If you have never watched Hoosiers and never really got this, and understood why it is my favorite poem of mine, well, perhaps this will help, though I really feel compelled to add a “buyer beware” when sending people to Youtube anymore, as the content of some of their videos seem to be getting worse and worse, and increasingly unhelpful in the hard enough battle for purity.
Month: September 2007
On Its Way, Like Grey at the Temples…
…only the opposite.
Two From Rich. No, Make That Three
You really must hear these on Rich’s album Brother’s Keeper, but the lyrics work pretty well alone, too.
Cry the Name
I cannot hide this longing that grows
In this temple of silence and stars
But a thief in the night stole in and broke
Every chain that had bound up my heart
I cannot cling to shadows again
So here on this altar tonight
I lay every dream I’ve ever dreamt
To burn in the fire He lights
I cry the Name of the One who loves me
The Name of the One on whom I call
‘Til it roars like thunder
Rolling down these canyon walls
I cry the Name of the One who loves me
The Name of the One on whom I call
‘Til it roars like thunder
Rolling down these canyon walls
Every breath I’ve ever breathed
Was sent as a gift from on high
And with all that is left of all that is me
Up to the Heavens I cry
The Name of the One who loves me
The Name of the One on whom I call
‘Til it roars like thunder
Rolling down these canyon walls
I cry the Name of the One who loves me
The Name of the One on whom I call
‘Til it roars like thunder
Rolling down these canyon walls
The Breaks
Here is my heart take what you want
‘Cause I have no use for it anyway
Well of all the stupid things I’ve ever said
This could be the worst may be the best
But those are the breaks
These are the bruises
And if I can’t give myself away I’m the only one who loses
And I don’t want to lose this
It is the sea that makes the sailor
And the land that shapes the sea
And I do not know yet what I am made of
Or all I may someday be
And it is the wood that makes a carpenter
It’s the very tools of his trade
And it is love that makes a lover
And a cross that makes a saint
Here is my song, listen if you will
But I have no heart for it anymore
I just have half a mind to cut it loose
And if it sails off into the blue
Then I’ll just let it soar
And the sky is better keeping
And I won’t be any poorer
For giving it its freedom
And here’s one for freedom
It is the sea that makes the sailor
And the land that shapes the sea
And I do not know yet what I am made of
Or all I may someday be
It is the wood that makes a carpenter
It’s the very tools of his trade
And it is love that makes a lover
And a cross that makes a saint
And a brilliant, but difficult, bonus from The Jesus Record
Hard to Get
You who live in heaven
Hear the prayers of those of us who live on earth
Who are afraid of being left by those we love
And who get hardened by the hurt
Do you remember when You lived down here where we all scrape
To find the faith to ask for daily bread
Did You forget about us after You had flown away
Well I memorized every word You said
Still I’m so scared, I’m holding my breath
While You’re up there just playing hard to get
You who live in radiance
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in skin
We have a love that’s not as patient as Yours was
Still we do love now and then
Did You ever know loneliness
Did You ever know need
Do You remember just how long a night can get?
When You were barely holding on
And Your friends fall asleep
And don’t see the blood that’s running in Your sweat
Will those who mourn be left uncomforted
While You’re up there just playing hard to get?
And I know you bore our sorrows
And I know you feel our pain
And I know it would not hurt any less
Even if it could be explained
And I know that I am only lashing out
At the One who loves me most
And after I figured this, somehow
All I really need to know
Is if You who live in eternity
Hear the prayers of those of us who live in time
We can’t see what’s ahead
And we can not get free of what we’ve left behind
I’m reeling from these voices that keep screaming in my ears
All the words of shame and doubt, blame and regret
I can’t see how You’re leading me unless You’ve led me here
Where I’m lost enough to let myself be led
And so You’ve been here all along I guess
It’s just Your ways and You are just plain hard to get
Mmm, Stella!
Mmm, Stella!
When it Sparkles in the Cup
One Ceiling, Two Kinds of Light
Still Lifing: Afternoon Light
Still Lifing: Afternoon Light
Images of the Day: In Reverse Order, With Commentary
Prison Tat
Sometimes when I need it, usually just after a period of confession in church, I will ink a little cross on my hand as a sort of reminder of where I’ve just been and what got me out of there.
Still Life, Pre Marinara
Some tomatoes and bell peppers from Indiana from a visiting couple at church and homegrown Rosemary and Chinese Basil from kind house church hosts.
Backstage
God’s flowers, which display their beauty with such ease and without affectation, even in their modest aspects are glorious.
The Dassler Effect 