cheap pizza, La Quinta Inn, and creative redemption
“You have power over your mind, not outside events. Realize this, and you will find strength.”
Marcus Aurelius
“Making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil.”
Ephesians 5:16
My daughter graduated from college this past weekend.
It did not go as I had planned.
I had booked the flights months in advance and was working with very little margin to make the weekend work. My wife drove from New York to Chattanooga, my son and daughter-in-law had to fly in from Newark (Newark!!!), and I had to fly in from a Forming Men retreat in Brady, Texas.
What could possibly go wrong?
My flight from Austin was delayed three times. When I arrived in Nashville, it was so late that no one was there to tow us into the gate. Then, when someone did come, there was no one to operate the jet bridge, so we got off the plane. Then, when I got to the rental car desk, there was a line.
Then I had to drive 2.5 hours in less-than-ideal conditions to Cleveland, Tennessee. I arrived at 3.35 am, utterly exhausted and full of frustration.
The next morning, I awoke to an overcast day, a tired family, and frustration in the air.
The graduation itself was wonderful. Haley was amazing, and the sense of accomplishment was tangible, but there was tension, time constraints, and a lack of needed joy.
To make matters worse, every restaurant was booked out after the ceremony, so we had the college celebration lunch at Chick-fil-A. We had all driven in separate cars, and it was so busy that we all ate at separate times. As much as I love Christian chicken, this was not it.
Not after years of Haley's hard work.
Not after 6 figures of tuition and expenses.
Not after years of dreams, vision, and hope.
After dropping Nate and Mai at the airport (where their flight would be delayed for hours), Christy and I returned to the very classy La Quinta Inn to try to sleep it off with a long nap.
Why does life have to be such a stubborn collaborator sometimes?
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I've always been fascinated by how people respond to limitations and frustration, especially artists whose work depends on the right equipment and conditions. The week before the graduation, I had been listening to the Köln Concert album by Keith Jarrett. Jarrett is one of the most accomplished and celebrated Jazz pianists of all time, and the Köln Concert album is his most popular work. If you are not familiar with it, it’s a live recording from the Köln Opera House recorded in 1975. (You can listen here)
Lying on the bed at the hotel, I put my headphones in to listen to this album again and was struck by a reminder of how this remarkable album came to be. Jarrett was scheduled to play at the Köln Opera house on January 24th, 1975, but due to the booking of the promoter (a remarkable 18-year-old woman), she could only get the space at 11:30 pm, after another opera performance.
Due to the time constraints, nothing went to plan. Jarret had requested a grand piano for the performance, but with such a late notice and some confusion, the wrong piano was put on the stage. Rather than the Bösendorfer 290 Imperial concert grand piano, a smaller practice piano was put on the stage. This was a disaster because the sound was shallow in the upper keys, weak in the bass, and had malfunctioning pedals. Jarrett initially refused to play. But due to the pleading of the young concert organizer and the fact that the recording gear for the live album was already set up, he decided to work with what he had.
If you listen to the recording (and I recommend you do), you'll hear something remarkable: a musician who has surrendered to the moment, who is playing not despite the piano's limitations but in response to them. There are moments when you can hear Jarrett vocalizing, humming, almost groaning in delight, as if his whole being is involved in the act of creation. Through frustration, disorganization, and the need to improvise with what he had, he ended up creating one of the most transcendent live albums of all time. It would go on to become the best-selling Jazz album in history and the highest-selling piano album ever.
Beautiful things can happen with redemptive improvisation.
DOMINO’S, LA QUINTA, AND REDEEMING THE DAY
After our nap, we woke up and decided we couldn’t let the weekend end like it had. So, my wife and I invited Haley to join us in our room at the La Quinta Inn, just off I-75. Instead of continuing to mourn what hadn't happened, we began to work with what we could. Haley came over and we talked honestly about our disappointment. We cried a little. We laughed more. We ordered Domino's pizza and ate it sitting on the beds. I put the Köln concert on in the background, and we processed the last few years.
We celebrated with what we had, which didn’t look like much, or what I had envisioned, or what I had commuted across the country for, but it turned out to be exactly what we needed—each other.
Looking at the photos we took that evening, I see no trace of the frustration that preceded them. I see only genuine joy; the kind that comes not from perfect circumstances but redemptive celebration. I see light in my daughter's eyes as she processes her accomplishment. I see the evidence of love that transcends frustration. (Here is a pic that I snapped)
Our graduation weekend may seem trivial compared to the profound sufferings many people face. But considering all Haley had overcome to reach that point and all the sacrifices we made to provide for her education, our improvised celebration felt like a sweet, small redemption. The Domino's pizza and hotel room laughter became not a poor substitute for what we had planned but a genuine expression of what mattered most.
THE 4 CHOICES
The question is not whether disruption will come but how we will respond when it does whether we will respond out of frustration or move toward the more challenging but more life-giving work of redemption.
We really have four choices in moments like this.
Complain. This isn’t what I wanted.
Blame. It’s your fault this happened.
Withdraw. I’m done trying.
Redeem. How can I bring something beautiful out of this?
I want to play well with what I have been given, not what I demand. I want creative redemption to become a spiritual discipline. I want to learn to play within the broken boundaries to produce something beautiful anyway. I want to look back and see devotion, not disaster; formation, not failure.
OUR GREATEST WORK
As Jarrett discovered at that broken piano in Köln, sometimes our greatest work emerges not from perfect conditions but faithful engagement with what is actually in front of us.
Jesus entered a world of brokenness, sin, and hell, not the Edenic life of Genesis 1. Yet, He worked with what was in front of Him. He didn’t complain, blame, or withdraw; He creatively improvised in the face of heartache and despair, and gave to us the gift of grace and joy amid the wreckage of sin.
The most beautiful work of redemption came from the horror of the cross. Because of that framing of radical grace, redemption can come in our broken moments, too.
Too often, my instinct is frustration, not redemption. But I am resolved to get better at what God puts in front of me. I am resolved to improvise with creative redemption, even if it begins with cheap pizza and a southern hotel.
I’m here for the work of redemption, not circumstantial perfection.
Hoping to hear stories coming from your lives of creative redemption, too.
Thanks for reading.
Cheers.
Jon.
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Discussion Questions:
When was the last time life handed you something unplanned, and what did your response reveal about your inner life?
What area of your life have you paused, postponed, or withheld from simply because it hasn’t matched your expectations?
What would it look like to name the loss, but still lead toward beauty in your marriage, parenting, and calling?
In disruption, every man is handed four options:
Complain: This isn’t what I wanted.
Blame: It’s your fault this happened.
Withdraw: I’m done trying.
Redeem: How can I bring something beautiful out of this?
Which one are you prone to choose, and what habit or belief would have to
shift for you to take the fourth path consistently?
5. What would change if you shifted from controlling the outcome to
stewarding the moment with creative redemption?