A Father's Prayer (a poem)

Be Thou her beauty
     (O Lord of my heart)
be graceful and radiant
      in every part.
While the world tries to teach her
      to trade it for lies
may naught be so fair
      as your light in her eyes.

taken/blessed/broken/given, a song

In Life of the Beloved, Henri Nouwen uses the communion table as the central image for the Christian life. In the same way that the Communion Bread-- which is the Body of Christ-- is taken and blessed by the minister, then broken and given to feed the faithful, so too Christians-- who are the Body of Christ--are taken and blessed by God, then broken and given to feed the world. I have always loved this image and it has become a central theme for my understanding of Holy Communion.

I wrote this song a number of years ago, but re-recorded last fall. It sort of riffs on this idea from Nouwen. I hope it takes you and blesses you this morning.


Taken/Blessed/Broken/Given

[listen]

Song for the road, give us a song for the pilgrimage
A song of healing and hope
Fill our mouths with a song for the journey
And we’ll sing it wherever we go

Chorus:
Let our lives be taken and blessed and broken and given
Like the bread that came from heaven above
Taken and blessed and broken and given, Lord
Teach these clumsy hands how to love

Dream for the road, give us a dream for the pilgrimage
A dream of healing and hope
Be our guide and our destination
And we’ll follow where ever you go

Bridge:
This bread is my Body, broken for you
This cup which I pour out is poured out
To make your lives new
Now you are my Body, alive with my grace
Go now, I'm sending you out there
To show the World my face

Chorus:
Let our lives be taken and blessed and broken and given
Like the bread that came from heaven above
Taken and blessed and broken and given, Lord
Teach these clumsy hands how to love

Snake, a poem

A snake lives
beneath the hedge on the path
to my girl's bus stop.

Often I just catch him,
shining tail tucking up
beneath the leaves as we round the bend,

though once or twice I've seen him stretched out
green and black in all his glory
across the morning-warming concrete of the walk,
too languid and too cool
to coil for cover.

And often I feel the lightning
thrill of ancient enmity when I do,
the sprouting Seed of Eve
surging suddenly in my heart:
were it not for the awful thought
of his lithe body writhing,
twisting terrified about
my heel in his death throes,
I would crush his head.

Rarely but sometimes I catch myself.

And the memory of another bruised heel,
dusty and ancient and bleeding long ago
quiets the urge in me:
this too is nephesh, it seems to say,
dust-born at the Word of the Creator.
And anyways: look at those
bright black eyes,
shrewd and burning and beautiful
with all the secret wisdom of the earth.

Brendan's Song

This song is based on a prayer attributed to the Irish Saint, Brendan the Navigator. You can find out more information about Brendan and the inspiration for the song, here.

In the meantime, happy listening.

[listen]

O King of Mysteries, shall I abandon
My home, my country, my land
Shall I place myself at the mercies
That flow from your mighty hand
Without a shield without a sword
I'm giving back all that you gave
Christ will you keep me, Christ will you guard me
Alone on the wild white waves?
Christ will you guide, Christ will you guard me
Christ will you lead, Christ will you save
Christ will you hold, Christ will you ward me
Will you help me alone on the wild white waves?

O King of Mysteries shall I surrender
With streaming tears staining my cheeks
Shall I leave the prints of my prayer
With my knees in the sand of the beach
Confessing my sins, confessing my failures
To him who conquered the grave
Christ will you keep me, Christ will you guard me
Alone on the wild white waves?
Christ will you guide, Christ will you guard me
Christ will you lead, Christ will you save
Christ will you hold, Christ will you ward me
Will you help me alone on the wild white waves?

King of Mysteries, shall I then suffer
The battering wounds of the sea?
Shall I cross the sparkling ocean
Will you steer my vessel for me?
My wandering heart is quiet within me
My heart no longer will rave
Christ will you keep me, Christ will you guard me
Alone on the wild white waves?
Christ will you guide, Christ will you guard me
Christ will you lead, Christ will you save
Christ will you hold, Christ will you ward me
Will you help me alone on the wild white waves?

White Rider, a song

I wrote this song a bunch of years ago. It seemed like a good idea at the time, though these days it feels, perhaps a bit intense, lyrically speaking. But then, it's pretty much taken straight out of the Book of Revelation. I recorded this particular arrangement last fall; I was happy with how the solo turned out. I thought I'd post it today in case you're tired of coming here looking for new material and going away empty handed. Cheers.


[listen]

Fear of Isaac

This is a whole new arrangement of a song I posted at this blog a number of years ago. I discussed the inspiration for the song back when I first posted it. You can check those thoughts out here. For today, I'll simply let the music speak for itself.

