words, the belief that zombies are now among us causes a person to view everyday life a little differently. Here now are some "obvious conclusions" made while observing my world in a state of zombie-induced paranoia:
What should art effect in us? Why do we listen and watch and consider even one work of art? What makes art worthy of our time and concentration? Should they evince joy or sadness or the full spectrum in between? Yes, hopefully, and I would encourage us all to seek out art that does just that; to partake of art that does not make light of death and suffering (although it might find humor in them) or joy and mirth, but handles them with serious care. Art should make us sad and bring us joy. Art should both offend and comply with our sensibilities. I have been watching a television show (Battlestar Galactica) that has immersed me in the "full spectrum" of themes and emotions mentioned above. But within the spectrum it has caused me to contemplate my own mortality more than any other TV show I have ever seen. This is due to two factors: 1.) the quality of the show and 2.) the fact that I am finally in a place in my life where I am willing to actually face the abstract concept of death as well as the fact of my own inevitable eventual death. This contemplation was not something I was able to throughout my undergraduate literature degree, where I would squirm whenever forced to read another novel whose main subject or underlying theme was death. What was all these authors' (literal) morbid obsession with this subject? Where was their meditation on and memorial to life? On joy? On celebration? I still think my instincts on this were primarily good, for as a Christian I am ultimately an "Easter" kind of person, even as I continually tell stories that walk through the darkness of "Good Friday". The stories I tell will nearly always end in resurrection despite the fact that most of the narratives will take place in the realm of suffering and dying. Despite my good instincts as a young twenty-something, I now realize something was lacking in me. All Christians who have been called to walk the way of Christ need to have the gall to first look death in the face and then choose to fully go through death--both spiritual and physical--even as death itself is conquered. For most of my life up to now I was too scared and immature to look. Now, though, I am looking, even if with lingering apprehension. This has partly to do with life circumstances: namely, I got cancer a few years ago, I have kids now and I am thinking about their future (a future they will eventually have to live without me), my own mother is aging (thus a future where I will have to live without her), my next door neighbor died a few months ago (a man who's rapid deterioration I witnessed myself over the course of two years), and my 90 year old grandmother has been on an amazingly slow but ever-progressive descent to her own death. And right along with these circumstances comes Battlestar Galactica a show that constantly asks the BIG questions to its characters and therefore to its viewing audience. There are so many moral, ethical, political, religious, spiritual, historical, and racial themes this show brings up I could not possibly cover them. But looming in each episode is the danger of death, even the complete annihilation of the human race.
