Heather's Head Trip

Drum Roll Please...

2008-12-08T14:05:00.002-06:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm pleased to announce the launch of My Alabaster Box: An Offering Of Incense.

OK, so for now, it's a series of posts on a blog. But when I've got them complete, there will be enough for me to publish. And I can start contacting artists and getting permissions for songs, now, too. And what I'm really launching here is not the series, but the new site.

MyAlabasterBox.Wordpress.Com will be the new home of my blog. As I've said, I'll try to keep things up between both, but the truth is, I'll be looking for an email solution for that (can I send one email to two addresses and have it automagically update both blogs?) so I don't have to actually do what I'm doing now, and physically go to both blogs and enter an update!

Anyway, I'm excited, and I'm looking forward to your comments over on the new site. What are you waiting for? GO! Read! :D

Musical Musing: Deep In Love With You, Micheal W. Smith

2008-12-08T12:13:00.002-06:00

Sitting at your feet is where I want to be
I’m home when I am here with you
Ruined by your grace, enamored by your gaze,
I can’t resist the tenderness of you

I’m deep in love with you, Abba Father
I’m deep in love with you, Lord
My heart, it beats for you, Precious Jesus.
I’m deep in love with you, Lord.

Humbled and amazed that you would call my name
I never have to search again
And there’s a deep desire - It’s burning like a fire
To know you as my closest friend

I’m deep in love with you, Abba Father
I’m deep in love with you, Lord
My heart, it beats for you, Precious Jesus.
I’m deep in love with you, Lord.

I’m deep in love with you, Abba Father
I’m deep in love with you, Lord
My heart, it beats for you, Precious Jesus.
I’m deep in love with you, Lord.

You’re golden?, my redeemer
Your blood runs through my veins
My love for you is deeper
Than it was yesterday
I yield? through the curtain
Pardoned by your grace
Oh you’re the lover of my soul
You’re the lover of my soul
I’m deep in love with you, Lord

I’m deep in love with you, Abba Father
I’m deep in love with you, Lord
My heart, it beats for you, Precious Jesus.
I’m deep in love with you, Lord.

I’m deep in love with you, Abba Father
I’m deep in love with you, Lord
My heart, it beats for you, Precious Jesus.
I’m deep in love with you, Lord.

I’m deep in love with you, Abba Father
I’m deep in love with you, Lord
My heart, it beats for you, Precious Jesus.
I’m deep in love with you, Lord.

I’m deep in love with you, Abba Father
I’m deep in love with you, Lord
My heart, it beats for you, Precious Jesus.
I’m deep in love with you, Lord.

I’m deep in love with you, Abba Father
I’m deep in love with you, Lord
My heart, it beats for you, Precious Jesus.
I’m deep in love with you, Lord.

My heart, it beats for you, Abba Father.
I’m deep in love with you, Lord.
My heart, it beats for you, Precious Jesus.
I’m deep in love with you, Lord.

Let me apologize first for the question marked lyrics; no one on the internet that I found had these yet; the album was just released late October/early November (right before I went to Europe, if I remember correctly)… so I was transcribing them as I listened to the song on repeat on my computer. I gave you what I understood… I’m not sure I got them right.

I’m not worried though; the ideas that made me fall in love with this song (even though it is repetitive) are in the first verse and in that repeated verse, not the bridge. It dovetails for me into another song I’ve mused about… Casting Crowns, “Your Love Is Extravagant”. Can you see where the two would remind me of each other?

“Ruined by your grace, enamoured by your gaze, I can’t resist the tenderness of you…”
“Your love is extravagant”

“Sitting at your feet is where I want to be; I’m home when I’m here with you.”
“Your fragrance is intoxicating in our secret place”

“And there’s a deep desire - It’s burning like a fire - To know you as my closest friend”
“Your friendship, it is intimate”, “You considered me a friend”

“I’m deep in love with you… my heart, it beats for you,”
“Capture my heart again”

Oh, Beloved… I know this isn’t “Christmas” as you normally think of it. I know there is no Santa here, no reindeer, no elves or snow… no magi or shepherds, no virgin or angels… and yet, Beloved, this is why we have Christmas. This is why Christmas is so beautiful and alive for me. This is why I loved The Shack, because you see, Beloved, mine is not an empty religion made up of rote and ritual, but a living relationship, energized by conversation and stunning love. Stunning, I tell you. Do you remember what I said about “extravagant” love in my musing on the Casting Crowns’ song? (look at that! I linked it for you!... but I’ll give you a tidy summary anyway).

