Writer, Church leader, Eccentric Nut, Marketer

I'm Church Leader, Writer, Speaker, Marketer, Kindness Project Founder, Broadcaster and Superhero. But most important I'm a Husband, Father and a worshiper of Jesus.

10 September 2007

The Sound of the Underground


The room is cold in the mornings. Even the musty old furnace doesn't do much to take the chill out of the air. My sadly thin hoodie is quite inadequate.

I try and let a few refrains of "Jesus" fall out of my mouth but I'm not "feelin' it", so I read "the vision". I sit under its revelation.

The words, "...my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer" ring the more true than the rest today. But then the counterpoint of the "thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great AMEN" hits my weak second-serve offering right back in my direction.

The jingling of keys announce the arrival of another voice to the room. I cheat and peak at the face of the new voice. I'm snapped to attention and notice that my whispers are a little louder now.

Flesh? Pride? Vanity? Likely somewhat.

Another new voice adds some quiet harmony flavor shots into the cocktail of the old chorus. Tongues of audible hope leaping from my lips.

Another now sways to the unheard rhythm found only in the current of the Spiritual waves rolling through a room that's buzzing with petition and conjoined personal praise.

No leader but THE Leader.

Whispers, sways, songs and off key scatting of those who journey to Zion.

They didn't pack a lunch or bring anything that we'd recognize as a tent. They look very under prepared. The joke's on those still back in the lodge making their vain preparations and dishing out rations. For there are fields of life-berries and rest-stops of outstretched Psalm-wings all along the path.

It's a path that you head out on alone but are quickly engulfed by the rushing stream of the purified masses.

Some who recharge your Ipod battery.
Some who read you bedtime stories.
Some who bring you picnic baskets.
Some just hug you.

Turns out I wasn't alone. I was just looking the wrong direction. Anytime I need the stream of travelers, history and faith... all I have to do is dig. This is the...

"Mystery is screaming in whispers,
Conspiracy is breathing...
This is the sound of the underground"

What are they saying? Anytime I need to hear the writings of the early morning poets and the pickin campfire prophets, I just join my voice to the stream.

This is prayer. The resonating, unheralded voice of one, joining with the underground stream of many.

2 comments:

Matt Vaandering said...

im going to start calling you david wordsworth soon

Dave Carrol said...

If I could do anything with my time... I'd write more.

It's very satisfying to someone who's spent a lot of years listening to himself talk

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