Walking the streets of downtown Chicago made me acknowledge the cloistered spinster that I have become. Indeed there lies the rest of the world beyond my collegiate studies. As our small group burrowed through the crowds, I recalled to have read how Jesus was acutely aware of people, that more than anyone, He knew the preciousness of the souls of the people in His daily life. As I passed by the flood of people I couldn’t help but marvel at each person, at each soul that Jesus died to save.
And how humbling it is that I am able to witness to (however small a fraction of) these multitudes through our music?
This afternoon we will give the last concert of this tour. I am not quite sure how I feel about that just yet. Being part of this musical organism tends to reduce me into silence; I dare not to think that I am capable of giving something beautiful to God. And this life as a saved sinner is one of a paradox: we are always seeking the promised rest but grow restless in our searching. Even though we are returning to Milwaukee tonight, back to the familiar routines, I don’t expect to find rest. Maybe this music that God gives us, these memories (that are woven into fire), will be the closest I have to being at home. There will be tears, but here is joy.