Extravagant love “spends much more than is necessary or wise”, it “goes beyond what is deserved or justifiable,” and it “exceeds the bounds of reason”. This is the love that our God pours out on us. Extravagant. Excessive. Beyond what we deserve, beyond what is justified… beyond what is justifiable. God’s Love spent EVERYTHING for us, casting off glory to take up humanity, and all for love of us. Loved that completely, that fully, that… that extravagantly, I am ruined for anything less. Nothing else could compare, and thus God’s love has left me ruined for any other lesser love to try to take His place. It’s like if the first time you ever ate meat, you had the best, most delicious, perfect cut of meat ever… everything else would pale in comparison. Burgers would be nothing… you’d forever be ruined by that ONE cut of meat that defined what meat is supposed to be (I know, really weak example, but how else do I express the idea of being ruined by something so good?)

Beloved, This is Christmas. This is the miracle Emmanuel, God with us. This is the great condescension, God Almighty, the Creator, putting on mortality and coming to earth to woo us and win us back to Himself. This is why I celebrate Christmas… not because a baby was born in a stable, but because of who that baby was. Beloved, that baby was Emmanuel. That was Love enfleshed. That was Extravagant Love, going beyond the bounds of reason or what we deserved, longing only to love us all, longing only to call us His own Beloved.

Did you know that’s why I call you “Beloved”? Because you are. You ARE. Even if you don’t know my Savior yet, even if you’re still skeptical about this Jesus I speak of, even if you doubt how my God could be Good and All-Powerful and I could still have experienced the things I did… Beloved, none of that changes the fact that Jesus came to this earth for YOU. That extravagant love spent itself for YOU. That right now, sitting on the throne of God, the Lamb of God, the Lion of Judah, the Baby we celebrate at Christmas is looking down at you and LOVING YOU more than you can imagine. As I write these words, as you read them, Beloved, He is longing to ruin you with a love that will blow your mind and leave you as enamoured with Him as I am.

And you can take Him all your questions, all your doubts, all your problems. All your whys, or why nots. All of it. Beloved, all He wants is to love you, and for you to learn to love Him back… and until you open the dialogue, until you consent to relationship with Him, He can’t answer your questions, and you can never experience the life-changing love that’s being poured out on you now. I want you to celebrate Christmas with me, Beloved. Won’t you risk knowing my Christ? Isn’t extravagant love and a grace so good it “ruins” you a risk worth taking? You’ll never know unless you try.

The Shack, by William P Young

2008-12-06T22:51:00.002-06:00

(My review for Facebook)
I'm aware that there's controversy, and as I was reading, there were a few places where I could see that someone might have problems. That said, I did not have problems with it. Simply put, this is one of the best books I have ever read in my entire life.
This book discusses the basic structure of man's interaction with God; is it built on rules and limits and religion, on the law the demonstrates where we fall short of the ultimate goal of perfection, or is it, as the author would suggest, about a living, vital relationship with God? Is God a distant ruler aiming to strike us down for our failures, a cold and heartless judge condemning us to hell, or is it possible that God is, as John revealed in his epistle, Love, and moved by love, marked by love, in ways that we cannot even begin to imagine and that shatter our preconceptions, not only of God, but of what we are to be if we are to be called adopted sons and daughters of God?
If this book serves to call men and women into a deeper, truer relationship with their Savior, with the Lover of their Souls, with the Abba Father who loves us enough to create us knowing what it would cost... surely there is value in this book.
I know that the many tears I cried were bottled as I read, and I know that they will fertilize more rich growth in the garden God continues to cultivate in my soul.

