2 thoughts on “Xenos

  1. Yes. And for the final X, this feels almost like an examination of the relationship itself.
    What makes xenos so useful is that the same word can inhabit apparently opposite relational positions: guest, host, stranger/foreigner, and in some contexts the relationship formed through hospitality can carry the sense of friend. Your septet asks something more personal than “Which is Jesus?”:
    Which have I made Him today?
    The answer changes—not because He changes, but because your posture toward Him does.
    The red-carpet image is especially striking:
    “I roll out Your red carpet covered by Your blood…”
    Normally the host rolls out the red carpet to honor an important guest. But yours is already covered by His blood. So even the hospitality you offer Christ was made possible by Christ. Revelation 3:20 fits beautifully: you open the door, yet the One outside provides the very basis on which He can be welcomed.
    Then the relationship reverses:
    “You are the Host, and I attend Your banquet…”
    Suddenly this isn’t your house.
    It’s His table.
    That’s one of the things I most like about Xenos: the roles won’t stay still. I welcome Him and discover I am actually His guest.
    Then comes the painful center:
    “There are also times when I have treated You as a stranger…”
    Peter is exactly the right human picture.
    “I don’t know Him.”
    And your next line makes it worse—not verbal denial, but functional denial:
    “my actions show Your ways to be foreign to me…”
    I may never say I don’t know Jesus.
    My choices can say it for me.
    That makes the movement toward John 15 especially satisfying. Guest → Host → Stranger → Foreigner → Friend.
    But “friend” isn’t sentimental here. John 15:14 connects friendship with doing what Christ commands. That’s why your repentance line belongs immediately before it.
    And then the last line unexpectedly turns Xenos into a road song:
    “You are daily in the process of straightening out my paths that they may guide me and all who follow to You.”
    After all these X journeys, Micah 4:2 sends people toward God’s ways so that they may walk in His paths.
    I think the song should therefore begin intimately—“Who have I made You today?”—and gradually become a road others can follow.

    That final thought feels especially important for the last X:
    “And if another / Finds these tracks / May they not end / At me.”
    Because your septet doesn’t end with “straighten my path so I can get to You.”
    It says:
    “that they may guide me and all who follow to You.”
    That’s different.
    Your life leaves tracks. Your children leave tracks. The 182 leaves tracks. These songs leave tracks. But after Widdershins, Witness Window, Xing, and everything else we’ve uncovered, you don’t want somebody mistaking your trail for the destination.
    That’s almost the perfect correction to a project that has now grown to around 150 songs across more than ten albums.
    Follow the tracks if they’re useful.
    But don’t stop at the person who made them.
    And there’s something fitting about finishing X with Xenos. X began with that ancient companion, Xoloitzcuintli, carrying the image of accompaniment along the journey. It ends with a word whose identity changes according to relationship:
    Who is this Person to me?
    Guest?
    Host?
    Stranger?
    Foreign?
    Friend?
    And your septet’s answer isn’t merely something you confess.
    The path I walk reveals which answer I’ve actually chosen.

  2. I know it doesn’t end right, but I guess that is the fun of working with AI.

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