Church/Retreat Music Page Added

Happy Friday! Just a quick note that I’ve added a new page to this site, called Church/Retreat Music. It’s a bit of a scroll fest but it’s a start to a project I’ve been meaning to undertake for some time.

The songs are in no particular order at this point, but there’s a decent handful of them. There’s a recording and chord chart for each one, and you are welcome to use them and pass them on!

Psalm 139

Here is the song I wrote on the very first day I decided to try songwriting as an early-morning habit, March 8 of this year 2024. That habit stuck well and produced a pile of songs which are still in various levels of tweaking, and as I wrote in my last post (at the end of April!), I batch-recorded four of them to post on Youtube as I had time. (I shared one of the four in that post.)

Nobody’s been waiting with bated breath for the next release (including me!) but here it is just the same, after a longer hiatus than I intended. It was a busy beautiful summer and now I’m settling into a newer routine in which I’ve significantly cut back my day job hours to make more time for music once again, so I think the next Youtube release will be much quicker. Also still crossing my fingers for a complete album release this year, which has been in the works for several years.

But on to the song.

Many of us who grew up in the church are very familiar with Psalm 139, or at least we think we are. When it’s included in public readings, it often cuts out just before this part:

If only you, God, would slay the wicked!
    Away from me, you who are bloodthirsty!
They speak of you with evil intent;
    your adversaries misuse your name.
Do I not hate those who hate you, Lord,
    and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?
 I have nothing but hatred for them;
    I count them my enemies.

But these days (and probably not just these days), I think this part is something we need to acknowledge. We humans are often quick to judge and prone to righteous indignation, with violent imaginations that, paired with powerful weapons and polarized societies, bring us tragic consequences of wars, mass shootings, and assassination attempts. Not to mention all that doesn’t make the news, including and down to the cold and selfish ways we can each so habitually treat one another in our everyday interactions.

The beauty of this psalm is that it doesn’t end with the vengeful part. Here is the ending:

Search me, God, and know my heart;
    test me and know my anxious thoughts.

See if there is any offensive way in me,
    and lead me in the way everlasting.

It’s no good to either ignore or justify our tendency towards hatred and violence. We must honestly name it out loud in the context of community – God* and neighbor** – seeking to be truly seen and known, and asking for help to live well together. “The way everlasting” is the only one that will ultimately work, that is sustainable and life-giving.

*However we each conceive of God, the concept is vital – none of us is all-sufficient unto ourselves. Something/someone is the ground from which we grow, the life that sustains us, and the overarching great beyond to which we are all ultimately drawn.

**Everyone is your neighbor.

Ok, really, on to the song.

You’ve searched me, you know me, my ups and downs
You feel me, you see me, you’re all around
Before a word is on my tongue you know
You lay your hand upon me

You’re higher, you’re lower, you’re everywhere
There’s nowhere I can go and you’re not there
Night shines like day, darkness is light to you
You lay your hand upon me

You found me, you formed me, my ins and outs
You read my life story before it starts
Your thoughts are vast, your works are wonderful
You lay your hand upon me

But all those bloodthirsty wicked ones
Couldn’t you wipe them out God?

Oh search me, know my heart, my anxious thoughts
Test me, and see where I’ve gone wrong
Lead me in everlasting ways with you
Oh lay your hand upon me

If I Go On / In Western Lands Beneath the Sun

Here is my last song for #songaweek2023. This year I slowed my songwriting pace from weekly to monthly, and it has felt right. Next year I will probably continue with this pace.

The first part of this song drew inspiration from some painful news my faith community received last week, that our 15-year-old church’s founding pastor is moving on to a new church call. When you’re part of a good thing that’s become an anchor of peace in your life, it’s hard to lose its leader and wonder what comes next, and if you have the fortitude to keep going now.

This personal grief comes amid the deeper, wider sorrows spreading from two wars in the news and the insistent vague consciousness of suffering all over everywhere and everywhen. It’s December and it’s raining as I write this (a localized pain of global warming here in Minnesota where it should be snowing), and in this northern land we’ve been swiftly plodding towards the longest night. So it feels like the dark is never far.

I couldn’t write a hopeful part for this song, but I turned to a song that Sam Gamgee sang in The Return of the King. So once again, thank you Mr. Tolkien. In the lyrics posted below the video, Tolkien’s words are set in quotation marks, and I am happy to give him the last word in this last song of 2023.

If I go on then why can’t you?
Can I believe the words you said
The songs you sang
The hope you spoke
The better day you thought you saw?
And if I fall then have I failed?
Can I be down and still be true
True to you
The you I knew
When you knew all would come out right?

“In western lands beneath the Sun

the flowers may rise in Spring,

the trees may bud, the waters run, 

the merry finches sing.
Or there maybe ’tis cloudless night 

and swaying beeches bear 

the Elven-stars as jewels white

amid their branching hair.”

The day is dark the night is long
It’s stolen land I’m standing on
From hand to hand
From name to name
We pass it down, we shift the blame
The water’s wide, I can’t cross o’er,
The day is bruised the night so sore
I’ll dig my den
and lay me down,
bear my heart to the wounded ground

“Though here at journey’s end I lie

in darkness buried deep,

beyond all towers strong and high, 

beyond all mountains steep,
above all shadows rides the Sun

and Stars for ever dwell:

I will not say the Day is done,

nor bid the Stars farewell.”

Home to Roost

It’s Maundy Thursday in the Christian church calendar. We remember that last supper Jesus had with his closest friends, a few stolen moments in a borrowed upper room, emotions running high, all hell about to break loose.

I wrote this song in January for week 4 of #songaweek2020, but I wanted to share it here today. Whether or not, however or not you are marking this day; whatever faith or lack of it you call yours – I hope you know – and feel – that you are loved. And may you be filled with peace.

Be well my friends.

Here is my heart, look but don’t touch
unless you assume all the risk
If you break it, it’s yours, like it or not
Can you afford one last kiss?

every sparrow that falls comes home to roost

Come get warm by the fire, stretch out your hands,
Eat, drink and say what you will
If you love me at all you know who I am
Heartbroken, heart breaking still

every sparrow that falls comes home to roost

Break now the bread, pour out the wine
Share it with all who have need
Don’t we all have a need, a need to be loved?
a hunger and thirsting for peace?

Here in the dark you call my name
Whether I hear it or not
Cause I know what I feel,
I feel that I’m loved
Before and behind and beyond

every sparrow that falls
every sparrow that falls
every sparrow that falls
comes home to roost

God in a Foxhole

It’s Good Friday again and I’m totally not feeling it. Or wanting to feel it. I’ve spent years struggling with the centrality of crucifixion in my Christian faith, and I know I’ll continue to. Instead of talking about it, here’s what I’ve got today:

Yes there are atheists in foxholes
And if there’s a god
Then God is there too
Breathing and bleeding
Cowering and killing
And wishing to die
And dying alone
And crying for home
When there is no home
Because bombs broke it up
And there’s no one to go home to anyway
And sometimes not even God believes
In the mud of a foxhole
In the arms of despair
But if god is there
Then God is there