The Rocks Will Cry Out

Sometimes you find truth in unexpected places, even when you aren’t looking for any.  Since being set free from men’s definitions of religion into desiring and seeing God’s reality, the lines between spiritual and secular blur, because I see God everywhere. I see His Divine finger on so many things and people. They may not know He is there, or might even take the credit for His work, but I see God. Watching a ballet or hearing a violin solo at the symphony are spiritual experiences for me that bring tears to my eyes. These great gifts that God gave to man, glorify Him even when the men and women themselves do not. He implanted in His Creation the desire for beauty, for excellence, creativity, diversity, light, color, sound, and movement. All of nature exhibits these Divine gifts, and humans express them. This is how we fall into the trap of worshiping both. They are so much like their Maker that they inspire awe, yet they are not Him. They were created to glorify Him.

When I was young, I had a favorite rock band. Okay, favorite is kind of a weak word for it. I was obsessed, and not in the way little girls love boy bands. To me they were a symbol of something passionate and intrinsically good. In the early years, their sound was reminiscent of a garage band, but they grew into an incredibly unique sound that many people still are trying to imitate.

My mother who detested my music, as it seems to be the duty of a mother to do, told me that when I got older I probably wouldn’t like that kind of music anymore. So she hoped, I’m sure. I have definitely lost interest in most of the music I once enjoyed.  Nearly everything in our pop culture is shallow, lustful, spiritually dark, and soaked in rebellion. But once in awhile, there are exceptions.

Last night I watched the video of an outdoor concert this band had performed a few months ago and I was even more amazed by them than when seeing them live in 1987. In some ways it reminded me of my marriage. Twenty years with the same man has brought a unity and synergy that is produced only when people have long-term committed relationships. We are so much better together than even ten years ago. This band has also definitely grown, together.

Seeing them perform again ignited thoughts about the journey I have been on during the last two decades, what had originally attracted me to them, and how I have come full circle back to resonating again with their deep angst and passion. They are no saints, to be sure, but neither am I. At one time, I drew a line between my religious life and everything else, and had black and white labels for everything. Now I see they have struggled with many of the same questions I have, and been horrified at the inexcusable injustices in the world. One of them at least seems to also have found hope in the same place as well.

As I watched, memories flooded back with the old songs, inspiration came with the new ones, and I found myself in a state of unspeakable awe – not of them so much as with them. The deep spiritual longing their songs often speak of I also identify with; a recognition of the war within, yet hanging on to hope and knowing we are not “at home” in this world, as it is; the longing to see justice, compassion and peace reign in men’s hearts. When I was a teenager, God had planted these passionate desires in me too. Teenagers are easily idealistic. Not yet having submitted to follow God Himself, this band became my prophet and preacher. The music alone lifted me up to a plane where I could hope, and the words took my mind to desire higher ideals than I saw existed in the present world. Family and religion had failed me. But I still yearned for “goodness” to be found somewhere. I shortly learned, it didn’t originate in me either!

Now I am in Christ, and He in me, and these songs have withstood the test of time, and still ring true. The rocks can cry out questions the preachers can’t ask and still keep their jobs. They can call for compassion and justice without being accused of a having a “social gospel” because no one expects them to have a gospel in the first place. Because, it’s simply about suffering people. They can embed the truth into poetry that sinks down into the soul without creating the resistance of a condemning diatribe. They can be painfully honest, and they can even be wrong.  Rocks are not afraid to let their passion be seen and heard.  That’s why they CRY OUT when others do not.  They overflow with what cannot be contained.

In Sinai, water came from a rock.  Jesus said, “out of you will flow rivers of living water.”  I want to be that kind of rock.

The constraints of human fear and pride (sometimes referred to as religion) have handicapped the communication of God’s truths today, just has they sought to silence it long ago on a cross.  His children are often silenced in the temple. Maybe the rocks really are crying out.  An unruly “rock” star invites God to share the stage, a homeless man who spreads the Word everywhere he goes, a woman who has nothing yet seeks to do what she can to help those who have suffered even more than she… unlikely evangelists.  You never know when you might meet one.

I turned out the light to sleep, feeling like I’d been to church. But I couldn’t sleep as my mind raced around the past and wondered about the future, and how God has called me to cry out. At times it seems pointless and I shrink back. Words evaporate quicker than vapors most of the time. But some are chosen to stick, to be carried to generations. In 100 years it’s not likely anyone will know my name, remember me as their ancestor, or visit my grave. But if anything I do or say does survive this life, I want to be a rock crying out, resonating with the heart of my God.

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