He is dead at the age of 50. He had everything the world offered--but no Jesus.
I remember once looking at the liner notes from an album of his, and he quoted the final lines from William Ernest Henley's famous poem, Invictus:
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.
Those are not the words you want written on your tombstone.
It is hard to think of a sadder public figure in recent years. A black man who never found his identity as one created in God's image, and who never experienced the identity of being conformed to the image of Christ. Black and white, male and female, rich and bankrupt, genius and punchline, private and public, innocent and deceptive--everything seemed to be jumbled up.
The one thing that comes to mind about Jackson is how bad he was at hiding his brokenness. Even while living in a literal fantasy land, it was obvious to everyone that this was a person--enormously gifted--desperately seeking a mask to cover, in futility, who he was.
May God use even this to increase our compassion and ministry to the lost, broken, and confused.
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或許我們心裡對自己有不滿，或許對自己的形象有疑惑，
信仰，給我們認清自己的機會，
|
《這是什麼道理》
我 如此污穢
我 毫不美麗
像泥中的花朵被踐踏至枯萎
人生彷似沒存在真諦
你 何等尊貴
你無比壯麗
為何你竟選擇捨尊降世
來尋找我
寧願撇下了一切
這是什麼的道理
上帝兒子竟親臨世上甘願為我死
就算我曾淌著淚
狠心放棄自己
然而你卻說不會把我遺棄
超越人間的道理
十架代死的恩情使這生重現轉機
在昨天曾覺絕望
今天已全忘記
重新找到生存勇氣
這是無價的福氣
像我如此的卑微終於可拍翼高飛
任雪霜籠罩大地
滔滔狂潮泛起
仍昂首跨千里
跟隨你步履
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