This collection of songs comes out of times of personal reflection at different points throughout the last year and a half since our family arrived in Nicaragua. Looking back through them, I noticed how often the theme of dust seemed to be coming up. Partly because, especially during dry season, it's inescapable here. The kids are filthy after playing in the park, and even while playing in the house, they will have rings of dust and sweat along their necks and in their elbows.
So in these songs dust comes up now and then, considering our common humanity, our responsibility to care for creation, and red flags around climate change that threaten especially the most vulnerable people on the planet. As mentioned, the songs start as personal reflection. If it means something to someone else, that's wonderful. I have appreciated the kind words and feedback that I have heard at different points when sharing music.
Also, here's
a link for the music in case the embedded player doesn't seem to work for you
1. Bread of life
dust of my bones
I am of earth
out of the soil our birth
upon the soil our home
dust of my bones
I am of earth
one works the soil for grain
another sits to feast
on his money and his meat
we are the brothers Abel and Cain
one works the soil for grain
another sits to feast
will this soil yield grain
will this broken grain be ground together
together rise into something new
will we share in the Bread of life?
barbed wire across the land
the oppressed rise to oppress
distrust and distress
a failure to understand
barbed wire across the land
the oppressed rise to oppress
to dust we shall return
humans all the same
some buy to deny the grave
deny shared humanity, shared earth
to dust we shall return
human all the same
2. Pentecost (We're moving out)
sitting sleepy on a sunny branch
lazy lizard lets the hours pass
in his mind all is sublime
what a time but it won't last
lizard hunter come for you
the match, the scratch, you're bound to lose
a pillar of cloud rises high
the flames are coming through
there's a fire burning
we're moving out
Saturday morning sleeping in
but the kids are up already at each other
we find some books and toys, the day begins
inside behind our doors like all the others
fumigators coming through
red ants and mosquitoes, you're bound to lose
a pillar of cloud rises high
neighbors gather in the park outside
there's a fire burning...
Pentecost, the faithful gather in
wait and wonder, pause for prayer
suddenly the sound of rushing wind
tongues of fire appear to rest on each one there
stepping out they start to speak
what might grow from a fallen seed
the Word in many words among the crowds
they ask, what does this mean?
3. I step upon this bridge
I step upon this bridge that I have never crossed before
here at the ledge, looking over the edge
rusty nails and rotten wood, is this all we have?
I stand in fear, what do we do here?
whose hands and hammers, what stories are held inside these beams?
who time and whose lives, what truth and what lies?
what kind of judge am I? what does the river see?
is there another way? seize the day, they say
I step, I walk, but this bridge starts to bend
the snap, the collapse, I gasp and then
I reach out, but I fall
caught in this river, this holy river
I am carried on
what is this mystery? Christ descends, a human form
into poverty and suffering, a crown of thorns, a peculiar king
giving to gain, the kingdom of heaven drawing near
the powers stand in fear, what do we do here?
debts forgiven, prisoners freed, a year for jubilee
the powerless find shalom, the powerful lose their thrones
what is this bridge? what is this mystery?
falling from above, we die, we rise in love
4. Raindrops on the concrete sidewalk
raindrops on the concrete sidewalk
raindrops on the concrete sidewalk
raindrops on the dusty playground
but for the farmland there is no rain to be found
where is life in these dry fields?
where is life in these dry fields?
where is life when there is so much doubt?
life has changed, is it time to move out
when the sun has left everything so dry
and year after year there is a silent sky
we wait, we watch, we wonder why
its just not the same this time
folks from the country and folks from town
folks from the north and folks from the south
are we so far apart we can't understand
distance in culture and access and land
when the corn is tall and the weather is fair
it's hard to imagine life elsewhere
burning and buying, living as we please
we are unnatural disasters, making refugees
5. What is the cost of saying hello
dear me, who is this?
this person unknown to me
where does he call home?
what roads has he roamed?
is he alone?
dear me, who am I?
do I dare to listen, to speak?
and where all might this go?
no way to ever know
what is the cost of saying hello?
and I
and he
and here
we talk
and now
are we changed?
as from here
we walk
dear me, worlds apart
and face to face we stand
it's not my fault I'd say
I'd never wish it to be this way
but it's not my part to play
dear me, who are we?
is there a debt here to be paid?
and where all might this go?
Lord only knows
what is the cost of saying hello?
