Every so often a particular song grabs my heart and attention for an extended season of time. Usually it’s a recently released tune that I put on repeat until I’m flat out sick of it. Most often, admittedly, it’s a worship song, because of the way they tap into spirit and soul through my ears.
But this song is somewhat older (released in 2011) and it’s by Coldplay.
“Every Teardrop is a Waterfall”
I turn the music up, I got my records on
I shut the world outside until the lights come on
Maybe the streets alight, maybe the trees are gone
I feel my heart start beating to my favourite songAnd all the kids they dance, all the kids all night
Until Monday morning feels another life
I turn the music up
I’m on a roll this time
And heaven is in sightI turn the music up, I got my records on
From underneath the rubble sing a rebel song
Don’t want to see another generation drop
I’d rather be a comma than a full stopMaybe I’m in the black, maybe I’m on my knees
Maybe I’m in the gap between the two trapezes
But my heart is beating and my pulses start
Cathedrals in my heartAs we saw oh this light I swear you, emerge blinking into
To tell me it’s alright
As we soar walls, every siren is a symphony
And every tear’s a waterfall
I resonate with the desire for solitude (“shut the world outside…”). I can often be found in a quiet space with “my records on.” This is how I tend to deal with feeling overwhelmed, tired or vision-less. And, by the way, this can happen often for me. I’m a fairly public person, with a lot of work, expectations, and stress. I can go for a quite awhile, but then I tap out. When I feel depleted, I withdraw. And, when I do, then my heart starts beating again. The lights start coming on. Heaven is in sight. From underneath the rubble I can start singing a “rebel song.” Bono from U2 says “joy is an act of defiance.”
Then purpose and vision start to return. I too don’t want to see another generation drop. Drop into despair. Drop into depression. Drop into death. I want to do something about it. I want to risk something again. I want to live in the “gap between the two trapeze.” This is the line that has captured my energy and passion as of late. What does it really mean to live in that gap? It’s the space between letting go of one point of security in order to reach another. You can’t hold onto both at the same time. You have to let go of something in order to grab onto something else. What’s at risk? Failure? Misunderstanding? Loss? Death, or worse, Embarrassment?
I don’t know. And that’s why it’s been said that “faith” is spelled R I S K. Faith and risk is the gap between the two trapeze. Wanna join me there?