something worth bleeding out

Last night, Brandi Carlile invited The Lone Bellow back up on stage in the middle of her set, backlit by a lazy summer sun at the Simon Estes Amphitheater in Des Moines. They were the opening act, these brilliant three, but they were the reason my sister and I paid the big bucks to sprawl out on a blanket by the river with expensive drinks (the kind they make you buy inside after making you dump your waters at the door). Something clicked when they sang this song. It'll get unhinged soon enough. I'll forget and I'll fret and I'll fury. But something about those few minutes was bound to break my blog silence.

Vacation was too good to me. It swallowed up my bones in bliss and I was happy there, really happy. Every clockless morning and every unplanned afternoon, every impromptu tennis match and every adventurous trip down to the beach, every late night campfire-lit conversation, every slice through the water in the kayak, every forest run, every conversation - everything.

Vacation swallowed up my bones in bliss.

I didn't really know how to shake myself out of it - how does bliss make sense with clocks and schedules and plans and expectations? How do you get un-swallowed? How do you not wish yourself back in those blissful moments when you're in moments that feel so regular?

Then The Lone Bellow started to sing and I started to sway with all my hippy hair, belting out this brilliant tune.

[youtube=http://youtu.be/VZK1o3K8hTo]

Yes, I lost myself a little bit and I'm not worried about your judgment.

I was probably 1 of 10 concert-goers who had heard of The Lone Bellow, so I was definitely one of few singing along. But, I belted it anyway - like the ba-ba-da was something inside me fighting to find air.

There is a reason life isn't endless vacation.

And that reason made sense as I swayed to this tune,

"Breathing in, breathing out, the salt in my mouth gives me hope that I'll bleed something worth bleeding out"

It might not shake vacation dust off your feet, but it did mine. This is an anthem that says our hands should get dirty and calloused and worn, an anthem that reminds us that respite gives fuel for our daily fight against the lies we can sometimes escape on vacation.

"All the buildings, they lean and they smile down on us And they shout from their rooftops words we can’t trust Like you’re dead, you are tired, you’re ruined, you’re dust Oh, you won’t ‘mount to nothing, like thanks full of rust"

These are the lies of life, the weary and rugged and cumbersome kind that sneak into kitchens and coffeeshops and haunt our closet space. These are the lies that try to make our lives less redeemed. But, in Christ, there is no more or less saved. There is no scale to our redemption.

Our sin entangles with all kinds of cruel efficiency and the dull hum-drum of everyday life is its favorite booby trap. But a sliding scale salvation would strip God of the power to make it complete, and we are not capable of making Him any less glorious than He is.

Thank God. Thank God He did not leave us as exiles from the kingdom of God, banished from forever beauty and bliss.

Or do you not know that the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God. And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God. (1 Corinthians 6:9-11, ESV)

Thank God, in His grace, the blood coursing through our veins is more than mostly water. In Christ, this blood we carry around is something worth bleeding out. It is not nothing. It's this blood, keeping us alive to proclaim that we've been redeemed and redemption is free by the grace of God and the cost of Christ. It is the blood by which we can sing the next lines,

But we scream back at them from below on the street All in unison we sing, our time’s been redeemed We are all of the beauty that has not been seen We are full of the color that’s never been dreamed

Because nothing we need ever dies. Isn't that so? Our needs - physical and otherwise are slippery things, but we get parched and desperate for them. We beg and plead for them, our needs. And those needs never die.

But there is one need that trumps all other needs and it's what started beating like hope in my chest when I heard this song. There is a reason life isn't endless vacation and it is because there is work to do. There is toil and sweat and there is work to do. My blood is worth something because Christ's blood was shed on my behalf.

O, precious HOPE that redeems us in the bliss of vacation and in the dull hum-drum of Monday-afters. I'm still swaying to this precious hope that my life in the regulars and the weekday sways and sweats for a greater story.

Even if I was lonely, even if I was broke Even if all the dogs in the pound left me notes Sayin’ it’s never over, it never ends Grab my heart and the fire, let us descend

To the darkest of prisons, break their defense We will rattle the cages, rules will be bent Oh, remind us our days are all numbered, not spent And peace it comes easy like mist on a ridge

Chorus Breathing in, breathing out, the salt in my mouth Gives me hope that I’ll bleed something worth bleeding out

All the horoscopes tell us to break all our ties To our families and loved ones we leave when we fly To the cities we think we need in our lives Oh, you Manhattan jungle, you tangle our pride

Chorus

All the buildings, they lean and they smile down on us And they shout from their rooftops words we can’t trust Like you’re dead, you are tired, you’re ruined, you’re dust Oh, you won’t ‘mount to nothing, like thanks full of rust

But we scream back at them from below on the street All in unison we sing, our time’s been redeemed We are all of the beauty that has not been seen We are full of the color that’s never been dreamed

Where nothing we need ever dies Where nothing we need ever dies