Monday, March 30, 2009


I was driving the long, straight roads of central Oklahoma last Friday night on my way to see Katie. Usually on those long road trips, I'll set the iPod to play a sermon from Matt Chandler, Tommy Nelson, or Mark Driscoll. For whatever reason, during the last 45 minutes-ish of the trip, I decided to flip over the actual music stored on my iPod, finding release first in the words of Dan Haseltine and Jars of Clay in (one of the best songs ever, in my opinion) World's Apart:

I look before the empty cross
Forgetting what my life has cost
And wipe away the crimson stains
And dull the nails that still remain
More and more I need You now
I owe You more each passing hour....
...Take the selfish, take the weak
And all the things I cannot hide
Take the beauty, take my tears
The sin-soaked heart and make it Yours

I absolutely love that song, mostly because it's something that I wish that I could say every day. Moving on from there, Kevin Max filled the speakers with The Old Rugged Cross:

So I'll cherish the old rugged cross (old rugged cross)
Till my trophies at last I'll lay down
I will cling to the old rugged cross
And exchange it someday for a crown

It was at this point that I was vividly reminded of a gentleman in my church growing up named Don Buffington. Mr. Don used to stand proudly in the upper-right corner of the church choir for as many Sundays as I can remember. Mr. Don was the man who would always add that second small repeat at the end of the line of whatever hymn was being sung (represented in the above parenthesis). Always and without fail.

For some reason, I tend to remember his addition for this song as being a long drawn out almost mournful addition. He did it for just about any hymn we sang such as When We All Get to Heaven:

When we all get to heaven
What a day of rejoicing that will be (that will be)
When we all see Jesus
We'll sing and shout the victory (shout the victory)

Mr. Don went Home some years back, but for just a few, short minutes Friday night, I could hear him singing along with the old hymns. And it was a great feeling and remembering.

The last song that moved through the car was Delirious?'s version of My Glorious:

God is bigger than the air I breathe
The world we'll leave
God will save the day and all will say
My Glorious!

I don't know exactly what was going on in my heart, head, and spirit that night. Maybe it was the sermons and the memory of a family friend long gone. Probably it was just all God, moving in me. For whatever reason, by the song's end, I was in tears. Had been in tears for a minute or two.

It just felt good to worship my Savior...

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Feel This (Part 2)

Previously on Josh's Blog....

I don't want to lose that kid inside, and there are days where I have a hard time seeing his smile.

Because we all should know by now that the world is cruel. Heartless. Cold. Uncaring.

And I hate that.

And the beauty you have now is brighter than before...

Beauty. It's incredible how much beauty there is that we take for granted. How much warmth; how much integrity; how much faith. Beauty that is unsoiled by the perverted hands of the so-called "experts." Brighter than before... redemption.

Let go...let go and believe.

Believe. Redemption. Believe in redemption. Redemption of belief. I'll take either one. Just something to help me remember that there are people in this world who care. People who know that what they do matters, and aren't afraid to do something. People who don't charge anything for a smile. Who laugh because you do and cry because you need to.

Whatever happened to being free enough to cry and show that you're dying on the inside? To remove the mask and let people know who you really are. To not hide.

Where are those people?

Let go...

Let go...


Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Feel This

Okay, I admit it. Katie and I have been watching the TV series One Tree Hill since Christmas. We're on the third season (possibly fourth by now, I'm not too sure). One of the songs in the series, entitled "Feel This" sort of grabbed my attention.

What if I told you, you're tears haven't been ignored...

Sometimes I remember some of the things that I've cried over and hope to God that that's true. Looking back, I know that a lot that was petty/silly/insignificant, but at the time I hoped it was true. My mom told me once when I was little that God caught every tear that I cried and stored them up in heaven. Somehow, remembering that helped....

....And everything that was taken, can be restored?
What if I told you, that innocence is yours

And the beauty you have now, is brighter than before?

Everything that was taken? Child-like innocence, faith, and hope? Sometimes it seems like those things are so far away from who I've become. Sometimes it feels the opposite and there's adult knowledge, skepticism, and despair. I don't want to lose that kid inside, and there are days where I have a hard time seeing his smile. shop's closing....

To be continued....