wordy wisdom: inspirational lyrics, pt 6

In grade ten, during an English unit of poetry, we were given an assignment of analysing the lyrics to a song, taking into account the use of the music as a way of enhancing the poetic effect.

At that time I had been listening to a band headed by a singer whom, in younger years, I listened to when he was working solo. Being fresh in mind, I chose a song which was growing to become a favourite. As part of my presentation, I asked the class what their opinion was of the lyrics. Looking back on it now, the age we were at certainly played a factor in their interpretations for more than three quarters of those who ventured an answer believed it to be about the doubt that comes with a romantic relationship.

While they were not entirely incorrect, they were indeed mistaken. This song does in fact have to do with the doubts of a relationship, but it is the relationship between that of man and God. But more than that, it is about the duality of wills and the battle between the two sides which is constantly raging within us - the battle between self and Adonai. Do we seek our own fulfilment, or do we seek the fulfilment of Adonai's will? Do we make the decision now, or do we wait until later? Will He wait if we consciously push Him away?

This song puts into emotional perspective the struggle which is a universally human condition - a condition not unfamiliar to even the believer: To follow the Merciful, who offers life, or to succumb to the world, which ends in death - to pick a side, for one cannot serve both God and Mammon.

Torn / All Star United // All Star United

it's excruciating;
i know You need to know
where we stand.
is there harm in waiting?
is this my only chance
to take Your hand?

i'm torn in two
by what i should
or should not do.
torn,
torn in two.
will You wait for me
if i run from You?

i really must confess,
it feels like there's a war in me.
i'm drawn to those
who offer less;
but is this really where
i need to be?

i'm torn in two
by what i should
or should not do.
torn,
torn in two.
will You wait for me
if i run from You . . ?

over this i'm losing rest,
i can't bear to turn away;
if i try to second guess,
oh, i gamble it away.
i'm torn . . .

torn,
torn in two.
will You wait for me?
should i run from You . . ?

i'm torn.
i'm torn.
i'm torn . . .

i saw God in the garden

There's something so humbling about gardening. And something so spiritual.

As I dug my fingers into the dirt, pulling out the carrots too stubborn to come up with their tops, I began to experience a strange sense of belonging. Moreover, the feeling of contentedness crept within me so gradually and so naturally I somehow wished I could do this for a little longer. Of course, I was periodically vigorously defending myself against a barrage of mosquitoes, but I was also enjoying this act of harvesting. With each carrot I pulled out of the ground a smile came across my face - especially as the carrots came out longer and thicker. It didn't matter to me that the tops ripped off and I had to dig for the produce - something that normally would've irritated me after three or four times. No, I was too proud the little kernels my wife and I planted some two months ago - which appeared so much like little chunks of walnut or stone - had now become something else entirely. This little piece of land behind our landlord's tool shed was no longer merely a rectangular plot of dirt - nay, it was now a full-fledged garden, bursting with green, yellow, and red. Our earthen womb was giving birth, and here I knelt at the wooden border, picking out carrots.

As I moved on to the next row, now pulling beets out of the dirt, I couldn't help but realise how little work we had actually done. Certainly, when the dirt was dry I unravelled the hose from its spindle on the side of the house and showered the garden, ensuring the bed was good and wet. And every once in a while we'd head back there, picking out all the weeds we could possibly find - discovering that these little unwelcome shoots could conjure up a degree of anger. Yet the frequency these things were done remained minimal, not only because the rain this summer was substantial. Indeed, I often couldn't help but muse on whether God Himself was securing the prosperity of our garden, sending so much rain upon us.

As I stalked the swiss chard, cutting ripe leaves and stuffing them in a plastic bag, I came across a large, cupped leaf. As I turned it for examination, I found in the underside of the curve a spider who had made his home there. I stopped for a second, recalling the grasshoppers I had seen hopping about at the end of the garden the peas and beans were growing. Suddenly, a thought came to me. Suddenly, I began to sense this garden was not our garden.

Although we had worked the ground and planted the seeds, we could not own this garden. At best, we had worked together, God and us, to transform this piece of land into something more than merely dirt - but we certainly did not overcome it. Humans have developed a mentality which states our Biblical dominion over the earth is a right and therefore the earth is ours to dominate. However, the Hebraic meaning of this concept is much more of stewardship and creating equilibrium with God's earth. Thus, we have been privileged to start a garden and the bowl of food I crouched to harvest comes as a blessing. It is our mandate to care for the earth, but it is God who 'covers the sky with clouds' and 'supplies the earth with rain.'¹
Right there in our garden I glimpsed a bit of this cohabitation, feeling nearly guilty cleaning the spider and its web off the leaf. This garden was home and food for creatures other than myself and my wife. As true as God's provision for us is God's provision for the animals of His earth.² Indeed, God informs Job He is there at the birth of a goat's kids and the doe's fawn - it is God who provides food for the raven, and waters the land where even humans do not live.³ And here in our backyard God gave the grasshopper food, the spider a home and our household vegetables. This was not our garden; we were merely taking care of it, but God was doing the bulk of the work - and He was doing much more with it than we had considered.

