Dear for KING & COUNTRY

Dear for KING & COUNTRY,

As soon as I heard you were coming to Pittsburgh for WinterJam, I freaked out. I wrote it down in big letters on my calendar. I planned to write you a fan letter and give it to you when I finally got to meet you in person.

But as excited as I was, as much as I anticipated, it seems I won't be able to go see you.

So here's the letter I can't give you in person.

I first saw you live at WinterJam in Greenville, South Carolina when you debuted. I remember my mom yelling to me over the glorious storm of stadium noise, "They're really good! They're going to go somewhere."

I didn't realize it then how special your music would become to me over the next few years.

A few months after that first concert, we bought your album CRAVE at a Christian Book Store. To be entirely honest, I don't care much for Christian Contemporary music at all. I've always preferred hymns and would occasionally listen to other Christian artists on the radio, but besides Texan band Leeland, I never cared too much for the genre. But then I downloaded CRAVE on my fourth generation iPod Nano, and fell in love with your music.

There was Fine Fine Life for belting out on long road trips between states, when we moved from South Carolina to Oklahoma.

There was Crave, which I listened to mournfully during my first winter in Oklahoma. I couldn't seem to find friends, and the one I did find in a mentor father figure passed away suddenly and unexpectedly. It hit our tiny church hard. Often, I'd hide in my room in tears, head bent over my knees, with this song on repeat. But we remained hopeful. Hope was what we craved (and still do.)

I counted down excitedly, like all my other fellow friends, for RUN WILD, LIVE FREE, LOVE STRONG to be released. I remember sitting at my dad's old laptop, streaming the album with wide-eyed astonishment. I didn't think it was possible for you to have released something even better than CRAVE, but you had.

Without You touched me especially. When I was eight years old or thereabouts, my dad was hospitalized and nearly died much in the same way Luke nearly did. He had a long recovery, but by the grace of God he did recover. I was young, and I probably didn't realize the seriousness of the situation as much as I do now, but in retrospect, the song sings the same words that were on my childish heart when I sat on my dad's hospital bed, amidst the sterilized smell and the beeping and buzzing and that emotional combination of fear and faith thickening the stale air around us. Every time I hear Without You, I tear up. I prayed like crazy for you, Luke, and your family, because once I was in the same shoes as your son, even if he's much younger than I was. I remember watching videos of Joel singing solo act concerts, still strong and smiling, and it kind of broke my heart.

Joel with my brothers Jake and Josh at the Tulsa State Fair

I might have cried some when I saw on Twitter that Luke was able to perform again. I'm still praying for you all.

It's Not Over became my anthem for when I was at my wit's end. It's a fantastic song for half-singing, half-yelling when you're frustrated.

I may or may not want to have This is Love played at my wedding reception someday, if I get married.

But my favorite song of all time is No Turning Back. I remember hearing the commentary track on it and how you nearly scrapped it.

I'm so very glad you didn't.

Just when I got settled in Oklahoma, and when I found out you'd be performing at the Tulsa State Fair, I uprooted again to college. The whole process was rather nerve-racking for this homebody homeschooler, and I'm pretty sure I listened to No Turning Back at least twice a day. I was especially upset that I'd miss seeing you with my family and friends with the backdrop of amusement ride lights and Midwestern sunset and that fried food smell.

So my mom and brothers, who got to meet Joel backstage, took a short video clip of him saying hello to me.

"What's your sister's name?" he asked.

"Rachel," my mom said.

"Well," Joel said, leaning over the fence. "Tell Rachel I said g'day."

It'd been a really rough day. But that little video clip, that little greeting totally changed that. I went pounding down my dorm hall to my friend Hayley to show her and we freaked out together.

"This is why they're my favorite band," I said. "They're so real."


You really are, and you've helped me remember to fix my eyes on He who matters above all us. Who carries my brokenness on His shoulders, who keeps me steady, who gives me a drop of grace to carry on out of the doubt into trust.

That's why I was so excited to see you tomorrow night. I had it all planned out. I'd finally meet you and hand you my letter and thank you for being such a blessing and take a selfie or get an autograph, or both, and tell you, probably like a bunch of other fans you've talked to who have told you the same thing a thousand times over, that you guys are my favorites. Thank you.

But it seems that I will not be able to go tomorrow. Since I don't have my license and I can't find a ride, I don't have the means to drive to Pittsburgh, an hour away from my school. It made me sad, as  after a long, tiring week, I pleaded on Facebook with my college class page for a ride over and received silence for an answer.

So instead, I'm listening to your songs now alone in my dorm with a sad smile on my face, writing you this letter that I cannot give you in person. I know I'm not alone, I'm sure, but I still wanted to write it anyway.

I hope you have a blast in Pittsburgh. I know you will.

Thank you so very much for blessing me with your music.  God be with you!

Love and blessings,

Rachel