It's been a little bit over a week since our last post.

The remaining three Revolutionary Media members in Oregon have been busy, working late into the night like elves to get as much of post-production wrapped up as they can. The documentary is taking shape and we're proud to announce that we've gotten more work done than we thought possible. We're actually pretty convinced that it's a modern day miracle of sorts. God is good.

We hit the recording studio yesterday! Our musicians recorded the song they wrote exclusively for our film and we couldn't be happier with them. They are amazing.

The trio of Aaron, Christina and myself, headed to NE Portland yesterday. We were hitting the streets, not in search of homeless people, but for citizen's views on the gentrification of their neighborhood. Gentrification is a big word that sums up all that happens when an economically challenged area gets rebuilt--newer and better buildings, higher rent, new neighbors, safer streets while saying goodbye to the landmark renters, stores, and more flavorful neighbors. We soon discovered that gentrification is a politically charged word. Throw in some racial divisions and you had yourself a very interesting afternoon on the street.

The gentrification film was a small, independent project that we were asked to do by another media firm. It was also a chance for us to get our feet wet again. We had a wonderful afternoon, talking to baristas, shop owners, radicals, street women, and all sorts of the post-punk crowd who had begun to trickle into the neighborhood. Everyone had an opinion but it was hard to get them to feel comfortable sharing that opinion on camera. But we did and the short will be turned into the firm by the end of the week.

To all of you who are checking up on this blog: thank you for all of your support over the last two months. The project isn't over yet. Say a prayer or two for us when you think of us. And please, don't forget to love on the people around you.

--Caitlin Muir, Team Journalist

I miss the Texans.

I do.

I miss Whitney’s gentle smile that fills me with peace. I miss her aura—the Jesus-child glow that comes from reveling in her Maker. I miss being filled with wonder whenever I talked to her. I miss exploring the old church with her, pretending we were detectives like little girls, and trying to find out what was in each room.

I miss Jake’s teasing that comes out of the blue and makes me crack up. I miss those funny looks we used to trade during tense situations that always made me smile on the inside. I miss always talking about how hungry we are and what kind of food we are craving. I miss laughing at his phobia of public toilets downtown.

I miss Taylor’s inquisitiveness, maddening though it may be at times. I miss being the “liberal” one of the group. I miss having someone right beside me who I know will have my back—no matter what part of town we are in. I miss praying with random people on the street with him. I miss arguing about which of us has a cooler family.

I miss the camaraderie. I miss inside jokes and secret smiles. I miss text messages from across the room. I miss talking side by side. I miss going out on the street. I miss hearing Jake tell me that he’s hungry. I miss hugs from Whitney. I miss laughing at stupid things with Taylor.

I miss my new “cousins”.

I hate the fact that they are so far away. I hate that I can’t see them. I hate that I don’t have their shoulders near by to cry on. I hate not being able to sit and hear Taylor worship from the depths of his heart. I hate not being able to see them face-to-face. I hate not seeing their expressions. I hate not being able to make Whitney smile from across the room. I hate not being able to feed them rice candy. I hate not seeing Jake randomly bust out gymnastic moves.

I love the way that they make me smile. I love the way they make me want to be like them. I love the way that they glow. I love the way they love. I love the way they gently remind me what life is really about. I love how they have more maturity and depth than a thousand other people I have met. I love how they are from Texas—a completely different culture—and yet, I still adore them. I love their cute accents that come out when they are tired. I love seeing Jesus in them. I love the way they poked fun at my own state and made me laugh at my tree-hugging ways. I love how they made me rethink some things in my life. I love the way God brought them into my life. I love that they are Scottish, just like me. I love that each of them possesses a delicate, fragile, beautiful heart that is not afraid to love. I love the way they aren’t afraid to wear their hearts on their sleeves. I love the way they aren’t ashamed of their faith—their relationship with Christ. I love how they pray. I love the way they interact with each other. I love the way they take risks. I love how they are chill about life. I love how lovely they are. I love the poetry that is written in their eyes.

I just simply love them.

--Caitlin Muir, Team Journalist

The members of Revolutionary Media met with the local branch of One Economy today. One Economy is an international company which is endeavoring to reach out to economically challenged people through the internet and education. They are also interested in contracting Revolutionary Media to provide content for their websites.

It’s an appealing proposition—having semi-steady media jobs betwixt projects would help us maintain funds and while sharpening our skill sets. Members of our group could work independently for the company or work together. It seems like a win-win situation for everyone involved.

