The Lion Came Down

Every song has a backstory, some more important than others. To me, the lead up to the events chronicled in The Lion Came Down are essential.

It was 10 years ago this summer. At the time, I was on the Board of Directors of the church body where Christ called me to himself at the age of 33. There was a national convention coming up and before I could say—wait, what?— the Board chose me to be their delegate.

There were several reasons I didn’t want to go: I don’t like church politics, I don’t like spending long days in cavernous rooms filled with nothing but men—especially men who don’t believe that women should be able to speak. But mainly, I didn’t want to go for the very reason they wanted me there: because I was known for speaking truth to power in big forums.

This is not a healthy spiritual foundation for entering any endeavor.

So I went to the desert to pray. Five days in all at St. Andrews Abbey, the Benedictine Monastery where I’d been going several times a year from the earliest days of my faith. It was the most prayed up space I knew and every single time I went out there I looked up at the ridge that framed that sacred space and thought, “one day Jesus is going to appear on that ridge.” If anyone were passing by I’d even say it aloud:)

I decided to enroll in a small group retreat on the Holy Spirit from Friday-Sunday and went out two days early for my own time of contemplation.

It was a Wednesday afternoon. I’d just arrived. I took my Bible and found a spot in the center of the grounds by the fountain. There was a white plastic stacking chair and I took my place tipping back on that hot, dry day in the mist of the fountain. The grounds were silent and nearly empty save for the visitors who shouted out and gasped from a distance.

I will let the song tell the rest of the story.

Every word of this song is true. Every word is a reminder that Christ continues to reveal himself to his people. That the long expected one is coming and indeed has already come.

I am forever grateful to my partners in the birthing of this song: Rachel Pollack, my dear neighbor and friend of 30 years and the Mary of my music career. And Adam Lamb, a dear soul friend and collaborator who created the sonic vision I had for the story of this theophany.