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Lamentation

by Natalie Kendel

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1.
Like a string sobs are pulled out me. I can’t raise my head it’s too heavy. I try to pray through the anger; it's like trying to sing when you’re drowning. Where are you, God? Where are you, God? You’ve allowed all these cruel things - Do you hear me? This is torture. If it's random are you in control? If you planned it how can you be good? Where are you, God? Where are you, God? You called yourself "Immanuel". You said that you had torn the veil. But most of what I’ve tasted here is not a God who’s being near. My heart is too heavy to raise up to Heaven. So, please, if you’re listening, make yourself known to me.
2.
(1 Kings 19:1-15) So, in my confusion, I stumble through the desert pining for a signal that you’re close and you are there. I seek out the familiar - those high and holy places. In a daze I seek you. Will you come like you did then? But the wind split the rocks above and the mighty earthquake tore the ground… So, I climb Mount Horeb, where you burned a bush for Moses. Upon the ground of Sinai I am haunted by those tales. I figured if I revisit those old, familiar places the God of the heavens might show up like he did then. But the wind split the rocks above and the mighty earthquake tore the ground… Like a fool devising, I thought I could control you: conjure up your presence like puppet on a string. As if the Most High could be captured in a museum! Is he not the Lord of every place and every thing? And the wind split the rocks above and the mighty earthquake tore the ground… It’s easy to build a shrine at the last place or the last time God showed up in your life, like an altar of your own vain design. But God cannot be controlled, nor limited by a manmade mould. But, the one with a voice still and small, he will come and speak again. For the wind split the rocks above. And the mighty earthquake shook the ground. And the fire blazed .... But Lord spoke in a still, small voice. In the silence came his voice.
3.
(Job 2:11-13, Job 13:4-5, Job 42:7-9) Once a man sat down in the ashes, in the dust of all he’d lost. Job bent low, his world in pieces. How to make sense of it? Where was God? Eliphaz, and Bildad, and Zophar - three condolers on the road, come to bring their friend some comfort - offer their sympathy mid the fog. From a distance Job’s friends saw him - hardly recognisable. Weeping loud, they sat in ashes. Speechless they sat for seven days long. On the eighth their silence was broken: said: "What secret sin have you? Nothing happens here for no reason; bad comes to bad men, good to good." Friends who’d come to comfort a sufferer added weight unto his pain. Better they’d remained in silence, thinking they saw the world so plain. Worthless physicians! Oh, that you’d be quiet. Let silence be your wisdom; guard your words where God is silent. Eliphaz and Bildad and Zophar left their friend to journey home, but the Lord he spoke in anger, chiding their blind advice for Job. They were those in need of forgiveness - told to go return to Job, so he’d pray for worthless physicians, offer a sacrifice for their wrong. Worthless physicians! Oh, that you’d be quiet! Let silence be your wisdom; guard your words where God is silent. Do we sin like Job's companions - judging why there’s suffering? God won’t stand misrepesentation. Come, let us learn to be better friends.
4.
(Psalm 56:8, Isaiah 49:15-16) How can we measure the things we’ve lost? Or what our freedom have cost? Too many wounds to calculate; is nobody keeping count? And I can't recapture the person I was before I was robbed by this place. You have kept count of my wanderings; storing my tears in your bottle. Aren’t they recorded, written within your book? My pain is not forgotten; there’s one who’s keeping score. High is the price of our perished parts: our dreams, our childhoods and hearts. Slain is our trust, our belief in love, our vision, self-confidence. And I can’t recover the person I was before I was slaughtered by loss. You have kept count of my wanderings; storing my tears in your bottle. Aren’t they recorded, written within your book? My pain is not forgotten; there’s one who’s keeping score. None of my tears were private; none of the pain is unseen. I needn’t bill my brother, or tally the boundless fee. For he has felt the kiss of betrayal, the burden of grief, the bite of our Hell. He knows the price for innocence lost; it's his right alone to repay the cost. You have kept count of our wanderings, storing our tears in your bottle. Aren't they recorded, written within your hands? Our pain is not forgotten - there’s one who understands. Your pain is not forgotten there's one who understands.
5.
