Searching for the face of God in a noisy world

60 Christian Songs That Explain the '90s: "Face Of God" from The Echoing Green

August 18, 2009, changed my life forever. I became a dad. And it’s not that a title change alone alters things. After all, I had gone from boyfriend to fiance to husband in less than two years. But becoming a dad was a legit game-changer.

Our oldest daughter’s birthday was a miracle in itself because she wasn’t supposed to be here. At the beginning of my wife’s pregnancy, there were issues. Our baby’s levels weren’t increasing. To this day I don’t fully understand what that means, but I knew enough that the doctors believed my wife was going to miscarry.

It was nearing Christmas time. My wife was in pain. She could barely get out of bed. But as God often does, what we expected changed course, and slowly the levels began increasing. Though we spent Christmas alone in Knoxville without seeing family, the signs were encouraging. Maybe, just maybe, we would be parents after all.

Fast-forward through the baby showers and pregnancy cravings (my wife ate so much watermelon that year), pink-painted walls, and assembling a crib. We were soon to welcome our baby girl.

Due to more pregnancy complications, my wife needed a C-section. As I sat on the narrow bench in the hallway outside the operating room, I was overcome by the silence. My life was about to change and things just felt too quiet for the moment.

I was ushered in, just moments before they pulled our little miracle from my wife’s body. I’ve seen enough sitcoms and ER episodes to know when a baby is born, it cries. It has to cry. It’s a signal to let the mom and dad and all those in attendance know he or she is alive and doing fine, although likely a little cold.

Our baby girl wasn’t making a sound. Not a cry. No whimper. Nothing. Mild panic rose inside my gut. Something isn’t right, I thought. But just as her “levels'“ took a while during pregnancy to increase as they should, she was still taking her time letting the world know all was well. Her quiet nature, known to God for infinity, was just being revealed to us mortals.

Over 15 years later, she still has that calm reserve to her personality. If she’s making any noises now, it’s on the piano she plays so well or the quiet giggles she gets when I tell one of my lame dad jokes. Those noises I’ve grown to love more than almost anything.

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We live in a noisy world. Some noises are unmistakable. A baby’s cry? We know that sound right away. Whether we’re on a plane, sitting in church, or holding a little one in our arms. It’s a noise that tells us something’s wrong. It’s probably nothing major, but still needs attention.

Sirens do the same. Police sirens, fire engines, ambulances, they all stress urgency with flashing lights and noise.

Dings from the oven tell us it’s preheated. A jingle from the dyer tells us our clothes are ready to fold. A beep on the microwave tells us that frozen burrito is ready for consumption.

And then…there’s music. There are songs we know just a few seconds in. The piano intro from Alicia Keys’ “If I Ain’t Got You”.

The feral la-la-la from “Self-Esteem” by Offspring.

And yeah, those opening guitar chords from Garth Brooks’ classic “Friends In Low Places”.

And a lesser-known song, for me, is sonically resonant on many levels. It’s a song you probably don’t know unless you geeked out on Christian alt-music in the late 90s. But when you hear the beginning, and then hear the lyrics, and then get gutted by the synthesizers, you’ll feel it too.

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It’s my 11th installment of 60 Christian Songs That Explain the ‘90s. It’s a song released in 1997 that sounds like it could have also been released in either 1987 or 2025. This week we’re talking about “Face Of God” by The Echoing Green off of their 1997 album Hope Springs Eternal.

And what better group to discuss than a band named after a classic William Blake poem that discusses the “merry sounds of spring”? What better day than here, the end of March, when the grass is greening and flowers are blooming and blue skies transform into gray at the twinkling of an eye?

The Echoing Green is made up of two core members: Chrissy Jeter and Joey Belville. Whatever fame the duo achieved in the 1990s across CCM radio was minimal. I couldn’t tell you why except that Christian electronica/synthpop music felt…odd? Not to me, per se, but in an industry predicated on more basic melodies and the safety of piano notes and guitar chords, songs that felt like '80s dance club anthems were more of a red-headed stepsister.

Echoing Green’s music was forcefully wedged onto radio with the Jars of Clay/Amy Grant/ Carman type groups, if they were on the radio at all. The vibe was much more Depeche Mode than Degarmo and Key. Their sound was more “Tainted Love” than “Arise My Love.” And because of that, Echoing Green was either behind their time or, more likely, wayyyyyy ahead of it.

Take their 1994 single “Defend Your Joy”, for example. The song starts with a sound like melodic raindrops before Belville enters with vocals and backing that make you wonder if Duran Duran or Tears For Fears had released a gospel album.

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But I don’t want to talk about the lack of The Echoing Green’s radio airtime. I don’t want to talk about the endless comparisons between them and all the ‘80s synth-pop bands. I’d rather talk about the song. The lyrics. The idea of redeeming things that were lost. The idea of finding hope. The echoing green of spring. Flowers blooming where life felt gone. Birds chirping where frozen silence once sat. Sun shining where darkness felt endless.

