Fxtti Media

22/10/2021

12/07/2021

In celebration of 2k views in its first week! here’s a mock poster as well as some moments from the production of “Waves of Sadness”! Check it out!

https://youtu.be/szaYdMDfCgQ

11/07/2021

Can we normalize not being okay? Not in the way we did in the past where it glorified and romanticized depression and mental illnesses, in a sense that people felt like they HAD to identify with it, and fall in love with it so they could be normal. It caused us to view things like depression and anxiety as character traits, rather than what they are- illnesses that need to be attended to, and treated.

Especially when you’re looking at ministry, and churches, where you see leadership putting off facades that everything is perfect all the time, and we put these people on altars, and look up to them to the point that when we look at ourselves, and don’t see that same perfection, it leads us to think “Oh, God isn’t going to use me, or he can’t use me, because I’m not perfect like them”. When in reality, God meets us where were at, and nobody is truly perfect, it’s just a facade.

Me personally, I struggle with depression on a daily basis. I take medication for it, I still pray and ask God for help, but that doesn’t negate my struggle. It’s not like God looks at me and says “because you’re depressed and struggling, I can’t use you”. I still fee his presence daily, and I’m sure he still works through me daily regardless, because God meets us where we’re at, and he uses broken people to reach broken people.

When we go to a church, and look around and see all these faces that seem okay and seem perfect, all of a sudden, our mindset and efforts change from being a broken person seeking help, to “how can I fit in with everyone around me”. After we do this, we wonder why we leave church feeling just as bad as when we came in, when in reality, we never addressed our pain, we just tried to cover it up for a few hours.

I think that if we got to the point where we normalized being open about our problems (in the right context of course) we could build something better, creating a center if healing for the broken, instead of a meeting place once a week. All of this is to say, if you’re broken, or hurting, you aren’t alone in your struggles, and I pray that God draws you to communities and resources that can help you, and enable you in your walk of betterment.

God bless, and happy Sunday.

21/09/2020

01/08/2020

I love you. A phrase so simple, yet one that holds so much magnitude.
It was 5am on a porch in Alaska when I got the call. Gaylon Vaughan had passed. It was a day before his birthday. I don’t remember a lot from that day, but I do remember sitting on that porch crying my eyes out for two hours, then for another hour as I rode to the airport. Just like it was spoken at his funeral- This isn’t how it should be. I knew the pain I was feeling, but couldn’t even imagine the heartbreak felt by those who had been around Gaylon all of his life. I knew his family was truly hurting.
A couple days later I was back at home and was asked if I could come over to the Vaughan’s house. Grief isn’t my strongsuit, so I was kind of nervous as to how this encounter would go. I quickly learned as I held Gaylon’s dear mother- Mama Sue for countless minutes that I didn’t have to be an expert in grief management. I just had to be an expert in loving those around me. The next week wasn’t filled with a series of “how are you”s and “what are you feeling”. Instead it was filled with quality time, gifts, laughing, and most importantly, love.
Our modern day, as I like to call it, “Disney Culture” likes to take the image of love, and romanticize it until loving your neighbor is nothing more than a collection of kisses, proposals, and dates. This isn’t love in its fullest. Love is pulling up to a friends house to have a conversation at 11pm just because you were in the area. Love is sending a funny picture followed by a “this made me think of you”. Love is more than words.
I recently read a story about a woman who became insecure in her marriage because her husband rarely ever said those magic words, “I love you”. Once while having a conversation she brought up a fact she discovered tht stated how three taps is a physical equivalent to I love you. Over the next few days the wife was almost overwhelmed by the constant action of three simple taps. She quickly learned that her husband had no lack of love for her, he just needed a different way to express it.
All of this is just kind of the ramblings of my mind at 11:40pm on a friday. These last couple kf weeks have been some of the hardest I have ever had to go through. However, I have also learned so much. I wanna end with this final verse:
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres”
- 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

I love you. Say it back.

05/06/2020

Before I begin this blog post, I would like to give a brief insight as to what the next few weeks will look like. If you have looked closely at any pictures or graphics I post, you will notice four different symbols. I get asked about this a lot. What do they mean? Why do I post them on everything? To answer the second question first, I use them in place of a standard watermark. It's much easier to protect my content that way. Also I think it's cooler than a "Fxtti Media" in every single photo. Anyways, in response to the first question, there's only one thing these symbols mean: a lot to me. I mean this to the point that a couple of these have actually been tattooed onto my body. However I don't think a one post explanation would do their stories justice. Each one stands for a different area or action that I feel as if it is a staple in my life. Anyways, let's get into the post itself.

