Scribbling in the Sand

Michael Card never fails to amaze me with his songs.

I've just got hold of his live album "Scribbling in the Sand" and it was a beautiful compilation of his live concerts.

And I realise that slowly I'm losing my taste for loud "Hillsong United" and "Planetshaker" style stuff, finding myself journeying into music that's sort of... erm... what's that word?

Meditative?

That's where Michael Card shines in. He composes songs straight from the Word of God. Songs like Jubilee, Soul Anchor, and Starkindler. His "The Word" series was a masterpiece, and I'm amazed at how he wrote a song about Job that made me cry. It wasn't some big hoo-ha song, but it was a simple exploration of the story of Job put into song.

And that's my prayer, to be able to write such songs that overflows from a heart that loves God and knows His word.

Who cares whether if it's loud or youthful or not? =P

The Silence of God
It's enough to drive a man crazy; it'll break a man's faith
It's enough to make him wonder if he's ever been sane
When he's bleating for comfort from Thy staff and Thy rod
And the heaven's only answer is the silence of God

It'll shake a man's timbers when he loses his heart
When he has to remember what broke him apart
This yoke may be easy, but this burden is not
When the crying fields are frozen by the silence of God

And if a man has got to listen to the voices of the mob
Who are reeling in the throes of all the happiness they've got
When they tell you all their troubles have been nailed up to that cross
Then what about the times when even followers get lost?
'Cause we all get lost sometimes...

There's a statue of Jesus on a monastery knoll
In the hills of Kentucky, all quiet and cold
And He's kneeling in the garden, as silent as a Stone
All His friends are sleeping and He's weeping all alone

And the man of all sorrows, he never forgot
What sorrow is carried by the hearts that he bought
So when the questions dissolve into the silence of God
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
The aching may remain, but the breaking does not
In the holy, lonesome echo of the silence of God