I love this line from the Hays quote I posted earlier.  It sort of sticks a finger in the eye of a Platonic worldview:

Jesus “has cleansed their consciences through the embarrassingly palpable act of sprinkling his own human blood around in the heavenly sanctuary, in the very presence of God.”

As I read back over it a few times, all I could think of was “Head Rolls Off” by Frightened Rabbit.  Especially these lines:

I believe in a house in the clouds

And God’s got His dead friends ‘round

He’s painted all the walls red

To remind them they’re all dead

It’s a bit of an elusive song, but I love its wonder, its sense of mystery, its hope, and its resolve.

What also strikes me most is its blending of cruciformity and mission.  When I speak with people about cruciformity and they’ve not encountered it previously, it inevitably strikes them as passive or escapist.  I think that’s because of the shriveled imagination of our modern world, which is tremendously unfortunate.

As the song says, truly inhabiting our dying in Christ (our being one of God’s dead friends) “isn’t morbid at all.”  In fact, it makes possible a life—and a community—flooded with resurrection power and animated by hope.

And cruciform lives that embody resurrection power are filled with humility.  We take our place in the long train of human experience on this earth, seeking to spread shalom just that much more.  We want to see pain absorbed by relief, conflict overcome with reconciliation, and alienation transformed into embrace.

I just love this tune.  If you find it odd, morbid, or grim, remember they’re a bunch of Scottish lads from Fife.

Here are the lyrics to the entire song:

Jesus is just a Spanish boy’s name

How come one man got so much fame?

And to enemy, it’s pointless to anybody

That doesn’t have faith

Give me the cloth and I’ll wipe my face

 

When it’s all gone, something carries on

And it’s not morbid at all

Just when nature’s had enough of you

When my blood stops, someone else’s will not

When my head rolls off, someone else’s will turn

And while I’m alive, I’ll make tiny changes to earth

 

So you can burn me

‘Cause we’ll all be the same, the same way

Dirt in someone’s eyes cried down the drain

I believe in a house in the clouds

And God’s got His dead friends ‘round

He’s painted all the walls red

To remind them they’re all dead

 

And you know when it’s all gone, something carries on

And it’s not morbid at all

Just when nature’s had enough of you

When my blood stops, someone else’s will not

When my head rolls off, someone else’s will turn

You can mark my words, I’ll make changes to earth

 

While I’m alive, I’ll make tiny changes to earth

Tiny changes to earth, tiny changes to earth

Tiny changes to earth