cornerstone, again.

I am taking the last bit of time that I have to myself before leaving for Cornerstone Fest in the morning. I am looking forward to the trip. Although I will admit that I have had moments of wondering why I ever brought this upon myself one more time. I guess that getting over Cornerstone is one of those things I will just never learn. Cornerstone always brings up a lot of memories; I’ve done a whole lot of growing up there. This will be my eighth Cornerstone, I’ve made the trip all but one year since I was 15 years old. My inaugural year was certainly the most memorable. Shooting stars, Over the Rhine, chicken fighting in the lake, mud people, mosh pits, heartbreak. Most of the other years are a blur of dusty roads, sweat, sleeping out under stars, and of the reminder that sometimes people that love Jesus the most are the least likely to look like I would imagine them to.

And sometimes I realized that the ones I assumed did were only putting on a show.

This is the 25^th Cornerstone Festival and its funny that going there always feels a little bit like going home. I do not think it is the hardcore bands playing on generator stages or the porta-johns or even finding old and new friends in the merch tents. I think that it has much more to do with the sky I look up and see at nite, with the guarantee I will see stars flying from one end to the other. I think it has to do with going to see Over the Rhine play at midnite, falling asleep to the melodies and waking to the audience clapping, over and again. And smiling when Karen and Linford always come back and play even after saying goodnite. I feel at home with the familiar Cornerstone smells of straw and sweat and with the feeling that I am getting older and that some things stay the same.

This is the third year that I have taken high schoolers to Cornerstone. I smile because many of them are coming back after that first year, just like I had. I worry because some of the girls seem so young and then I realize they are older, and probably wiser, than I was that first year. I hope that these kids keep coming back, year after year, and find a home for this one week of the year and that they see God in the sky and in the people crowded onto that ground.