Dusk

I have to make a confession, I'm kinda a snob about Christian Music. Having spent too much time in my youth listening to bad Christian pop, I've become cynical and expect anything with the lable "Christian" to be sub-par.
Now in a different rant, I could go on about factors in the industry that make this a realistic cynicism..... and I'd confess that in opening my mind to it, I've found a lot of music in this genre that is creative and well done. However; this is not that rant or confession, but rather this is about how one particular song impacted me.
Being as it was played in church, my cyncism meter was down. The worship team sang out a spectacular version of "Baby" by 'Lost and Found.' The lyrics hammered into my heart. I could feel them sinking down into me, like a blow or, perhaps, a whisper from God.
All the lost and lonely people, all the Elanor Rigby's of the world...they are loved. I was struck by how my life should be a continual decision to reach out to the marginalized and forgoten. This has been laid on my heart, and to realize meaning it is the path I must follow.
As I listened I was convicted of the ways in which I might pass over the hurts of those whom I would more easily judge. It's not hard for me to imagine befriending the goth girl, or the woman with anorexia...however if the "red neck" had just made a racist joke (yes I know I'm the one stereotyping here...) would I see the forlorn man watching tv alone, because he has no one who wants to listen to what he has to say? In the "3 piece suit" who rants against the homeless, would I see someone to oppose, or someone who was perhaps removed from life and seems uncharitable because he feels uncherished and always has? It's easy to reach out to the lonely whose lonliness I recognize, sometimes in my own mirror...but to recognize and love those who are "other" to me...that is a challange. This song reminded me to keep looking beyond the surface, to see the divine where I least expect it...

BABY by Lost & Found:



Shaved head and her pierced nose,
big rotweillers and her tie-dyed clothes,
Dr. Martins with her biker tights,
long black leggings on a hot summer night.

And nobody calls her baby,
Nobody says "I love you so,"
Nobody calls her baby,
I guess she'll never know.

His working boots and flannel shirts,
His sympathies buried as deep as his hurts,
Long lonely walks with nowhere to go,
His only appointment's with a tv show.

And nobody calls him baby,
Nobody says "I love you so,"
Nobody calls him baby,
I guess he'll never know.

Eighty pounds, she's hardly whole,
Losing her body to gain some control,
Hours alone in a tanning salon,
Trying a smaller and smaller size on.

And nobody calls her baby,
Nobody says "I love you so,"
Nobody calls her baby,
I guess she'll never know.

Pin-striped suits and wing-tipped shoes,
His lap-top computer and his Wall Street news,
He makes his plane and keeps his pace,
He hides his pain behind a poker face.
And nobody calls him baby,
Nobody says, "I love you so,"
Nobody calls him baby,
I guess he'll never know.

But somebody loves those babies,
Somebody loves what we can't see,
And if somebody told them maybe,
Those babies would be free.