I. The Movement
This week I want to talk about the arrows and what they mean. Their origin goes back to Camp Jackson in 2015. At least I think it was 2015. I remember there was a year that Tennessee Youth Ministries decided they were done changing up the themes of this camp, so they decided on a constant: The Movement Camp. If you have ever been in a room with say, 100 people who grew up in church, I'm sure about 75 of them could tell you countless stories of going to "church camp". It's me. I'm 75 people, and The Movement Camp was my church camp. I went to this camp every summer ever since I was eligible back in elementary school. Every summer there was an unforgettable one because with each year I went to this camp, I would grow even deeper within my relationship with God. Last summer marked the last time I would be able to attend the camp as a student. After coming home for the last time, I made a decision- I was gonna get the symbol for The Movement Camp tattooed onto my wrist. What was that symbol? Two arrows.
Obviously, the symbol of the two arrows isn't just a reminder of a fun camp I spent my summers at. It's a reminder of where I first really connected with Jesus, and also a reminder that no matter what life is throwing at you and regardless of how chaotic the world can be, Jesus is always moving.
My relationship with God has always been very important to me. I don't know where I would be if it wasn't for God's hand in my life. I am consistently inspired by his teachings, his actions, and his creations. I believe that God was a creative too. How else can you explain things like palm trees or the way the sky looks at sunset. It's beautiful. It's creation. God has done a lot more in my life than inspire me, but we're gonna get into that later. I wholeheartedly believe that each person was created by God for a specific purpose. I also believe that in pursuit of that purpose, we're gonna mess up a couple times. That's okay too. God is always there to pick us up and remind us that regardless of our failures, we are still his beautifully and wonderfully made sons and daughters. Even when the pit of life gets hectic, never forget The Movement.

31/05/2020

Before I begin I’d like to make a statement: Trying to figure out what to write about this week was nothing less than a challenge. Anyone who has looked at the news for longer than 5 minutes could tell you there’s more important things going on in the world than some handwritten letters. However I have a different project already in the works regarding that topic, and I’d hate to ruin its impact with the midnight ramblings of an 18 years old boy. I’d also like to provide a space free of talks about discrimination, violence, riots, etc. Im not downplaying these subjects to any degree. Like I said before, I’m currently devoting a lot of time and creative effort into a proper response that will come at another time. However now is not that time. Now, let’s get into this .
At the beginning of May, I received a letter in the mail from my good friend Mia. To be honest with you, the thought of receiving an actual, physical letter was nothing less than euphoric. Just the thought that someone was willing to write down their own words and thoughts to me, it truly made me happy. Then I thought to myself, “I could do this. If a letter made me this happy I want to share that with the people I love”, so I did. I put out a post that said “To receive a cool letter, comment your address below” (it was an Instagram story so the only person getting that address was me) I was expecting maybe ten responses at the most. I didn’t think I was too close with a ton of people. Besides, letters are kinda corny anyways, surely there wouldn’t be a lot of people interested in that. The next morning I checked my inbox, and stood in awe at what I saw.
26 responses. 26 letters to write. 26 pieces of myself to give away through the medium of letter writing. In my head, 10 would have been a lot. 26, was nothing short of overwhelming. However, I made a promise, and I had to complete it.
I didn’t have any special stationary. I wasn’t writing in legible cursive. Shoot. I was hardly writing in legible (whatever the word for non-cursive is). But I worked with what I had. I took out a sheet of notebook paper, and began: “A letter by Josh Robertson”. I didn’t want these to be sappy and sentimental. Yet I also didn’t want them to be boring. Therefore I decided to write about something that everyone could relate to: life. What did I do that day? How have I kept myself sane during this quarantine, stuff like that. I was also determined to write the kind of letters I wanted to receive. I wasn’t gonna jot down a paragraph and move on. I was gonna put my all into each letter.
It wasn’t easy, there’s only so many stories you can come up with in a day, and so many letters you can write before you exhaust yourself. But I kept going. 29 days later I had done it. Letter 26. All my hard work was finally over. I realized quickly, I was wrong. If there’s one thing worse than writing 26 letters, it’s having to fill out 26 envelopes. And if there’s one thing worse than having to fill out 26 envelopes, it’s having to LICK 26 envelopes. You’d imagine that after years of innovation they’d at least have like a bubblegum adhesive or something? Anyways I digress. I now sit here, the feeling of accomplishment running through my veins. Tomorrow I’m gonna go to the post office to send out 26 letters.

27/05/2020

27/05/2020

27/05/2020

A couple years ago, I was purchasing stickers to decorate a Nickel board I wouldn’t even touch for at least another year. It was utter chaos. A mess of rainbows and cartoon characters and adhesive, leaving the board to look like a VSCO girl threw up on it and walked away. I didn’t have a plan for any of the stickers- except one. I had a few leftover that I had gotten from my youth group- One Student Church and I knew if there was ever an item that deserved to be at the helm of my board, it was that OSC sticker, and here’s why:
All my life, I’ve chosen to weigh each day based on one thing. Not what I ate or how I felt when I went to bed. Instead I would look at the community that was around me. Typically each week had its assortment of highs, lows, and buffalos, but there were always two days I could count on- Sunday and Wednesday, the days I got to spend with my One Student Church family. OSC was like a second family to me. It was filled with people I knew I could always run to when I was hurting, down, or just in need of someone to talk to. I made countless memories I know I’ll never forget. Over the course of six years I began to finally understand my place in the world. From Fine Arts practices to missions trips, I spent countless hours learning how God used different people to help me get to where I am now, and I am eternally grateful.
Last week I took off the mess of stickers underneath that Nickel board, because it was time for it to go to a new home, but I just couldn’t bring myself to take off that OSC sticker. I’m sorry Lauren, but I’m afraid you’re gonna have to do what I wasn’t able to. More importantly, two nights ago I got to serve the very family who made me who I am today.
One Student Church, the legacy you’ve begun in me has grown to be so much more than you could ever imagine. Thank you for the people, the memories, and the love. God Bless.