T-Shirts

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T-Shirts (What We Should Be Known For)
words and music by derek webb

they'll know us by the t-shirts that we wear
they'll know us by the way we point and stare
at anyone whose sin looks worse than ours
who cannot hide the scars of this curse that we all bare

they’ll know us by our picket lines and signs
they’ll know us by the pride we hide behind
like anyone on earth is living right
and isn’t that why Jesus died
not to make us think we’re right

chorus
when love, love, love
is what we should be known for
love, love, love
it’s the how and it’s the why
we live and breathe and we die

they’ll know us by reasons we divide
and how we can’t seem to unify
because we’ve gotta sing songs a certain style
or we’ll walk right down that aisle
and just leave ‘em all behind

they’ll know us by the billboards that we make
just turning God’s words to cheap clichés
says “what part of murder don’t you understand?”
but we hate our fellow man
and point a finger at his grave

chorus

they'll know us by the t-shirts that we wear
they'll know us by the way we point and stare
telling ‘em their sins are worse than ours
thinking we can hide our scars
beneath these t-shirts that we wear


Why do I accept a t-shirt Christianity? Why am I not angered that we, as good 'ol American Christians, try to reduce Jesus to a few clichéd sayings, even when we know that it takes something deeper to change lives? (FYI: I've got nothing against Christian t-shirts in the literal sense, for those reading this messy blog entry)

Do I accept these things because I do not believe that my Lord and Savior is worth the effort? Is it because I am so self-absorbed that I can't take time to do something about my own surface faith, much less that of the American Church as a whole? This is a hard thought to entertain, but it's harder to accept that I've accepted it. But I love God! I get emotional (on the inside at least) when the "words I need to hear" are spoken. I can even sense the love of God in others. And while I'm boasting, I genuinely desire to treat other humans with respect, and I believe I have done this fairly consistently.

In the end, though, do I believe that God is truly the Beginning and the End? If God is all that is real, why consume myself with everything that is false and fading? I love my friends, my earthly family, my former classmates, my coworkers, my church family. But they will all be gone soon. So will I. My life as I know it will end incredibly soon.

But if God is who we say he is, who we know he is, then why are we wasting time pretending that this world is what it's all about?

God, how I know that nothing in this world is worth sacrificing an intense longing for Jesus. If I need to move to the Arctic to immediately enter into a life of praise, I should do that without pausing for thought. If I need to praise God on my face with friends around looking confused and embarrassed for me, I should have no reservations. If I only need to sit and stare at the wall and think about how mercilessly I have betrayed my creator, then that is what I must do. If I enter into praise in complete stillness and silence, even then I shouldn't worry if I am being Christian enough. Forget what the voices say, especially with my own often being the one straight from Hell. There is only one voice I need.

As a true (false?) Christian Hypocrite, even as I write these words, I know that I will have abandoned this thought by morning. What feels like a personal revelation now will soon feel like more words I wrote just to see if anyone is listening. Maybe someone will remind me of the words I wrote when I put on my t-shirt.

Behold the Lamb of God

How do I know that Jesus Christ is real, and that He is really God? I know because He shatters my insides when I least expect it. You see, I'm not a crier. I haven't cried in a couple years, if not much longer. It seems my eyes only leak when I am torn inside on a deep level, and I try to live my life in a way that prevents that from happening.

But I wept last night. I wept for my hurt. I wept for the hurt of the world. I wept because I am sick of betraying my Savior. But most of all, I wept because He made me remember how real He is.

I'm a little embarrassed that God is using a Christian musician to break me into pieces. For one, it's cliched to become emotional through music. Second, I've been known to declare much modern Christian music as little more than a commercial distraction, lacking in heart and true praise. And there's nothing I hate more than being revealed as a hypocrite. I no longer feel that way, as God has already softened my heart to hear the message, instead of criticizing the musicians.

I have listened to Andrew Peterson's Behold the Lamb of God perhaps twenty times. It's the most beautiful telling of the entire Christmas story I've ever heard. Still, it's not something I would let myself get emotional about. I was above that, I told myself.

