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It has perhaps become THE criticism of modern worship songs: replace all references to God with the name of your boyfriend (or girlfriend), and you have a song virtually indistinguishable from the love songs of top 40 radio. Folks like me, who cut their blogospheric teeth on such observations, have made plenty of hay over these kinds of things in posts past. The argument is a justifiable cry that our worship songs need to be more than the mushy, sappy, and touchy-feely. We need doctrine. We need awe. We need reverence.

I can’t wait until November. I’m American, and if you haven’t heard, we are preparing for a general presidential election. During a debate in March, I realized I was tired of the primaries. During the Democratic National Convention, I realized that I was just plain tired. I am tired of the war of words, the hatred, the ideologies. I am tired. I wish November would hurry up and get here, but I’d miss three months of my children’s childhood and my garden’s tomato harvest, so it’s probably not worth it.