I want to make it clear that while there are things in this book that I can't speak to theologically (the gender of God, for instance), I'm willing to dismiss them as creative license to accomplish the larger goal of giving the author a structure into which to write this discussion with God.
The core of the discussion? I have no problem with that. I can't tell you how many times I cried, but I'll tell you there was at least one time that I fell apart, sobbing, and had to wait for the tears to clear before I could continue (page 173)(I don't want to say too much lest I spoil things for those who haven't read the book).
God loves you. Desperately. God LONGS for a relationship with you... as I've seen before, "God thinks you're to DIE for." I know that's hard to wrap your mind around, and if you're asking "But what about the bad things?!"... you need to read this book.

Beloved, I've lived the bad things in life. I was raped repeatedly from the time I was 10 until I was 13. I was abused emotionally and physically by my mother and convinced myself that she couldn't love me... which meant I couldn't be loved. At all. By anyone. My father died in a car accident when I was 17. I can't have children. I've got a litany of reasons to doubt God's goodness or God's love... but I don't. I don't doubt God's love for me. I cling to it like an anchor in the storm. This book is the closest I've ever found to explaining how it is that I can find God still Good and Merciful and worth Loving (and all powerful) in the face of all the evil in this world (even in my life).

Seriously. This may be one of my new favorites EVER, and I hope to spend a good deal of time dissecting it and finding the places in Scripture that illustrate the soul-changing, life-filling, joy-giving power discussed in this tiny little read. If you haven't yet, pick this one up.

Christmas Carol #3 Breath of Heaven

2008-12-05T00:29:00.000-06:00

I have traveled many moonless nights,
Cold and weary with a babe inside,
And I wonder what I’ve done.
Holy father you have come,
And chosen me now to carry your son.

I am waiting in a silent prayer.
I am frightened by the load I bear.
In a world as cold as stone,
Must I walk this path alone?
Be with me now.
Be with me now.

Breath of heaven,
Hold me together,
Be forever near me,
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven,
Lighten my darkness,
Pour over me your holiness,
For you are holy.
Breath of heaven.

Do you wonder as you watch my face,
If a wiser one should have had my place,
But I offer all I am
For the mercy of your plan.
Help me be strong.
Help me be.
Help me.

Breath of heaven,
Hold me together,
Be forever near me,
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven,
Lighten my darkness,
Pour over me your holiness,
For you are holy.

