I keep being drawn into an Amen! during this season and “for the beauty of the earth” seems like a good way to be in agreement. Though the title sounds like the hymn just for hippies, the verses all lead to the chorus which goes like this,
Lord of all to Thee we raise
this our hymn of thankful praise
Here are some amen moments from recently.
let LOVE fly like cRaZy
Songs telling stories might be a language of love my heart understands the best.
Here’s a story from Monsters Calling Home that I’m reading over and over.
let LOVE fly like cRaZy
let LOVE fly like cRaZy
Today feels like all my hidden sorrows have huddled to make aching war on my lower back. It’s just one of those days where the question, “Oh, how long?” seems to be the only appropriate thing to say, followed by a decided and desperate, “You won’t let me go.”
Isn’t it strange how you start to think the world is falling apart when your body aches / your brother will have face surgery / national politics looks to spin out of control / there might not be enough food this winter for the breadbasket / you’re still trying to figure out how to let love fly like crazy / the song in your soul sounds a little sickly?
No, I guess I don’t think that’s strange at all. Maybe the world is falling apart.
I better start singing this line, “You, You won’t let me go.” And then I better sing it again.
We love anthems, we do.
We love songs we can proclaim from rooftops with passion from our gut.
We love an anthem that rallies us around something, puts fire in our bellies, and stretches our vocal chords.
We love an anthem even when it proclaims confusion.
The song, “Some Nights” by fun could not be a truer picture of this time in history and could not have a more enticing, layered melody – a mighty furious, beautiful mess building our Babel.
In the music video, haphazard opposing forces roam while directionless firepower flies and the band pounds out their decidedly lost melody.
The song is certainly saying something.
Even as the chorus rumbles with heavy questions, we are drawn in to sing that something right along with them,
“Oh Lord, I’m still not sure what I stand for oh
What do I stand for? What do I stand for?
Most nights, I don’t know anymore…
Oh woah, oh woah, oh woah oh oh
Oh woah, oh woah, oh woah oh oh”
Some nights … most nights … I don’t know … luck … wish … who am I?
These are words that describe a generation, words that build the walls of our own Babylon. We have exiled ourselves from meaning and certainty and hope.
And then we made it an anthem.
This is the music of waywardness.
Our art reflects our hearts and in the mirror we see a despairing image. Makoto Fujimura, artist, writer, and speaker, says, “We, today, have a language to celebrate waywardness, but we do not have a cultural language to bring people back home.”
When the music of waywardness becomes the anthem of a generation, one must consider if the straining vocal chords declare a superlative-worthy message or if best is reserved for something absolutely certain.
A brilliant sunset with purple and gold and rusty hues.
A child swinging with legs pumping and face aglow.
An orchestra woven into the sidewalk and a choir decorating the ordinary day with an overwhelming melody.
Experience is the great necessitator and what it requires is words. I know the whole premise of an amazing experience is that words are insufficient – that descriptions are incapable of the glory of whatever occurred.
But words are exactly what experiences require… because without them we will never understand why a crowd of strangers, wrapped up in their own little worlds, would be drawn together by musical notes to participate in a glorious performance that causes children to wave their arms and grown people to stand with gaping mouths.
Why can music do this? How does man’s creativity wield such beautiful and magnetic power?
Where does this beauty come from and does it have a name?
Today, people all over these great United States are celebrating a day of independence with parades and flags and all sorts of star spangled accessories. But if experiences are simply ambiguous reasons to throw celebrations, we’ve denied experience what it really needs: words.
Explicit, meaningful, deep words that make sense of the beautiful and point to its origin.
let LOVE fly like cRaZy
This song has found it’s way onto so many playlists. One of the many wise mentors in my life used to encourage me to read Scripture and then ask, “What does this say about God?” Now, I’m passing along this advice to others in need of this same reminder. When we have a right view of God, we have a right view of ourselves in relation to Him. This song, to me, is a beautiful illustration of that relationship. Just beautiful.
Here are the lyrics to the hymn, Before the Throne of God Above, written in 1863:
Before the throne of God above
I have a strong and perfect plea.
A great high Priest whose Name is Love
Who ever lives and pleads for me.
My name is graven on His hands,
My name is written on His heart.
I know that while in Heaven He stands
No tongue can bid me thence depart.
When Satan tempts me to despair
And tells me of the guilt within,
Upward I look and see Him there
Who made an end of all my sin.
