So last Friday night, my brother-in-law Josh and I finished recording our long awaited version of “Dr. Seuss’ ABC Blues.”  It was a riot and a lot of fun.  Anyways, I thought instead of descibing it I would just post a link to it so you could experience it yourself.  Click here to listen!

In the beginning of Red Moon Rising, as Peter Greig is trying to tell the story about how he stumbled onto the prayer movement, he quotes Nietzsche, an atheist, who was reflecting on what truly matters in life.  Again, Nietzsche denied the idea that any god ever existed, but God in His mercy decided to give to him this one staggering statement:

“The essential thing in heaven and earth is . . . that there should be long obedience in the same direction; there thereby results, and has always resulted in the long run, something which has made life worth living.”

Suddenly I find myself in a giant hall.  Surrounding me are thousands of young people, battered, bruised, and broken.  Then suddenly I hear a voice: “What am I bid?”

A young girl stands out before the crowd of leering, sneering men.  “What am I bid for this piece of flesh?” 

The men start to cheer and chant figures: “Ten,” “Twenty,” “Fifty,” “One hundred.”

What can I do, God?

I start to bid.  I have to save her.  The cost comes huge, and I begin to waver.  Can I afford this?  What price will I pay? 

The dream stops. 

I’m alone again, but the faces are real enough: Sarah being sold into prostitution; Mike with a revolver in his mouth; Kat covered in cuts and bruises; John falling into crime; Laura alone and desperate; Steve, heroin needle bulging in his vein.

What am I bid?

The voice shatters the silence.  The auction is on again.  The bidding has begun.  It continues day and night until the end.  Most of the bidders desire only use and abuse.  Satan drives them on.

And so I find myself in the auction.  Will I watch or will I bid?  The price of a single life is huge.  The currency is prayer.  The cost is massive but the prize is glorious.  A life for a life. 

What am I bid?

Written late one night in
Redding, U.K. Boiler Room.