Last night I decided to put in the Behold the Lamb of God concert dvd (it came with the cd, so why not?). The room was dark and quiet, and I was alone. Since it was 1:00 a.m., everyone else was asleep. No one but God could see me. Yet, song after song, I fought the tears. I somehow told myself that I would not embarrass myself, even if I was the only person around. But God held out longer than me. Before long, I could no longer discern the difference between the cry of the children of Israel and the cry of my hardened heart. The group of musicians, clearly in tears themselves, bellowed:

Deliver us, deliver us
Oh Yahweh, hear our cry
And gather us beneath your wings tonight

I could feel God's answer within my soul. He wants me under His wings. He misses me even as I reject His perfect love daily. As I feel God move me, the now red-eyed musicians continue:

'Jerusalem, Jerusalem
How often I have longed
To gather you beneath my gentle wings'

My stone heart shattered in that instant. God did it. His beautiful Son did it. Peterson and his group of musicians were only the missionaries, willing to let God be the center of everything, to the point that their names or voices no longer even mattered.

Now what I need is strength. I need strength to bear the change as God puts the pieces together and decides who I will become. I trust Him, but it is hard for a stubborn child like me.

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The Mad Dance

Here from the carpet looking straight up
ambiguous colors do the electric slide
under my eyelids.

Some kind of squirming bluish creature
shares a few sidesteps and twirl-abouts
with a squishy nectarine.

Dear Lord it's a mad celebration of the indistinguishable
on the surface of my eyeballs!
And in a strange twist of events
I'm not invited to join in on the lunatic's jig.

Still, here on the carpet I will stay forever
because this is a bed for a King
And it's just the thing I need to rest my tired eyes.

But I really wouldn't mind if
The squirmy blues and nectarines
On my eyes
Joined the many hues and tangerines on yours.

It would be just fine with me
if they could dance together forever.

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Plastic

Plastic Bible cover
Plastic drinking cup
Plastic umbrella
Plastic ink pen
Plastic push pin
Plastic flip-flops
Plastic Happy Meal toys
Plastic cell phone
Plastic "toy" gun
Plastic body bag


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Everyone's Waiting

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I waited five years to finish college so I could get on with my real life. A few years ago, it seemed all I was waiting for was the perfect girl. You know, the one who "gets it." She is beautiful, yet humble. She knows she has great value, but she's never better than the needs of the single mother in the local mission. Today, I wait for a phone call telling me it's time to start a new career. For months I waited for people to stop asking: "Do you have a teaching job yet?" For many restless nights I tried to understand why I have no desire to teach, thinking there must be a logical answer. Instead, I received peace from God on my decision, without the clear answers everyone else wants to hear.

When I weighed five pounds, was bald and had only gums to chew with, I waited on food and on human touch. When I was a teenager, I waited for someone to tell me what to do with my life. I waited for someone to tell me it's alright to love the world so much that it literally hurts to see people fall to pieces. No one ever told me it was alright, and it still hurts like hell.

To this day, I wait on God to show His face. I wait for the revelation which will remove all doubt. Hope is the painful sacrifice of what seems to make sense, and faith is a heavy burden. Yet, that is all I have until I leave this world and see Christ looking into my gray eyes, calling me His most beloved.

Sometimes, waiting for one day to end and the next to begin feels like getting a second chance. Other times, it feels like waiting to die. For my whole life I have waited for someone to tell me the value of my life. When I have been told, I've waited on myself to believe it.

I wait for the right chance to tell my grandmother that I love her before she dies. I want to tell her that I love her for having a part in shaping my mother, who has shaped me. I wait to understand why the men in my family can never use the word "love" unless we really mean it. I wait to understand why we can't mean it more often. My soul wants to love God's people until there is nothing left of me. Even as a child, I knew God had placed an uncommon pain in me. It is a pain I feel for every fractured heart. It is impossible to understand, but it is as real as my sin. Yet, my surface insecurities hold me back from even extending a comforting word to a hurting stranger.

I wait to stop living in my head. I wait to discover what it means to live life as my Creator intended. I wait to lose myself. I want God to hold my crippled body as I crawl for a few more days, as I wait to begin living. I want God to grab my throat and choke out whatever is left of this hollow human shell. I will not wait to see God. I must feel Him in this house, in this room, in my bones. My Father has waited on me for far too long.

