‘You are fullness and the inexhaustible treasure of incorruptible pleasure.’ St. Augustine, Confessions On dry days when I cannot remember who I am… when nothing tastes sweet… I open The Book. I look deep into the scriptures and re-discover ancient poets, prophets, wise kings and holy-fools time-traveling into my room. I am struck with their stunningly prescient, heaven-inspired writings. Their honesty. Swimmings in the Spirit. I want this. I need this. I am beginning to see that I am as good as dead without it. I am aware like never before that the world and its desires, its unceasingly vapid ideas, its viruses… are ever encroaching at the door of my heart. And so I pray these songs are more than just poetry or emotive melodies. I pray they are holy yearnings, centering mantras, calls to action and being. I pray they might help marry my heart to my spirit. Guttural and honest worship has a way of knocking us off balance, only to make us stronger than ever. It has a way of waking us up. Like being jolted out of a hazy dream. I am comforted by the fact that these songs are just paraphrasing what’s always been. Like the kings of Israel, we keep re-discovering the scrolls, the story, the truth. We keep repenting. We keep coming back to the Word. He keeps receiving us. Restoring us. The Word speaks. Just as He has since before time. And if I let the Word empty me, maybe even offend me… I find that I will again be restored in my spirit to the person God had in mind before