Thursday, March 02, 2006

How do you taste?

I mentioned in a reply to a post of my friend, Jonathan (whose site you MUST visit), that one of the primary love languages in my relationship with God is music. When he wants to tell, teach or show me something, a lot of times he'll use a song to do it. So, periodically, I will share the lyrics of a song that really speak to me, my experience, and my relationship with God. [NOTE: I said periodically, I'm done making promises of regularity.]

The first is Ani DiFranco's "Come Away From It", from her 1999 release, Up Up Up Up Up Up. The lyrics struck me because they read like one of the many messages that God sent to his wayward people via the Old Testament prophets.

Come, come away, come away from, come away from it

Next to the glass ashtray in a little plastic baggy
Is a bitter rock remedy, really good stuff
But I take offense to the fact that you're so hell bent
Are you trying to tell me this world just isn't beautiful enough?

Do you want to get off? Is this your stop?
Do you gotta have a tripledecker super fudge sundae with a g#$%&#% cherry on top?
I mean, what makes you so lavish that you can afford
To spend every sober moment feeling angry and bored?

Why don't you come, come away, come away from it?

We used to hold hands down those unfamiliar streets
You used to take me diving into the watery blue deep
But now you're trying to find every tiny treasure
Every shiny penny of pleasure
Satisfy every selfish purpose
Before you swim back up to the surface

Why don't you come, come away, come away from it?

You think that I just don't like you anymore, but I'll tell you what I don't like
I don't like that I had to put the training wheels back onto your bike
And I don't like the extravagance or the way you taste when I kiss you
I don't like being left alone, baby don't you think I miss you?

Why don't you come, come away, come away from it?

This song just makes me thank God for his grace and his neverending pursuit of me. How many times has he had to call me away from the defenses and distractions I use to self-medicate? How many times has he had to put the training wheels back onto my bike? What does he taste on my lips, on my heart, on my life when he kisses me?


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