Father Jacob 04:11
(Genesis 32:22-32) Oh, the nights of dark despair: anxious thoughts your only prayers. When you're mind is scattered, lost, as your past claims its cost. Jacob went to be alone, caught in struggles that chilled his bones, and the feeling of being uncertain what lies behind morning's curtain. Father Jacob, once a fraud, struggles for a blessing: wrestles God. So, this stranger wrestled him: hours of a desperate grip. But unable to overpow’r him, the stranger simply touched his hip. Father Jacob, once a fraud, struggles for a blessing: wrestles God. Why is it that we think of struggle as a sign of a lack of faith when the people called to be God's treasure have struggle written into their name? Father Jacob, once a fraud, struggles for a blessing: wrestles God. Father Jacob, once a fraud, struggles for a blessing: Israel. Israel.
6.
(1 Thessalonians 4:13, Romans 7:14-25) We are living canvas at the tension point, caught between the already and not yet. So, no wonder we feel torn. We are living, reeling on the boundary, feeling every spark against the darkness. Here we die and are reborn. So, no wonder we feel torn. Standing where joy and sorrow meet. Living where joy and sorrow meet. We are living right on the periphery; drawn between a Gospel and a war. So, no wonder we feel worn. We embody joy and a catastrophe: this is how we’re living paradoxically. So, no wonder we feel worn. Standing where joy and sorrow meet. Living where joy and sorrow meet. We grieve our dead We feast on hope We’ve lost and we’ve bled We’ve risen in song We’ve felt despair and revelled in peace We’ve waited so long to finally see We've grieved our dead We feast on hope We’ve lost and we’ve bled We’ve risen in song We’ve felt despair and revelled in peace We’ve waited so long to finally see where joy and sorrow meet.
7.
A song written in memory of, and dedicated to, pastor Andrew Davis, who fell asleep in Dec 2019. We'll see you in our Father's house. -------------------------------- (John 14:2, 3) Many soldier’s fallen on the battle field, many of our loved ones now sleep, many friends have left behind a hole we cannot fill. Many are the tears we shed in mourning, many are the times we have yearned, many are the days when a thieving flame has burned. But We don’t say goodbye; we say: "See you soon". With Jesus ‘round the corner, the wait will soon be done. And though you sleep a while you’ll wake a better day. And we don’t have to stay apart, ‘cause he’s never late. And we’ll meet you in our Father’s house. Many are the rooms he has prepared us, many are the days that lie ahead, many are the joys we can’t imagine till death is dead. And We don’t say goodbye; we say: "See you soon". With Jesus ‘round the corner, the wait will soon be done. And though you sleep a while you’ll wake a better day. And we don’t have to stay apart, ‘cause he’s never late. And we’ll meet you in our Father’s house. Oh, what a reunion: What a feast of joy we'll have! Your race is run, and Jesus won so I’ll see you at the end; we’ll see you at the beginning We don’t say goodbye; we say: "See you soon". With Jesus ‘round the corner, the wait will soon be done. And though you sleep a while you’ll wake a better day. And we don’t have to stay apart, ‘cause he’s never late. We'll see you in our Father's See you with our Father And we’ll see you in our Father’s house.
8.
Tyrant 05:05
How many times I’ve sat in pews and seen this scene play out: someone opens up their heart and decides to share a doubt... But swiftly they are pushed aside, assumed to lack in faith; their honesty is remedied by the zeal of holy shame. But if we stifle every doubt, and banish every question, and push the problems out, we have robbed ourselves - a vital truth is missed - that God himself makes room for this. And therein lies the twist: a tyrant wouldn’t stand for it! A tyrant doesn’t welcome serfs to question or complain. He doesn’t let them criticise his decisions or his reign. Do we inflict our own taboo - a sense that it is sin? When others question God are we misrepresenting him? For if we stifle every doubt, and banish every question, and push the problems out, we have robbed ourselves - a vital truth is missed - That God himself makes room for this. And therein lies the twist: a tyrant wouldn’t stand for it! The fact that short-sighted, imperfect, foolish beings can complain to an all-seeing God is confounding! He is not a tyrant king; he listens and he cares. His goodness is revealed in the very fact we can dissent. The Psalmist King he knew this well, the prophets knew it too; how many pounded on their chest and lamented loud to you! So, if we stifle every doubt, and banish every question, and push the problems out, we have robbed ourselves - a vital truth is missed - that God himself makes room for this. And therein lies the twist (Don’t you miss it, now) Therein lies the twist: that a tyrant wouldn't stand for it!