Breath of heaven,
Hold me together,
Be forever near me,
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven,
Lighten my darkness,
Pour over me your holiness,
For you are holy.
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven.
I sang this song in church once, frightened that I would go off-key somewhere, but so awed by the beauty of the song that I longed to share it. And it seems fitting, having discussed the ordinary nature of who Joseph and Mary were, having thought of what Joseph might have been thinking as he held the tiny Son of God in his arms, that perhaps I should consider the young Mary next.
As I said in the last musing (On “Strange Way to Save The World”), Mary is certainly a very young woman. While she’s been raised to this life, expecting to be a mother at so tender an age, surely she never expected so… challenging? daunting? awesome? a charge as her own Savior. And she certainly didn’t expect to come into motherhood before she was a bride, with reason to fear for her or her son’s life because of the law she’d been raised with and obedient to so long. Surely in the long months before Jesus’ birth there were whispers… even if Joseph married her before her pregnancy showed, people would wonder at the sudden rush and the quick blossom of life.
But our Lord did not leave her alone in the midst of this. Though it would have been difficult to tell right away that she was pregnant (no EPT then, folks) the truth of the prophecy was proven as soon as she ran to Elizabeth, who was, as the angel had told her, 6 months pregnant. Indeed, the reaction of Elizabeth’s child to the unborn Savior carried by Mary told Elizabeth immediately that this was indeed no ordinary child. The two women stayed together for an undisclosed time, but it is likely that by the time Mary went home, Elizabeth was close to delivering her son, and Mary was certain of her own pregnancy.
I’ve never been pregnant. I’ve wanted it, desperately, even when I was afraid because of what seemed like poor timing, but I’ve never known what it’s like to be pregnant. I helped raise my sister, I’ve watched others go through pregnancy, and I’ve watched as my sisters and brother in law are raising their collective 12 (nearly 13 children, when the sister I helped raise has hers this coming spring). So I’ll admit that I can only surmise at the rush of emotions that Mary might have felt. But you, Beloved reader, perhaps you’ve been pregnant. Or your wife has. Or maybe, like me, you’ve had to live vicariously through loved ones… But surely young Mary experienced many of the same fears and joys you felt…
Dread… I’m pregnant. How will my partner/husband react? What will our families say?
Fear… this is her first child; Will it hurt? Will I be able to bear it? Will I survive it (A far bigger concern in her time than for us now, granted, but still)? I’m going to be a mother. Me. What if he falls down? What if I drop him? What if he hurts himself? What in my life shows that I’m even qualified to be a mother… much less mother to the Son of the Most High?!
Awe… This is life, growing within me! This is a miracle, and every day He is grows larger and stronger and closer to entering this life! This… This is the Son of the Most High!
Joy… Feel that? He moved! He kicked! He’s alive in there, well and strong! I’m going to be a mother! I will hold Him soon…
So many things, so many more than even other mothers felt. Did she feel a special burden because of who this child was? Did she fear her mistakes more than others might, because of who this child was? How much did her son’s unique identity shape her reactions during her pregnancy, or did God grant her a special grace as she carried God incarnate, the Word made flesh? (I have friends who debate whether or not she suffered labor pains! I can’t answer that one!!)
I think all of these thoughts, all of these questions, are why I love this song. It’s so intimate… almost as though we’re eavesdropping on Mary’s prayer in the last hours as she travels to Bethlehem where she will deliver her son. We get a glimpse of the humanity that surrounds Jesus, of the ordinariness of the woman God chose to deliver Grace enfleshed.

My Catholic friends, please forgive me if it seems I make Mary too human. Yes, she is one of my heroes of the faith, like Peter and Paul… but what makes her heroic to me is her very humanity. It is the fact that she is so like me, so like my sisters, so like any other woman who could have lived, who has lived… but her life is so marked by the undeniable Grace of God that she is forever changed, forever marked by it. She is an Everywoman, a promise of what we can be if only we would trust in our Lord… not that we could give birth to our Savior, but that we could have an intimate, loving, personal relationship with him. She was the first to know the New Testament Christ, the revelation of God as personal and relational, as approachable, as fully God and fully Man… and it is that aspect of her life that marks her as remarkable to me, just as it is Peter’s rash foolishness and quick temper that highlight his humanity before God changes him and makes him a mighty man of Faith, or Paul, who has a murderous zeal for the law before meeting Christ and learning to see in a new way. It is the humanity of Mary and Joseph in these first moments that awe me; how great the grace of God that is poured over them to bear these unprecedented remarkable events.
You see, Beloved, seeing Mary as human, seeing Joseph as human, remembering that they were ordinary people… well, it gives me hope. No matter what I face in life… well, if God can grant ordinary men and women enough grace to get through 9 months of an unplanned pregnancy, a birth in a barn, and all that would follow… surely there is grace enough for what I must face.
As Mary sings “Breath of Heaven, hold me together…” I can sing it, with the confidence that the Breath of Heaven will indeed hold me together, that just as she was not alone 2000 years ago, neither am I tonight. Christmas, Beloved, Christmas is about hope and the faith to carry on when it seems you can’t. Surely that is worth celebrating?
Breath of heaven,
Hold me together,
Be forever near me,
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven,
Lighten my darkness,
Pour over me your holiness,
For you are holy.
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven.
Breath of heaven.

Christmas Carol #2: Strange Way To Save The World

2008-12-04T14:22:00.000-06:00

Sure he must have been surprised
At where this road had taken him
'Cause never in a million lives
Would he had dreamed of Bethlehem
And standing at the manger
He saw with his own eyes
The message from the angel come to life
And Joseph said...

