1. |
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Intro:
Praise God from whom all curses flow
Praise Him all creatures there below
Praise us above as His heavenly hosts
Holy Fathers, Sons, and Ancient Ghosts
Amen
Verse 1:
I was told as a boy to please
my God, I had to be like my Christ
so what to do when I saw my Christ cry forth
“Why have you forsaken me?”
Is there something holy within that time
of existential lost-ness?
where feeling gone from Him
is where you’re nearest of all?
Chorus:
You said, Blessed is the one who believes who has not seen
You said, Blessed are the ones who do not doubt your Word
Verse 2
Surely many of you will say to me
That it was on that fateful day for me
He took all he never wanted me to see
but I guess-
I know wrath missed us- landed on him
and we’ve ‘fessed up- covered our sin
but where does Christus exemplar end
and where does Christus victor begin
in my life? in yours?
Bridge:
So where does that leave your modern day Thomases in light
of your white-washed Stephens that seem so even in faith
that I’ve just tasted of?
When I know that they’re lying, and I’ll swear that they’re dying
and overobjectifying that which you made to be lived by faith
faith forsaken, not by me, but by You.
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2. |
The Story
05:21
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 The Story
Verse 1:
The Sovereign God, from eternity past
foresaw our need and acted on our behalf
ordained our Fall and entered by suffering
the Cross of Crucifixion
Verse 2:
Initiation was the part that He played
Propitiation was the life that He laid
a holy sacrifice, pleasing to Him
was the Son of Glory
Chorus:
This foolishness, forever I’ll sing
of a Holy God as a serving King
Wisdom of Wisdom, Grace upon Grace
this is Your precious Gospel!
this is Your precious Gospel!
Verse 3:
Our great High Priest was the Spotless Lamb
In His own throne room, killed by His own hand
Our death was His and now his life is made ours
through Holy Imputation
Chorus
Verse 4:
The Sovereign God, until Eternity Come
has joined us with Him on His holy Mission
to love and serve and seek and save the lost
to join Him in His sufferings
One day the sky will split, be torn in two
Sin will be no more and death be run through
our tears all cleared and creation restored
And then we’ll sing forever . . .
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3. |
Creation Regained (demo)
04:50
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6, 300 and some odd years
that’s this old earth’s birthday
since God spoke and decided it would be
All was well, it was good, it was swell
with the people, and their dinosaurs
and Jesus walked in the cool of that garden
But then a mean old serpent
decided to pervert God’s words
and he talked to the stupid woman
who didn’t submit to her husband’s words
Bridge:
Enlightenment truth taught us
objective history/science
were the only vehicles of truth
not poetry and wisdom
not artistry, culture have witnessed
all that God is and all that He’s done
Don’t make me nuance doctrine
Don’t make me live by faith - don’t want to
Don’t tell me I must live in the gray
Don’t say that there’s a tension
Don’t make me pay it attention
Just tell me that it’s systematic
Please let me ignore the facts and
stick my head in the sand in my bubble
and make up science to let me live
by the blacks of facts, not the grey of faith
by the text on a page and not the nature you gave
because I’d rather have a simplistic, literalistic
black-and-white God on a page than a living One
that can challenge my preconceived notions
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4. |
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I still feel far, Lord.
But I know you’re here. I know it.
Do I?
What is the nature of “certainty”?
Do I really feel it?
Can I?
“Do I?” turns to “Can I?” in a matter of sentences.
It’s the nature of the matter; a matter of nature, I suppose.
Perhaps only now I feel at the deepest existential depths:
“I believe! Help my unbelief!”
That cry. That plea.
The certainty of uncertainty.
The infinitude of the finite.
The eternality of a moment.
The pregnant pause of lack.
The pondering of a moment.
That moment. The moment.
The moment that dressed my doubt in assurance.
But that emperor has no clothes
(or so all around me says).
Where does my assurance lie?
Where do my feet stand?
My body pelted with rain, snow, and hail,
I hope my consciousness rests beside a fire,
drinking tea,
leaning in a chair,
my shoulders draped in that most costly of quilts -
my rest.
Clothe me, for the emperor is naked
and needs his King.
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