9.
Once was a man who was deep in pain, struggling through his life. And in his trouble he turned to God, master of his life. "God, will you help me? Please, will you help me!" earnestly prayed the man to God. "God, will you help me?" Please, will you help me! Please, will you send me help, oh God." Later that evening a knock was heard on the man’s front door. There stood a friend who had come to call, and he spoke as so: "Friend, may I help you? Here, may I help you? Brother, I’m here to help now. Friend, may I help you? Here, may I help you? Brother, I'm here to help you now." But said the man as he shook his head: “No, I must decline. For I am waiting upon the Lord: must not depend on man.” "See, I am waiting, here I am waiting. I put my hope in God alone. See, I am waiting, still I am waiting. I must depend on God alone." And so the man turned his friend away, and he returned to his prayers.
10.
(Instrumental)
11.
(Romans 8:19-23, Jeremiah 12:4. Genesis 1:27-30) Earth, on its tender, weary turning, prey of the derelict custodians, stage of a warfare, long oppressing, longs for the day of restoration. All Creation groans - this the burden of the Hope. And like children of the Lord, all Creation groans. Those who were charged to care for his nature now strip its wealth and we pollute its seas. And so this hostage sighs in misery, all that was good now in captivity. All Creation groans - this the burden of the Hope. And like children of the Lord, all Creation groans. God will liberate Creation from its bondage to decay and sin, bringing it into that very freedom he is bringing to his children. All Creation groans - this the burden of the Hope. And like children of the Lord, all Creation groans. All of Creation, like us, is groaning: cries like a mother in her labour pains. We are the first fruits, children adopted, We are the markers of a coming age. All Creation groans - this the burden of the Hope. And like children of the Lord, all Creation groans.
12.
Based on a chapter from John Bunyan's book, "Pilgrim's Progress", in which two pilgrims, called Christian and Hopeful, are captured by a Giant name Despair, and taken prisoners, kept in his castle's dungeon. ____________________________________ Once a castle dark and grim stood by the pathway’s border. There a giant named Despair lived in the castle yonder. And Despair would often snatch pilgrims who would travel past his land. Came two pilgrims on the way - Christian and Hopeful. Lost their way, were captured there, into the Giant’s clutches. So, Despair he drove down deep into his castle’s dreary dungeons. There they sat in chains for days, Christian and Hopeful. Starved of light and food and air, beaten, bruised, and woeful. Christian was weighed down low, caught under a crushing sorrow. Christian was tempted soon there to end his suffering, for the giant brought a knife, willing their self-destruction. But to Christian Hopeful said: "Our lives are not Despair’s: he shall never have them!" Hopeful lifted up his friend down in Despair’s dungeons. Faithful a companion, like a light in darkness. And, though Christian was in pain, Hopeful’s friendship carried him. This the power of a friend who sits at our side in dungeons. Then did Christian yet recall the key in his possession. He the Key of Promise grasped, opening that dungeon. Thus the pilgrims did escape - flew from Despair’s castle. Blessed is the faithful friend who will hold on till the end, till we find the Key of Promise.
13.
Dragonslayer 01:58
Oh God, how long? Oh God, how long till our corrupted hearts are won? Oh God, how long? Oh God, how long? How long until this night is done? There be dragons here to slay, Dragonslayer! Dragonslayer Dragonslayer
14.
Based on the German, Lutheran hymn from 1712, translated: "Jesus I Long For Thy Blessed Communion". Lyrics rewritten by Natalie Kendel. __________________________________________ Jesus, I long for your coming communion,
 Hunger for you fills my heart and my mind. 
Free me from all that could hinder our union
. May I to you, my Beginning, be joined. 
Show me more clearly my helpless condition. 
Show me the depth of corruption inside
, So that my heart may reach out for your saving: 
Broken and battered, collapse in your arms. Jesus, come strengthen your justice within me,
 That I may learn what your Spirit can do
. Captivate every moment and win me. 
