From U2 to the Qohelet...

I recently discovered a stack of vinyl albums at my in-laws home. Amidst the stack of Neil Diamond, ELO, Tchaikovsky, and a myriad of other random records was the ultimate diamond in the rough: U2, The Unforgettable Fire. I still remember the first time I heard this band as if it were yesterday. The year was 1984 and I went on a trip to the famed roller-coaster park Ceder Point with my new middle school youth group. I was standing in line for a ride and I heard over the speaker system this amazing song in which the singer was bellowing out words and notes that ended with the suffix "tion":

This desparation
Dislocation
Separation
Condemnation
Revelation
In temptation
Isolation
Desolation
Let it go

I asked my youth leader I was with who this band was and he informed me that it was indeed the band U2 and upon my return from that trip I headed to the store to by the cassette tape. Thank you Chip Hardy for the introduction.

Anyway, the back of the album cover is a picture of the four band members staring at a dilapidated castle; the walls crumbled to the earth and their backs to the camera. Below the photo are the words to the first track, A Sort of Homecoming, which sings, "And you know it's time to go, through the sleet and driving snow, across the fields of mourning to a light that's in the distance." It got me thinking about the long winter of my life - literally the cold, sunless months I've just endured in Michigan as well as the spiritual season of calling, doubt, discouragement, bewilderment and wonder. However, even in the few days since my last post, I'm sensing the light in the distance. As I stare out the window in my office I see the life giving sunlight, the yellow tulips in my dear neighbors yard and the giant bumble bee bouncing off the windowpane. I've also engaged in life giving conversations this week that have fed my soul, affirmed my calling and encouraged my journey.

I've been reading these lines from A Sort of Homecoming and listening to the album (ipod - I don't own a record player anymore) this morning and my mind wondered to the Qohelet (perhaps Solomon the King) and his worldview as stated in Ecclesiastes 3 (the Message - the bold is where I've centered my meditation):

¹ There's an opportune time to do things, a right time for everything on the earth:

^2-8 A right time for birth and another for death,
A right time to plant and another to reap,
A right time to kill and another to heal,
A right time to destroy and another to construct,
A right time to cry and another to laugh,
A right time to lament and another to cheer,
A right time to make love and another to abstain,
A right time to embrace and another to part,
A right time to search and another to count your losses,
A right time to hold on and another to let go,
A right time to rip out and another to mend,
A right time to shut up and another to speak up,
A right time to love and another to hate,
A right time to wage war and another to make peace.

Perhaps my winter season is behind me. Perhaps it is I with my back to the camera and staring at the brokedown palace. Perhaps it is the light that is drawing me into a new season of rebirth, planting, construction, laughter, joy, embracing, searching, holding on to, speaking up to and loving the gift of life. A Sort of Homecoming ends with this poetic line, "Oh don't sorrow, no don't weep. For tonight, at last, I am coming home. I am coming home." And where is my home? Perhaps it's found in the comforting words of Jesus, "Put your trust in the light while you have it, so that you may become sons/daughters of light." Perhaps the light is near again.