The Ancient Voice is about the power, perfection, and lasting authority of God’s written Word, drawing on the Most High’s encounter with Job. Through questions about creation, wisdom, and the limits of human understanding, the composition reveals how easily people can become too confident in what they think they know. God’s Word remains true and unchanged, while those who receive it are humbled, corrected, and given a clearer understanding of Him.
Original Composition
The original composition brings together lyrics, melody, instrumentation, and arrangement to express personal experiences, observations, and reflections drawn from different seasons of life. Each work develops its own musical character, conveying meaning through both direct expression and the subtleties of imagery, symbolism, and interpretation.
The Ancient Voice
I knew the thunder chapter and verse,
I turned its pages without fear.
I thought I held its measure fast,
Until the question found me there.
Where were you when I laid the earth?
Who shut the sea behind its doors?
Ancient Voice, through ink and ages,
What You have spoken does not bend.
The names of kings are ground to powder;
Their laws decay, their glories end.
No hand can lend Your Word its power;
It searches every heart that reads.
Who holds the storehouses of snow?
Who binds the Pleiades in place?
Who tells the lightning where to strike?
Who sets the bounds of mortal sight?
No letter shifted on the page.
Yet every thought I trusted shook.
Ancient Voice, through ink and ages,
What You have spoken does not bend.
The names of kings are ground to powder;
Their laws decay, their glories end.
No hand can lend Your Word its power;
It searches every heart that reads.
I read as though I held the scales,
And made my limits into law.
The questions struck the hidden place
Where presumption wore the face of awe.
No fault lay hidden in the writing;
The wound was in the one who read.
I had rehearsed a thousand questions.
Now I cannot finish one.
The thoughts I trusted tear through me.
The ground beneath my certainty is gone.
I trace the ink with shaking hands.
The words are where they always were.
I put my hand upon my mouth.
I had only heard.
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