Lead me and guide me my whole journey through. 
All that I am and possess are your assets; 
Even my breath is your Ruach in me. 
You, who gave all of yourself as a promise, 
Let me now learn as a child at your feet. Jesus you welcome us: “Come now and follow!” Even the crumbs from your table's a feast. I like the Canaanite woman unresting, cry after you though I am the least. You clothe the naked with clothes for a wedding, You greet the outsider like it's their right. Lord, you have tied up yourself to humanity: woven with bonds that no power can break. Let us, Immanuel, soon be united! You fully see me, and yet you persist
. Jesus, your voice is the trumpet of freedom, 
calling my heart with your kindness, not fear. You guard the gift of humanity's free will - You have refused to infringe on that right. Lord, in your eyes we will find no rejection For your commitment stands firm in the night. And our communion will finish this night.
15.
This song marks the end of the first part of this double album. It is an interlude song challenging the common saying that "All good things must end." __________________________ They say: "Death is part of life." They say: "All good things must end." But, in a world of rust and good-byes, there’s an opposing narrative: All good things must come to pass, and all that’s false must fail. We may be in the Shadowlands, but the dawn will demand to break. And the wrong will have to pass away, for Good Himself won’t fail. All that’s real will be revealed, and every good thing must come to pass. They say that nothing here will last: that all we have is today. But there is coming another time to cast the shadows away. ‘Cause all good things must come to pass, and all that’s false must fail. We may be in the Shadowlands, but the dawn will demand to break. And the wrong will have to pass away for Good Himself won’t fail. All that’s real will be revealed, and every good thing must come to pass Those thing we know, our familiar pain, like death, decay, and good- byes, they’re gonna all be washed away by the kindest of eyes. And all good things must come to pass as all that’s false must fail. We may be in the Shadowlands but the dawn will demand to break! And the wrong will have to pass away for Good Himself won’t fail. All that’s real will be revealed, and every good thing - Yes, every good! - Every good thing must come to pass.
16.
This song is the first track of the second part of this double album. It is the second song of lamentation. It is based on Psalm 119:81, 22:6. _____________________________ I'm a desert in the morning, and a beggar at night, and Jesus is an absent friend - a casualty of this fight. Sorrow’s struck its arrow true: it pushes through my chest. Hope lies dead among the ruins. I’m half alive at best. My soul it faints with longing for your salvation. Fear has poisoned every well of joy. And I don’t seem to grow, I’m just growing old. I’m a worm and not a man, a walking groan. And my sighs become my food, the pit my home. My soul it faints with longing for your salvation. Wretched, raw, and empty, my days melt into one. With every pang my trust is stripped; I have no strength to bolster it. All I have is trouble. All I have is trouble. My soul it faints with longing for your salvation. Longing for your salvation.
17.
(John 6:22-69) The Rabbi crossed Capernaum’s waves, the crowd it followed ‘cross the lake, and on the other side he spoke a lesson: You come to me and look for signs, and yet behold me with your eyes - I’m the sign, the bread that’s come from Heaven. The crowd it grumbled, many left because of what the Rabbi said. They’d come to look for works like days of Moses. They’d come to see a miracle, and missed the greatest of them all. Refused to trust the bread which God had sent them. Where else would we go? No other place I know. You have the words of life, my Lord. There is no truer truth, no other substitute. Where would I go now that I’ve met you? And Jesus turned to ask the twelve: "Don’t you want to leave as well?" But Peter said: "To whom we go?" And I too have asked for signs: my hunger to be satisfied; Proof that God is with me as I look him in the eye. Where else would I go? No other place I know. You have the words of life, my Lord. There is no truer truth, no other substitute. Where would I go now that I’ve met you? Where else would we go? No other place we know. You have the words of life, my Lord. There is no truer truth, no other substitute. Where would I go now that I’ve met you? Where would I go now that I've met you?
18.
