Lonely Highway

Do you remember what it was like
back when you were by yourself
and you'd skip town some Sunday afternoon
In the spring you'd lave your windows down
and fly past your troubles
heading toward the new moon?
You'd sit there with the radio
and stare up at the stars
Just you and your steel cacoon
and all the thoughts of life and love
could pour out on the page before you
and it seems so long ago
and those days seem so carefree --lost
somewhere in these days' monotony
But sometimes you still get the chance
to kick off your shoes and go for a drive
Sunday night on the lonely highway
You find in the darkness you still can dance
and you see for yourself all the answers
to all the questions you used to ask
and you can't believe you survived those lonely days
It's good to be alive.

What's Born from Brokenness

I probably write about Rich Mullins too often, but I think that people who encounter him relate and are changed, even years after he's died. Recently they released a movie about his life called Ragamuffin. If you haven't seen it, please do. It's really good. It's not really about his music or really even about his life. It's not made for Christians. And it isn't like a Christian movie. It's a movie about God's "reckless raging fury" of love and someone who was caught up in it, even as he fought against it.
And that's where so many of us are. We don't even realize how much we're loved, how much junk we're clinging to, and what we could be if we knew just how big and wide and fierce that love is.
Today is the anniversary of his death, so of course I got to thinking. Not long after my grandma died, I had a very vivid dream, and I woke up wishing it hadn't ended.
We were all sitting around in her living room (I don't know why so many of my dreams are at her house), and there was just this hushed peace over all of us. And Rich Mullins was sitting there with me and my cousins and friends, just lounging on the couch, playing music. He sang a few songs, only one of which I recognized or remember now. And I still think about that dream, and the longing it put in me to be in heaven, in the safest and best place that exists, singing songs with people in perfect unity and peace.
But I think on earth, in our lesser world, the best things are really born from suffering. All of the songs that help heal our broken hearts are written by someone who related. All of the words spoken in our worst pain that build us back up come from a place of truth, found from hard searching. We can cling to Jesus because of his suffering on our behalf. And that's why Rich Mullins meant so much to so many people. We felt like maybe, for once, we weren't the only one who felt the lonliness and darkness. And we felt like maybe there was hope in the savior he talked about. Because only someone who understood our pain could really share an answer that mattered.
So now, seventeen years after his songs stopped being written, I still cling to some of those answers that came out. I still sing the words on those dark lonely nights. I still search out that reckless "raging fury that they call the love of God". I long for home. And I strive to be God's.


                               -------------------------------------------------------------

Maybe heaven will be something like this
All of us together in Grandma's living room
listening to Rich playing guitar
and Debby and Daniel will join in
--some kind of meeting of the hearts
and we'll be praising the God
  who we finally get to see
with no veils and no sin in between
Everyone there will be allowed to just be
no more striving
no more shouting
no need to give up and start again
made new
Made perfect in the Truth and the light
thinking back on our candlelight
days in the park
and seeing how God's love went and made it all right.