No decision has been set about any form of involvement. Just pray for us as we seek wisdom in the matter.

-- Caitlin Muir, Team Journalist

"At the end of our lives, we will not be judged by how many diplomas we have received, how much money we have made or how many great things we have done. We will be judged by ‘I was hungry and you gave me to eat. I was naked and you clothed me. I was homeless and you took me in.’

Hungry not only for bread-but hungry for love.

Naked not only for clothing-but naked of human dignity and respect.

Homeless not only for want of a room of bricks-but homeless because of rejection.

This is Christ in distressing disguise." -- Mother Teresa

The Texan interns left today, taking with them a huge chunk of our hearts.

I don't think any of us ever expected that we'd grow as close as we did. Casual friendships turned into family bonds over the six weeks, forever changing the way that we look at each other. It is time to throw out the word intern, to banish it from our vocabulary. They are something much deeper and dearer than that. I don't know if the English language has the word I'm looking for. Maybe it's not something that you can really express verbally; maybe it's best left to be felt in the depths of a person's soul.

Whitney, Taylor, and Jake are unaware of the effect they have had on the team. They are oblivious to the lasting impact they've made on our lives. They are unaware that half the management team wants to be just like them when they "grow up". They are clueless to the challenge they've issued to us; inspiring us to grow closer in our relationships with other people and God. They just might be the most important people in Revolutionary Media.



--Caitlin Muir, Team Journalist

Time was ticking and the sand in the hour glass was running out far too fast. The four interns had two days to finish putting the Rev Media promotional together, but that wasn’t enough time to finish it and make it the jaw-dropping production that they wanted it to be. The managers would be left to finish the promotional, but they already had enough on their plates with the actual docu -drama and book. That is why what happened next was a true answer to prayer.

Christina walked into the "White Room of Doom" (aka, our production studio) and announced that it would be fine with her family if Laura, Whitney, Taylor, and Jake stayed an extra week to finish the project up. Laura already knew that she wouldn’t be able to stay, because of things that she had going at home. Taylor, Whitney, and Jake ,however, immediately called their families to find out if it would be alright if they stayed for the extra time. They were shocked to find out that it would be fine with their families as long as they could transfer the flight for little enough money.

"It will probably cost at least two hundred dollars," Aaron and Christina explained.

Whitney’s heart sunk because she knew that ,if it cost too much, they would be heading home without having finished the task at hand. She pulled out her computer to check, all the while praying that God would confirm if He wanted them to stay by providing the flight and the money. He confirmed by allowing the transfer to be only twenty - one dollars for all three of them!

She quickly called her mom, only to find out that her family had extra money from a flight that her sister hadn’t been able to take, which meant that even the mere twenty - one dollars was covered! Whitney, Jake, and Taylor were overwhelmed with surprise and gratefulness as they headed into the next week to finish out the task that God had laid before them.
~*~

God is truly amazing and He really does answer prayer. He moves when His children allow Him to, when they don’t keep Him in a box, and when that happens, they are amazed at His goodness. I’ve always wanted to be part of a trip that has a definite ending point which, when that spot is reached, God extends to a later time, and on this trip I was. It’s a crazy wonderful feeling to be part of something that He is so free to move and to change things in - that He is the leader of. I would be involved with Rev Media again in whatever way the door is opened for the simple fact that God is not kept in a box and that the team is truly directed by His hand. I want to be where God is moving and I know that He is with this organization.

Written by Whitney Lindsey, Director's Assistant

My pastor often declares that "worship is a verb", after which he explains that the things we do in our everyday lives should be done as worship to our amazing Jesus. Being on the Rev Media team has opened my eyes to this truth in a whole new way. We are seeking to bless God with the most beautiful worship that we can through this project. In the process of capturing it, putting it together, and in the final outcome we are seeking to show even a small part of His heart and of our extreme devotion and adoration for Him. All too often Christians settle for second best when it comes to showing the love of God through art; Rev Media won’t settle for anything but the very best that we can give Him.
In his book "Into the Depths of God" Calvin Miller states that,"True praise of any sort is so passionate it leaves us weak when it is over. We love Him [Jesus] too much to stop painting Him, and yet we loathe ourselves because our small talents can’t make Him very real. But on we strive! We must do what we can - all we can -anything less would be blasphemy."
This is what Rev Media will continue to do. We will do all we can to show God’s heart and to give Him glory!