Picking our bananas off a display case and choosing our peppers from a refrigerated shelf contains within itself a degree of hubris. Each aisle of the grocery store boasts of our ability to sustain ourselves, our capacity to dominate the environment and shape reality to our wills. The suffering, the poverty, and the crime which is prevalent all around us - as well as the humanitarian efforts, the social justice and the self-policing which serve to raise ourselves to a high and lofty position - push us to forget who God is: the Generous Provider, the Merciful Creator, the Loving Father.

In a garden I have seen God as the Generous Provider. Not only for my wife and I, and all those who share in our meals, but also for the spider, the grasshopper, the worms, and the beetles. Here in this very garden I have seen God 'care for the land and water it,'⁴ and I have seen Him give food to more than simply ravens. In the garden God has shown His provision - for the earth, for me and for His creatures.

Adonai is a god of the mundane and He cares for us all. Sometimes we just need to be reminded - and sometimes we're reminded when we least expect.

Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, who, in His goodness, provides sustenance for the entire world with grace, with kindness, and with mercy. He gives food to all flesh, for His kindness is everlasting. Through His great goodness to us continuously we do not lack food, and may we never lack food, for the sake of His great Name. For He, benevolent God, provides nourishment and sustenance for all, does good to all, and prepares food for all His creatures whom He has created, as it is said: You open Your hand and satisfy the desire of every living thing. Blessed are You, Adonai, who provides food for all.

-- from the Jewish Grace After Meals

1. Psalm 147:8
2. Deuteronomy 11:15; Psalm 147:9. Additionally, Jesus alludes to these verses in His teaching, stating that God provides for the birds of the air and clothes the lilies of the field, thus we who are more valuable than these should not worry about food nor clothes. See Matthew 6:25-35 and Luke 12:22-34.
3. Job 38-39
4. Psalm 65:9

blessings and curses

It's not a big plot - maybe ten feet long by five or six wide - but it certainly is the beginning of what could be a garden. It has the potential; each seed was individually pushed into the newly worked soil by our very fingers. It was brilliant. The sun periodically peeked from behind the clouds to spy on us as we turned the soil and pulled out all the rocks we could find, all the weeds we could find and as we ensured the worms we disturbed were safe to remain in this place - those deemed a risk were thrown over the fence into the back lane.

We laid the wooden border to set its boundaries, we buried the seeds in the rows we hope the plants will grow. Our fingernails proudly bore the dirt like medals; our muscles ached with the joy from the preparations. We've watered it and have been glad to see the rain; we look out the back window to make sure there's no cats using our plot as a personal toilet. It's only been a few days, but we eagerly wait. This tiny little piece of land behind our landlord's tool shed has been transformed - it is no longer an unkempt space, but it has now been given order out of the chaos it once was; it is no longer a foreign, unwelcoming corner of the yard, but it is now our earthen womb.

Yet, it's still merely a rectangular plot of dirt - mysteriously looking like a freshly dug grave.

We feel older now knowing in the backyard there is a becoming initiated by our efforts. We feel more at home with a garden outside our back door. The question of production barely crosses our minds - it is not a matter of consumption, this garden of ours. It's not about how much this land will yield, not whether it will even yield at all. For this is what we're meant for.¹

And this is what we're cursed to.

It may not be to the extent of farming an acreage, but in this little garden we get a glimpse of what it means to eat by the sweat of our brow.² Here, in this rectangular plot of earth, we recognise the work required simply to get something to eat - a notion lost on the culture which buys its packaged food off a shelf, thereby separating itself from the curse Adam and Eve chose when they disobeyed.

The way our society lives does not allow a recognition of dependence - what you want you can get from any store, be it on-line or at a shopping mall. We are brought up to believe only in ourselves, and to rely on our whims and ambitions when it is in God Himself where we are to lay our trust, faith, hope, and indeed our entire being. Amidst a world which prides itself in ease of comfort, immediate gratification, independence and complacency, our little garden behind our landlord's shed reminds us we are far from home.

So we cultivate the ground outside of Eden remembering this is not how it's supposed to be - and the weeds, the thorns and the thistle we uproot will help us keep that in mind as the sweat moistening the garden's dirt will be by what we eat these vegetables. By this toil we will eat of the ground, cursed as much as we are. We will work it, and it will work us while we both wait in eager expectation for the liberation from our bondage to decay.³



1. Genesis 1:28, 2:15
2. Genesis 3:18
3. Romans 8:19-21

the christ festival

Once again Christmas is upon us. And once again it appears as though Christians have no idea what to do with it. It's as if Christmas is too sacred to touch, too holy to be near and so we act like the rest of the world, becoming completely indistinguishable from others. We're too scared to be different, and too frightened to actually, truly approach God. So the Christ-child is relegated to the side of the room as a miniature, peripherally illuminated by the lights on the tree.

