Wednesday, March 12, 2008

A song stuck in my head "Oh My God" by Jars of Clay

This song strikes me in a strange way. It's just a cry out to the creator. It's someone who sees all the wrong and the destruction in this world and is perplexed by it all. A reaction to going somewhere trying to do something short term about and realizing that isn't enough. I sometimes think that's part of the reason coming back from doing short term missions, I don't feel good about myself. My brother put it well when he was in N. Ireland, there was a group of people that came in for a week, and they got kids involved, cleaned up the neighborhoods, got people to come to church for a week, and then when they left it was back to what it was before they came. Low church attendance, little involvement, kids on the streets getting into trouble, lots of unemployment everywhere you went. I think that the one thing that I learned about it all doing these short trips was that you should appreciate everything you have. Most Americans have too much. We have the latest gadgets, the latest fashions, the best food to eat, the nicest cars to drive. I still tell my husband that our house is way too big for us. Granted we want a family and it was on the market cheap due to the housing crisis in America, but still its too much. It could house 5 families in a different country. There could be 15 people living in it. And most people would think I am quite the crazy one to think this way. Because most people just want to live comfortably, and sometimes I do too. But this is not what my life is about. Not one bit. My life is serving God. I think thats why I get so upset about the innocent being destroyed, and most don't get why because for most Americans they want this comfort. They are so lost in it all, and they may deny the want for it. It's sad to think about it. And why do we do it. I think sometimes its because we don't let God in enough, we aren't repentant enough, and if you are Catholic, we aren't confessing enough and learning from our mistakes. We need to see the power of God, the perfection of him in our weakness and we fail to do this time and time again. As the priest gave the homily last week on this, it makes so much sense. He sees it, and thank God for priests like him that do. Unfortunately, most will say it doesn't apply to them even though it does. For me its pride, God's mercy is made perfect everytime he humbles me. And believe me since I am an arrogant young person, it happens a lot. But I really should work, so I will leave you to decide for yourself what you think of the lyrics of this beautiful cry for help.

"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
Saviors 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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