The Rest at the End of Ourselves

Today I've listened repeatedly to what has to be one of the most beautiful recordings I've ever heard: Mindy Smith and Sola's cover of Antje Duvekot's "Reasonland." (Before you start to feel impressed that I know such obscure singer-songwriters, let me say that I heard this song on a mix CD from Marc Tantillo. Most of my musical "finds" roll downhill from him and Josh Glidden.) If you haven't heard it, the link will take you to a free listen on Grooveshark. Art is always preferable to analysis of art, so if you have to choose between listening to the song or reading this post, listen to the song.

Here are the lyrics for the interested:

In Reasonland the emperor came down

To the water's edge and said, "I don't know where I'm bound

I've got emeralds and rubies sewn into my gown

But I am sadder than the diamonds in my crown

So will you lay me down in a fiddler's cloud

Lay me down to dream

Let my aching head be still, let me surrender to your will

Lay me down and deliver me"

The mighty king came down to the sea

Said, "I may win any battle that I please

I got a hundred-man batallion, they all fall down at my feet

But there’s a songbird who will not sing for me

So will you lay me down in a fiddler's cloud

Lay me down to dream

Let my aching head be still, let me surrender to your will

Lay me down and deliver me

I wanna fly out to your center

I wanna sink down into your gold

I wanna go down without my dagger

I wanna shed these clothes"

The preacher's wife kneeled down by the waves

Said, "For your love and salvation I have prayed

I am a tired tightrope dancer, I wanna go no more this way

Just give me something, a penny for my faith

So will you lay me down in a fiddler's cloud

Lay me down to dream

Let my aching head be still, let me surrender to your will

Lay me down and deliver me

Will you lay me down, won't you lay me down

Lay me down to dream

Let my aching head be still, let me surrender to your will

Lay me down and deliver me"

The song depicts three people at the end of themselves. The emperor has money enough to sew jewels into his clothing, but he can't buy joy. The king has military might enough to defeat all comers, but he can't coerce beauty. The preacher's wife has a reputation of piety, but she has no assurance of God's love. They have wealth, power, and religion, but at the end of themselves, all they really want is rest. In fact, they want a kind of death, a death to their bankrupt existence and a true surrender to the will of another. They're looking for rescue. They've come to the chasm where forward progress stops and only voice can travel. They pray.

Like these pilgrims, we all have to come to the end of ourselves sooner or later. What we really long for can't be bought or forced or faked. We all live east of Eden, and a sword separates us from the home of rest. All our life is striving: we strive after security, we strive after beauty, we strive after an assurance of God's love. And sooner or later, we too must kneel down by the waves and confess that we've come as far as we can, and we can't go as far as we must. We've come up short, and the distance between our ability and our longing must be made up for in grace. Rest must come as a gift, or not at all.

This is a terrifying turn of events for foreigners to the gospel, but for Christians this is the place of provision. In God's kingdom the blessing comes not to the strong and rich, but to the poor in spirit, to the seaside beggars. Grace comes to the humble. We can come to the end of ourselves without fear, because we know that the rest we long for comes not through our striving but through the grace of Christ, who took our burden so we could have his treasure. Jesus meets us at the shore and offers freely joy, beauty, and love that this world can neither offer nor plunder. The pilgrims' prayers are not in vain. For every Christian there is a laying down at the end of our labor. There's a rest at the end of ourselves.