the cry in the song

The other night I escaped my small town home for one Friday night concert in downtown Atlanta. The city was covered in a dreary haze, rain falling lightly and steadily, the lights reflecting off the atmosphere in a new way, the buildings of the big city resting their heads in the clouds

The show started with a video, a documentary about Josh Garrels and the music and the road he’s traveled to get where he is now. It illustrated the journey and the people who have walked with him along the way, the music and relationships that have been beautifully and meticulously created with love and perseverance of each step forward.

This was a road less traveled.

At some point in the film, Josh reminisced about a time when he could remember being a child; a boy who had hope for his future, who knew he was created for a reason, for a purpose that exceeded understanding and saw the good in life, the faith and trust in the unknown path ahead of him. We saw his little blonde-haired boy playing and dancing in the light, full of joy, belief and ambition; full of life.

Innocent, pure, faithful.

But somewhere along the way, it changed, and he felt this downward spiral begin to happen in his life, he was losing that childlike mind and hope. He was losing the faith that things were good, that there was a purpose for his existence, a reason for this wandering.

And in that moment, during this revelation, a baby cried out in the audience; a perfect, subtle, stabbing voice amongst the crowd.

It was as if that baby cried the tears of our flesh for all of us. It was as if that innocent heart felt the pain of life, of growing up, of living in a fallen world. It felt the tears and the wounds we’ve all carried for too long and gave it all a voice.

That faultless baby, in a sense, interceded on our behalf. The purity of that furiously beating heart and wind filled lungs, shouted out to a Father that knows the suffering we’ve experienced, shouted out among the silence.

A heart that beat blameless; cried out and spoke for each of us.

I don’t know the exchange that happened between that child and his Father. I don’t know what was said, if anything was said at all. But I felt the pain of our flesh and I heard the cries of each heart in that room, unified for one moment with the idea of hope.

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