Gospel Road: An Album Review

As Brian Houston’s new album, Gospel Road, opens, I am immediately snapping my fingers and feeling that I must know this song, if only I could remember it. Maybe it’s the Elvisy piano, maybe it’s the oo! oooooohs and deep voiced backing vocals, I don’t know.

I know that the first track, “Glory Glory,” starts out with this simple early Cash-like guitar and then has, what I think of as, this Elvisy piano thing. I could be totally wrong about those two associations but that’s where I go. It definitely makes me want to shimmy and shake, which feels a little shocking given that the lyrics are all about God.

Maybe that’s the cute dichotomy of the song and, in fact, of most of the album; the lyrics are straight out of old time Sunday School but the music is from the dance hall on the Saturday night before. Not that I’m old enough to actually have attended a sock hop, I’m just sayin’. I might have thought I was listening to the soundtrack to The Sand Lot or Stand By Me, which is a compliment since those 2 are set to great music.

The theme of the album is reflected in the opening line.

“Well tonight I feel like God’s favorite/I’m laying down in his arms…”

God’s favorite? OK, can God have a favorite? Apparently he can and, guess what, we’re it. There is a tremendously sweet innocence that goes with resting in God’s arms, assured that you’re his favorite. It’s at once very childish and very mature because it’s foolishly true.

Later this same song says that God is…

“Smilin’ down on me/and all my sins have been forgiven/all my past wiped clean/ oh I, I will lay my burden down.”

It’s this comforting knowledge that allows a person to rest in the feeling of “favorite”. All has been set right. No need to carry a burden. And he loves us. No wonder the overall vibe of the album is unapologetically happy.

The charm of the album is unquestionably this: simple truths set to good music. But let’s not confuse simple with small. Security in God’s accepting love and His ability to see us through the challenges of life are BIG truths. It’s just that they’re put simply on Gospel Road. Whether Houston is talking about love that heals or confidence in the face of these troubled times, his lyrics are not complicated but they are rich.

And, as I said, the music is finger snapping and hip shaking good. Listening to Gospel Road reminds me of watching a film directed by either Ron Howard or Robert Redford, both of whom place high value on a good story told well, by which they mean GOOD ENTERTAINMENT. How the album took me to those associations, I can’t say, except that it’s just that kind of music. It's fun. Yet the truths Houston is crooning about do much more than simply entertain.

The Gospel Road is something entirely different and yet pleasingly familiar. For me, it was a welcome change and a comforting old friend. I love that there is joy and faith and confidence and humility all set to some kind of when-my-dad-was-in-high-school dance music, or church music, or some collision of the two.

You can find it HERE

PS Personal fav: “Sweet Jesus.” This perfectly tender little lullaby of a beauty tells of a heart healed. I’d recommend the album for this one alone. Lucky you that you’ll get 10 other nice ones along with it.

(My review can't be very technically clever. I'm not that smart. The best I can do it talk about how an album makes me feel and what it is I like about it. But then, that's what's important to me :-)

The Famine and Michael

Last night I sat in a Chinese restaurant in East Africa with a group of Californians while cable television beamed Michael Jackson's memorial service above us as we ate our Szechuan Beef. The Tanzanian waiters were attentive, though their real focus was on the screen. We munched our Spring Rolls as I pondered it all...

The memorial service and the entire giant "event" of Jackson's passing, felt both very close and very far. I return to LA every 2 years and I just drove past the Staples Center less than 3 weeks ago on my way to LAX for my flight back to Africa. I can easily imagine the buzzing helicopters overhead, the snarled freeway nightmare of traffic, the way all else seems to be on hold until LA decides to move on again.

But our group of 12 was out for dinner after a day of prep for some days in the wilderness. Byron, my husband, is leading them today into a remote area of Maasai-land on a reconnaissance trip, if you will, to visit different projects we are involved in. The team is on a journey of discovery regarding how they might build involvement in Africa.

Initially, we planned this time to include some interaction with the local church, the local primary school, a well-digging project we have going and a fair trade artisan group we work with. But the April/May rains failed in this area of the country and our friends in this community are now struggling for their lives. There is widespread hunger and the "f" word is now being used regularly. Oh, lest you think we're losing it, the f word in this case is "famine."

Famine. I hate that word. I hate what it does to my friends. I hate the demeaning, ugly reality of lack of food.

As I sat there passing the rice, (with way too much food on our table) I thought about those thousands and thousands of people gathered in LA to honor a celebrity. The service was a mild distraction for us. We star gazed with the rest of the world. "Mariah Carey!" "Queen Latifah!" "Oh... who is that.... Oh! Lionel Richie!" But our hearts weren't into it. At least for Byron and me, our hearts were heavy with the anticipation of what the group might find as they asses the extent of the famine and the plausibility of doing something appropriate, immediate and lasting in response. But the thousands, yea, millions, watching the service weren't thinking of famine. They were grieving a man.

