This song is about my fickle heart. I'm like a weather-vein that turns with the gentlest of breezes. I'm a magpie in Claire's Jewelry store and my eyes are only for the plastic rhinestones. But I'll leave the metaphors for the songwriters. Going back to my favorite word "fickle": I love this word primarily because of its association with "mediocre" or "two-faced." Then there are those lovely things we call "good intentions."
I have so many temples in my life. Music, appearance, relationships, even people I look up to or try to emulate become focuses and drives, those "rushing winds" in my life. And I'm the weather-vein, well oiled with my need to belong and be liked and that elusive idea of "something more." Wherever the breeze blows, I'm there, even if I don't want to be. I've found myself among fools, though the biggest is myself. Indeed, some of the ones I look up to are just foolish comedians running towards cliffs shouting "revolution" and all those things I admire. "Twitterpainted" is another good word for me.
Fickle, Unfaithful. Those are the words for me. Line em up, I'd shoot em down. Which one's for me, God? Let me try them on. Just holding hands, just hugging. It's all cool. I'll find her. Eventually. But spend time with you? Love you? Oh I do, don't you know? I love you with all my heart, just not the heart I gave to everyone else. I gave you the heart I wear to church and in bed when I pray or when I "testify" to your name. Amos 5 can sum up my worship.
God has every right to be angry with me. I am a Gomer to God if He was Hosea. I kiss His feet, then spit in His face. He has every right to turn over tables, crash down the walls of my world, take everything He ever gave me away, and completely forsake me. But He over turns those tables to GET TO ME. He sees me at the gallows, and runs to stop me. God is love, but He is a jealous God. So this "love of a jealous kind..." my my. I can't understand.
And I think that's my problem. I don't want to understand. Wisdom is fearing God, and forsaking evil is understanding, so Job says. So in understanding, I must forsake or at least recognize my evil, my harlot ways, and I'm disgusted with myself. I fear His grace because I cannot believe it, I cannot accept it. But running from God is like running from the sun. He's the rock under my feet, and He'll catch my when I fall, no matter how far from the cliff I jump. His truth is unyielding, no matter how much I'd rather lose myself in the subjective ambiguity of Salinger, Camus, Nietzsche, Melville, or Vonnegut. I can't hide myself behind excuses of ignorance or experience. This world I understand. Its pains I can understand. That's all i want to know because i can face the "infinite void" like any other good existentialist and somehow get a sense of superiority out of it. Funny how we find vindication in nothingness. "Vindication." Also a good word for me. I'd rather feel this pain than the pain I would feel coming to understand the God who died on a cross for my sins. Understanding that would be to accept it. This God of a jealous kind, on a cross for a harlot who didn't even know his name. I don't want it because I don't want to understand.
So I keep on running. In running, you can't stop. The runner's mind says NO COMPROMISE. The lungs ache, the legs are lead, the heart pounds, but you can't slow. Regret is at your heels, along with defeat, inferiority, and broken promises. But the real danger behind me in this race is grace. His grace. Once again, I'm jumping from the cliff, losing myself in the sand, I can't slow down or it will fall on me and I'll realize how much I need it. I'll understand. It's this grace that is the danger, because in it is "love that shames the wise." The one thing Salinger and Vonnegut couldn't understand was Love. And I think it not too arrogant to say any of us did. When Salinger was staring into the abyss, he said "i'll make my own value." Vonnegut said "I'll just watch the good parts." They missed the point that all those mushy singers like Norah Jones, Frank Sinatra, and Michael Buble were all singing about. We don't want a love for now, a Gatsby's Daisy at the end of our dock, or someone to know us inside and out, we want that FOREVER. "A love that will last" as Norah sings. We can't reason our way out of this. No existentialism, transcendentalism, or carefree hedonism will ever get us beyond our own existence. Our hearts will always lead us astray because they too fear the grace we do not understand. Our mountains crumble, our statues fall, our wax wings melt, our pride shatters and we fall flat on our face. Funny, how thats the only way we see it.
