Archive | March 2011


This song is 1) appealing and 2) catchy, making it 3) dangerous.




Take me to the table where we all dine together
Pluck me from the crowd and return me to my sender
Whatever path you follow push on to tomorrow
Love all, serve all and create no sorrow
So many rivers but they all reach the sea
They’re telling me he’s different but I just don’t believe it
Love is the goal, yes and everyone shall reach it
Who ever seeks it
Seen and unseen

I don’t wanna a reason anymore about the one I love, the one I love
I don’t wanna reason anymore about God above, God above
I just wanna melt away, in all its grace
Drift away into that sacred place
Where there’s no more you and me, no more they and we, just unity…

Well I don’t wanna count the leaves of the mango tree
I just wanna taste it’s sweetness
you can’t defeat this above and beneath this.
Come one and all, come stand tall
And whatever your approach, dance or meditation
If you got love and longing you shall reach the station
The final road the supreme abode
In this city all hearts shine like gold
{Matisyahu’s verse}-
He Prays sitting, she prays standing,
Some sit quiet, while others stand demanding.
Just fan the flames of love.
some say he’s below, some say he’s above.
It’s unknown, when the king sits down upon his throne.
some chant songs some pray with beads,
some wake at midnight cuz the heart it bleeds,
some souls scream to the demons ,leave me be!

I don’t wanna a reason anymore about the one I love, the one I love
I don’t wanna reason anymore about God above, God above
I just wanna melt away, in all its grace
Drift away into that sacred place
Where there’s no more you and me, no more they and we, just unity.

Jesus, Buddha, Moses, and Guaranga.
All dance around, dancing on your thunder
Drunk on the wine of love for thee
Well tell me when will I be blessed to join their blissful company
And blissful company goes from sea to sea
From the depths of the valley to the mountain peaks

{Matisyahu’s verse}-
Every moment, minute, hour to hour
Just a gift I need keep and cause a riff
We need to lift each other my brother and give love to another
Wanna bust the bubble I know there’s rubbage and rubble
We don’t need no more trouble
Arms fall away and so I say

So many stories and so many fables of how the king sings
of how the wall wails
In Jerusalem to the Holy Himalayas
From Mount Zion to the hills of Jamaica
All land is holy, all land is sacred
All shall leave this world completely naked, completely naked, completely….

I don’t wanna a reason anymore about the one I love, the one I love
I don’t wanna reason anymore about God above, God above
I just wanna melt away, in all its grace
Drift away into that sacred place
Where there’s no more you and me, no more they and we, just unity.




Today I walked away from my homework early and stole away with my Moleskine journal to my quiet spot on campus where I go when I just want to get away. It’s been a couple of weeks full of drowning in the intensity of Jonathan Edwards’ philosophical inquiries into original sin and the nature of true virtue, coupled with Michael Horton’s dissection of liberal German theologians debating about the exact nature of the image of God and the hypostatic union.

All of this learning makes me prize the simplicity of the gospel all the more. You can study for an eternity and never come to the end of it, yet it can be contained in just a few short words or verses, simple enough for me to understand and believe just shy of my fourth birthday. I spent my time in the spring afternoon writing out what matters most to me, the treasures of the shallow end of the pool that I never want to lose while diving for nuances.

Things I Am Happy to Believe

  • The placement of my sin on Jesus Christ and His righteousness upon me through faith in his sufficiency to save and sanctify.
  • The infallibility and clarity and continued relevance of the Scriptures as the revealed mind of God to man with purpose.
  • The real and present guidance of the Holy Spirit away from error and towards truth through the application of the Word.
  • That all true happiness comes from a delight in His person, His gifts, and His will being done on earth and heaven.
  • The church of Jesus Christ is His bride, His beloved, cared for by Him as He prepares her for eternal glory.
  • Hope is not directed primarily at this life, but rather towards the next – the new creation in which we are co-heirs.
  • The purposefulness of all things, as God brings to pass His pre-existent plan for His own glory and our good, both of which are the same end.
  • The wrathfulness of God towards those who doubly rebel by rejecting first His rule and secondly His mercy.
  • The creation, though subjected to a curse because of human sin, is meant to be delighted in as God’s good gift to man.
  • The constant intercession by Christ for man before the throne of God the Father.

Praise God for these truths.


Johnson tried hard to hold back the tears as he hugged his family for the last time before they began the long trip back home without him. His mother wasn’t so wrapped up in appearing tough and independent, so her tears freely carved channels down her face and onto her blouse. The younger siblings each received a rather self-conscious hug and the dad a firm handshake. Johnson turned, grabbed his last suitcase full of college necessities, and thus began his college career.

Johnson knew his Bible. And he knew the reality of what life was going to be like at a state school. Thankfully he’d been able to get himself transferred away from the original dorm he’d been placed in. The whole progressivist co-ed dorm thing declared itself to be “more exciting” than normal dorm life. Johnson would take dorm life as known to humanity since two guys named Cain and Able invented sharing the bedroom 8,000 years ago, thank you very much.

As he arranged his small collection of family pictures and mementoes of high school success, he thought about the life he was entering, and the life he was now stepping beyond. Gone were the fast friends he had made through youth group, as they were cast about by the wind to different colleges throughout the country. You go where the scholarship money leads. Gone was the church that had taught him how a felt board operated, that had heard his testimony before he was buried into the waters of baptism. Gone was the pastor’s office whose walls would speak of special times of counsel and direction, of words of prayer for protection while beginning this new life. And gone was the Christian high school that promised to prepare its students for life beyond its walls. The preparation was done. It’s show time. New church to choose, new friends to make, and new perspectives to dismantle.

Warily Johnson eyed his biology professor from the fourth row. This was the moment that he had been prepared for. As an infant he had grappled with Gerber creamed carrots in his stomach, and complex arguments for the dating of the Noahic flood in his mind. His school books had all dedicated themselves to debunking Darwinists as foolish and misled, parasites who longed to feed their parasitic egos on the souls of the young and the naive. Darwinists were fools, hardly more competent to draw rational conclusions from scientific data than the monkeys they claimed to have descended from.

And then the professor opened his mouth and addressed the class. He welcomed them, warmly, to their first day of class. Nervous laughter greeted his jokes about first-day experiences. He opened the door of his office to anyone who wanted to talk with him. And then he began to teach. And it didn’t sound as crazy as when Johnson’s pastor had described it in his Sunday morning series on Genesis.

Enter the war in Johnson’s heart. Those who love Jesus have told him that everyone who believes in Darwinism is a fool, a chest-beating buffoon who knows nothing of fairness nor decency. Those Darwinists he has encountered have proven to be none of those things. In fact, it’s the pastor who’s beginning to look like he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, for his representation of the insanity of Darwinism and the coherent thought that is marched out every Tuesday and Thursday from 12:20 to 1:50 resemble each other as much as his mother and a howler monkey.

Six months later, Johnson’s mother is overcome with tears before her son again. Only this time there is no joy mingled in the cup of sadness. Just fear. Her son has come home from college, riddled with doubts about everything he had been raised to believe. Not just about the age of the earth, but of the reality of the cross and the existence of God. After all, how could there be a God who orders events so that little Japanese children are swept away by tsunamis and their parents are radiated by exploding nuclear power facilities, doomed to the slow surrender of their bodies to cancer.

“How did this happen?” she cries to her husband. “How does everything we taught him for 18 years get swept away by the current of everything he was taught to beware of?”

If we content ourselves with teaching caricature, we’ll accomplish nothing more than to create an army of people who desert what we’ve taught them for what we fear most they’ll believe.