6. The tree
I grew up in a small country house
beautiful farmland and families who cared
I knew all our names and our ways
for generations, held together the same
and I found myself, and I found Jesus
within these walls, one of those altar calls
and the glory of the Lord was there
the love of the Lord was there
one morning I went for a walk
I crossed a border, swam a new sea
touched ancient ruins, heard words new to me
and when I returned I found the house fallen down
and in its place was a tree
and home wouldn't be the same for me
I travelled and found a new town
a kind neighborhood, like a family who cared
I learned their names and their ways
we needed each other, we were new to this place
and I found myself, and I found Jesus
here in this town, these good people around
and the glory of the Lord was there
the love of the Lord was there
one morning I went for a walk...
I stand here at this wild, wooded space
sisters and brothers here to grieve and to care
I don't know their names and their ways
broken together, behold the Lamb's face
and I find myself, and I find Jesus
and a river runs through making all things new
and the glory of the Lord is there
the love of the Lord is there
7. Remember us, O Lord
remember us, O Lord, as we remember you
forgive us, O Lord, as we forgive
save, O Lord, save us
mercy, O Lord, have mercy on us
a broken body in the street
among skid marks and broken glass
outlined in chalk and then carried away
helpless, the onlookers pass
far from the city, a hungry child
the rains fail the fields
his father leaves the country, his mother's at the factory
earning something for the next meal
remember us, O Lord...
warmer and wilder
an angry creation
the poor suffer under climate's revolt
against the rich world's industrial revolution
quietly, mysteriously
disease overcomes
communities are crippled, is there hope in the womb?
wondering, we are left numb
remember us, O Lord...
gates and gangs, investing in tanks
looking for violence to save
living and dying by the sword
will we choose another way?
we organize religion
for assurance that we're forgiven
while so much brokenness around us
is bound to how we're living
remember us, O Lord...
8. Dear child, yet within the womb
dear child, yet within the womb
let me tell you a story just a year old
of your mother, father, sister, and brother
who held onto the wings of a great bird
came to live in another land
struggled to understand
but sitting and listening would hear God's heart
beating in our new neighbors' hearts
and now you're to join us
you'll have a place with us
and a place with brothers and sisters near and far
for God's kingdom knows no borders
God's kingdom is a union of hearts
dear child, yet within the womb
let me tell you a story 500 years old
when citizen meant Christian, and infant baptism meant citizen
and believers gathered to read and understand the word
breaking ties with the state
joining a community of faith
water over Blaurock on his knees
choosing to follow the Prince of Peace
and now you're to join us...
dear child, yet within the womb
let me tell you a story 2000 years old
of Jesus, child refugee, and rejected in his home town in Galilee
said the Kingdom of heaven is coming
welcomed the helpless and the poor
said that's who God's kingdom is for
drinking from the Samaritan woman's well,
said our holy mountains are too small, God's love is for all
9. Parent, child, traveler, host
says a parent to a child
is this more than you can take?
is this some great mistake?
and we've travelled so many miles
the child stands in turn
with more thoughts than one could say
goes off and starts to play
now does the parent pause and learn?
we are the parent, we are the child
trying to find our place
an open mind, an open heart
we might find our way
says a traveler to his host
am I a burden here?
and I cannot repay, I fear
this kindness that you've shown
the host stands in turn:
if it were your house to which I came
you would do the same
now does the traveler pause and learn
we are the traveler, we are the host...
we are the parent, we are the child...
10. Would you tell me
listen you will hear the cooing of mourning doves
what could they be saying to these others whom they love?
walking on the sidewalks, dusty littered streets
poking through the trash, what do they find to eat?
listen you will hear the cooing of mourning doves
what could they be saying to, saying to us?
close to the ground, what might they see from their point of view?
wish I could ask, what might be beautiful to you?
would you tell me about the shade in the public park
would you tell me about the sweet fruit ripe on the trees
mountains and volcanoes towering above
children singing songs of liberation and songs of love
not far away are the dogs on the street
just trying to make it without getting beat
barking at the house dogs on the other side of the gate
are they arguing over power, injustice, and fate?
not far away are the dogs on the street
beat them or be bitten, most choose to beat
is beauty just something for the dog living in a house
or is it the street dog who understands beauty that counts
would you tell me about the kindness a stranger shared
would you tell me about the joy of a space to run
relief with the rain, satisfy the soil beneath our feet
children singing songs of redemption and songs of peace