I slow down. I stop running. The finish line is... somewhere, but not here. Not yet. But I'm done. I'm gagging. I'm dry heaving. And I can't stop. I'm lying in bed. Trying to pray. Trying to see the God I'm running from. Trying to mean the words and the name and the conviction but I'm only wanting vindication. I'm repeating the name, because it's the only way of worship I can find now. "God of Love. God of Love. God of Love.” The world rushes at me, finally catching up. It hits me like an overturned table, and suddenly it's all gone. He's busted down my door, shattered all my walls, he's come to take His Israel back home. "You are mine." No more running. No more trying. Just, acceptance. Conviction. Understanding.
@BrotherGambit I know you might not ever see this, but I understand. It's something I've had to come to terms with. It is a something that scared me, the concept of a God that loved more deeply then a mother or father and for that matter a lover could ever do. I was taught that he was the harsh law giver, the omnipotent big brother. The one I had to self flagellate for, because as a child I grew up abused by someone who was mentally unstable. This person said there was nothing I could ever do that was...
@BrotherGambit I know you might not ever see this, but I understand. It's something I've had to come to terms with. It is a something that scared me, the concept of a God that loved more deeply then a mother or father and for that matter a lover could ever do. I was taught that he was the harsh law giver, the omnipotent big brother. The one I had to self flagellate for, because as a child I grew up abused by someone who was mentally unstable. This person said there was nothing I could ever do that was right in God's eyes ( which technically is the truth but more on that much later..). Yes there was the holy Son but he was just as harsh, I until got to know more about them both through the story of Hosea and his perpetually unfaithful whore of a wife Gomer. He was crazy for saving her and taking her back, but he did time and time again. It hurt to think, that I done this to God. And that he still loved me despite, all that he knows and will ever know about me . I want to thank you for you're well written piece and I agree whole heartedly.
This song is about my fickle heart. I'm like a weather-vein that turns with the gentlest of breezes. I'm a magpie in Claire's Jewelry store and my eyes are only for the plastic rhinestones. But I'll leave the metaphors for the songwriters. Going back to my favorite word "fickle": I love this word primarily because of its association with "mediocre" or "two-faced." Then there are those lovely things we call "good intentions."
I have so many temples in my life. Music, appearance, relationships, even people I look up to or try to emulate become focuses and drives, those "rushing winds" in my life. And I'm the weather-vein, well oiled with my need to belong and be liked and that elusive idea of "something more." Wherever the breeze blows, I'm there, even if I don't want to be. I've found myself among fools, though the biggest is myself. Indeed, some of the ones I look up to are just foolish comedians running towards cliffs shouting "revolution" and all those things I admire. "Twitterpainted" is another good word for me.
Fickle, Unfaithful. Those are the words for me. Line em up, I'd shoot em down. Which one's for me, God? Let me try them on. Just holding hands, just hugging. It's all cool. I'll find her. Eventually. But spend time with you? Love you? Oh I do, don't you know? I love you with all my heart, just not the heart I gave to everyone else. I gave you the heart I wear to church and in bed when I pray or when I "testify" to your name. Amos 5 can sum up my worship. God has every right to be angry with me. I am a Gomer to God if He was Hosea. I kiss His feet, then spit in His face. He has every right to turn over tables, crash down the walls of my world, take everything He ever gave me away, and completely forsake me. But He over turns those tables to GET TO ME. He sees me at the gallows, and runs to stop me. God is love, but He is a jealous God. So this "love of a jealous kind..." my my. I can't understand.
