I have a confession to make. I typically come up with a blog post idea on my bike ride to work the morning of. I was proud of myself for thinking ahead yesterday and considered coming in this morning to blog about my favorite albums of the year so far. But all I could think about on my bike ride this morning was the terrible tragedy in Charleston, SC. It makes no sense to me to blog about music on a day like today. It makes no sense to me why a twenty-one-year-old boy, who just received a gun from his father for his birthday, would sit with a dozen other people in a bible study for an hour and then open fire on the small group, killing all but three. It makes no sense how such hate could take hold of a person. No doubt this was a slow-building hatred nurtured by others, the individual himself, and a context well-suited to cultivate it. It makes no sense that a five-year-old girl would have to play dead to stay alive. She should be playing other games! It makes no sense that the face of the killer will dominate newsreels and become the face of this event in history, while the faces of Clementa Pinckney and his eight as-yet-unnamed parishioners will eventually fade from public memory. It makes no sense! Music will have to wait. Prayers are more important this morning.