Why me, I'm just a simple man of trade
Why Him, with all the rulers in the world
Why here inside this stable filled with hay
Why her, she's just an ordinary girl
Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say
But this is such a strange way to save the world

To think of how it could have been
If Jesus had come as He deserved
There would have been no Bethlehem
No lowly shepherds at His birth
But Joseph knew the reason
Love had to reach so far
And as he held the Savior in his arms
He must have thought...

Why me, I'm just a simple man of trade
Why Him, with all the rulers in the world
Why here inside this stable filled with hay
Why her, she's just an ordinary girl
Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say
But this is such a strange way to save the world

Now I'm not one to second guess what angels have to say
But this is such a strange way to save the world
...this is such a strange way, such a strange way,
a strange way to save the world

You may have guessed from my first entry in this “Christmas Carol Musings” series, that my favorite carols are the ones that point to the grander purpose of Christmas. If you’re familiar with “Christian” music, you may even know this song (and folks from Rejoice/Owasso/Tulsa, if you haven’t picked up “Owasso Sings Christmas” yet, with Janettia Alexander singing this offering, you’re missing out… call Rejoice to find out how you can get your copy of this awesome album (and no, I’m not on it, I just heart it!)), but for those readers who’ve never heard it, this is a new one.

This time, I don’t have to define terms for you, but I do want to give you the Christmas story, because that’s the story this song assumes you know already. If you’ve heard this story all your life, read along with me anyway… try to rediscover the wonder you felt the first time you heard it, or the first time you heard it once you knew what it meant. If this is the first time you’ve heard this story, it’s told in the Bible in several places. I’d recommend reading the entire thing, but to get just the meat for this story, you’re going to go back to Luke 1:26-38, Luke 2:1-20, and Matthew 1:18-2:12.
Mary was a young girl; keep in mind that in the first century, life spans were significantly shorter than ours are now, and customs were different, not just because of the time, but because Mary and Joseph would have been good Jewish men and women, raised obediently in the law of Moses. Joseph would have been raised and educated as long as his parents could afford, and at 13, he’d have been apprenticed to a master tradesman… possibly his own father. By 13, though, Joseph was considered an adult, responsible for himself and his actions. He would have continued to work with his master (not as a slave, but an apprentice, remember), learning the trade, until he was able to work on his own and support himself and his family. Chances are good that his parents and Mary’s parents had pre-arranged the marriage years before the two of them knew the other existed. Once Joseph could care for Mary, the betrothal, this pre-arranged marriage, that had been planned would move to an engagement and then marriage… but this arrangement was so binding that the only way it could be broken was through the same mechanisms in place to divorce a wife… and in ancient Jewish law, divorce was not easy. So Joseph was almost certainly 7-10 (or more) years older than Mary, and Mary was little more than 13-15 herself. After all, if she didn’t die in childbirth, odds were that disease would take her before she saw 40; if she was to bear the sons and daughters that the couple would need to support them and their family (because that was the custom), they had to start as soon as she was able to… which meant she entered married life as an adult about the same age that Joseph was considered an adult.

So we have a 13? 14? year old girl who’s still living at home with her parents, a devout girl who’s been raised in observance of the law of Moses just as her culture and religion demands, and is waiting to be married to her husband, a man to whom she is bound, if not yet legally married. One day, as she’s going about the daily tasks she does… helping her mother with the cooking, cleaning, maybe making clothes… suddenly, an angel appears and speaks to her, saying odd things to her: “Greetings, favored one. The Lord is with you.”

Mary is rightly confused; it’s not every day that people just appear out of nowhere, and what an odd greeting! Even in her religion, this is odd; God has not spoken to their people for hundreds of years! But the angel continues. “Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. (You’ve pleased Him!) You will be with child, and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High.” (italics mine). Mary, ever the wise one, asks the angel how this is supposed to happen; she knows where babies come from, and she’s not done anything that would bring one! This is important to her; even the hint of impropriety is enough for an accusation of infidelity, is enough to give Joseph cause to divorce Mary… and worse, to have her stoned to death.

