Maybe my fave cover of this song.

St Augustine ❤

From xkcd

Runaway.

Lost in a sea of unfamiliar faces and all too familiar sensations.
Waiting for you to rescue me from a dungeon of freedom.
Your face warm and inviting. Smiling away all the man made horrors of life.
Your touch soothing out the creases of the devils kisses.
Your voice drowning out the screams of trapped souls from without.

Make me a runaway. Take me with you to the shaded paradise from which you descend. Pluck me away from strife and struggle let us take flight.
Take me to the clouds so I may see where the sun sleeps. Take me to the stars so I may see where the moon rests his head.
Make me a runaway. Make me a memory.
Take me to a place only the birds know and the flowers remember. To a haven of colours and emotions. There I may be with you...under your watchful eye may I live in peace.

Make me a runaway. Make me a dream.
Let all below think of me as a distant shadow in the darkness of their realm. Take me away. Let me leave. Bid adieu to the nightmares that follow even at dawn. Take me to happiness. Let me be free.
Make me a runaway. Just run away with me.

As you know, I'm a fan of young Zimbabwean talent. I also promised to share stuff young people are saying and doing, relating to Zim's current state.

Sibongile is a young (17 year old!) spoken word artist, currently in Harare, Zimbabwe. She wrote "Protest" after being inspired by #thisflag and Sho Baraka's "Praise Judas, Kill Jesus".

Read on!

_________



I may go on and on.
I may say something that will move you.
I may say something crazy.
I may say something that will move the nation.

Protest.

I may ramble.
But my rambling may bring change.
Shut me up.
Make me quiet.
But as long as I'm alive my voice cannot be caged.
Set free the voices of the silent... let loose the words of the masses.
Rise up children of the dust and make masterpieces of the ashes.
Speak on out into the face of the lion.
He can only do so much when all of us are crying.

Protest.

I may say something.
Something mad enough to light a fire.
Something clever enough to make flames.
Something genius enough to stop the pain.

Protest.

I might encourage you.
To move out, break out of your normal groove.
Wake up out of this silent fear.
Wake up and shout until they stop to hear.

Protest.

I might say something.
Crazy enough to bring change.
Great enough to stop their jaded reign.
Good enough to give this flag its fame.

Unashamed :: Summer Reading (Pt. 2) from Fresh Life Church on Vimeo.

From xkcd

This is awesome!

What a jam! 

You might see a tool- let's say a hammer. If you had never seen a hammer, had never known what it could do- if you had only seen telescopes, let's say, a hammer would look pretty ugly to you. What good would it be? It can't even see the stars. It has no pretty brass or glass parts. You would turn it over and over in your hands, and try to look through it. You might shake it around a little bit. You might run your hands over its metal head, and wooden handle. You might try again to look through it, and curse it a little, and eventually throw it away in frustration.

Or, you might see a telescope. The only tools you ever knew were hammers. Those are super useful, like: the heavy end does wonders when it meets a nail. So you go around pounding in every nail you see with your favourite hammer- actually, you hit everything with your hammer, but that's another story. And then here's this thing, shiny brass and glass. It's sort of similar to your hammer, but not really. After looking it over for a while, you lift it and hit the nail in front of you. The brass dents, the glass shatters. I mean what the. You throw it away. Stupid hammer design.

I heard a sermon at church yesterday that really got me thinking. (I got the title and the word hammer roughly from what the pastor was saying, but I was mostly drifting :) So the rest is actually from years of personal experience). We are hammers to the people who only know telescopes - or, telescopes to people who only know hammers. So, why do we allow people to determine our worth, our value? Why do you ask a lover of hammers who you are, Telescope?

You have a design that the world can't begin to understand: only God, the maker of you, could know. Your purpose was designed by Him. This is a sacred thing, the power to say who you are, or what you're here for. A sacred thing, the power to tell you your worth and value. Not even those who love you best can truly know this. They see your general shape on the outside, they see your actions, and they think they know you. You think they do, too.

But sacred things belong rightly to God. There is no person on earth who knew from the start what you were coming here for, what you would be capable of achieving. No person who knows why you've gone through what you've gone through, and why you have the lumps and bumps you have. No one understands your scars, or the true shape of your soul. And yet we are constantly asking the people around us to put a number to these things, to say what we are on a scale of one to ten.

But here's the good news. Once you remember that people are just people, and that God is truly God- then you will remember what is sacred. And once you know that, you will know again that what is sacred truly belongs to him- the power to say what you're worth, to tell you your identity, your purpose. And when you do remember, you have the power to stop going to those idols to ask them about these things. You'll find the strength to say no, thank you, when someone offers to put a dollar sign on your worth according to them. To lock the door when someone comes to tell you your experience, your view of the world means nothing. And when someone accuses you of not living up to some idealised version of you, you'll remember that they never actually knew what you were here for- and you will return to the one who does.

Wake up, o you sleeper.

Build up your walls.

Let's go! 

from xkcd