No explicit Christian content. Although influenced by observing breakdown in a Christian marriage.
Hence: “remember us complete” and “teach us how to love”
Written in first year, Recorded in final year, Remastered last year.
Then it hit me and I started feeling a bit emotional that even before I knew zip about God, he knew me so well, and how he died for me before I was even ‘a twinkle’ in anyone’s eye. I was a twinkle in God’s eye. And that makes me want to know him even more!
Lyrics:
I was known to you
In the secret place
In my mother’s womb
I was held in your gaze
To know you is to love you
Faithful and Strong
Loving and True
Jesus my goal is to know you
Faithful and Strong
Loving and True
Jesus my heart is to know you God
Is to know you God
I was held by you
On the day of pain
When you hung on the cross
There you bore all my shame
To know you is to Love you
(chorus)
Hallelujah, Thankyou Jesus
Can a nation be changed?
I took this photo in Rio de Janeiro of Cristo o Redentor during my gap year. It was really a very happy accident. I took it from Sugar Loaf mountain on one of my last evenings in Rio. I love the image of Christ it portrays it’s kind of got the whole ‘light in the darkness’ thing going on.
tx
This astonishing 18ft drawing of the world’s most famous skyline was created by autistic artist Stephen Wiltshire after he spent just 20 minutes in a helicopter gazing at the panorama.
I’ll let the images speak for themselves. (images © Barcroft Media)
Read the full article on the Daily Mail website.
I had been reading a famous book about the “historical figure of Jesus”-a historian’s point of view about what we can and can’t be certain about regarding the person of Jesus. I just wanted to lay my cards on the table about who Jesus was and is, and sing out nice and loud that he was real man who walked and talked, could be touched, seen, and heard, who could bleed, and who died for real, and rose again for real.
Before the earth’s foundation were laid,
You were the Son of God
Through you all creation has been made
You are the Living Word.
In You all things now hold together,
Sustainer of all life.
You are the heir of all things Jesus,
The first-born from the dead
I believe in One Lord Jesus Christ
I believe He walked the earth and died
To rise again, the promise of new life
Now He is high and lifted up
Eternal Word of God made flesh,
The Father’s love revealed.
You made Your dwelling here with us,
Our God Immanuel.
Emptied Yourself of ev’ry form of kingly majesty,
Humility and love perfected,
Our God the Servant King.
Then as a lamb led to the slaughter,
You bore our punishment.
Without a cry of protestation,
This cruel injustice stood.
Oppressed, afflicted, bore our sorrows,
Our sickness and our grief,
All sin and judgment there exhausted,
Humanity redeemed.
Bridge:
All glory, all honour,
Majesty and praise,
Be unto the Lamb who was slain.
Let all earth, and heaven,
Magnify His name,
For our Lord Jesus lives again.
From prayer that asks that I may be
Sheltered from winds that beat on Thee
From fearing when I should aspire,
From faltering when i should climb higher.
From silken self, O Captain, free
Thy soldier who would follow Thee.
From subtle love of softening things,
From easy choices, weakenings,
Not thus are spirits fortified,
Not this way went the crucified.
From all that dims Thy Calvary,
O Lamb of God, deliver me.
Give me the love that leads the way,
The faith that nothing can dismay,
The hope no disappointments tire,
The passion that will burn like fire.
Let me not sink to be a clod:
Make me Thy fuel, Flame of God.
I had forgotten I was on stage. The lights had obscured all but this brightly lit enclosure, forces pushing and pulling me into action, the present drama all there was.
Intermission.
I remember. Improv over now, I walk to a chair in the wings, memories of the outside life floating to the surface; lumpen things chained to corks, breaking the surface of the calming water.
Another.
Who is out there? My eyes have yet to adjust. I remember a conversation, a pain, a feeling. On the stage when that’s all there seemed to be, these ‘wings’ abandoned. It means more to me now than it did then. There was purpose.
Theme. Story.
I feel the presence from beyond the lights, I know the Author is watching. He has called this intermission, I remember that now; I am under his care. About this story, he cares deeply, I remember that too.
I kneel before him, the character he has created for the story, but more, now a friend of the great Author. He has allowed me to know that there is more than the story, shadow is given substance. What kind of writer could do such a thing? Here now: in the puzzlement of the character who has assumed being held up by his own conscious activity. A stab of defiant pride.
But no.
I bow, enjoying the enjoyment I feel as I let him be Author now. That is the answer. A strange connection, between author and character. Another thought breaks surface. What if he has written himself into the story? I remember.
He is still writing.
What if I forget?
I know I will, soon the heat and the brightness, and the waters once again disturbed, for the story still requires me. He will uphold me. He will not forget, and he will remind me. He will call intermission, once again he will lead me, and I will remember.