Written by Whitney Lindsey, Director's Assistant

Sluggish. Hhmm. That is kind of how I feel right about now. Peaceful. That is another thing I’m feeling right about now: victorious. That is one reality that I cannot deny.

The sluggishness comes from my mental exhaustion. Overall, the work of the project is going well and there are only a few things that don’t seem in place: my ability to think clearly, my physical energy, and my internal clock. (Wow, is it off!) But these things have to be shaken, broken down and moved so that I become dependent on God to help me do the tasks assigned to me. After seeing God work faithfully in my own weaknesses and others around me, I realize that this place of weakness is most likely a good place to be. O Faithful God!

The peacefulness has come from situations on this trip where I had to rely on a Faithful God and He surprised me more than once with His extreme faithfulness. So right now, even with all the other "stuff" that needs to be done looming in my mind, I feel at peace because of a grounded trust. Trust is something that God continually works into our hearts day by day. Sometimes we think we can "conjur" up some kind of faith in God, but that faith is only a combination of confidence in ourselves, reckless radicalism, and a fear to actually just trust. People throw on this kind of faith and then start busying themselves with things to "do for God" because they are actually afraid to just sit and trust Him. Real faith is uncomfortable a lot of times because we can’t comfort ourselves with our own accomplishments. It’s the "Mary and Martha" story that plays out in our personal lives every day. Martha’s faith kept her busy with no time to be peaceful; but Mary’s faith made her to sit on the ground in an uncomfortable place but she had perfect peace in her place of simple trust. This simple trust in God brings about weird and wonderful kind of peace.

This reality of victory isn’t because our project is ahead of schedule. It isn’t because everyone on the team is having a fabulous week.. It isn’t because everything is "set in stone"–done. The realization of victory is felt, acknowledged and known because the realization of God’s hand working with us has been made evident to us day to day. When you are sure of God’s presence in something, you feel excited and confident that He is going to work His will in ways you may not be able to imagine. That doesn’t mean that you aren’t tired. That doesn’t mean that you are completely comfortable. And it doesn’t mean that you have no doubts at all. It simply means that your trust and confidence is in Something else, something you have put all of your faith into. And if the Something proves It’s trustworthiness time and again to you, then believing a promise of victory is easy to do.

Trusting in God to fight for us throughout this trip has revealed a picture of God’s faithfulness to us, because every time we called on Him, He came rushing to our rescue. Every time our pride got in the way of our goal, when we asked for humbleness, God poured it out abundantly. Every time our hearts were broken, when we asked Him to fix them, He did.

--Taylor Lindsey, Assistant Journalist.

I always thought I had a pretty good heart.

But for some reason, my heart is broken tonight. My heart is broken and exposed, and I don't like the look of it. I see gooey black masses of pride, and I see hypocrisy, and I see all the things that I don't want to be.

So there comes an idea. I will take my heart and bring it out of it's cool dark corner where it has been festering and take it out on the streets of Portland. There I will put my heart on the sidewalk and feel what it is like to be out from the places that I call comfortable. So that is what I have done. For three weeks I tried to get inside the mind and emotions of a street kid and what they love and what they hate. I have seen things that have made my sheltered little mind shudder with horror. I have felt pain like the kind that comes from violently ended love. I have seen humanity in the light of the calloused, pompous and pharisetical snobs that we can so often be. I have never been so scared in all my life.

Scared you ask? Scared because I see the worst of all of it in my own life. I see the blond that covers her eyes so she doesn't see the street kid, I see the meth addicts' sagging eyes and glassy stare. I see that in me. And I am scared.

So here I sit looking at my heart again. There are little grits of sand and gravel from the concrete where my heart has been these last few weeks, there are spots of blood where it has been scraped and bruised. I am not sure what is better, the sleepy pride, or this ragged love-pain.
But then I open my Bible. I try to get a picture of the heart of Jesus. There on those thin paper pages a picture begins to appear of the heart of my Lord Jesus. Then I cry. I cry because I see what his heart looked like. I cry when I hear him say that he came for the least of these, those who need the doctor and not those who think they have it all together.

I cry because i ever asked the question, because I ever thought that apathy might be better. The heart of Jesus is so broken and torn, it is so dirty and bruised that it is misshapen and battered. He is my Lord, and that is what my heart should look like.

