Chasing my soul

A friend stopped by my office this morning to look at something on MySpace. Most of us are blocked from accessing MySpace at work, but my team made the argument we needed access to actually do our jobs, so we got it. Anyway, we looked up a band I’d never heard of, I Love You Sailor, in the music section of MySpace, and Pam clicked on a song named “Hawthorn.” And I’ve been hooked every since.

The delivery is very simple. A guy singing, no Pro Tools, and a guitar. (By the way, the singer. . .it’s Mat Kearney.) Once or twice, I wished for a harmony voice, then decided it would destroy the simple beauty and passion of the song. And the lyrics—oh the lyrics!—stopped me dead in my tracks. “I wish that the last words weren’t the last words we spoke,” “living for bread ain’t worth living at all,” “suffer the darkness, wait for the dawn,” “the preacher, the prophet, I’ve never known, the Jesus of prostitutes chasing my soul, the Jesus of prostitutes calling me home.”

Yes, it’s that kind of song. Let those lyrics pour over you. Think about them.

I’m a fan of the perfectly turned lyric. I can quote you more song lyrics than I can Scripture. Long talks with me are peppered with phrases like, “Well, Andrew Peterson wrote this,” “Randall Goodgame’s song said that,” and “In that Ryan Adams’ song there’s a line that goes like this.” Music sometimes says more than we can say with words. And “Hawthorn” by I Love You Sailor did that for me today.

The Jesus of prostitutes, the God who loves all people, even those we’d rather forget or push aside, is chasing my soul. He’s not just calling out for me; He’s not just waiting patiently for me to decide to walk in His ways; He’s chasing me. Pursuing me. Loving me in the deep places in a way no one else does. So much that He can’t let go.

There’s truth in those lyrics. Truth that living for stuff and trying to fill the hole in my life with other people and things won’t satisfy. That this life is sometimes marked with regret and disappointment. Hope that a dawn is coming when it won’t be like this anymore. The Jesus of prostitutes is chasing my soul, and He won’t let go.

And He’s chasing you, too.