In sections of Christian religious contingents, the terminology used to reference the suffering and death of Jesus at Passover is: "The Passion of Jesus". This is, however, not the way this term is used in this song, as I don't hold the belief that any other human shared or shares in the sacrifice Jesus made in his death. We cannot earn salvation, or holiness through suffering. God is the only who could successfully make that sacrifice. However, those who follow Jesus do share, and are invited to share, in his passion for people, for justice, for his kingdom's values, for mercy, for kindness, for the marginalised, and for showing compassion. And it is choosing this passion which often leads to heartbreak, suffering, and conflict, as these things are met with opposition and affliction in our present world. Much of the time, the adversity which comes from following Jesus doesn't seem heroic, exciting, or gallant to the person experiencing it. Sometimes it doesn't feel like riding courageously into battle; it feels pointless and empty. However, as the apostles wrote to the early churches, this is what happens when light enters the darkness - there will be push-back. We can be comforted by sharing in Jesus' passions doesn't make us failures, but rather, we might receive similar blowbacks because of their enduring relevance and potency. ____________________________________________________ (Romans 8:17, 1 Peter 3:12-13, Matthew 16:24) I am no hero, live no champion’s task fulfilled I wave no banner, make no last stand on a hill. I am no suffering martyr, laying it down for a cause. It seems an empty, pointless pain that swallows me up like a fog. But, perhaps this is sharing in the passion of Jesus. This seems no faith-refining trial no crucible. I am not strengthened by this trouble, no conquerer. For grief it feels like a millstone dragging me down to the depths. It leaves me wounded, disheartened: What point is there to all of this? But perhaps this is sharing in the passion of Jesus Our lives are shaken by the fallout of a war. But pain can seem to strike at random with no goal. It doesn’t feel like I’m struggling for any reason or cause. I do not bravely die for faith - my faith is what’s dying off. But perhaps this is sharing in the passion of Jesus.
19.
Jesus Wept 05:33
(John 11, Ecclesiastes 3:4) Mary and Martha sent word to the Lord (Oh) "Come, for the one whom you love’s fallen ill." (Oh) But before the resurrection, and before the joy ahead - Jesus knew he went to raise him, but before this Jesus wept. "Lord, if you’d been here he would not have died." (Oh) "But what you ask, I know, God will reply." (Oh) But before the resurrection, and before the joy ahead - Jesus knew he went to raise him yet before this Jesus wept. We too are living in hope on this day (Oh) that Jesus will raise all who’ve passed away. (Oh) But the hope which guards the future doesn’t cancel out the now So in empathy and sorrow like our Lord we too weep now For before the resurrection And beside the joy we keep We in empathy and sorrow like our Lord we too may weep So in empathy and sorrow, like our Jesus, we too may weep.
20.
(Matthew 27:46) The Word became a cry as he drank the cup and in every drop refused to give us up. And Heaven's darling felt the stab of feeling left: abandoned in the dark, and swallowed up by death. Why, oh God have you forsaken me? Eli Eli Lama Sabachthani Though Jesus took our guilty place the Father never turned his face. The Godhead never split apart that day, but it sure felt that way. The Word became a cry as he drank the cup. With that bitter wine he gave his spirit up. Despair brought down its fists upon that humble chest. The walls were closing in before his day of rest. Why, oh why have you forsaken me? Eli Eli Lama Sabachthani Though Jesus took our guilty place the Father never turned his face. Of course the son was never left that day, but it sure felt that way The word it says he'll never leave us, nor forsake, just as he never left his Son that dreadful day. The Lord's despair was feeling left, though never left, and we too know the choking sense of feeling this. God, oh God have you forsaken me? Eli Eli Lama Sabachthani If we're his and of his flesh he cannot separate himself; the Father never turns his face away, but at times - Jesus can relate - it can sure feel that way.
21.
(Isaiah 53:3) I have sat down in the dirt of my anguish, felt the grip of despair 'round my neck. Others frown at the ash, my ripped clothing; their discomfort has turned their care to dread. So loneliness only adds to the load I bear. Man of Sorrows, my Lord, you too know this load, and you see me. Everything that this world breaks you've felt upon your own skin. Who better than Jesus to understand? I have walked with the world's weight on my shoulders and you know for you carried it on yours. Others turn when they come to see my suffering, but your eyes never fall from who is yours. This poison burns as I drink it down - you know - you drained the cup. Man of Sorrows, my Lord, you too know this road, and you see me. Everything that this world breaks you've felt upon your own skin. Who better than Jesus to understand? When friends run scared, and the darkness closes in... Man of Sorrows - my joy! you too know this load, and you see me. Everything that this world breaks you've felt upon your own skin. Who better than Jesus to understand? Everything that this world breaks you've felt upon your own skin. Who better than Jesus to understand? Who better than Jesus to understand.
