I love music! And recently I've realized that I rarely listen to it anymore, but when I do it really changes the atmosphere and attitude of my home.
Lately I've been listening to some of my favorite, old Christian music...you know the ones...Amy Grant, Steven Curtis Chapman and even Keith Green! The ones I dared not touch once I became Orthodox because they just weren't, well orthodox. I don't know why, I think it is the typical knee-jerk reaction most former protestant make when running from protestantism. But you know what? I love this music! I miss it! *shyly admits*
There is one song in particular that I've looked at differently lately. I used to listen to it and "judge" my poor dad or others close to me who didn't know God and I still can listen to it and pray and hope that he will someday stop "waiting for lightening" and listen for God "as He quietly whispers" his name. (I secretly hope and pray the cancer is that lightening.) But the other day as I listened I heard something else.
What about me? Yes, I know God, I love God, I yearn for God. But I get in these slumps, I forget, I sin, I become complacent, lackadaisical. What am I waiting for? Do I need a "feeling to take me by storm" to remember my goal?
Standing on the edge of the truth,
Looking out at the view
Of all you used to believe,
From where you are you can see you’re far away from home.
Echoes of the life you once knew
Call out to you from across the divide,
And you know it’s time to step back over the line,
But you’re . . .
Waiting for lightning,
A sign that it’s time for a change;
And you’re listening for thunder,
While He quietly whispers your name.
Night falls and the curtain goes down;
No one’s around,
It’s just you and the truth.
As you lie in wait
For a feeling to take you by storm,
Somewhere in the depths of your heart,
Where it’s empty and dark, there’s a flicker of light,
And the Spirit calls,
But do you notice at all;
Are you . . .
But the sign and the word
Have already been given,
And now it’s by faith
We must look and we must listen,
Instead of . . .