The angel assures Mary again, telling her that the Holy Spirit will come upon her and she will be “overshadowed” with the power of the Most High so that the one who will be born will be called the Son of God. Then he tells her something that might seem a bit gossipy if you didn’t know better; “Even your cousin, who has been barren (unable to have children) is in her sixth month… because Nothing is impossible with God.”

The tidbit about Elizabeth might seem gossipy because for a woman of her advanced years who has never conceived to suddenly turn up pregnant is certainly grounds for scandal. Remember… even the hint of impropriety is enough to give grounds for a divorce, or a stoning. But as he tells Mary that she will carry the Son of the Most High, he also tells her she isn’t alone… “Oh, Beloved of God, even your cousin has conceived through the power of God!”… and Mary runs to her cousin.

OK, so where is Joseph in all of this? Especially when Mary runs off to her cousin and comes back obviously pregnant, and he knows the baby is not his? We go to Matthew to find out. Joseph is clearly a good man; he could have had Mary and her unborn child stoned, but he opts instead to find away to quietly divorce her to minimize the shame to them both. Before he can carry out his plan, an angel comes to him in a dream. “Joseph, son of David,” the angel says, “do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because He will save his people from their sins.” This clearly had an impact; when Joseph wakes up, he goes and gets Mary and marries her, but does not share her bed until after the birth of the child.

So here we are; an ordinary man and a young woman. Good people, yes, smart with sensible heads on their shoulders, but open to the extraordinary of their faith. And Joseph, having been raised and educated in the Jewish faith, would have been taught the Psalms… including the ones of the Messiah, the anointed one of Israel, who would save the people from their sins. And we know Mary considered these things; we’re told she “treasured these things up in her heart”. They’re trying to live quiet, ordinary lives when the extraordinary steps in and interrupts. And then, because they haven’t been shaken up enough, the occupying government of their home interrupts their lives again. The government wants to take a census… and it wants everyone to go back to their ancestral homes. Joseph, who has been living in Nazareth, who has probably been a Nazarene his entire life, suddenly has to go to his ancestral home… to a tiny little town called Bethlehem.

Can you imagine if you were suddenly told you had to report for a census, not based on where you live now, but based on where your ancestors were from? Could the towns handle the sudden influx of people? And poor Joseph and Mary; others could travel faster, but they were limited because she was so close to her delivery. There was no hopping on a jet and flying there… no, they had to walk or ride an animal the entire way. They were late arrivals, and by the time they got to the town, it was full. Surely they knew it was close… Mary was probably experiencing labor pains by now. They were at the point that Joseph was begging for ANYWHERE safe to take his poor wife to deliver her child… and one man finally offered his stables.

It is here that the greatest gift God ever gave us arrived. In a stable filled with hay for bedding and eating, a young girl gave birth to the child who would grow up to die for her sins. And the first people to arrive? Shepherds. Outcasts of society, with only their flocks for company, sent by… yeah, you guessed it, more angels.

So this is the story the song assumes you know. The Creator of the Universe, the Son of the Most High God, Christ, the Anointed Messiah, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Beginning and End… is born in a cramped stable in a tiny town to a young girl and her poor husband, surrounded by animals and hay, and visited first by society’s outcasts. If you and I were to write the story of a Savior, it would never start this way. He would arrive in a clean hospital, the son of royalty or socialites. His first visitors wouldn’t be stinking shepherds, and certainly not animals, and his room would be sterile, not surrounded in hay. He’d be born in New York or London or Paris or something… a big city with all the best equipment. We’d never bring the Savior this way… which is why we’d get it wrong. This is indeed a strange way to save the world, but it was the ONLY way it could be done. He had to be the least of us to know our suffering and to be approachable by all men. Because you see, Beloved, Jesus didn’t come just for the rich. He came for you and I, for Mary and for Joseph, for the stinky shepherds, and even for all of those who reject Him.

I know the reason Love has to reach so far, and I thank God that Joseph got to hold His savior in His arms and marvel at this beautiful, ugly, stunning strange way that my God came to save the world.

