Turn Me To Stone

We learned how to live together again during the pandemic. We’d just moved into our new house in Iowa Colony, TX with plenty of room for guests and family. And when the pandemic hit, four of our five children moved in with us along with our oldest daughter’s partner — and we lived through the pandemic together.

Those were the best hard times ever.

We had plenty of movie nights, back porch meals, and game nights. But we also had lots of arguments, tears, and heartfelt conversations. We also endured The Great Texas Blizzard of 2021.

But soon afterward, our lives would change forever as a new work opportunity moved us to Cheyenne, WY. We quickly sold the house we’d just built. Except for one, all of our children would remain in Texas while Hope and I ventured off into the Mountain West.

Our journey to Cheyenne was revelatory.

We experienced the sadness of farewells and the uncertainty of learning a new place. We rented a house with basement neighbors. We hiked mountains and we found beauty in the high plains of Southeast Wyoming.

But once things settled down in Cheyenne, we quickly realized how precious were those days spent together in our “covid house” in Iowa Colony, TX. Our children were very different people now. We’d raised them, but now they were coming into their own: their own preferences, their own musical tastes, their own biases, their own political ideologies, and their own faith. Their own faith. Rightfully so, as the church of their youth worked diligently to preserve itself by aligning with ever more hyperbolic positions that abandoned the coming and current generations.

As a religion, we’d raised our children with a faith that expected the unseen things to be good and holy. But the more we showed them of ourselves, they began to realize our faith-teachings weren’t very realistic, or weren’t even true at all. Just like Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny, we’d told them untruths about the Church. Jesus says, “Love your enemy and pray for those who persecute you.” But the church too often did the opposite. Wrestling with that realization, I wrote these lyrics:

“Santa Clause” comes in the night and we leave his presents behind

But you, did you come while we were fooling our kids?

When bunny eggs represent life, why are we even surprised

To find that our harmless little lies sow doubt in the God who lives?

I kept wrestling with heartache over my children no longer sharing ‘my’ faith. But the more I turned over that thought, I realized it was more likely me that was disillusioned with the Church. In that moment I identified with Thomas, the disciple who doubted Jesus’ resurrection...and upon seeing Him raised from the dead, Jesus asked him to feel the wounds in His side to confirm it was really Him (John 20:27). But I also identified with the Apostle Paul who was making his way to Damascus (Acts 9) in search of Christians to kill, when the Lord blinded him and convinced him of the Gospel (the good news) of Jesus’ resurrection; of love and forgiveness. I was torn between anger and faith (and still am).

There is a passage in the New Testament gospel of Luke 19 that refers to the inevitability of all things praising the Lord. I’m often reminded of it when I have doubts. Like Jenny, in the movie Forest Gump, who wants to be a bird so she can fly ‘far, far away’, I often want to be turned into a stone so that I will worship the Lord, in spite of the doubts and hyperbole I see all around me.

In Mark 9, there is a story about Jesus healing a man’s son plagued with seizures (I often think of autism when I read this passage). Jesus tells the man that all things are possible to the one who believes. In response, the man says, “I do believe; help my unbelief.” Nothing is as clear cut as the hyperbole we see in the Church and Politics. So I keep saying it to myself, “I do believe, but help my unbelief.”

The song’s chorus is my amalgamated version of John 20:27, Acts 9, Luke 19:40, and Mark 9:24; with my own sentiment at the end:

Blessed are those who believe without feeling the wounds in your side.

But we need Damascus road, blind us so we can have sight. You say the rocks will cry out when no one else blesses the Lord.

I don’t want to loose all my faith, so I’m begging you…turn me to stone.

Returning to the analogy of teaching our children about Santa Clause and the Easter Bunny, only for them to later find out those stories were lies. I come back to the idea of ‘fooling’ our children about the Church, only for them to become disillusioned with it and find other things in which to believe. The poet Bob Dylan sings that, “…you’re gonna have to serve somebody.” And the second line of this verse speaks on a similar theme — we all have a void in our hearts for God, Creator, Science, Knowledge, or Something:

When we had fooled them too long, they searched for god own their own

Sage, diamonds, crystals, and stones filled the void in their hearts

Back to my religious roots, I thought about the moments when God proved Himself to a doubtful people: Moses in the wilderness (Exodus 3), the Israelites in their exodus from Egypt across the sea (Exodus 14), and then the prophet Ezekiel and his vision of the valley of dry bones that God brought back to life (Ezekiel 37):

Do they need a burning bush

Or a river held back

Or a valley of bones brought to life?

Then, in the final verse of the song, I had one final realization. Maybe we all need a moment where God speaks to us all in our own faith-tongue, particularly because the Church has squandered and lost their collective lampposts (Revelation 2:1-7) (e.g., their witness and testimony for the goodness of the gospel of love and forgiveness). God isn’t afraid of our doubts. He isn’t afraid of our questions. And He certainly isn’t afraid of our searching.

Early in the book of Acts (2:3), the disciples were preaching and the Holy Spirit descended upon them like “tongues of fire”. In that moment, everyone heard them preaching in their own native tongues. This moment sparked the birth of the early Church. The inclusivity of this passage is remarkable.

Consider another passage, from John 10:9, when Jesus says, “I am the door. If anyone enters through Me, he will be saved.” That seems pretty exclusive. But Jesus goes on…just seven verses later as a part of the same teaching, He says in verse 16, “I have other sheep, which are not of this fold; I must bring them also, and they will hear My voice; and they will become one flock with one shepherd.” Just like the people hearing the disciples preaching in their own native tongues, I think Jesus will bring the other sheep, not of this ‘fold’ because they, too, will hear His voice.

And another passage from the Old Testament (Numbers 20:6), when the Israelites were thirsty, God commanded Moses to speak to a stone from which water would flow. But Moses struck the stone. This single act of disobedience prevented Moses from entering the Promised Land, but God was still faithful. Water still flowed from the stone. And with all of these thoughts in mind, I wrote this final verse:

Set tongues of fire on the sage and let living water flow from the stones

Let the light of your love outshine any gem they could find on their own

It may be hard to tell, but I believe that God always will and always has made things right. God is good. God is love. And I’m holding onto that, in spite of all my doubts. You can listen to the song here:

https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/jasonlenyerbuchanan/turn-me-to-stone

I have also provided free sheet music for anyone who’d like to play or perform with the song. And if you’d like to receive these blog posts in the future, you can subscribe using the form at the bottom of this page.

Turn Me to Stone.pdf

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