I’ve been around this song for more than 10 years. It was written by Luke Abrams, and I’m so happy my friend Joe Day recorded such a great studio version of it. I play this song loud and on repeat whenever I need a reminder that God is sovereign over both my ugliness and my pain.

It reminds me to worship, instead of sulk.

When I feel taken advantage of or offended, it reminds me to crush my god of victimhood. When I’m depressed or angry, it reminds me to crush my god of selfishness and control. When I want to justify my bitterness, it reminds me to give God the first of my pain.

Whether I sin or am sinned against, this song pretty much covers all the bases.

Passover

passover me
let your wrath pass over me
may grace stay with me
let your mercy be

take all of me
let me glorify you
for your glory
let it be manifest to all

take the first of thoughts
take the first of my time
take the throne of my heart

paint my doorway
with the blood of the lamb
a sacrifice
for all who dwell within

you gave your word
and took it to the grave
for your glory
let it me manifest to all

take the first of thought
take the first of my time
take the throne of my heart

crush all other gods
you alone sit on the throne
take me, take my all
father take me, take me home
on my, on my way, on my way back home
on my, on my wy on my way back

—

p.s. I’ve embedded an audio file at the top of this post, which may not come through in a reader.

It was Tuesday, and Bryan surprised me with tickets to Mike Doughty at Neumos.

I knew we’d be up late, but I got a little wide-eyed when I saw what time he’d be on stage. You see, on most nights around 10:15, I’ve already fallen asleep in the middle of a 30Rock episode.

But thanks to a yummy drink (or two) at the Lobby Bar and a street vendor hot dog, I stayed awake.

AND we scored this awesome wide open vantage point from the side, because standing on my toes to see over the 6 foot tall guy blocking my view and elbowing the drunk chick out of my personal space is SO 10 years ago was never my thing.

And THEN Bryan spotted Little Miss Sunshine – that chick in the front row who looks like she’s plotting twenty five ways to castrate her boyfriend.

Lighten up, honey. It’s a rock show, and you have the best seat in the house!

Shortly after I snapped this photo, she pulled her phone out and started texting. When Mike Doughty saw this, he reached down, grabbed her phone, and shoved it in his back pocket.

Reason #42 why that man is brilliant.

Photo by Steven Dewall

I discovered some new music this summer that I can’t stop listening to.

I’ve tried putting something different on because I think maybe I shouldn’t be so OCD, but it throws off my creative process, like trying to write with my left hand.

Don’t mock. We creative types are quirky about what keeps us in the zone.

The Lonely Forest is my top favorite right now (website).

They’re stellar musicians and song writers. Plus, they ROCK. Literally. Belting voices, vibrating walls, pounding base… this is how I like to write.

Here’s an acoustic version of one of their best songs:

And a live, in-studio version of another favorite:

Bryan says we saw them perform at a small music festival on Orcas Island a few years ago when they were still in high school, but I don’t remember.

Regardless, their album, Arrows, is incredible. It’s cohesive, deep, and layered, and I can’t stop listening.

This is just one of five new music loves – I’ll share more next week!

• God created the law.
• I cannot keep to the law in my own power.
• “All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.” (Romans 3:23)
• Jesus paid the debt for my sin.
• He paid the entire debt.
• I owe him nothing.
• He expects nothing from me.
• It was a free gift.
• I don’t have the means to pay it back even if I wanted to.
• This is why I follow Jesus.

• Sometimes I do things for other people
• like buy them a drink, or babysit their kids, or pay off their financial debt.
• The smaller the act, the less I really think about it.
• But sometimes, like for the really big things, I expect something in return,
• when maybe I should just do that Thing and say, Blessed Be the Name of the Lord.

“Maybe we’re not meant to be together.”

“He said he never loved me.”

“He told me he wants a divorce.”

“I can’t keep letting him treat me that way.”

“I don’t see how reconciliation is possible.”

“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I can’t stop crying.”

These are soundbites from some of the conversations I’ve been having lately. It’s a bit agonizing to know that I can’t fix the complex web of other people’s problems, that I can’t solve it and make it better with more talking and little wine.

Some things will simply remain broken.

I love hearing stories of restored marriages, of recovery from addictions and healing from serious illness. What a great time to be on Team Jesus! He’s so awesome to mend our broken lives!

But then sometimes sin and selfishness corrupt a marriage so deeply that we reject the mending; the idols of our desires are so strong we are not open to being rescued; the tragedy of Adam so final that our bodies do not heal.

It’s more difficult to see Jesus working in these situations. Sometimes I don’t want his comfort because I’d rather he fix it. I don’t want to mourn a loss but rejoice in the miracle of restoration!

We sing a song in our church community called We Have Overcome, and recently – the day after I first heard one of these soundbites from a friend – this particular lyric stood out to me, and I burst into tears:

“…a savior who turns tragic endings into love stories, this is the God I know…”

Some of the endings to our stories are tragic. They crash and burn or slowly smolder; they sometimes catch us by surprise. But thankfully we are not in our own story – we are a part of God’s story, and his stories always end lovely even if brought through a tragic climax.

This is the God I know.