Christmas Carol Musing: December 2, 2008

2008-12-02T22:09:00.001-06:00

What child is this, who, laid to rest
On Mary's lap, is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet,
While shepherds watch are keeping?

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!

Why lies he in such mean estate
Where ox and ass are feeding?
Good Christian, fear, for sinners here,
The silent Word is pleading.

This, this is Christ the King,
Whom shepherds guard and angels sing:
Haste, haste to bring him laud,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!

So bring Him incense, gold, and myrrh,
Come peasant, king to own Him,
The King of kings salvation brings,
Let loving hearts enthrone Him.

Raise, raise the song on high,
The Virgin sings her lullaby:
Joy, joy, for Christ is born,
The Babe, the Son of Mary!

I think it’s fitting to start this new series with the carol/hymn that was playing when the idea struck me, the one that has brought me to tears this year as I think about the import of the words being sung, one of the only ones I could “play” on the “play by LED” keyboards I had as a child (though it was listed there by the melody’s older, secular name, “Greensleeves”).
I think I want to start by defining terms; if you didn’t grow up in the church, you may not know what all of these words mean (if you even knew the carol set to this tune).
The first word that I want to define, the first one that might raise an eyebrow, is “laud”… what is “laud”, and why should we “haste” to bring it to a baby? Dictionary.com defines it as a song or hymn of praise. When it is used as a verb, it means to praise. Something that is laudable is praise worthy. The carol calls us to hurry to the child that we might offer praise. Why should we offer it to a Baby? I’ll get to that in a bit, when I define what “Christ” means… but first-
What does “mean estate” mean? If you’ve ever been in a barn filled with animals, you might have an idea… while there are some who find the smell of horses and cattle familiar and pleasant, I’m not sure that anyone would disagree with me when I say that perhaps, being born and spending the first hours of your life in a barn filled with animals is not exactly ideal for any child (though it’s certainly better than being born in the street… at least it was dry and relatively warm). When you consider who this child is, it’s certainly not the birth you’d expect… but even without that consideration, the conditions into which the Babe, the Son of Mary, was born, were certainly meager. They were, as Dictionary.com defines mean, ignoble, inferior in status, rank & dignity, unimposing & shabby.
What about incense, gold, & myrrh? Well, over the course of the next few weeks, I’ll discuss more about these traditional gifts given to the child (and the fact that the number of gifts given is where we get our idea of how many wisemen or kings came, though that number is never actually established, and could have been as few as two, or far more). But for tonight, I want to remind you that this was a child they were visiting, one who was presumably the first son of a poor carpenter and his betrothed young bride (who, according to all the gossip in their home town, had conceived him out of wedlock, and not to her new groom!)… since when do perfumes (incense), money (gold), and funeral ointments (myrrh) make an appropriate gift for a baby born in a stable? (OK, maybe the perfumes helped with the smells of the stables, but that’s hardly a normal baby shower present, is it?).
Actually, though, the gifts make sense when you know who this baby is. They hint at the arrival we’d think He deserved, at the gifts one would make to a person of His stature, and at the sacrifice He was born to make, but that none of them could understand or imagine. The gifts make sense when you understand that this baby, this tiny Son of Mary, was born to be praised, because we don’t know Him for His mother, but for His Father, who was no meager carpenter.
You see, we say “Jesus Christ” as though “Christ” was his last name or something… but in truth, “Christ” is a title, like “King” or “Master”, or even better, “Messiah”... the Anointed One. To call Jesus “Christ” is to address him as Messiah, as the Anointed One of God. It identifies Him as the fulfillment of the Messianic prophecies, the One King of Israel Anointed by God, who will save His people from their sins.
This, Beloved, is not just another Baby. This Baby is unlike any baby that was ever born before Him or since Him… and Christmas is CHRISTmas because it is a celebration of the Christ, the Anointed One who was born to die, the Creator who came to earth to redeem His creation to Himself.
This, Beloved, this is why we hasten to bring him praise. This is why we wonder at why He, of all the babies to ever be born, is born in stable around animals, why we marvel at the angels who sing of His birth and the lowly shepherds who came to meet Him first. This, Beloved, is why we sing for Joy… and why funeral ointments were a fitting gift for this singular child. Because without His death 33 years later on a Roman cross, a righteous, holy man dying in the place of the sinners, the ultimate scapegoat, the Lamb of God whose blood would mark the ultimate “Pass-Over”… without the death for which He’d need the funeral ointments, the perfumes to mask the stench of death, without that, this is just another baby, precious to His parents, but unremarkable otherwise in history. And without His resurrection, Beloved, we have no hope. Christmas is remarkable not because a baby was born, but because the Christ, the Anointed one, The Messiah, had finally come.
What child is this?
This is Christ, the King
Crucified before the foundation of the world,
To win you and I back to Himself.
And that, Beloved, is why I celebrate Christmas.
I’ll see you tomorrow with another carol.

