On the way to small group tonight I was listening to a Switchfoot CD, and the following song came on which made me reflect some more on my post from a couple days ago:
Easier Than Love
Sex is currency
She sells cars, she sells magazines
Addictive, bittersweet, clap your hands
with the hopeless nicotines
Everyone's a lost romantic, since our love became a kissing show
Everyone's a Casanova, come and pass me the mistletoe
Everyone's been scared to death of dying here alone
She is easier than love, is easier than life. It's easier to fake and smile and bribe
It's easier to leave. It's easier to lie.
It's harder to face ourselves at night, feeling alone
What have we done, what is the monster we've become
Where is my soul
(Numb)
Sex is industry, the CEO of corporate policy
Skin deep ministry, suburban youth, hail your so called liberty
Every advertising antic our banner waves with a neon glow
War and love become pedantic, we wage love with a mistletoe
Everyone's been scared to death of dying here alone
Sex is easier than love.
I often go back to a statement that Allistair Begg made in a message at Cedarville College: "My generation sang with the Beatles, 'You've got to admit it's getting better, a little better all the time.' But it didn't, did it? The 60's dream has become the 90's nightmare, and what we dreamt about, you now endure."
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