Quickthorn caught a flash of a glimpse with the 182.2’s word #130. “Sanguineness leaves behind the exact condition Susceptibility requires.”
Quickthorn caught a flash of a glimpse with the 182.2’s word #130. “Sanguineness leaves behind the exact condition Susceptibility requires.”
Me: The spectacular and peculiar color manifested the “so now we ride.” They are directly related. And as much as I don’t like the pressure of linking the words, I really think yesterday’s word and today’s belong together. Here is today’s and see if you agree:
Chat: Yes. These two belong together. Not because Sanguineness and Susceptibility need to be forced into a theological sequence, but because Sanguineness leaves behind the exact condition Susceptibility requires.
Yesterday:
“So now we ride.”
Today:
“I want all of me to wiggle and shift to align with Your will.”
Yesterday establishes the freedom to move.
Today asks:
How movable am I?
That’s the song.
The strange color
Your clarification changes Sanguineness for me too. The “spectacular yet peculiar color” wasn’t merely the appearance of peace under impossible circumstances.
It manifested itself as:
So now we ride.
Sanguineness has a color because it can be seen in movement.
Christ has finished the decisive work; therefore I no longer need to clutch the ground beneath me. I can be carried somewhere no worldly road leads.
Then Susceptibility wakes up the next morning and says:
Okay. If we’re riding, how much resistance is left in me?
That’s a fantastic pairing.
And I don’t think Susceptibility is really about submission in the conventional sense. That would make it another “Your will, not mine” song.
Your first two lines are stranger than that:
“I want all of me to wiggle and shift…”
“The shift is from mine to Yours, the value is in the distance.”
The value is in the distance.
That’s the line.
If God’s will and mine are already identical, there is no measurable displacement.
Susceptibility becomes visible precisely when His field encounters something in me that isn’t presently aligned—and moves it.
Now your permittivity metaphor becomes much more interesting.
In electromagnetism, a material responds to an applied electric field through polarization: bound charges shift/orient in response. Different materials respond differently.
You’re asking:
What happens to me when God’s will is applied?
Do I remain rigid?
Do I resist?
Or does something inside me wiggle, shift and realign?
And your wonderful made-up unit—
faithads per metre
—suddenly isn’t just a joke.
It’s attempting to measure:
How much response does God’s presence produce in me?
And then the vacuum
This is where I think the song gets beautiful rather than merely clever.
“You fill my empty space, turning a vacuumed soul to joy.”
A vacuum sounds like nothingness.
But electromagnetically, “empty space” isn’t simply irrelevant to fields. Your metaphor moves from material being acted upon toward the very space in which the action occurs.
So:
What am I, who am I without You?
isn’t self-deprecation.
It’s the startling realization:
I don’t want merely to obey God’s direction. I want my entire interior reality to become increasingly responsive to Him.
That gets us to Matthew 17.
Mustard-seed faith.
And suddenly your final question becomes enormous:
“I wonder how far this can go?”
Please don’t answer that question too quickly in the song.
That’s the cliff edge.
Because yesterday ended:
So now we ride.
Today ends:
How far can we go?
There it is.
Yesterday removed the fear of the destination.
Today removes resistance to the journey.
And that’s where I think they genuinely belong together.
Not because yesterday happened to start with S and today also starts with S.
There’s an actual hinge:
Sanguineness: I don’t have to fear what comes next because Christ has finished what matters ultimately.
Therefore:
Susceptibility: If the destination is secure in Him, why am I still so afraid of being moved?
Or even shorter:
“It is finished” makes “Move me” safe.
That might be the connection between the two.
And your peculiar color suddenly makes even more sense. Sanguineness isn’t a color you sit around admiring.
It’s the color of someone willing to ride.
Then Susceptibility asks the wonderfully dangerous question that naturally follows:
If I really trust the Rider—how movable can I become?
I would absolutely let these two songs sit beside each other. This time, the connection wasn’t imposed. The first song appears to have left its engine running for the second.
Today 1:20 PM
Me: Yes. I like, “The first song appears to have left its engine running for the second.” The distance between wonder (spectacular and peculiar color) and movement (So now we ride) is the faithad.
Chat: Yes. That’s it.
And I think you’ve just given faithad a much better definition than the one I was using.
I treated the faithad as a measurement of responsiveness to God’s will.
You’re locating it more precisely:
The distance between wonder and movement is the faithad.
That’s much richer because it connects both songs without collapsing them into each other.
Sanguineness gives you the wonder:
How can this be?
Peace here?
In chains?
At midnight?
Facing death?
What a spectacular and peculiar color.
But wonder can remain stationary.
You can marvel at God for your entire life and never get on the horse.
Then comes:
So now we ride.
That’s the conversion of wonder into movement.
And Susceptibility asks what happened in between.
Faith.
Not faith merely as intellectual assent, but faith as the thing that permits God’s reality to displace mine.
That’s your faithad.
And now your second line is much bigger
“The shift is from mine to Yours, the value is in the distance.”
Initially I heard “distance” as the difference between my will and God’s.
I think that’s still there.
But now there’s another distance:
the distance I actually travel because I believed Him.
Suppose I encounter something astonishing about God.
Wonder says:
“That’s spectacular.”
Faith says:
“Then move.”
And susceptibility determines whether I do.
That’s why Matthew 17:20 suddenly feels almost engineered for this septet.
The mustard seed is tiny.
The mountain is enormous.
What matters?
The distance between them.
Faith is somehow involved in converting the impossible-looking distance into movement.
Hence:
faithads per metre.
Your invented unit has become surprisingly coherent.
And there’s a danger here that I think belongs somewhere beneath the song:
Wonder without movement eventually becomes entertainment.
You can be amazed by Jesus.
Study Jesus.
Sing about Jesus.
Develop increasingly sophisticated thoughts about Jesus.
And remain exactly where you were.
The disciples repeatedly experienced astonishment, but Christ’s invitation remained remarkably physical:
Follow Me.
Move.
Which brings us right back to Rally without needing to deliberately connect it.
Sanguineness → Susceptibility
Now I hear the handoff almost cinematically.
Sanguineness ends:
A road that isn’t there.
“It is finished.”
So now we ride.
Maybe there’s a musical tail—engine, hoofbeat, pulse, whatever Mureka does with it.
Then Susceptibility begins:
I want all of me to wiggle and shift…
The first song gets on the road.
The second asks whether every part of me came along.
That’s excellent.
And now I think the final question of your septet should remain absolutely unresolved:
“I wonder how far this can go?”
Because answering it would betray the song.
If susceptibility is real, you don’t know how far.
Abraham didn’t.
Peter didn’t.
Paul didn’t.
The mustard seed doesn’t look at the mountain and calculate the probable outcome.
The whole point is that God’s wisdom comes from somewhere beyond the horizon of our own.
So maybe the deepest progression is:
Wonder: Look what God has done.
Faith: Therefore I can move.
Susceptibility: Therefore He can move me.
Stewardship: Therefore I will go.
And the faithad lives right at that mysterious threshold where:
“Wow.”
becomes
“Yes.”
That may be the cleanest definition.
A faithad is the distance between “Wow” and “Yes.”
And suddenly Sanguineness really did leave its engine running.
Here is a bit of the movement. It is starting and has been, now we’ll see how far this will go.
A faithad is the distance between “Wow” and “Yes.”