I've been trying to keep up with all of these great expectationsSo I keep on fakingWe're secretly out of control, nobody knows itBut my mom's got a problem with oxy's and she's angryCause my dad's office door's always closedBut I stopped knockingCause there's some things I don't wanna knowWe're secretly out of control, nobody says itWhen the class president overdosed, we all pretendedIt was rare, it was shocking and all the town was talkingYeah, we're secretly out of control and everyone knowsOh, it's morning in America

The glory is not the glory of a painting or even a sunset. Those are only analogies. They are too static and
lifeless. The spiritual beauty of Christ is Christ-in-action—Christ loving, and Christ touching lepers, and Christ
blessing children, and healing the crippled, and raising the dead, and commanding demons, and teaching with
unrivaled authority, and silencing the skeptics, and rebuking his disciples, and predicting the details of his
death, and setting his face like flint toward Jerusalem, and weeping over the city, and silent before his accusers,
and meekly sovereign over Pilate, and crucified, and praying for his enemies, and forgiving a thief, and caring
for his mother while in agony, and giving up his spirit in death, and rising from the dead—

“No one takes [my
life] from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it
up again” (John 10:18). Such is the glory of Christ.