And that's when it hit me...

The millions of people watching that service were totally unaware of famine in northern Tanzania, but they were experiencing famine just the same. The total distraction of millions of people by the death of one terrifically talented, if broken and hurting, man reveals a famine in hearts. There is an aching famine of hope; a powerfully destructive famine of meaning.

I didn't resent the attention given to the death of one man any longer. Instead, I grieved that there is so much devastating famine all around me.

Monday

The morning breaks like a storm over us.
We clasp the rails and look wildly into
Each other's plainly panicked eyes.

Far too much going on for one day;
For one week.

I find myself worried that our bodies
Will be hurt by the pressure.

Teach us again to breathe.
You who designed these lungs,
Show us how to fill them softly.

What is the opposite of "Amp it up"?
Do that inside our hearts.

Departure Day in Review (or I Love Byron)

The final week in the States will probably always remain a blur to me. Looking back on it, I am most thankful for the sweet times shared with friends and family in the midst of the last minute stress and details of leaving.

Every time we do this, every time we leave one continent and head for another, I am thankful all over again for Byron. We have totally different styles of prep. I get nostalgic and weepy and generally un-useful. Byron gets practical and efficient and generally unfriendly. Dang, I love him. He's the reason we arrive with all we need. Whether that be school books for the next year of home school, a chainsaw for some project's needs, an electric piano for a daughter who is head over heels in love with playing, or a fruit dryer for an income generating endeavor for women at risk, we'll have what we need because Byron will have packed it... and packed it well. We would be a mess if the packing were left to me.

Of course, we would go nowhere if the booking of flights and arranging of schedules were left to him so maybe I am a little useful after all.

I don't know how many bazillion hours Byron worked during our final week in California but I do know that he worked from 5am to 5pm on our day of departure. We then left for the airport at 5:05pm.

After getting all 12 large bags checked (and winning points from check-in guy for good organization, leading to an upgrade to nicer seats) Byron collapsed at the gate and slept for about an hour on the floor.

Heather put these Starbursts on his tummy cuz he loves them and because we were spending all our leftover US change at the little shop there.

Byron... I don't know anyone else like him :-)

Settling In

We're home :-)

It will take a while for my heart and mind to catch up with the emotions of it all.

In the mean time, I am struck by simple things we consider normal here that are not a part of our days in Europe or the States.

Here's my short list of things I do regularly that maybe you don't do...

1. Filter the water twice. First round to remove fluoride (highest levels in the world here and will leach calcium from my bones) and second round to remove bacteria.

2. Wash my fruits and veg with slightly bleachy water to kill germs before I put the produce away.

3. Wash hands even before breakfast.

4. Raise a lot of our meat in the form of very cute bunnies. (My apologies to any vegetarian or vegan friends.)

5. Buy fresh/raw milk from a friend and boil it on the stove before letting it cool and putting it in fridge.

6. Consider whether or not I am free to wear trousers depending on what people group I'm going to be with.

7. Bake bread 2 or 3 times a week.

8. Crack each egg I'm going to use into a cup before adding to the bowl of ingredients just in case it's a bad egg. I once had 6 out of 12 eggs hold partially formed dead chicks. Not so fun...

9. Fall asleep on weekends hearing loud outdoor church crusades happening. Wake up early to the Mosque call.

10. Make a thermos of chai for our watchman last thing every night before I go to bed.

Departure Day

Woke up around 4:30a.m. just because I can't sleep and I'm thinking of lots of things.

We leave the house here in Pasadena in 11 hours.

Our flight to London is at 9:15p.m.

So, we fly on Friday night and arrive in London on Saturday afternoon. We sleep there and fly to Nairobi on Sunday morning. We arrive there on Sunday night. We sleep there 2 nights before taking the 6 hour bus ride back to Arusha on Tuesday.

Home on Tuesday.

Nice.

Pain of goodbyes today.

Not so nice.

Lest you think I've vanished...

... It's just that we're in the countdown mayhem of the final 4 days in the U.S.

I will not bore you with everything we're juggling.

I hope to have a chance to catch my breath and reflect a little on this process.

But for now, one more doctor's visit this morning to show my healing nose to the surgeon, one more chance for a little team meeting with Russells as they're here now and we're on our way out, and one more chance for a little date this afternoon with my parents...

Between all these good things today, PACKING (with some panic thrown in.)

We fly on Friday night.

Talk again soon :-)

xx