Who are you? (according to the Couting Crows)

Who are you?  When the lights are faded and it’s just you.  When all the world grows quiet and the crickets sing your soul’s song.  Who are you?

‘We all want something beautiful. I wish I was beautiful.’

Are you beautiful?  When the stars dance their dance, are you at the center of it all?  When the lights are faded and the noise is off, are you beautiful?  Who are you, oh woman?  Oh man?  Oh child, created in the image of God?

‘Believe in me. Help me believe in anything. I want to be someone who believes.’

Can I believe in you?  Have you given your life to something more than this fast food, tv dinner, soap opera world?  Are you of value?  Beyond your flesh and bone and sinews…is there something there?

‘Smiling in the bright lights. Coming through in stereo. When everybody loves you, you can never be lonely.’

Are you lovable?  At your core, are you worth loving?  Why?  Who are you?  Who are you to make such a claim that you are lovable, oh man?  Oh woman?  Is it you that makes your life of value?  Is it you that calls forth the sun to shine?

‘When I look at the television, I want to see me staring right back at me. We all want to be big stars, but we don’t know why and we don’t know how. But when everybody loves me, I’m going to be just about as happy as can be.’

Are you grasping, oh child?  Grasping for the fading lights?  Grasping for the fortune and fame?  Grasping for that which leaves you dead, lifeless, and lost?  Clinging to the star machine?  Hoping to be loved for who you are not?

Perhaps there is another way.  A way which leads to light, not of your own merit but that of the creator.  The Creator.  THE CREATOR.  That which breathes life into you, oh man.  That which animates your beauty, oh woman.  That which give you worth, oh child.


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