It is rare that I ever share a song in its purest form to the general public. But this one felt like one that belonged in raw territory. Eccleciastes speaks to the vanity of life lived here on earth, spoken from a man who tested--to their end-- all of life's offerings in his heart. The wind swirls round and round, never landing; the dirt collects on the doormat despite the sweeping. What is the purpose? We can gather beauty and do the greatest things, make the finest art, have the best euphoric experiences, and collect every memory, but in the end, death is the trump card to all of it. Many of us could not tell you even the full name of our great grandmother. So, we have, at best, a 100 year span of finding meaning in the earthly realms.
This does not mean that everyday experiences and smells and tastes do not matter. In fact, to the believer in Creator God, they mean everything when activated through thankfulness. To thank Him for simple things is not trite; in fact it is the thing that makes those things hold meaning. Our interaction with God through prayer, whether it be in realizing that He sees and knows all the of small moments, or whether it be through our outstretched prayer arms of thankfulness, are what calls meaning out of the circling and wandering.
And then hope goes eons further still, when the believer can look to the quick return of our Savior, Christ who will swallow death and decay up in the victory of resurrected and resolved life.
This song is a prayer to that end. A prayer of today, and for tomorrow. The mundane things and the vast things are all meaningful to us when can interact with our sovereign Creator through the avenue of gratitude.
You can find the (cell phone recorded) song, here. ( Talk about raw territory!...Headphones help the sound quality)
Another day ends
Let me find my place again
Let the healing streams run in to cover my sin
Now You see me
Through the skin of Jesus and in a little while I'll go home
And be no more known
But today I thank Thee for
The flower sweet
The stirring of the air
And the little feet
The sleep of rest
The noise of the day
The hug of a friend the light of the sun
I'm overcome
Let me not, let me not be insensitive
To the mercies that are new with morning rise
Because from your breath
Are both the little graces and
The slaying of the Death that had me by the hand
Some lyrics are adapted from a prayer from The Valley of Vision
