Crimson.

Growing up in Auburn crimson can almost seem like a curse word. See: "that other university." However, this Good Friday, crimson means something really important. Nichole Nordeman, my favorite female singer OF ALL TIME, wrote a beautiful song on her album Brave called Crimson that transformed the word from a curse to a blessing.

Nichole Nordeman has this to say about Crimson...

I fell in love with the writing of Donald Miller this past year. I first read Blue Like Jazz and was so moved by his “take no prisoners” approach to truth telling, that I devoured it. It was the kind of book that you stuff in your purse when you have to run an errand and pull it out when your car stops at a red light. It’s that good (And I really don’t recommend the whole reading at a red light thing–it’s not that safe, but then, neither was the book). This probably isn’t the place for an endorsement, but I’m supposed to be writing about what inspired this song, which would be impossible to do without begging you to read Donald Miller. If you haven’t discovered him yet, your soul is probably really thirsty, you just don’t know it.

Miller’s next book, Searching for God Knows What, was no less compelling. For me to try and paraphrase how he “re-framed” the way the story of Adam and Eve is so connected with the great loneliness we experience, and all that is so foundational to understanding the choice Jesus made on the cross, would be impossible. But ultimately, Miller gave these stories new roots and meaning for me. This was the inspiration for the lyric in Crimson. The pieces that broke in the garden were ultimately glued together by the love and rich, red blood of God’s son.

The music is borrowed from one of my favorite classical pieces of all time, Chopin’s Prelude in E Minor. It has always moved and haunted me, and I was desperate to find a place for it on this record. Originally, I wrote this really strange but cool lyric taken from the Latin mass. It sounded like something from some chanting monk record– but that was before I read Miller’s books. The chanting monks are relieved, I’m sure. I had to really practice my butt off to play the Chopin piece. That whole thing about “reading music being just like hopping back on a bike” is a total lie. I never should have stopped taking piano lessons in high school (I can hear the collective cry of “THANK YOU” in the distance from all the moms). You’re welcome.

You can watch a cool video with the lyrics here: