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Andrew Peterson

Andrew Peterson Books

Singer-songwriter

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“She turned around and said, "Is there anything I can do?" It was the only thing she could have said that he couldn't answer with anger, which frustrated Janner even more. If she had asked what was wrong, he would have hurled a perfectly sassy reply right back at her. If she had told him to cheer up, he would have grouched something about how cheery he'd be if he had played with puppies all day. If she had tried to be silly to cheer him up, he would have barked that he was sorry he wasn't in the mood for games. But "Is there anything I can do?" poured cool water on his fire. It told him that she cared. It told him that she saw he needed something, even if she didn't know what. It told him that she hurt with him.”

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Book:The Monster in the Hollows
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“I carry a persistent fear that my thoughts are incorrect, or silly, or so obvious they aren’t worth saying. Suddenly I’m a little boy, sitting in class like a solemn ghost. Mrs. Larson asks me a question, all the seven-year-old eyes in the room turn to me with expectation, and I’m frozen in place, terrified by the sudden realization that I’m expected to contribute. My cheeks flush and I want to go away to someplace safe—someplace like the woods or the eternal fields of green Illinois corn where I can watch and experience and listen without any demand to justify my existence. I’ve always been happy to be alone. God, however, never takes his eyes off me, and on my good days I believe that he is smiling, never demanding an answer other than the fact of myself. I exist as his redeemed creation, and that is, pleasantly, enough for him.”

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Book:Adorning the Dark: Thoughts on Community, Calling, and the Mystery of Making
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“My love has gone across the sea To find a country far and fair He sailed into the gilded west And lo, my heart will never rest Until my love returns to me Or I set out to find him there. Come home, come home! I sing to thee My love, come home and rest thy head I'll watch for you the winter long And sing for you a summer song And if you can't return to me Then I will sail to you instead Through tow'ring wave and shriek of gale I'll aim my vessel ever west And steer it by the cord that bound My heart to yours, until you're found And should you find my body pale And wrecked upon the loamy shale Rejoice, my love, and call me blessed! In death, my love, I loved you best”

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Book:The Monster in the Hollows
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“You can not blame your equipment. You can't blame your lack of time. You can't blame your upbringing. Either you're willing to steward the gift God gave you by stepping into the ring and fighting for it, or you spend your life in training, cashing in excuse after excuse until there's no time left, no fight left, no song, no story.”

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Book:Adorning the Dark: Thoughts on Community, Calling, and the Mystery of Making
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“I’m the kid (and the man) who doesn’t raise his hand. Whenever I do, I regret it. Better to keep quiet, to work out my rejection with fear and trembling, and to keep hunting for a safe place where I’m never confronted with my own insignificance. And yet, at war with that desire to be invisible is a yearning to be seen and known and valued.”

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Book:Adorning the Dark: Thoughts on Community, Calling, and the Mystery of Making
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“Eric Peters is a chronicler of his journey; he's been a faithful steward of the story God is telling through him, and this newest chapter, BiRDS OF RELOCATiON, is Eric's testimony that along the way there are moments of deep joy and gratitude-they may seem brief, but they're bright, and they're worth singing about. The joy I hear on this record heralds a long and welcome peace.”

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Author:Andrew Peterson
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“Blood was shed that you three might breathe the good air of life, and if that means you have to miss out on a Zibzy game, then so be it. Part of being a man is putting others' needs before your own.”

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Book:On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness: Adventure. Peril. Lost Jewels. And the Fearsome Toothy Cows of Skree.
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“The burden God places on each of us is to become who we are meant to be. We are most fully ourselves when Christ most fully lives in us and through us. The mother shines brightest with her child in her arms, the father when he forgives his wandering son, and the artist when he or she is drawing attention to grace, by showing the pinprick of light overcoming the darkness in the painting, or the story, or the song. The world knows darkness. Christ came into the world to show us light. I have seen it, have been blinded by it, invaded by it. I will tell its story.”

KnowsWorldChildrenHas BeensStoriesShowsLightMotherArtistSongFatherChristAttentionDarknessGracePaintingSonArmsOvercomingForgivingShiningBurdenDrawingWanderWho We AreMeant To BeBlindedDrawing Attention
Author:Andrew Peterson
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“Art, if it can be ascribed value, is most valuable when its beauty (and the beauty of the truth it tells) bewilders, confounds, defies evil itself; it does so by making what has been unmade; it subverts the spirit of the age; it mends the heart by whispering mysteries the mind alone can’t fathom; it fulfills its highest calling when into all the clamor of Hell it tells the unbearable, beautiful, truth that Christ has died, Christ is risen, and Christ will come again. None of these songs and stories matter if the beauty they’re adding to isn’t the kind of beauty that redeems and reclaims.”

IfsMindHeartKindDoeHas BeensArtMatterStoriesAgeBeautifulSpiritValuesSongEvilChristHellMysteryCallingHighestDiedValuableUnbearableRisenWhisperingFathomClamor
Author:Andrew Peterson
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“God gave music the power to carry his light into the darkness. That’s a mighty privilege. It means intentionally telling stories and writing songs that bear truth that outlasts the songs themselves. If I did this in hopes of thunderous applause and piles of cash, I would have quit years ago. But there are moments on the stage when I sense something magical, a connection with the band and the audience, when our stories intersect and suddenly we’re wading in an ancient river. Suddenly the song is secondary to the greater story being told through each of us.”

IfsWritingYearsMeanMomentsStoriesLightSongDarknessAudienceGreaterStageBearsBandYears AgoRiversConnectionsAncientPrivilegeQuittingCashApplauseWriting SongsTelling Stories
Author:Andrew Peterson
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