I like the energy and talent in our praise group, but invariably I'm the one who asks if the bass player could turn
down his amp. I've also been known to ask if we could sing more songs that let
Jesus down off of the cross.
I was in Nashville with colleagues, and a few of us had made our way to the Bluebird Cafe, which might be called the mother church for country music songwriters. A quartet of men and women sang and played guitar for about 80 people from 9 p.m. to around 11. The music was beautiful, and I wandered out of the café with the honest testimonies of human nature and destiny stirring within me.
Christ knows how we loved her. Now there’s just that field Where the light is still Blown like a first leaf. It is a fir tree. There is only one life On earth. Love must be here, And dying. Everything must be here. One summer she watched the grass. In the afternoon we sit in the car By moving water. She shuts her eyes. She will live forever. If I must go Let it be like this River with a woman watching it. Already There is nowhere that river is not.