Do we doubt its reality? Or do we simply refuse to allow it any reality? Because I don't believe this remarkable, miraculous, beautiful event is being done any justice, but is instead being trivialised by being melded with what the world is doing. We see it, but from a safe distance so that we can get back to whatever it is we really want to do. We've got to re-claim Christmas for what it is - the celebration of the birth of God as a man. The rest is irrelevant.

Faithful God, we rejoice that You have sent Your promised Christ. And yet, O God, we confess that we are still not ready for Christ's coming; we are reluctant to live as if the whole earth were Your domain. We know the story - the shepherds, the angles, the magi - but we don't fully understand what it means. Awaken us to Your Spirit, let Christ's birth make a difference in our lives.
-Ruth C. Duck

wordy wisdom: inspirational lyrics, pt 5

When one likes a band as much as I like Third Day, it's hard to say a song that is a favourite - for truly they are all favourites. However, sometimes one or two songs leap out - or at least keep being brought up by the subconcious. For me, this song is a frequent one to my head.

Haunting is the word that comes to mind as a descriptor of this track. It immediately resonated within me and stuck upon me, lingering in my mind - even to this day I unexpectedly get it creeping into my consciousness.

This particular song, to me, is a quintessential example of applying a Biblical narrative to our personal lives; the lyrics keep the story poignantly vague in that they remove the story of the Fall from an ancient theo-historical context to a relatable ballad.

We are all idolaters and self-proclaimed gods - even if we do not realise that we've been seeking our own autonomy - and here Third Day simply yet profoundly asks the question of whether we deserve any mercy of the God from whom we are constantly turning away. While the answer is given - it is more than we deserve - the lyrics, like the Biblical story, tell us that it doesn't end with our betrayal: there is in fact hope, despite the reality that we overwhelmingly do not deserve God's grace.

Take these truths, finely craft them into brilliant poetic prose then put them to haunting music and you get one of my favourite songs of all time.


I Deserve? / Third Day // Conspiracy No. 5

well, i tasted the fruit that was forbidden;
i murdered the trust that You had given
and now i'm living in a place
that's not my home.

the pain in Your heart made You regret;
the moment we spoke, did You forget?
will my transgressions bring us all
to our sweet end?

maybe i'm just being too hard
on myself, i don't know.
or is it that Your mercy
is much more than i deserve?

i deserve?

more than i deserve.
(it's more than i deserve)
more than i deserve.
(it's more than i deserve)

betrayed by more than just a kiss,
i did much more, i must admit.
instead of letting it all end,
You bring new hope . . .

more than i deserve.
(it's more than i deserve)
more than i deserve.
(it's more than i deserve)

oh, more than i deserve.
(it's more than i deserve)
oh, more than i deserve.
(it's more than i deserve)

oh, more than i deserve -
more than i deserve -
more than i deserve -

more than i deserve.

i deserve . . ?

wordy wisdom: inspirational lyrics, part 4

While browsing through various new artists, I came across this very peculiar band. Their attitude I found brilliant yet odd, to say the least; their style of music was intriguing yet distasteful; their lyrics provocative yet incomprehensible. And I found myself at a point where I was constantly listening to a handful of their songs; ultimately, however, I could not keep doing so - despite their quite obvious talent, I simply could not continue listening to such pure 'emo.'

But there was one song that spoke to me - a song with lyrics so poetic, so beautiful, so moving that it quickly became one of my favourites (it also helped that it was a slightly different song-type than their others).

Matthias Replaces Judas is, in my opinion, profound. It not only illustrates humanity's position before God, but it also captures the mood of my faith so eloquently. In this song, Showbread brings out the emotional overtones of my spiritual journey - for me to listen to it is to inevitably bring tears to my eyes. Accordingly, to truly do the song any justice, I simply cannot say more.
And so I won't.