“Face Of God” starts calm. It starts solemnly bleak. What do you do when the feelings are all gone, and all that you have left is an empty room? You go to the place where your heart has turned so black…

There. Right there might be where a different dark wave band might choose to continue descending into a downward spiral. But when your music is grounded in hope, you can allow the somber mood to shift. You can bring up the tempo, shout into the void, and let everyone know that renewal can be found.

You’ve been hurting for far too long
The pain has been getting way too strong
Well now’s your chance to right those wrongs
and touch the face of God

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Recently I read through the story of Moses and the burning bush. And I’ve considered this: if the bush didn’t burn up at all, did it even make a noise? We don’t read that Moses heard anything. He saw the bush and went over to it. Then he heard God speak.

“Moses! Moses!” And Moses said, “Here I am.”
”Do not come any closer,” God said. “Take off your sandals, for the place where you are standing is holy ground.” Then he said, “I am the God of your father, the God of Abraham, the God of Isaac and the God of Jacob.” At this, Moses hid his face, because he was afraid to look at God.” (Exodus 3:4-6, NIV)

The sound of a crackling fire wasn’t important. God knew, and eventually, Moses realized that all he needed was to hear from God, to seek God, and to know God.

In our endlessly noisy world, we are often too distracted to hear God speak. We are inundated by noise: car traffic, kids screaming, social media alerts pinging. They grab our attention, push us this way and that, demanding our focus. Our urgency.

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When was the last time you were quiet? The last time you placed yourself in a quiet spot? Last summer, our family traveled out west to see the Grand Tetons and Yellowstone. At an Airbnb in Montana, we brought our bags inside and then explored the house. Then we stepped outside in the backyard.

I wish there were words to explain to you the quiet. Very few houses nearby, no road traffic, no noise. Just quiet. And not the spooky kind that you feel before a big storm hits or when the power goes out in the middle of the night. It was mid-afternoon. And the world was at peace. At least that’s how it felt at that house in Montana.

You cannot replicate that kind of silence. I’ve tried. I’ve followed some advice from Tyler Staton’s fantastic book Praying Like Monks, Living Like Fools. I’ve found a quiet spot in my office each morning (it’s really just a bonus room but office makes me sound more professional). There I sit by a window and set a timer on my watch for five minutes. And I pray because it’s quiet. But a few minutes in, I hear someone downstairs moving. Someone pouring cereal. Someone pulling a glass from the dishwasher. A cough. Something that distracts me.

Still each morning, I try silence. But even when I get to that point of quiet, my mind makes noises. Loud, loud noises. Unbearably loud.

Laid off again, huh Eddie? No wonder. Nobody wants you. You’ve failed your family. How can you call yourself a man? Can’t even provide for your wife and kids. Now what are you gonna do, huh? Think this time of silence matters to anyone?

The voices are loud. I keep praying but too often my attempts to touch the face of God feel more like touching the failures of my life. But what I’m slowly coming to realize is that it isn’t about my strivings, but how God is pursuing me. It isn’t through a burning bush, because that’s too obvious. Sometimes it’s me sitting in silence and then hearing a group of birds singing, reminding me of how if God cares for them, how much more will he care for me? It brings to mind the second stanza of The Echoing Green. William Blake’s poem, not the band. It says this:

The sky-lark and thrush,
The birds of the bush,
Sing louder around,
To the bells' cheerful sound.
While our sports shall be seen
On the Echoing Green.

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16 months after our first child was born, our second daughter entered the world. December, 2010. Another C-section. Another eternity spent on that same bench outside the same operating room.

This time, there was no doubt. Our youngest came out screaming, announcing her arrival and demanding immediate attention. Looking back now, the distinct personalities of our daughters were evident from the beginning. One laid back, in no real hurry to rush through things. The other constantly itching to move, to see what’s next and refusing to be held back.

They’re teenagers now. They’re much more into Taylor Swift or Gracie Abrams or Lainey Wilson than any ‘90s CCM music I try to introduce them to. They don’t care about old English poems or '80s-sounding synth wave music.

Their noises are different now too. They don’t giggle quite as much. They’re speaking in slang I don’t quite understand. They don’t ask the questions a little child does. Now it’s more Dad, can you take me to practice driving? Dad, can you give me some money? Dad, can you help with this algebra problem?

My answer to each of those questions is wrapped in its own form of anxiety. And life feels much, much more full of questions right now than it does answers. For all of us. That’s why we strive, more than ever, to follow what David wrote in Psalm 27:

My heart says of you, “Seek his face!” Your face, LORD, I will seek.” (Psalm 27:8) When nothing else in our lives is working, when nothing left is worth pursuing, where are we turning? We’re turning to see God’s face.

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Thanks for reading! I occasionally write about Christian music from the 1990s. Here are a few posts you might be interested in: