Amy Barlow Liberatore… stories of lost years, wild times, mental variety, faith, and lots of jazz

Tag Archives: ministry

He Was Eating and Drinking
(Click to play with ITunes or Windows Media Player)

He Was Eating and Drinking

Not like a thief in the night
Jesus came down
Walking his disciples
Straight through the heart of town
Even when he whispered
You heard about it for miles around

(Chorus)
‘Cause he was eating and drinking
With the sinners and the slaves
He was healing and praying
With the rich and the depraved
He was suffering and dying
So we could be saved

(Chorus)

No one expected to see
A king with no crown
Riding on a donkey
Straight through the heart of town
The fat men in their fine robes,
They couldn’t wait to put Jesus down

(Chorus)

How could this Messiah be
Beaten and broken down?
Dragging his cross
Straight through the heart of town
‘Cause God knew his suffering
Would lead his followers Heaven-bound

(Chorus and rowdy out!)

© 2013 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Song published © 2009 Beehat Baby Words and Music

This prompt was found at Margo Roby’s Wordgathering Free-For-All Friday, where she generously supplies a whole lot of prompts. The fabulous Mary Kling at Poetry Jam wanted the usual/unusual or anything else… You can find Mary’s site HERE. Also, as always, it’s at my poetic haven, Poets United If the song doesn’t work on your computer, please email me at my blog name @gmail.com, and I’ll send you an mp3!

I have to say, the contrasts in this story of Jesus’ ministry seem to go against the grain. He was more than unusual; he was radical, discomfiting, altogether loving, and nondiscriminatory. He was a prisoner of conscience, executed by the Roman State. Amnesty International would have been all over his case if he lived now, right?

This song was produced in Binghamton, NY, at a very, very cold studio in March 2009. I’m on keys, Scotty Compton is on bass, and Mike Ricciardi is on drums. (Drums were added later, then the song was mastered.) Someday I’ll get this praise and gospel stuff on a CD, when the dosh is ample and the corn is high… and the moon is blue!  Blessed Pesach and Easter to my Jewish and Christian friends, and to everyone else, peace.  Amy


Friends, this is the time of year when the pastor and his wife are very, very busy, so I will be taking a break between now and around New Year’s Day. But I had to post this poem at Real Toads’ Open Link Monday and at my poetic oasis, Poets United. This event happened today… it reminded me that there is so much to be grateful for, even as the nation mourns this week’s gun violence.

Take a moment to hug your kids and PLEASE let them know that, no matter what their friends say on Facebook, the world is NOT coming to an end on the 21st. I’m serious – kids are committing suicide and having panic attacks over the Mayan stuff. OK, a poem, like I promised!

MARIAN, MERLIN, AND ME

Marian
in her twilight years, and yet
the youngest soul in our church

Merlin
beloved husband, now at peace
and Marian said, “Amy, please play”

Singer
behind the piano at the funeral home
with songs, all familiar to this jazz baby

Gospel
to Anne Murray and “Wing Beneath My Wings,”
closing with “My Way”

Marian
said, “I want lively songs for Merlin,
no ‘old rugged’ anything!”

Merlin
left words to live by: “Pace yourself,”
“Nothing’s worth getting that worked up about.”

God
take Merlin into your arms and
shelter Marian’s strong but wounded heart

© 2012 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil

I was honored to be asked by Marian, our favorite “praise band fan” at Lake Edge UCC in Madison, to play for her dear husband’s funeral. When I found out what she asked for, I was amazed. A really rocking gospel tune I had written, “Closer Than Close,” and “My Way,” delivered in the Sinatra style: uncompromising and rousing…

I am blessed to know this woman, who wanted a true celebration of her husband’s life, and twice blessed to minister with my husband, Lex. In the midst of the tragedies of the past weeks, there was something about being at a funeral where people were free to tell funny stories about Grandpa, or free to tearfully say that none of her friends at school even HAD a great-grandpa and how lucky she was to have known him… All of it, the tears and the joy, echoed by the baby grand. As ABBA wrote, I say to God: “Thank You for the music.” Blessings and peace to you all, Amy