I was nominally aware Kacey Musgraves She’s become popular thanks to her catchy pop-country songs, insightful lyrics, and a string of memorable duets with the likes of Leon Bridges and Willie Nelson. Her latest album, 2024’s Deeper Wellswas a response to personal heartache and musically speaking, the album once again brought her into a space of rumination. Everyone experiences hardships in life, so the personal nature of the album’s 14 songs is universal and meaningful to us all.
“Architect” I was immediately struck by the emotion in this tender ballad. Let’s take a look at the first and second stanzas:
Even something as small as an apple
Simple yet somehow complex
Sweet and divine, perfect design
Can I speak to an architect?
There is a canyon that cuts through the desert.
Did flooding get you there?
Was it planned or was it a surprise?
When you see how epic it was?
The meaning of the first stanza is hard to ignore. The image of the apple recalls the forbidden fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil in Genesis. But fruit is also something luscious and tactile that is cultivated to nourish us. It is a wonder of growth, a union of sun, water, soil, and human labor.
Musgraves then moves from something small enough to fit in a human hand to the sheer grandeur of the canyon. Her lyrics touch lightly on pre-flood times and the formation of the world, but ultimately speak to the architects from a place of wonder. This is Musgraves’ primary attitude. She starts out in awe, not skepticism.
Later in the song, Musgraves’ lyrics progress from the beauty of nature’s creations to contemplating human appearances.
Sometimes I look in the mirror
And I wish I could make a request
Can I pray it away? Am I just moldable clay?
Or is this even for the best?
This is Musgraves’ starting point: She starts with a sense of awe, not skepticism.
These lines: Statue of GodThat is, if we are made in the image of a loving God, then that means we can radically shape how we see ourselves (and others) despite our imperfections. And yet, our inner monologue of self-loathing and personal criticism can easily lead us to get caught up in our perceived shortcomings.
In his book Digital LiturgySamuel James is Statue of GodWe are not born by accident or mistake. But in modern society, we are often obsessed with obtaining a body that represents an ideal version of ourselves that is never attainable. Shame drives us to distance ourselves from our physical shortcomings. James connects this undercurrent of shame to human history, ever since the Fall, when Adam and Eve took off their clothes and became ashamed of their nakedness. Their sin caused them to loathe who they really were.
The final scene of “The Architect” asks a series of rhetorical questions.
Does it happen by chance? Is it all just coincidence?
Do we have any say in this mess?
Is it too late to get some more space?
Can I speak to an architect?
Is this life we create a coincidence or a destiny?
Can I speak to an architect?
Do you have an architect?
Sometimes we ask questions with doubt, even when we think we already know the answer. Sometimes these questions come across as accusatory. Other times they are of honest curiosity. We genuinely want to know the answer. Musgraves’ question represents a trying moment of confusion, as doubt slowly begins to emerge. The subtle shift in the final line is a fitting and fitting way to end a song that asks the listener the underlying question:
If analyzed generously, “The Architect” isn’t a total rejection, but it lives in a dissonance between a beautiful world and one that’s still full of pain and ambiguity. Musgraves doesn’t answer her questions, but the best works of art can raise more questions than they answer. They serve as springboards for deeper reflection.
To the unknown god
When I listen to “The Architect” I remember The Acts of Paul the Apostle Paul speaks to the Greeks of their altars to an unknown god. Like Musgraves, these people know there is something there, but are still searching, perhaps waiting for answers to their questions to arrive. Paul says,
Men of Athens, I know that you are very devout in all things. For as I passed by and looked at the objects of your worship, I also found an altar with this inscription: “To an Unknown God.” And whom you worship as an unknown I declare to you. God, who made the world and all that is in it, is Lord of heaven and earth and does not dwell in temples made by men, nor is he served by human hands, as if he lacked anything. For he gives to everyone life and breath and everything. From one man he made all the nations to dwell on the entire surface of the earth, determining appointed times and the boundaries of their dwelling places, so that they might seek him, perhaps by groping about, and find him. But in fact, God is not far from each one of us.
Paul sees this emptiness in their lives and gives them good news, not going back to the apple in Genesis 3 or the fall or the flood, but to the covenant God made with Adam, the only human who was in perfect fellowship with God the Creator. And because of His abundant love for us, God has given us the beauty of His creation and the common grace of all people so that we might pursue Him.
Even cultures that consider themselves spiritual but not religious still have a yearning for meaning and understanding that ancient people felt.
Even in spiritual but non-religious cultures, there is still a yearning for meaning and understanding as felt by the ancients. In Augustine’s words, we are restless until we find rest in him. This has not changed. And in increasingly pluralistic societies, people are becoming disillusioned with official institutions and organized religions and need to re-encounter God, the designer of everything around them.
Whether we realize it or not, we all crave personal relationship. We all seek meaning and purpose that suggest we matter and are deeply loved. Anything less, like cynicism or apathy, feels disloyal to the existential essence of the human experience. So we often need music and art that poses questions, and while that’s a start, we need something more. Because God is not only not far from us, but he is also not silent or absent.
As Paul says to the Romans, “God’s invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived by what has been made since the creation of the world; so they are without excuse.”Romans 1:20). If this is true, then like Musgraves, we all implicitly recognize God’s existence from the very vastness and greatness of his creation. It seems like we need to respond somehow, to come up with an explanation for these fundamental questions.
Architects and cornerstones
Some see Deism as a logical foundation, positing a Creator who, like a watchmaker or an architect, fashioned this beautiful world into an intricate structure and then stepped aside to leave it to humans, for better or worse. How can a benevolent and all-powerful God explain the messiness and turmoil of human life? Deism is a middle ground that acknowledges some power over the world, but maintains control over our lives and destinies, no matter how precarious that may be.
But this is not the end. It is not enough.
To continue Musgraves’ analogy, if God is both the architect and the loving heavenly Father, then something begins to happen. If we believe that the God of the universe sent his perfect son, Jesus, to die for us, then we have a much more comforting answer to Musgraves’ question: God came down in perfect human form to give his life for those who don’t deserve it — those who are consumed with guilt and shame for their own imperfections.
To continue Musgraves’ metaphor, if God is both the architect and our loving heavenly Father, then something begins.
At this point, it is impossible to lose sight of the metaphor that is essential to this song. Jesus Christ was positioned as the foundation of all creation, the foundation of everything, the essential part of the fabric of our lives. In other words, Jesus is not just a nice-to-have or vaguely benevolent presence in our lives, He is essential. Without Jesus, everything we try to build for ourselves would crumble and disappoint us. If we try to design our own lives, we will eventually be crushed when the walls come down. But Jesus Christ willingly took on that burden so that we would not have to carry it.
We can’t live with our architect and God on the margins. It sounds nice if we want to be in charge, but history, or even just looking in the mirror, tells us we are broken. We need a desiring God who overflows into every aspect of our lives, enveloping us with grace through the power of the Holy Spirit. Because when God looks at us, He doesn’t see ugliness; because of Christ, He sees the beloved in whom He is well pleased. We are God’s creation, His image, and vessels of beauty.
I don’t know where Musgraves gets her inspiration, but art often produces many thoughtful and beautiful expressions. Art breathes voice, music, and rhyme into the most important questions we grapple with as human beings. I then encouraged her that the answer to her question was a heartfelt yes. Architects aspire to be in relationship with all their creations, not distant.
So I pray that she will be drawn not as a passive bystander but as an active participant in the story of humanity, to a loving Creator who sent his one and only Son to be the foundation of our lives. He is the God who designed it all and holds it all in His hands. He is the God who will guide us. Our God is the Architect and He loves us, so may it be the life-giving truth that draws us closer to Him.