Because the sinless Savior died
My sinful soul is counted free.
For God the just is satisfied
To look on Him and pardon me.
Behold Him there the risen Lamb,
My perfect spotless righteousness,
The great unchangeable I AM,
The King of glory and of grace,
One in Himself I cannot die.
My soul is purchased by His blood,
My life is hid with Christ on high,
With Christ my Savior and my God!
I sing that middle part over and over and over again, “Because the sinless Savior died, My sinful soul is counted free. For God the just is satisfied, To look on Him and pardon me.”
Amazing.
It’s such a ‘hip’ thing to say, “I like all kinds of music.” I just read a great post by Brett McCracken where he explains the Coldplay Effect. Hipsters and indies liked Coldplay when they were obscure, claiming they “just liked good music.” But when Coldplay got big, they dumped them for artists less well-known. It’s just a funny little cycle and McCracken turns it inside out in a way that makes so much sense. I’m really not trying to be hip when I say I like a lot of different styles, because I’ll add that there is definitely music I don’t like. I try to be indifferent about whether it is popular or not. It just seems like once music gets popular it all starts to sound the same. (Yikes, I hope I’m not a hipster in denial!)
Today, I decided to download music from iTunes.
This is worth sharing only because I never do. I am a pretty good internet sleuth for free (legal) music. Artists are sharing their music in return for our free publicity. This situation works out well for me, unless someone asks me to make a mix for a party… I don’t have what runs on the radios these days. So, I really can’t remember the last time I used my iTunes account.
That’s the first reason I mention I downloaded music from iTunes.
The second reason is the dissimilarity in the two albums.
The first is from a rap/hip hop artist who has gained crazy popularity with people like John Piper, CJ Mahaney, and Randy Alcorn. I love what Shai Linne said about the album in an interview when asked why rap is a good platform for his message,
“In many ways, I think hip-hop is actually an ideal genre for a project like this, because the format allows for so many more words to be used than in other genres. Because of this, the potential for transfer of ideas is much greater. Hip-hop lends itself to exposition. The challenge was finding suitable musical backdrops to properly convey the emotional depth of such a glorious topic.”
I like rap. I like to rap freestyle and roll out someone else’s rhythm. This kind of rap, though, the kind expositing Truth, has got me like a cup of hot coffee on the first day of snow (today).
The second comes from the guy who wrote, “How He Loves,” which you might know from several other artists who have recorded since. I like the way this guy thinks. “Genuine” is one of those terms people like to manipulate these days, but I believe John Mark McMillan. I’m a person who likes poetry and beauty and simplicity and purpose… and revealing a stronger, redemptive thread running through the tapestry of tragedy.
I’m so glad Truth has no genre.
My heart is happy that God created us in His image with a desire to create beautiful things. My heart is even more happy when people do this and it inspires me to return to my First Love.
It is TRUTH that allows us to
We could be reveling
forever in the love You bring
and we could be wasted on
You and not count it loss
Like fools in love
we’re bound to make a scene
Our hearts bleed for you, whoa
What beautiful way to usher in a Monday (fyi – John Mark McMillan comes out with a new album tomorrow).
Especially after such a blessed weekend, I love this.
Like fools in love, we’re bound to make scene. Isn’t that the truth.
Do your days feel like this? Like you can’t HELP but make a scene? If we are reveling in the love of Christ – wasting everything else and not counting a loss, then our lives will speak (maybe even shout) like crazy that there is something greater!
We might be the people that get pointed at or the people that get ignored, but the bottom line is that the scene bound to happen is for an audience of One.
The Lord welcomes His sons and daughters into worship, where our hearts bleed for the Creator of the Universe. I’m so thankful that God also knows, as we endeavor to worship with our very lives, that there are bound to be scenes.
Our love can look near foolish, but if anyone deserves a scene it is certainly our Lord and Savior!
How could you be reveling today in His love?
let LOVE fly like cRaZy!
Tonight, I sang this song in Spanish with my Micah brothers. We were a much smaller crowd, without the brass and the awesome bass solo, but the words rang just as true. Okay, so we didn’t have the eighties style vests or the flute solos either, but still… take a look.
I’m reminded of this Truth tonight – that His kingdom shall reign over all the earth and none can compare to His matchless work. And because of this Truth, we sing and sing and sing until our lungs wear out and then with joy we still sing.
let LOVE fly like cRaZy
MUSINGS IN THE MIDST 