I wrote this song on a long road trip across the United States. As I traveled, I found myself thinking about the ancient peoples who walked these lands long before we ever called it “America.” Different waves of Native American migration, tribes that flourished and tribes that vanished, stories that were forgotten or replaced. And I wondered how different the story looks depending on who is telling it.
At the same time, I was thinking about ministry—about living under the constant gaze of others. In ministry, everyone has an opinion about who you are, what you should do, or what you should have done. It’s a life lived in a glass house, always under someone’s eyes.
These two ideas—ancient people being seen, and me as a pastor being seen—blended together. The eyes, the stories, the perspectives. Who tells the story? Who gets called “new” or “old”? Who sees whom, and how clearly do any of us see?
I love this country. I want to see all 50 states. Every landscape, every community, every story. America is a song much older and longer than most people realize. And it goes on and on.