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God’s Own Fool

Sitting at Mass this weekend, there was a line in the second reading that caught my ear. But first, some context.

Over the course of the last few weeks when I have been traveling in the car, I have hooked up my phone via Bluetooth and just let the music play. I chose the entire music library (several thousand songs) and hit the “random” button. There are tons of songs I love, and I am always amazed at how many a human brain can remember. But let’s be clear, there are lots and lots of songs that I hear and wonder why in the world they are on my phone. The Countdown Kids compilation that was fine when the kids were younger but now make me want to intentionally hit a tree. Then there’s the Veggie-tales, which are worse. Those I skip. Anything that makes the children groan, I skip. Anything that has inappropriate lyrics (I’m a grown up, don’t judge), I skip.

That still leaves several thousand songs to play and it’s made driving back and forth to drop off and pick up the kids, especially when Maureen is out of town, all the more enjoyable.

There was one song that came up last week that I love, sang along too, and remembered long after it was over.

That brings me back to Sunday’s second reading. In the first letter of St. Paul to the Corinthians, we hear:

Let no one deceive himself.
If any one among you considers himself wise in this age,
let him become a fool, so as to become wise.
For the wisdom of this world is foolishness in the eyes of God,
for it is written:
God catches the wise in their own ruses,
and again:
The Lord knows the thoughts of the wise,
that they are vain.

This brought me back to that song in the car. It’s called, God’s Own Fool and was written and sung by Michael Card a generation ago, when religion was more touchy-feely, and we used songs at retreats the way people use apps to pray.

Still, the lyrics are a great reminder of our call to live a life worthy of imitation.

Seems I’ve imagined Him all of my life
As the wisest of all of mankind
But if God’s Holy wisdom is foolish to men
He must have seemed out of His mind

For even His family said He was mad
And the priests said a demon’s to blame
But God in the form of this angry young man
Could not have seemed perfectly sane

When we in our foolishness thought we were wise
He played the fool and He opened our eyes
When we in our weakness believed we were strong
He became helpless to show we were wrong

And so we follow God’s own fool
For only the foolish can tell-
Believe the unbelievable
And come be a fool as well

So come lose your life for a carpenter’s son
For a madman who died for a dream
And you’ll have the faith His first followers had
And you’ll feel the weight of the beam

So surrender the hunger to say you must know
Have the courage to say I believe
For the power of paradox opens your eyes
And blinds those who say they can see

So we follow God’s own Fool
For only the foolish can tell
Believe the unbelievable,
And come be a fool as well

As Lent begins, may we all be a little foolish this week. A little less wise in the know-it-all sense, and a little more willing to let others know whose we are but showing them who we are as a child of God.

pjd

To hear the artist sing the song, click here.

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My Friend Steve

I have a friend named Steve. He’s a Catholic husband, father, grandfather, and singer-songwriter. My guess is that is the exact order he would put that list in, too. We’ve been friends for two and half decades and I first got to know him when I was in parish youth ministry in Knoxville and invited Steve to join us for our diocesan anniversary Mass. Though we are separated in age by only a few years, his children are older than mine and he’s always been the kind of father and the kind of Catholic I struggle to be. I imagine we all have people in our lives that inspire us and challenge us like Steve challenges me.

He’s been on my mind the last few days. I could pick up the phone and text, challenge him to a game of Words with Friends, or call him, but Steve has a gift for putting words to music and I wanted you to know. To be honest, I don’t listen to his music as often as I used to. My commute, since we moved, has gone from an hour every morning to about 10 minutes. I barely have enough time for the Rosary, catching up on the news on the radio, or the podcasts I used to enjoy. I love getting to work early and getting home in a hurry, but I miss some of the traditions that were once part of my morning. 

On the way out of the house yesterday, I grabbed Steve’s latest CD, High Above Our Way, for the road trip we planned to take after Church. Child number three needed shelves for his room so a trip up 95 to Ikea was on our list. I had heard some of Steve’s new music at a conference in Tampa back in December and wanted to give the whole CD a try. 

There is one song in particular that I could listen to again and again. It’s called More Beautiful and while the whole song is great, I really like the second verse and the chorus.

There is a longing we can’t deny
that God alone can satisfy
peace that none in this world can give
every good thing comes from you
you’re the source,
you’re the summit we’re reaching to. 

May we find you more beautiful,
more glorious,
more alive, and this life, more victorious,
to be more free, and all we can be,
more than yesterday.

You can listen to a sample of the song here. You can also purchase the whole album if you want or download it from iTunes. 

This year, I have resolved to make a concerted effort to tell the people who make my life better how important they are to me. Steve’s music and stories have become a mainstay of Catholic parishes and ministry to young people across the globe. But to me, he will always be the guy who wrote a song for my son’s sixth birthday, huddled with the kids on the steps of the house when we set the fire alarm off at an ungodly hour, and texted me every few weeks when dad died. He is a friend I treasure.

May his music move you as much his presence in my life moves me.