22.
Addicted 03:33
"Addiction", by Kursegesagt: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C8AHODc6phg _______________________ In a bar or in office, in a suit or dressed in rags, there’s a hundred thousand people who are wrestling with their past. There’s a hundred different ways just to get us through the day, and we all can get addicted to the things that numb the pain. Tell me, isn’t it ironic how society will deem certain victims as illicit while the others are acclaimed? Some casualties look thriving, others thrown into a cage, but we all can get addicted to the things that numb the pain. And you needn’t use a needle or pills to qualify; all our coping mechanism are a symptom of a cry. For the trauma fuels addiction, and addiction fuels the ache, and we all can get addicted to the things that numb the pain. Humour, attention, needing to be liked, reaching perfection, or looking for fights, some stay busy, some hurt themselves, adrenaline junkies, obsessed with health, building your brand, needing people around, feasting on any thrill to be found, needing to constantly to be entertained, sex, popularity, cycles of shame. All us hurting, desperate people we don’t need to be exiled - to segregate the hurters, expelled, or driven out. For the opposite to addiction isn’t isolation, no: connection is the answer, and a better antidote. For we all can get addicted to the things that hurt us so.
23.
Empathy 06:10
(Galatians 6:2) "Empathy", by Brené Brown: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Evwgu369Jw _________________________________ Fracture our indifference into a thousand pieces, scatter them unto your Holy Wind, that we may never gather, nor ever reassemble, this apathetic tribute to Hell. Through this tinted spyglass, these gospel-lenses, I see we’re connected - that I am not alone. We were made to discover the plight of our brother, our sister’s burdens are ours to bear as well. 
Hatred is divisive, and selfishness a prison: narrowing my care to me alone. And, oh, it so easy to buy into that fiction: that caring less and less is a better choice. But If we choose the courage to let our ears be open, to listen to each other with intent to understand - not assuming, or projecting, or even sympathising, but choosing to be loving to dare to empathise. 

We’ll rejoice with those who rejoice We will weep with those who mourn Fracture our indifference into a thousand pieces, and grow our empathy.
24.
Facebook 03:51
Time to log on to the platform again, and pretend this is me, and pretend you're my friend. Time to perform on a stage that’s a mask, and our pain remains private - you won’t see me crack. Smiling faces, going places, ticking boxes on Facebook. I don’t struggle, have no trouble, will you like me on Facebook? Hey, look at me! - I just earned a degree. Got a ring, so happy, jogged a mile in the rain. Look at me living a life our society’s deemed as acceptable - am i okay? Smiling faces, going places, we're all competing on Facebook. There's no struggle - we just hustle. Do you like me on Facebook? Sometimes I wonder if I am the only one feeling like I am not winning at life. All of those landmark occasions equating success are beyond me - I’ve fallen behind! Quick, let me post: #loving life Smiling faces, going places. We’re all pretending on Facebook. I don’t struggle - I just hustle. Do you like me on Facebook? Hidden faces, secret places, 'cause life is never like Facebook. Private struggles, censored battles: there’s a truth beyond facebook.
25.
Stigma 03:38
Stigma, it's the second wave of pain
, an injury inflicted on a wound already there - the isolation following the lonely: Stigma. Stigma, its illiterate and blind: the offspring of a willingness for prejudice and pride. It’s a runoff of uninformed opinions: Stigma. And we all add a weight to the weight of a cross someone already bears in the midst of us. Oh, stigma. Stigma - the harmless little jokes perpetuated by a sea of ordinary folk. Hatred it sustains discrimination. Stigma. Oh, we must remedy this Hellish parody, and call it out by name, for many are the hands which raised this monument to shame. Stigma from people we call friends, politicians, family, and even our physicians; it’s a vicious and veiled persecution, Stigma.
26.