Oh Lord on this Mountain

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Standing at the foot of this mountain, I have to question my decision to ascend. If I manage to make it all the way to the peak, I know the view will compensate the journey. On the peak, I will see the world for what it is. On the peak, I will see my God for the first time. So I must go. It is a long way up.

I have an uninvited feeling in my chest. It must be the thin air at this altitude. Still I trod on, leaving distractions behind me. Distractions threaten to spoil my journey. I see sunlight sneak through the tall pines, drawn to the morning mist like paint is drawn to a canvas. But I must pay it no mind. The view of my Saviour is at the peak. The thought of this grand view is enough to block out the noise of the nearby waterfall. Even as the water pounds on the rocks below, I feel a moist breath on my neck. I must try to ignore it. I am on a journey.

The sun has outsmarted me, making it to the peak first. The sun shines into my eyes, blinding me for a moment, seemingly to boast of its victory. No matter, I have made it! I am taller than the pines, higher than the birds. The air is pure and invigorating. My mind is clear, perfectly empty, for the first time on my journey. But where is my Lord? Where is the awesome view? God, what is my life for? I am so worn out, so tired of being alone. I am spent, God.

On the way down, something seems different. The breath of the waterfall cools my burning neck. The falling water now sounds like a symphony to my open ears. The sunlight gives me peace as it pours through the trees. I have a feeling in my chest again. Is it the thin air at this height, or is it the love of God swelling within me?

Now That's What I Call Inspiration Volume 1

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Have you ever had the feeling that there is something great in the world that you are missing, although it is right in front of you? This past week I accidentally made a discovery that has already begun to change my life in a very small, yet important way. After diving head first into the ocean of Christian music several years ago, I had a few good years of meaningful listening. I was at a point where I didn't really enjoy music unless it was praising God. Then, I began to grow more and more cynical towards all contemporary Christian music. I felt that it was rarely sung from the heart. It was all ultimately cliché, I sometimes thought. In fact, I began to wonder if there were any mainstream Christian artists who's inspiration came from God, instead of a paycheck. My love of God and appreciation for heartfelt music should have coincided wonderfully, but my perception of the landscape of Christian music made that very difficult.

After a very dry year (or 2) I've finally come to a place where I know I must have been wrong. There are artists who use their talents to praise God from their heart, not from their wallet. It makes me wonder what else I've been wrong about! Anyways, here's the man who broke some of my cynicism towards mainstream Christian pop music, one step at a time.


Mountains On The Ocean Floor
from "The Far Country"
Words and music by Andrew Peterson


(I Samuel 16:7, Revelation 2:17, Romans 7:15-25, Phillipians 1:6)

My uncle’s in the county jail
His time is on his hands
He knows he chose a barren cell
Over a fair and fertile land

He took another hit
He hit another high
He flew until he fell
Just like he has a thousand times

Nothing ever seems to change
But miles away beneath the waves

There are mountains
Mountains on the ocean floor
They’re rising from the deep
But no one ever sees
No one ever sees

I can’t believe I landed there
I swear I swore it off
I know that I can’t stand it here
Still I came and took a fall

I wish that I could shake it
I wish that I was free
I wish that I was half the man
I wish that I could be

There are mountains
Mountains on the ocean floor
They’re moving up so slow
No one ever knows
No one ever knows

Nothing ever seems to change
But miles away beneath the waves
Down below the dirt
Hotter than a flame
In the belly of the earth
He has given you a Name

There are mountains
Mountains on the ocean floor
They’re rising from the deep
Where no one ever sees
There are mountains
They’re hidden there beneath the waves
They’re moving up so slow
No one ever knows
There’s a molten heart of stone
That is waiting to explode
Only God can see it grow


www.andrew-peterson.com/music

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A Thought to Replace My Life

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"Even if I come back, even if I die
Is there some idea to replace my life?"

