Well this doesn’t seem like it needs any explanation.
Posts by Megan Webb:
Through a recent conversation with one of my most beloved friends, Julianna, I have rediscovered the incredible musician, Austin Crane. I stumbled upon his unique voice and lyrical stories during my year at North Greenville University, where new friends were opening me up to an endless world of fantastic music. Much of my taste and writing style for music now is the result of that year, so thanks you guys. I mean, who knew that allowing Randal Rainey to convince me into going to a Divide the Sea show would spawn my deep appreciation and love for heavier music and ultimately allow me to meet the man I’m married to today? I love it.
Anyways, the first time I saw him perform live was at Leopard Forest in Travelers Rest, the place where I discovered chocolate covered espresso beans (how did I manage to grow up in Miami and still be so sheltered?)
He sat down in a chair in the front of the room and started playing his acoustic guitar, and then opened his mouth. The voice that came out astounded me, because at that point, most of the male voices I was accustomed to resembled that of Yellowcard, Five Iron Frenzy and Usher. Whew.
I immediately fell into the story that was his set list that night, and I was sold. I grabbed his cd and my friend Bethany and I listened to it for months.
Julianna saw him live some weeks back, and was telling me about his lyrical writings through Genesis. Here’s a portion of the lyrics from the Valley Maker’s song, Cain and Abel:
You don’t know why
The hands do what they do
Was it a split decision?
Or was it laid out for you
Within your composition
Were you only true?
You are a violent man
Were you the first to choose?
Are you forgiven?
He put a mark on you
This really resonates with me. So far, 2013 has been all about these questions, over and over spinning around in my head and heart. Not necessarily for Cain, but for myself and the people I love. I can appreciate a musician brave enough to write a song about the unwritten parts in between the lines of the stories that I, as a believer, say that I subscribe to. What were these stories of old really about? What, besides the most obvious of truths, is God trying to show me that I miss on a daily basis?
Here’s the song. Give it a listen, and feel free to share your thoughts (in a respectful manner, of course).
I’ve felt the dry heat of hell
Nipping violently at my heals
On the darkest nights of my barely lived life
When my sin is no longer concealed
Disintegrating right off my brittle bones
Like the rust on an old automobile
Laid out prostrate and not a single tear left
Now the light can finally do a skin peel
Making its way through all the cracks and valleys
Breaking up habits congealed
Finding its way to the root of my mess
A feeling that’s almost unreal
Attacking my sludge-covered heart like an untamed lion
Squeezing that evil until it squeals
Bleeding the death right out of my tendons
The tomb I was in unsealed
Twisting and blending, what excruciating pain
As the lion devours His meal
Torn apart, massacred, and gracefully broken
I am ready and willing to heal.
“Safe? Who said anything about safe? ‘Course he isn’t safe. But He’s good. He’s the king, I tell you.”