Hi, friends … This is a “song skeleton” … but I like the basics. Suggestions welcome. Look Up - Capo 2 VERSE 1: G Look up and see the mountains C2 And know that they shall stand. D Consider their foundations Em D Established by his hand. G All things must work together C2 As he ordains above. D Unshakeable his purpose Em D Unchangeable his love. TURN: C Em So lift your wea - ry head … D Look up. CHORUS: G C D Dsus D No throne … is higher than his G Am D Dsus D No triumph … is greater than his G Em D Dsus D No trouble … is too great for him G Look up. VERSE 2: G Look up from where you’ve fallen C2 Behold where Jesus stands. D Consider your salvation Em D And see his nail-scarred hands. G Your failures have been covered C2 Completely by his blood. D No one can separate you Em D From his eternal love. TURN: C Em So lift your wea - ry head … D Look up.

What if we tried a lunch meet up at 12pm CT someday? How would that work for you?

Hey all, I thought it could be fun to kick off a monthly challenge with these last few days of the month. So here’s the idea: Post either lyrics only or a melody without lyrics. Then anyone who wants to can co-write to your idea by either giving your lyrics a melody or your melody some lyrics. Have fun!!

Hi friends, I wrote this poem. I’m not sure if it needs music, but thought I’d share in case it serves anyone. I thought there were some cool ideas in here. Thanks! Grave Robbery: Two nights ago, they killed him — I laid him in the hallowed earth, But took my sorrow back with me. I rise, red-eyed, to face this dawn. I’ll go to weep a little bit. Perhaps … to heal my wounded soul. … My feet draw near with reverent pace. But then my heart stands still. My blood runs cold! A blackness yawns before my eyes. It’s been disturbed! I gasp --- Grave robbery!? … Red eyes see red! To steal the dead!? What monster could disturb a tomb? Perhaps it’s some mistake, I think And whirl about. Did no one see? … I chase him down -- the groundskeeper! Perhaps he knows? He turns to me. His eyes meet mine and as they do, mine open wide! My heart - not dead? - bursts from the womb! … What seemed a nightmare slithers off! Death slips its grip! Its fangs are drawn! My King has stolen joy from Death, For Death itself has been despoiled! … The vanquished stands victorious! And Horror’s dearest plans are foiled! The Son has risen with the sun! And wears no shroud, clothed in the dawn! … For in one instant, all has changed. And with a twinkle in his eye, He looks at me. I have not lost and never will. He takes my hand to lead me forth Away from grief. … We step into the light of day As clouds, like banners, fill the sky. I know belief. We leave behind an empty tomb as we go out, Rejoicing in … Grave robbery!

Hebrews 12:1-15 The Wall. The mythical barrier that runners in long-distance races all know. The point at which your own resources are exhausted and you have only two choices — quit or find another source of strength. It’s fitting that the author of the Book of Hebrews frames his exhortation in the context of a race, a contest, a struggle. Lay aside every weight. Look to the author of our faith. Consider his example and endurance. Don’t quit too soon. Like a runner reminding himself of why he runs, these thoughts pound down one after another, step upon step, and heartbeat by heartbeat. Now comes the reframing. This is the answer to the heartcry of “why is this so hard???” “My son, do not regard lightly the discipline of the LORD nor be weary when reproved by him. For the LORD disciplines the one he loves, and chastises every son whom he receives.” Change the story, change the meaning of the moment. To be left without discipline is to be abandoned. The correction is the Father’s loving shaping of my soul into the person that he knows I am to be. “He disciplines us for our good, that we may share his holiness.” Without this, we cannot truly enter into the joy of our LORD. I find reflections and echoes of this as I seek to write. I am surrounded by so many voices. I have grown up on the stories of others who have come before me. I am invited to join the choir and to add my voice to theirs — not to set any records or impress anyone, but just so that there will be one more voice in that great chorus. I am not the Author. He is. I am a witness to the work that he has done in the story that he is telling through my small life. He is both the founder and the perfecter of my faith. When I write, it’s to tell his stories, not my own. I am not going through anything new. Do I feel hostility toward me from others? He endured far more. Do I feel rejection? Even Peter betrayed him. Do I feel alone. He truly was. Do I find the journey hard? Try carrying your own means of execution sometime.