Big Enough 02:49
(Isaiah 41:10) Is not God big enough to receive the doubt in us? Can’t his presence room all human pain? Is not truth true enough to survive the lies in us? So, whatever you may bring, God is big enough. Is not God big enough to receive the fear in us? Can’t his heart accept a stumbling faith? Is not he strong enough to forgive the sin in us? So, whatever you may bring, God is big enough. Are our questions threats to Answer Himself? Could we bring a thing to him that would overreach his love? Is not God big enough to receive the dark in us? Can’t his light envelop any shade? Is not he Life enough to reverse the death in us? So, whatever you may bring, God is big enough. He is big enough.
27.
Fear has wrapped its coils around my thinking: painting God as threatening and hard. But threat of punishment’s a poor incentive to trust another with your life and heart. And I am drawn to you just like to an whisper - the power of a voice that needn’t shout. It is your kindness that leads me to repentance, your loving patience makes room. And when my eyes are opened to see the one called Jesus, that’s when my heart is stirred in me move t’wards you. Men have tried to share you through their methods: wielding fear like weapons set to cut. But Jesus kingdom doesn’t spread through hatred, or separating everyone from ‘us’. And I am drawn to you just like a fire, spilling warmth and passion from your heart. It is your kindness that leads me to repentance, your loving patience makes room. And when my eyes are opened to see the one called Jesus, that’s when my heart is stirred in me move t’wards you. He defends the free will of his enemies: to let them choose he fought to the death. And those who would be followers of Jesus must follow in his steps... Kindness leads us to repentance, and it's your patience that makes room. And when our eyes are opened to see the one called Jesus, that’s when our heart is stirred in us move Is when my heart is stirred in me to move t’wards you.
28.
Even If 04:24
(Daniel 3:16-18) The furnace burns - the heat of choices. We’re facing crisis: a breaking point. I do not know if God will answer the way I’m hoping that he does. But even if, even if, he doesn’t move his hand, quell the flame, like Daniel’s friends, help me stand - to have the kind of faith that says: "Even if." The God we serve he can deliver from all evil, the wrath of kings. The Lord, we owe him our allegiance; we pledge to only bow to him. But even if, even if, he doesn’t move his hand, quell the flame, like Daniel’s friends, help me stand - to have the kind of faith that says: "Even if." Spark in me an even-if faith for you are loyal in an even-if way. And we won’t stand on the quality of our loyalty, but on yours. Even if, even if he doesn’t move his hand, quell the flames, like Daniel’s friends help us stand: to choose the kind of faith that says: "Even if." Even if, even if he doesn’t move his hand, quell the flames, like Daniel’s friends help us stand: to choose the kind of faith that says: "Even if."
29.
(Lamentations 3) I have seen affliction, hardship is my lot. I have been the target of the arrows from the bow. And my prayer’s unanswered, though I shout and cry. Enemies surround me. I have been so peace-deprived. Yet still I dare to hope when i remember this: the faithful love of God it never ends. His mercies never cease, and every dawn they’re new. The Lord is my inheritance, the one who is my due. I will wait in quiet for the Lord to come and save. I will seek his presence even from an early age. And though my paths are crooked, been the prey of the hunt, even though I’ve been the laughingstock the one they all insult Yet still I dare to hope when i remember this: the faithful love of God it never ends. His mercies never cease, and every dawn they’re new. The Lord is my inheritance, the one who is my due. For no one is abandoned by the Lord. He does not relish in the our sorrow. And night will never last, the dawn will come, because of the greatness of his love. Yet still I dare to hope when i remember this: the faithful love of God it never ends. His mercies never cease, and every dawn they’re new. The Lord is my inheritance, the one who is my due. The Lord is my inheritance, the one who is my due. Yet still I dare to hope.

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A double-album by theologian, Natalie Kendel, exploring the topic of lamentation in the Bible, and in our lives.

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released May 1, 2020

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Natalie Kendel England, UK

Theologian, Natalie Kendel, is a singer-songwriter, author, pastor, and theological lecturer.

Using an imaginative, narrative approach, Kendel aims to musically communicate the biblical narrative.

Kendel's music is influenced by folk, orchestral, neo-80s & various genre blends. With unique lyrics and theological depth, her music evokes a rallying listening experience.
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