Although I wrote the bulk of this song this summer during my inspiring week at Darrell Scott’s SongFood songwriter’s workshop in Nashville, the idea was a long time coming. My grandfather was a tent evangelist, and I’ve always felt that I had a revival vision of my own to express. With a very different kind of altar call. This song is what has finally emerged. You can listen to a recent recording by and with Daryl Snider on guitar (thanks, Daryl!), and me (cold and all) trying to power through on vocals. Lyrics are pasted below that.
Well, I got no sign and this ain’t no road, and I got way more stuff than my suitcase holds.
I’ve been hitching rides upon the faith of others, anyway.
And I’ve been sending bottles out to sea, with messages: “Dear God,” “From, Me,”
like throwing paper airplane prayers to heaven.
Do we all get in? Do we all get tickets for the ride?
Will we be welcomed at the end? Will we hear, “Well done, weary friend”?
Do we all get in? Are we just measured by our sin?
Or is the love of God so wide, we will be lifted in its tide?
Do we all get in?
I promise you: if I get in, I’ll wedge the door with a big old shim,
and send a charter Greyhound down to fetch you and your kin.
By hitch or hike or a hotrod car, by the light of the brightest evening star,
we’ll ride our paper airplane prayers to heaven.
Chorus (repeat above)
There’s a big ole tent up in the sky,
a beach plane ad is flying by, it says: “Come one, come all!”
Something’s calling out our names,
a gentle voice to stoke the flame that shame would gutter low.
‘Cuz we all get in! We all get tickets for the ride.
We will be welcomed at the end. We will hear: “Well done, weary friend.”
We all get in. We are not measured by our sin.
The love of God is so wide, we will be lifted in its tide.
We all get in.