[listen]



Fear of Isaac

Fear of Isaac won’t you let your shadow fall
Fear of Isaac come and overshadow all
These temples made by hands, there’s so much we don’t understand
In the depths of your mystery

Fear of Isaac teach us who you are again
Burst those wineskins that we thought would hold you in
In the palm of our control, the high places of our soul
Tear them down and set us free

Somewhere behind the question
Between the thought and the conception
Breathe life into our confession
As we embrace the mystery

And we confess he was made known in the body
We confess he was approved by the Spirit
And seen by the angels, and preached among the nations
Believed on in creation and taken up in glory we confess

Fear of Isaac there so much I do not know
But fear of Isaac I just cannot let you go
Won’t you take me by the hand, a stranger in a strange land
And teach me to wonder

Somewhere behind the question
Between the thought and the conception
Breathe life into our confession
As we embrace the mystery

And we confess he was made known in the body
We confess he was approved by the Spirit
And seen by the angels, and preached among the nations
Believed on in creation and taken up in glory we confess

And all I know, is that nothing can take you away from me
And all I know, you've brought me back my dignity
And all I know, your mercy and love have purchased me
No angel or demon no power or throne
Could take from you what you've called your own
I'm yours, I'm yours, I'm yours I know it's true
I'm yours I know and nothing can ever
Take me away from you

And we confess he was made known in the body
We confess he was approved by the Spirit
And seen by the angels, and preached among the nations
Believed on in creation and taken up in glory we confess

Calling, a song

I found this song in my old song writing binder last summer. I wrote it about ten years ago and had kind of forgotten about it. Lyrically, I feel like it is one of my more sophisticated efforts. The idea is that the God's pursuit of us and our pursuit of God are both subtly reflected in the rhythms and patterns of creation. I wrote it on a classical guitar, and in its original conception it had a Spanish flamenco feel to it. I was never really satisfied with it, but like I say, this summer I came across it as I was going through old notes, and thought there was enough there to merit a second try. I completely re-harmonized it and reworked the arrangement, writing new bass and lead parts. About twice I almost gave up on the recording (my equipment and skills are pretty limited, so it's hard to get a real acoustic sounding recording of my classical guitar). Anyways, I stuck it out, and am very pleased with the final recording.


Calling


[listen]

Sun calls to the mist in the morning
Join me in the air
Doe calls for the fawn to dance
Among the fields so fair
Flame calls to the grass with a whisper
Give me up your withered chaff
Spring calls to the sleeping treebud
Let me teach you how to laugh

Like the sun to the mist like the grass to the flame
Like the spring to the tree, so the Lord calls out my name
So the Lord calls out to me, His song caused the world to be
So the Lord calls out to me, calling let me make you free


Hawk calls to the western wind
Lift me on your breath
Dawn longs for the sun to rise
And wake her from her death
Earth calls to the heavens above her
Soak me in your soothing rain
Darkness calls out for perfect light
Come and let me see again

Like the bird to the wind, like the dawn to the sun
Like the earth to the heaven’s so I call out to the one
So I cry to him for light, my song echoes in the night
So I cry to him for grace, calling let me see your face

The Second Circle, a song

The Second Circle

[listen]

Cover Me, a song

Cover Me

[listen]

Cover me, when the darkness has no answer
Cover me when the daylight can't be asked
Cover me when my words are full of chaos
Cover me, when I'm haunted by the past
In your eyes I find the child I left behind
So cover me

Cover me like the wind over the prairies
Cover me like the moon in an eclipse
Cover me like the sky over a pilgrim
Cover me like the sunlight on my steps
In your hands I find the heart I left behind
So cover me

When my thoughts were like an open wound
And my heart was like a smoky room
I found sanctuary like and empty tomb
When you came, you came
And covered me

Cover me in the haven of your heartbeat
Cover me in the shelter of your palms
Cover me in the refuge of your eyes
Cover me in the island of your arms
In your voice I find the song I left behind
So cover me

When my thoughts were like an open wound
And my heart was like a smoky room
I found sanctuary like and empty tomb
When you came, you came
And covered me

When my thoughts were like an open wound
And my heart was like a smoky room
I found sanctuary like and empty tomb
When you came, you came
And covered me

Surd, a song

In mathematics, a surd is an irrational number (the square root of an integer). In linguistics, a surd is a voiceless consonant. In theology, a surd ("surd evil") is a type of random/inexplicable evil that has no meaning. Irrationality, voice-lessness, senseless evil. In my imagination, the word surd, whether it's used in math, linguistics or theology, seems to refer to all the stuff that stands in the way of us coming to know God. That's what this song is about. Enjoy.

Surd

[listen]

Surd, in the logic of my heart,
No rhyme or reason help me please I don't know where to start
It's absurd that I don't know who I am
I fear to face the mirror see the child in the man

And I would give you my everything,
if I knew what my everything was
I'm sitting here with my dreams on a string
My heart was not for sale but it got rented for a while
And now I have to use my smile to hide my broken wings

Surd, in the silence of the night
I'm lying in the darkness and I'm trying to get it right
It's that word that you whisper in my ear
I miss it when I listen could you teach me how to hear

And I would give you my everything,
if I knew what my everything was
I'm sitting here with my dreams on a string
My heart was not for sale but it got rented for a while
And now I have to use my smile to hide my broken wings