He is a boy, a real boy . . . of that I am sure
Only sixteen, with all the baggage that age will allow
"What is the code of conduct?" he asks.
Can you answer him?
The Singer of the Universe
Gave the gift of music to this child
And to this generation with very different views . . . again
"What is the code?" he asks once more.
And like the parents of Paramore's members
We have spawned a musician
Proud? Of course. A tall, slender drummer boy
His jeans stained with blood from fingers clutching and banging wooden sticks
"A cherished accomplishment," he says.
Does he believe in Jesus?
Absolutely . . . but the music? Not heard in "proper" churches.
He is broken, I know
On a path that will be his own . . . it's a scary path, but a good and narrow one
He'll be all right
God is there.
I hear my child sing . . .
A thousand miles away from you
A broken mess, just scattered pieces of who I am
I tried so hard
Thought I could do this on my own
I've lost so much along the way
Then I'll see your face
I know I'm finally yours
I find everything I thought I lost before
You call my name
I come to you in pieces
So you can make me whole
Lyrics by Red
Who is the Singer of your life?
Remember Son, "Being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus" (Philippians 1:6).