Dustin Kensrue is one of my favorite artists. Formerly the lead singer of a band called Thrice, he’s actually now the worship director at Mars Hill Church in Seattle.
He’s only released a couple of albums as a solo artist, but he has a new album coming out in a couple of weeks.
In case you missed it, here are some of the lyrics:
Though all the wealth of men was mine to squander
And towers of ivory rose beneath my feet
Were palaces of pleasure mine to wander
The sum of it would leave me incomplete
Though every soul would hold my name in honor
And truest love was always by my side
My praises sung by grateful sons and daughters
My soul would never still be satisfied
Though I could live for all to lift them higher
Or spend the centuries seeking light within
Though I indulged my every dark desire
Exhausting every avenue of sin
I could right all wrongs, or ravage
Everything beneath the sun
Though all would bow to me
Till I could drink my fill of fear and love
I could walk the world forever
Till my shoes were filled with blood
It’s not enough, it’s not enough
Disturbing stuff if we think about it.
Disturbing because it’s true.
So most of us don’t think about it.
This song strikes me as artistic embodiment of another piece of art—the book of Ecclesiastes. In that often-overlooked book of the Bible, “The Teacher” struggles through what seems like the meaninglessness of life. The emptiness of actually acquiring knowledge and pleasure and prestige and power and everything else that we’re almost always breathlessly pursuing.
Death is coming for everyone.
The world all seems so futile.
And we’re longing for something deeper than anything we can find.
We’ve all got eternity haunting our hearts (3:11).
C.S. Lewis put it this way: “If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world” (Mere Christianity).
The genius of the Bible—the genius of God, really—is his willingness to hand us a troubling book like Ecclesiastes and let it unsettle us when we’re breathlessly pursuing supreme satisfaction anywhere but in him (12:13).
Thanks, Dustin, for disturbing me.