(Sufjan Stevens, from the album Michigan)


Imagine that your life has been removed from this earth in every way, even your name and the memory of you. No one will ever know that you lived. What would the world be missing? Is there some thought to completely replace your life? Is there something hidden in you, in the deepest part of your soul, that makes you different from anyone else in the universe? Is there something that you could provide this planet, that could not be replaced?

If so, is that part of us not worth celebrating? Do we honestly believe that a magnificent, mysterious, incomparable God would appreciate His children willingly falling into a standard mold? Do all Christians in the New Testament fall into one idea, one thought? Our true uniqueness is part of what makes us human. If I ever feel that my life could be easily replaced by a million similar lives, I have only myself to blame. I was created with a unique mind, heart, and soul. I was created to serve an awesome God, but I was never told what the essence of my life would be. What makes me tick? How do I love God? Why do I love other people? How do I show His grace? How do I search for truth? How do I deal with the doubts which surely assault any person who believes in something they will never get to see or touch? How will I ever find a purpose in this life if I never know who I am?
Who am I?

If I surrender on the lifelong search for these answers, there likely will be a thought to replace my life.

The Open Door

The door was flung open wide,
Almost as if there was nothing to hide.

Outside was a crazy earth,
A place with as much death as there was birth.

For every road that went up a mound,
There was another that went back down.

No one seemed to know which way was right,
We all shared in the insane plight!

We oft' wondered if anyone had a plan,
With our backs turned to the Son of Man.







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Even

Even if I am the only one,
I will live,
In the light of the Son.

Even in spite of me,
He will try,
To make these two eyes see.

Even when it's hopeless,
Lives will grow,
In all our planet's mess.

Even as we hate Him,
He will show,
How our globe has gone dim.

Even on the tree,
He bled,
Oh my God I am free!

The Nerves Unending (Or, Burning in the Light of Day)

Rather accidentally, I have taken a third-person approach to life over the last 6 months or so. I have observed my family, my friends, and mostly myself. It has not been very healthy, but this distant approach to my own life and my own thoughts has led me to a conclusion.

We live with exposed nerves. More than that, we live to keep those nerves hidden. Endless, raw nerves, always threatening to expose us for who we really are. In my (accidental) observations, I have been made aware that even in our earnest attempts to present our true selves, we are only exposing what we think other humans can handle. If I trust you, you get an arm's worth of nerves. If you are my life's partner, maybe two arms. But the rest....I will keep the rest to myself. And it wears us out. A life spent hiding is tiresome.

Considering my hidden self has led to a lot of thought about daylight and its relation to our lives, our secrets. Do any of us ever live in the revealing glow of full daylight? Do we really want to? Is it moral, safe, or even possible to live the way we feel we are meant to? Are those feelings placed into our beating hearts by divine intervention, or are they broken human emotions? Sometimes I feel like life is a dark cycle of living in the shadows, where my nerves are hidden, with random moments where my true self rears his ugly head.

It is terrifying to imagine living life in daylight. Everything exposed. Nothing to hide. Nothing to be ashamed of. As long as no one really knows us, they can more easily ignore us. And when we hurt, part of us wants to be ignored. Every time someone notices our pain, we have two choices: give a sanitized version of our broken life, or risk it all with the real story. Our lives can become like the "popcorn news" we see on tv. There is some basic truth there, but all that truly matters is hidden for the benefit of the viewer. In some ways, It seems that protecting others from the mangled mess of our lives is the most gracious and selfless act we will ever know.

Perhaps God keeps us from exposing our fragile nerves to protect us from the backlash of cruel human nature. Are we designed to live in the complete freedom of the daylight, or is it supposed to burn a little?

Did you hear the news today?
I'm not coming home
No
And I wished it all away
I felt so alone
And the darkness crept it's way
Like stars we know will die too soon
There is never any sunrise here
In the shadows of eclipsing moons
Crawling on a tightrope
The bravest thing I have is hope

Daylight, save me
Daylight, save me
Tonight, tonight

Halogen the lights will flicker
Incandescent burning lies
And the silence stands for nothing
Desperate I search the skies
Aching for a spark
Trembling in pitchest dark

Daylight, save me
Daylight, save me
Tonight, tonight

(Brave Saint Saturn, "Daylight.")