February 29, 2008

an old man and his wife grow roses


“Roses” by Caedmon’s Call

High above the valley of Quito

An old man and his bride grow roses

Red and yellow, white and golden,

To him they are precious as children

Their daughter, she moved to America

One more break in the Tower of Babel

She has a son that they've never seen at all

They're praying that they raised her well


On the mountain high

They will live and die

As time just slips away

And the children grow

In the God they know

As time just slips away


A man, his bride, his children, and his roses

Planted in faith

And watered in tears

Honey, that's all they have And they're happier here

Than any of my friends back home

They met Jesus and they really know Him


Now I'm back at home

All alone

And I'm trying to find my thoughts

Of that old man so inspiring

And the TV's always on

And the phone, it won't stop ringing

These bills, they keep on screaming

I'm paying for the things We never really need

Wonder what he's doing right now?

Maybe walking through his simple field

Thinking about how

God has blessed him so

A man, his bride, his children, and his roses…

Caedmon’s Call released one of my favorite albums of all time in 2004, "Share the Well", based on their missions experiences the previous year to Ecuador and India. It didn’t hurt that I first heard the album driving through the Nicaraguan mountainside; after I arrived stateside I immediately rushed out and bough the album. I still marvel over the use of instruments from other cultures interspersed with traditional American folk and contemporary pop. The song above, "Roses", is from that album. While I liked the song (I like the entire album), it was not one of my favorites until I played the album for the woman who will become my wife later this year. She loves it, which made me re-listen to it. It is now a song that both inspires and haunts me.

You see, I knew my own “old man” in Nicaragua, Santos Emilio - the man whom I helped deliver Bibles to small houses dotting the mountainside. He was in his late 50s, and had taken off work for a week to help our team and his church – this is huge, as they don’t get vacation benefits in the mountains. He wore a California Angels hat and a Tampa Bay Buccaneers shirt all week. Yet he had such joy as he travelled from house to house, delivering the Word of Truth to his people. I was little more than a mule on these trips, as my gift of gab doesn’t work in a nation that doesn’t speak English. Yet what a happy mule I was! He would take handfuls of books from my backpack, and when he had delivered them all he looked back at me, hungry for more. We couldn’t speak words to each other, but smiles and laughter were all the language we needed.

I never was able to really speak to Emilio; I know nothing about his family save the few moments I smiled at his wife; I’m sure he is human and has difficulties just as I do. Yet in those moments, this song came true. Here was a man, sold out to Christ, lacking the distractions and “to-do” lists that plague so many of our lives. It is as if we have all joined a cult of productivity, attempting to stay afloat in a world that is continually increasing its speed.

Why do we do this? I think it all boils down to our definition of the word “ambition”. We have ambition in many ways because we cannot seem to rest on the laurels of our parents – and sometimes this is a good thing. We pursue innovation, exploration, and creativity. However, we also become trapped in the cycle of trumping those before us out of a fear of being insignificant; our pride will not let us be anything less than excellent at everything.

I’ve posted my goals for 2008 on this site, and I still stand by them. I think it is a good thing to have something to pursue, to improve upon oneself. Yet I can’t help but think of that man and his roses – he is improving on himself, also, growing in love, faith, happiness. My house is a wreck now, with stuff strewn everywhere by a number of events and projects…and I feel as though I wade through garbage, a myriad of things that no longer produce their expected joy. That man has pride, pride in creation, in family, in hope. I know I serve a God who provides such things, who hears me and desires to laugh with me, who wants me to fall in love with Him and His creation and His people. But there are so many distractions…
Maybe I should have an eleventh goal for 2008: to become a humbler, quieter man.

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