It is time I take my heart out of it's box and but it where my Lord put his. Right smack in the middle of the pain, need, tears, and the wounds.

Then will I live a life worth living.

Then will the air be worth breathing.

Then will my heart be worth keeping.

While Flipping though my journal this morning I found a letter that I forgot to tear out from one of the street kids, Sebastian Snow. I wasn’t necessarily looking for the letter, just sort of browsing the pages of the past weeks, remembering the moments. Trying to understand how I am going to function correctly after I go home. I flipped to his page and reread the letter that had stabbed my heart so many times already.

The letter, to me, is a cry. The story of a 16 year old boy in and out of mental facilities and now living on the street under the Morrison bridge. In chains to meth since he was nine. Nine. That’s one less than ten, one more than eight. Nine.

The letter, to me, is a memory. The time when Christina and Jocelyn and I walked the water front to get some portraits of the street kids. The day I went out, dead set on changing the world, but had my world changed instead. The day I learned to love past the makeup and smell, the booze and dope. The day the little boy with the desperately blue eyes looked into my soul and I realized why Jesus loves us so much.

The day by the water front was special to me because I saw a need. Even though I had been working with the homeless for two weeks already, it didn’t hit me until that day. The fact that truly, as cliché as it sounds ……what the world needs is love.

And that day, I felt that love. By maybe just asking Seb to write a letter. By maybe just asking a punk why he likes photography. By maybe just caring.

Just a little bit.

That day I felt that love because I finally allowed myself to feel it.

After Seb handed gave me the letter I walked down the boardwalk, away from the city, whispering life to the words he fiercely wrote in my book. That night I cried for Seb. I cried for all the Seb’s of Portland. That night I cried because of the Seb inside me.

That night, I cried for this day.

The day that I would have to leave, the going home day. Today is the day that I will leave my friends in Portland and go home and be the change in my own city, as painful as it may be. My Files are transferred, but my vision hasn’t . My bags are all packed up, but alas my heart is not. I think that part of me will always be here in Portland, here on the streets, under the bridges. These people, these smelly, dirty, beautiful people have changed me. This fact compels me. It moves me forward. I want to change the world. Really, I do. I want to travel and see the trees in Singapore, I want go to the deep south and cover Katrina. I want to move to India and photograph orphans. I want to continue to change and be changed.

I Maybe I will some day. For right now, though? I will be the change I wish to see in the world.

But I will start here.

In my own country. In my own town.

In my own heart.

What next you ask?

There is only one option.

Forward.

Written by Laura Clawson, photographer of all things deepandbeautiful

Post Production: gathering ideas for 'Dear World' ,and catching some much needed rest while waiting for a video to finish rendering

Being in the director's shoes of this upcoming docu-drama, it seems as though a few short weeks have evolved into a few years since our little team met together for the first time to begin this crazy dream of a project. From various sides of the country we came to bring what talents and abilities we had to offer in making up the incredible task-force you know as the "Rev-Media team". For most of us starting out our mission was to head-out and give of ourselves to ensure the success of this endeavor. In my opinion, the surprise element was within the dark wanting eyes of the people we encountered on the streets. How would we have known that this emptiness would speak volumes and fill our hearts with the ideas,creative inspiration and discerning spirit to go about diving into this deep subject.

We saw that trying to show the audience this world of the streets from the view we see all the time, would do very little and still leave all those unanswered misconceptions in the minds of the viewers. As we discussed strategy in story telling, we unanimously agreed to show the people from the inside out giving an honest chance to grasp what our team has seen almost on a daily basis for the past weeks. If it was your Grandfather or better yet if it was YOU on the street corner holding that "will work for food" sign, that might change the way you see these people. After being in post production for more than a week now we finally produced the teaser above to give a glimpse into what this project is really about. Some of these ideas have been touched on in this snippet of video, but rest assured this is only the beginning. We now press on in post production to fight our arch nemesis "Father Time" in this process that can most times determine the fate of a project.

You never know when you could be someone’s life line.

It’s been five fast and crazy weeks during which time God has done the impossible - nine crazy twenty somethings have not only gathered footage for a docu-drama and book that will change the way people see the homeless, they have also found friends along the way - both in their team and with the kids on the streets.

Thinking back on this trip, on the footage taken and the friendships made, I remember what a good friend once told me. He said that "behind every face there’s a story". I think of Strawberry, Zimm, Kat, Dee, Daisy, Monique, Michelle,Sean, Leo, and all the rest, and of the stories they’ve shared with us.

