uncovering the treasure in Jars of Clay.

Jan 24, 2007 23:46

this band's been around in the Christian music scene for a looong time, but i haven't been able to appreciate their music until recently. i'm trying to mature upon my musical preferences, learning to be attracted to lyrics and meaning rather than a simple, catchy melody or infectious beat.

anyway, i stumbled upon this song this afternoon, and i was moved to download it (and the rest of Jars's "Good Monsters" album) from iTunes. a deep, complex song, i think. i've listened to it several times already, but i don't think i've completely soaked in the message yet. it's started me on a thought and, well, i'm still thinking!

here's where i stop talking to allow the song to speak to you for itself. :)

Oh my God, look around this place
Your fingers reach around the bone
You set the break and set the tone
Flights of grace, and future falls
In present pain
All fools say, "Oh my God"

Oh my God, why are we so afraid?
We make it worse when we don't bleed
There is no cure for our disease
Turn a phrase and rise again
Or fake your death and only tell your closest friend
Oh my God

Oh my God, can I complain?
You take away my firm belief
And graft my soul upon your grief
Weddings, boats and alibis
All drift away, and a mother cries

Liars and fools, sons and failures
Thieves will always say
Lost and found, ailing wanderers
Healers always say
Whores and angels, men with problems
Leavers always say
Broken-hearted, separated
Orphans always say
War creators, racial haters
Preachers always say
Distant fathers, fallen warriors
Givers always say
Pilgrim saints, lonely widows
Users always say
Fearful mothers, watchful doubters
Saviours always say

Sometimes I cannot forgive
And these days, mercy cuts so deep
If the world was how it should be
Maybe I could get some sleep
While I lay, I dream we're better
Scales were gone and faces light
When we wake, we hate our brother
We still move to hurt each other
Sometimes I can close my eyes
And all the fear that keeps me silent
Falls below my heavy breathing,
What makes me so badly bent?
We all have a chance to murder
We all feel the need for wonder
We still want to be reminded
That the pain is worth the thunder

Sometimes when I lose my grip
I wonder what to make of heaven
All the times I thought to reach up
All the times I had to give
Babies underneath their beds
Hospitals that cannot treat
All the wounds that money causes
All the comforts of cathedrals
All the cries of thirsty children
This is our inheritance
All the rage of watching mothers
This is our greatest offense

Oh my God
Oh my God
Oh my God
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