May I stand and ask permission to be a kind of benediction to a love we know is bigger than ourselves? Oh the spirit and your witness is bearing light upon our weakness , giving weight to what we cannot see alone, oh we come with what we are, oh we come with what we’ve done. We are a beginning. In faith we look to comfort, she is laying her old hands, on our souls as we discover we are waking more to hope. Your committed celebration is part of our salvation. Holding onto what we know we cannot hold alone. ‘Cause we are not that strong, sometimes afraid of what we’ve done. And we are not that strong, we are just a beginning. Pray for the bravery to act upon the kindness of forgiveness and the mystery of clarity sometimes. Mercy is grateful to go under all our failures. Thanks be to Christ for severity that has kissed us on the cheek.
We are not that strong, most times afraid of what we’ve done, and yet we are a beginning. I think we’re coming to a standstill. I think you’re magic with your strong will, but this is love and not justice. He’s hurting everything he touches, he cannot carry what he clutches; he needs a mother and a child. How about some love and charity, the sense that you are family? Well I’d like to help but you’re on fire. How about some peace and honesty, some hard core sense of clarity? How about respect and dignity, some kind of hope and yes more clarity? … Well you are a careful mystery, not someone’s sweet commodity. You are a precious one on fire.
And when darkness covers you in the valley, I’ll pray that the Kingdom comes soon. When daylight is a distant memory in that valley, I’ll pray for you that Jesus comes soon. Try not to be afraid for long if you can help it while you’re deep in that valley, don’t worry, I’ll send you a picture of my childish face. And like a flower you can burst forth smiling even in the valley, but I’ll still pray that Jesus comes soon. When it feels like you have nothing left to offer but your sorrow, oh remember where there is grace there is no shame. And as it happens light has nowhere else to happen but the valley, and maybe something’s trying, oh yes maybe something’s really trying, to break through!
And life’s come out from the inside, and we’re all caught up in a brand new smile. Now love’s come out from the inside, carefully, willingly; you are alive, so much more alive. And love is breathing like a child come out, life’s suspended in the gravity of care. Never ending does the child come out. And hope’s come out from the inside… now we’re all caught up trying to hide the fact that you are alive, you are more alive than you try to be. Growing down into the Kingdom, child, cover our most desperate cries with ease, please! Love is breathing like a tree on fire, violently consuming tender lives. Love is breathing.
Rains, rain, give a little bit of your love to me. I’ll give a little bit of my love to you. There’s so much that we need to share so send a smile and show you care. I’ll give a little bit of my life for you, so give a little bit of your time to me. Do you see the man with the lonely eyes? Go take his hand and you’ll be surprised... Give a little bit of your love to me, and I’ll give a little bit of my life for you. Now’s the time that we need to share, so find yourself, we’re on our way back home. Give a little bit of your love to me and I will give a little bit of my love to you.
Sun went down that’s when she started seeing things. Midnight souls with top hats, coats, and diamond rings; undertakers, suitors, staring like they knew her, she was not impressed. She opened up the window where she met the wind. Time and time again she is her closest friend. Coming and going, the wind, it brushed her forehead, she was not afraid. In the desert of the heart, let the healing waters start; in the doubting place of dark that she is holding. Walking on the sidewalk after time unkempt, she is trying to remember what somebody said. And her arms long forward, to where she is already in him. This is the day, but there is also the night.
I got caught up in my own light. I didn’t notice all the stoplights. Getting caught up in my own rhymes... I think I killed a man. I was on my way, but should I stop or should I stay? I didn’t know him anyways, but should I see if he’s ok? I got caught up in my own sight. I didn’t notice all the search lights. Getting caught up in my own sighs… Oh I think I could lose myself… I got caught up in my own lies.
She looks over her shoulder with a half specific glare as if it were the past. And the reception of intentions of a once familiar path, a promise, broken in half. So, she let go. And in the pages of her memos are picturesque clichés she once called providence. They were fragments of Picassos with running lines undone that wrecked her confidence. Is there any sense why she let go? It was what she thought was right, through all the gloom and might living in between. It was like she said, “a chance to learn instead of staying in the lines,” and never knowing why, she stumbles through the door. Were the angels fighting demons in the corner of her room? Or was it heaven’s stance? That she would catch a glimpse of love in safety more than life, a fate-less circumstance. So, she let go. Now the reasoning is theory, living out a grand crusade of greater magnitude. And the consequence of failure is a possibility, but will it break the truth? She won’t know, not until she lets go.
We’re taking off our clothes to sing. We’ll be wearing our own skin. We’ll be taking off a whole lot more, just so we can sing. Because hope is coming out tonight, knocking at the door. You’ve got to let that stranger in, looking at your soul. A pealing and a shedding mind, it’s changing what we’re worth. Blessed are the meek somehow, they’re taking in the earth. And all this talk of love and peace, and wanting something true, well peace will cut the ropes sometimes that are holding onto me and you. No sentimental bags of gold to occupy the hurt. It’s knowing what the demons saw when falling to the earth. I’m stretching out across the land. I’m trying my best to understand. While fear is barking like a dog, I’m holding out my hands, yes I’m still holding out my hands; standing in the cold, and looking at your soul.
I’d like to sleep for one more hour or two, an hour or two… You look like my dad when he slept really hard, through everything. Now everything’s gone, and, like Christmas, we are home. This all feels so familiar. Are we really getting older? Home... I wish I could remember. That little hill seemed like a mountain then, we were shorter then. We wondered just how it was going to be, when here we are. And it’s not too bad; it’s quite good in fact. We are home. You are like poetry and feathers. The way you button up your sweater… The one you chose for colder weather. I wish I could remember everything good. I’d like to sleep for another hour or two…