Matthias Replaces Judas / Showbread // No Sir, Nihilism Is Not Practical

is it so that my transgressions
have born a withered fruit?
the sun has scorched the rising plans;
alas, they have no root.
the bleached bones of animals,
bound by leather strips,
dance through the air with laughter
as i wield this wicked whip.

as You did warn me, Carpenter,
this world has weakened my heart;
so easily i disparage,
self-seeking the work of my art.
and there You've come to me
at the moment i bathe in my sorrow -
so in love with myself,
saught after avoiding tomorrow.
where do You find the love to offer
he who betrays You?
and offer to wash my feet
as i offer to disobey You?
Your beauty does bereave me,
and how my words do fail;
so faithfully and dutifully
i award You with betrayal.

the weak and the down-trodden
fall on broken legs,
as i walk passed the smile i cast,
fervour in my stead.
my bones like plastic
do buckle backward now.
i lay in this field like Judas
and anticipate the plow.
i cannot be forgiven,
my wages will be paid
for those more lowly and admirable
is least among the saved.
and where would i fit, Jesus?
what place is left for me?
the price of atonement
is more than i've found
to offer as my plea.

Jesus, my heart is all i have to give to You.
so weak and so unworthy,
this simply will not do.
no alabastar jar,
no diamond in the rough;
for Your body that was broken,
how can this be enough?
by me You were abandoned,
by me You were betrayed.
yet, in Your arms
and in Your heart
for ever i have stayed.
Your glory illuminates my life,
no darkness will descend
for You have loved me for ever
and Your love will never end . . .

i'm all that's in the way

The other day, as I was jack-hammering the concrete step to the back door of a customer, a surveyor of some sort came around the corner and asked me, 'Are you the home-owner or just the renovator?'

It took me at least five seconds to answer her.

The process in my head immediately began by acknowledging that I was definitely not the home-owner. But then it hit a tough spot: Am I the renovator or the renovator's assistant? Or merely an employee to the renovator? I knew that to answer I was the renovator's son would be giving an irrelevant designation, but under which other category did I fall?

I drew a blank as I looked around me, mentally clawing for a reply. Even in the moment I was surprised at how difficult it was to answer such a simple question - how strange it was to be at a loss because of one simple enquiry. She gave me two options, why could I not place myself so easily in either one of them?

I eventually stammered out, 'Uh, yah, I'm the renovator,' to which she turned around and left.

Of course I was bothered afterward by my struggle. Was the complicatedness really necessary? Was there a reason for so much confusion in stating my work-position? Was it that I was simply startled out of a focused task by a stranger?

While the element of surprise is valid, I felt it could not be the sole contributor to my strained search.

When I worked at Price Chopper I always had a problem when people asked, 'Where do you keep . . ?,' 'Where are your . . ?,' or 'What are your . . ?' It bothered me that simply because I had a uniform on I was immediately equated with the company - you, your - but I only worked there. I never responded with 'we,' but instead used 'the store' because I didn't want people to make the mistake of thinking I somehow was or belonged to Sobey West's discount supermarket when I was merely an employee.

I wondered whether this same mentality was being brought out here, even as an employee of my own father's company? I concluded that this was true, but where with Price Chopper I hesitated to be interchanged with some mass corporation, with my dad it's that I hesitate to equate my shortcomings, inabilities and lack of knowledge with his work and expertise. Both with Price Chopper and my dad I was reluctant to be recognised as a serious representative for the company - one because I felt it too far removed from myself, the other because I could not allow my inexperience to be expressive of the business.

The fact is, while I am wholly committed I am not entirely devoted. And it was then that I found a direct correlation to that of my faith: Not only do I find that I don't measure up to what a Christian should be, I also do not find that I am utterly dedicated to it. This of course is a bold statement to admit, but it is the honest truth. While in my heart I want to be a Christian man, my actions have borne little if any fruit thereby rendering my best intentions invalid - to consider myself worthy of the Kingdom of Heaven would be blasphemous. I am hesitant to go where I may be lead to go in fear that I will not live up to divine expectations. And so the struggle is to confess my faithfulness when I feel I have become merely a nominal Christian - how could I truly be a citizen of God's Kingdom when I am not by any means an adequate sort of representative, ambassador or example.

Yet, to be a Christian it seems one must simply accept full-heartedly the grace that while we are not and perhaps never can be what we should, we are still accepted, wanted, used and indeed saved. Though I struggle to truly and deeply answer, 'Yes, I am a Christian,' the fact remains that since I have accepted God through His Christ, since I attempt (the key being to attempt, for although I fail I continue the effort) to shape my life around Him and His will, since I try daily to follow God I am of course a Christ-follower.

Even though I know very little in regards to working a renovation job, the truth remains that, in spite of my mistakes and under needed guidance, I am learning, I am trying, and I do in fact get work done; therefore I am a renovator - even as, in spite of my inabilities and under needed grace, I am learning, I am trying, and I do follow; therefore I am a Christian.

Perhaps this is something I will always fight doubt about, but it seems God never fails to somehow show me that I still belong to Him, even if I am a horrible failure - because then I'm simply His horrible failure, His horrible Christian failure - yet somehow He weaves a good from it, even if I can't see it or ever know it, unlike a renovation job where the end result is tangible.

Worthy or not, I am what I am.