And I think that's my problem. I don't want to understand. Wisdom is fearing God, and forsaking evil is understanding, so Job says. So in understanding, I must forsake or at least recognize my evil, my harlot ways, and I'm disgusted with myself. I fear His grace because I cannot believe it, I cannot accept it. But running from God is like running from the sun. He's the rock under my feet, and He'll catch my when I fall, no matter how far from the cliff I jump. His truth is unyielding, no matter how much I'd rather lose myself in the subjective ambiguity of Salinger, Camus, Nietzsche, Melville, or Vonnegut. I can't hide myself behind excuses of ignorance or experience. This world I understand. Its pains I can understand. That's all i want to know because i can face the "infinite void" like any other good existentialist and somehow get a sense of superiority out of it. Funny how we find vindication in nothingness. "Vindication." Also a good word for me. I'd rather feel this pain than the pain I would feel coming to understand the God who died on a cross for my sins. Understanding that would be to accept it. This God of a jealous kind, on a cross for a harlot who didn't even know his name. I don't want it because I don't want to understand.
So I keep on running. In running, you can't stop. The runner's mind says NO COMPROMISE. The lungs ache, the legs are lead, the heart pounds, but you can't slow. Regret is at your heels, along with defeat, inferiority, and broken promises. But the real danger behind me in this race is grace. His grace. Once again, I'm jumping from the cliff, losing myself in the sand, I can't slow down or it will fall on me and I'll realize how much I need it. I'll understand. It's this grace that is the danger, because in it is "love that shames the wise." The one thing Salinger and Vonnegut couldn't understand was Love. And I think it not too arrogant to say any of us did. When Salinger was staring into the abyss, he said "i'll make my own value." Vonnegut said "I'll just watch the good parts." They missed the point that all those mushy singers like Norah Jones, Frank Sinatra, and Michael Buble were all singing about. We don't want a love for now, a Gatsby's Daisy at the end of our dock, or someone to know us inside and out, we want that FOREVER. "A love that will last" as Norah sings. We can't reason our way out of this. No existentialism, transcendentalism, or carefree hedonism will ever get us beyond our own existence. Our hearts will always lead us astray because they too fear the grace we do not understand. Our mountains crumble, our statues fall, our wax wings melt, our pride shatters and we fall flat on our face. Funny, how thats the only way we see it.
I slow down. I stop running. The finish line is... somewhere, but not here. Not yet. But I'm done. I'm gagging. I'm dry heaving. And I can't stop. I'm lying in bed. Trying to pray. Trying to see the God I'm running from. Trying to mean the words and the name and the conviction but I'm only wanting vindication. I'm repeating the name, because it's the only way of worship I can find now. "God of Love. God of Love. God of Love.” The world rushes at me, finally catching up. It hits me like an overturned table, and suddenly it's all gone. He's busted down my door, shattered all my walls, he's come to take His Israel back home. "You are mine." No more running. No more trying. Just, acceptance. Conviction. Understanding.
beautiful.
beautiful.
@BrotherGambit I know you might not ever see this, but I understand. It's something I've had to come to terms with. It is a something that scared me, the concept of a God that loved more deeply then a mother or father and for that matter a lover could ever do. I was taught that he was the harsh law giver, the omnipotent big brother. The one I had to self flagellate for, because as a child I grew up abused by someone who was mentally unstable. This person said there was nothing I could ever do that was...
@BrotherGambit I know you might not ever see this, but I understand. It's something I've had to come to terms with. It is a something that scared me, the concept of a God that loved more deeply then a mother or father and for that matter a lover could ever do. I was taught that he was the harsh law giver, the omnipotent big brother. The one I had to self flagellate for, because as a child I grew up abused by someone who was mentally unstable. This person said there was nothing I could ever do that was right in God's eyes ( which technically is the truth but more on that much later..). Yes there was the holy Son but he was just as harsh, I until got to know more about them both through the story of Hosea and his perpetually unfaithful whore of a wife Gomer. He was crazy for saving her and taking her back, but he did time and time again. It hurt to think, that I done this to God. And that he still loved me despite, all that he knows and will ever know about me . I want to thank you for you're well written piece and I agree whole heartedly.