I was able to go see The Civil Wars again last night in Lawrence. This was my second time and still it was amazing.
The crowd would scream, clap, whop and holler at the end of a song, yet during the song they (all 1200 of ‘em) would be still enough to hear a mouse squeak.
I don’t know if you could call it awestruck (or perhaps star struck), but I’m certain it’d have been admiration in the least if not much more.
Standing in front of a stage filled with just two people, a guitar, and a piano.
It’s how a believer stands before the cross, only in a smaller sense.
We stand before a hunk of wood and are truly amazed and awestruck, not by the melody it produces (though this melody becomes our song) or by the craftsmanship of the wood (though it’s roughness tells of the life we’ll lead) but by the act, which was done there.
Yet more than the finished act we look at the re-taken life. Laid down and picked up at the will of the one who lived/lives it.
So, yes, The Civil Wars were amazing to see again, and yes, their songs are still powerful for me, and yes, they are a shadow of the truth which we’ll know in time.