”

Image of invisible God
Stretched across a tree
And all to take my place
Oh, the divine mystery

A savior who turns tragic endings
into love stories
This is the God I know

Chorus:
You have overcome, You have overcome deathʼs sting
Celebrate the rising of a king
You have overcome, You have overcome, letʼs sing
The power of an everlasting king

pumpkin

Every once in awhile I put this song on repeat and turn it up to eleven. I can’t speak to why the song writers feel okay, but it reminds me of the peace I find in Jesus no matter what stresses me out.

Lately I’ve been inspired by a friend who’s had to make some very tough decisions and accept new life circumstances that are out of her control. But even though she spent many years fearing and resisting this situation, she’s walking through it with grace and peace.

In Jesus, she’s okay. Even if we lose it all, as the song says.

falling down in the dirt
we’re okay
we are tired we are hurt
we’re okay

crashing cars dying stars
I can love you like you are
hit the wall have to crawl
even if we lose it all
we’re okay

trees

Recently someone said to Bryan, “I heard the Jews killed Jesus. Is that true?”

Bryan leaned in and replied, “No. The humans killed Jesus.”

I forget this sometimes. And when I do, I act like Jesus is pretty lucky to have me on his team. And when I act like Jesus is pretty lucky to have me on his team, I’m more self-centered and less generous.

But Joe Day came into the shuffle the other day and reminded me that *I* killed Jesus.

oh my soul
oh my Jesus
Judas sold you for thirty
I’d have done it for less

oh my soul
oh my savior
Peter denied you three times
I’ve denied you more

Map

I’ve noticed a repeated theme in Christian lingo – a metaphorical cliche. It’s the idea of a journey, or path, or roadmap. We follow a path to salvation, we’re on a journey as believers, the Bible offers a roadmap for how we are to live.

I don’t find this metaphor very interesting anymore. I think there’s a better, more compelling story to be told.

Mumford & Sons touches on this in one of their songs, and this lyric in particular stood out to me the other day:

It seems as if all my bridges have been burned,
You say that’s exactly how this grace thing works
It’s not the long walk home that will change this heart,
But the welcome I receive at the restart

At the heart of the gospel is this idea that even if we blow everything up and burn down all our bridges, Jesus still says, “Please come home. I’m waiting for you. The BBQ is ready!”

Every minute of every day provides me with the opportunity for a new start.

As someone who struggles with losing her temper, this is amazing. No matter how quick I am to rage, I can always stop, repent to God and my kids, and start over.

As someone with a husband, two feisty children, and a heart open to community, this is sobering. The responsibility of receiving others at their restart is heavy. I like to wallow in my bitterness and stew in my justification, but Jesus calls me to welcome those who repent, and he calls me to shepherd my children into a lifestyle of repentance.

This is far more compelling to me than the journey itself. Anybody can get from Point A to Point B, and a lot of people do it without Jesus. But Jesus is the miracle behind a heart of repentance and forgiveness, the power behind our ability to give and receive a new start.

On Saturday I took a car full of Ruthie’s friends into the city for a special girly day, and we were rocking out to some Mumford and Sons while en route. Just as we were jamming to Little Lion Man, I suddenly realized what lay ahead in the chorus.

We don’t censor this song at the ZugHaus – we believe if you fuck something up it’s good to own it, confess it, and repent – but since I had other kids in the car I wanted to be sensitive.

Ruthie: “Hey why did you skip that song?”

Me: “It had a word in it that parents may not like their kids to hear.”

Ruthie (to all her friends): “Oh yeah, it has the word fuck in it.”

My apologies to all the moms. I tried. I really did.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more at home in a song. It communicates a sentiment I’ve carried with me my whole life – even when I didn’t understand it.

The more I grow in maturity, the more I appreciate the brokenness in the people around me. I have my favorite favorites. You know who you are.

Recently I had the opportunity to encourage a friend who was struggling & making poor decisions. I think she was afraid to talk to me about what she’d done, afraid I’d somehow reject or condemn her.

But I saw the relief on her face when I confessed that my Hidden sin was no different than her Right There Out In the Open sin, that we’re all broken and need Jesus, even those of us who look like we’ve got our shit together.

I’m fairly certain that when I get to heaven I’ll be swaying arm in arm with all of my favorite broken people, eating from the dessert table and quoting lines from Steel Magnolias.

—

All my favorite people are broken
Believe me, my heart should know
Some prayers are better left unspoken
I just want to hold you and let the rest go

All my friends are part saint and part sinner
We lean on each other, try to rise above
We are not afraid to admit we are all still beginners
We are all late bloomers when it comes to love

All my favorite people are broken
Believe me, my heart should know
Awful believers, skeptical dreamers, step forward
You can stay right here, you don’t have to go

Is each wound you’ve received just a burdensome gift
It gets so hard to lift yourself up off the ground
But the poet says we must praise a mutilated world
We’re all working the graveyard shift
You might as well sing along

Cause all my favorite people are broken
Believe me, my heart should know
As for your tender heart, this world’s going to rip it wide open,
It aint gonna be pretty, but you’re not alone

All my favorite people are broken
Believe me, my heart should know
Awful believers, skeptical dreamers, you’re welcome
Yeah, you’re safe right here, you don’t have to go

Cause all my favorite people are broken
Believe me, I should know
Some prayers are better left unspoken
I just want to hold you and let the rest go