I Have Faith in Those Who Have The Faith To Rock
I have faith in those who have the faith to rock it. At the ripe old age of fifteen, by the grace of God and my mother, I spent the night after my birthday at a concert where the speakers were loud and the base was mean, but every note was sung to the glory of our Father. Every scream was a message to the lost and every solo a gift from above. There was no worship of rock Gods, but a God who rocks. Head-bangers like me were few and far between, but there was more than one prayer going up. Closing my eyes brings back memories of a vibrating base and hopes of redemption in songs with names like “Scars Remain” and “Living Lies.” There were hundreds of bodies, not all in motion, and at times the heat was intense. Shivers were in my spine, and glee had me giggling like I was high. I think I was.
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