I think of how it was supposed to be impossible for us to bond with them so fast, and yet we did. I think of how good God has been.

There are so many ways that I have changed since being on this trip and so many things that I will take home with me, but I think one of the most impacting is that I will never see people the same again. I pray that I will never pass a homeless person by without at least looking into his eyes and smiling at him, that I will never build a wall just because of the outward appearance of someone, that I will never see a friend who’s hurting and not reach out to them.

As I head home, I wonder if I’ll ever see any of these kids again. Will I ever know if the seeds that were sown sprouted and grew? I might find out someday, but maybe I won’t. Either way, there are two things that I can do: one is to keep standing in the gap for them in prayer; the other is to be aware of the Zimms, Strawberries, and Kats in my life every day. Whether that is a friend, a family member, someone on the streets or in another country, I can be constantly aware of the people God is sending me out as a life line to.

So, who is the Zimm in your life? Who is the one that Jesus wants to use you as a life line for? I assure you that there is at least one person, but , when you see the need, will you be willing to be the change?

--Whitney Lindsey, Assistant Production Manager

Post production. An interesting mix of feelings is aroused at the mention of this word. Post Production is the phase of the project in which our team sorts footage gathered, edits footage, makes the footage look good, and then polishes the footage to perfection. In one sense, a great battle is over and there is a feeling of victory. In another sense, technical and tedious work is before the team and, every now and then, boredom and drudgery are just as powerful enemies as physical danger and exhaustion on the streets. Of course, the thought of our fellowship breaking is completely heart wrenching and I can’t think about that right now..
Most of the Post Production work is being done in a room at the Dickson house which the team has affectionately termed “the White Room of Doom”. At the end of the day, a soft bed and dreams is all our minds can focus on. Eight desktops and laptops run constantly, and the silence of creative minds churning to create is interestingly loud.
Days like today seem like they have been few and far between. Days like this Sunday, when there is some work to be done, but everything is relaxed and there is time to think, these days I love.
I think part of me has fallen in love with this lifestyle of chasing and fighting for a goal along side brothers and sisters of the same heart. It is so strengthening to be a slave to righteousness if the slaves surrounding you work with the same heart, toward the same goal. This is the picture I see when I look at my teammates. I love this! This manifestation of God’s children being the church is beautiful to me.
Today is a good day. This life is a great battle. Our God is a Mighty God.

You can't change people.

Throughout this project, that's something that I have been reminded of time and time again. No matter how much blood, sweat and tears that I put out, it is only through the work of God that a life is changed.

I am not God. Christina is not God. Aaron, Caleb, and the rest of the team are not God either. We can pour out our hearts to these people, empty our wallets buying them food, and spend our days listening to the cries of their heart. But we can do nothing. We are empty. We are only vessels that can be used by God for his glory. We are the hands and feet of Christ but we are still only human.

Tonight, as I drove back home from the drop-in, my heart wept. My eyes were dry but sobs were racking my heart. The pain was physical but it wouldn't stop. It wasn't that anything horrible happened but I was reminded of the hard life that my new friends live. I was reminded of the hurt that defines "normal" in their lives.



It's hard for me to see my friends without Jesus. Honestly, He's the only answer to all of their problems. He's the only one who can fix the shattered lives and put a balm on their blistered souls. His arms are the only ones where they will find shelter and refuge. It is only through Him that they can find the forgiveness and acceptance that they seek so desperately.

I wish there was a way that I could rewind time like a VHS. I wish I could mix lives like DJ's do records and make up a completely new song. I would cut away the pain, the hurt, the angst. In the darkest moments I would show them Jesus offering them a way out. He's always been there. They just haven't noticed him.

At this moment, all I can do is keep loving them until my last breath. I can keep caring, not letting my heart be overwhelmed, but keep drawing closer to Jesus so I can reflect his love to them. I don't want to be just "another Christian" in their life. Who wants to be spoken of with the contempt that reveals hurt and anger from the past? I want to be different. I want to be the one who cared. The one who kept on loving and the one who helped bring them running into Christ's arms of love.

The next time you see someone--it doesn't have to be a homeless person--look at them. Really look. Look at their eyes. See the pain in their souls. Start caring. Start being Jesus to them. Cast away the apathy, look past the tough facades, and please, love them.