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11 April, 2012

Southern drawls and Middle Eastern sandals

Maybe it's just his voice, that scratching, soft voice; strength wrapped in an accent. A voice that, though it is gentle, can be roused to anger or joy.

It may be the difference of hearing it spoken, rather than reading the words.

Whatever it is, it brings the centuries-old Truth to a different light.

How could you not love the Man he speaks of? He sees. Everything and everyone. The Invisible are brought to light and told they matter and they are invited. Those sunburned from the spotlight are told that Reality has a different structure than what they knew.

The long-squelched whispers of hope and longings for justice get just a little louder.

This Man walks the paths of small towns and the highways of the invaders, always moving, always meeting. He comes with power, living and breathing, clothed in the muscles, dust and strength of a Carpenter.

Is it just Johnny's voice that breathes these people into three-dimensional form? How had they become so flattened? How had He become so flat?

This Man looks with compassion, He loves, He invites, and He is blunt at times. "He is not safe, but He is good," as it has been said.

Colored by this voice, this Man is easy to see as one who laughs, eats, wears shoes and sleeps. He is full and He is alive.

As Johnny continues, walking through the week from palms to blood, I'm brought to tears. I think how I would feel if men I know, care for, have spent time with, were made to experience the same? This Man not only had followers, He had friends. He had a mother.

To see, to hear my friend being beaten. Someone I had cooked for, talked with, spent time with...

It's unthinkable.

Is that a tremor in Johnny's voice? It's finished. His friends bury Him. And His mother goes home, the remnants of the yearly celebration no doubt still in sight, her arms and heart empty.

Those days are silent.

But Johnny is not done, and neither is the CD.

Early in the morning - How could it not be? How to sleep, let alone wait for the day to begin? - they returned.

And everything had changed.

How could you not love this Man?