New "Series"

2008-12-01T22:25:00.002-06:00

By the time I got the idea for this series, I was away from my laptop, and this is the first I've gotten back to it, and we'll be going to bed as soon as this weird trippy video is over... but I have an idea for a new series of Musical Musings, and I'll try to start them tomorrow when I'm in the office. So keep your eyes peeled for Musings inspired by the holidays, and meditations on what Christmas is really all about for me.

"Recipe" Time...

2008-11-18T12:39:00.002-06:00

OK, I can barely call these recipes. I freely admit that when I get in the kitchen, I look at what I have and bluff. Fortunately, that often results in yummy food. My most recent bluffs:

Last night's Chicken.
3 boneless skinless chicken breasts (about a pound)*
1 Shallot, chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
1 tablespoon butter
1 teaspoon lemon juice*
1 tablespoon olive oil*
4 small sprigs fresh rosemary*, chopped

I keep fresh rosemary growing on my window sill. I peeled off 4 little sprigs... about 10-12 leaves, and roughly chopped them with my knife. The liquid measures of lemon juice & olive oil are guesstimates; I swirled in olive oil to go with the butter, and squirted in some prepared lemon juice from one of those plastic lemons. And while I used chicken breasts, you can certainly use tenderloins or thighs or whatever meat works for you. I imagine this would go well with pork or a nice whitefish, too. Shallots are usually near the onions... they're sort of the cousin of garlic & onions... they're more like onions than garlic, but they're small and they've got a little different flavor.

Cook everything BUT the chicken until the butter is melted (you want the flavor of the aromatics (all those herbs and the juice and stuff) to mix before adding the chicken). Add the chicken, cook covered on low heat, turning until chicken is cooked through. (Actually, John did the actual cooking; I'd bought a huge package of chicken and was splitting the boneless breast halves and then separating the big package into sizes we'd actually use.)

This was super easy and took little if any extra seasoning. :D

SOS & Taco Meat.
You get these together because they started together.
I browned a pound of ground sirloin & a pound of turkey breakfast sausage with some fresh cracked black pepper and cumin (maybe a 1/2 tablespoon? each). This was way more meat than I needed for my SOS, so I pulled out a storage bowl. Into the bowl went more cumin, chili powder, some boutique "Trail Dust Seasoning" (himtnjerky.com), and just the barest hint of cayenne, and a little more pepper... just stuff that made it smell "taco-y" When the meat was browned, I drained it off and put half of it in with the seasoning and shook to coat. Will use the taco meat tonight in nachos or tacos or some similar application of tortillas, meat, & cheese. The SOS was continued by adding 3 cups of water to the pan I'd cooked the meat in & bringing to a boil. I mixed 1.5 cups of pioneer country gravy mix with 1 cup of milk until blended and then added this to the boiling water. I peppered to taste (my tastes are less peppered than John's, and more than the gravy comes, so probably a tablespoon or 2) and then added the remaining meat. Mix well & serve over toast. This still left enough SOS to serve over toast (or potatoes) for another meal for the two of us... so John may have that for lunch tomorrow, or maybe I'll take some for lunch.

Cooking is only as hard as you make it. If you can figure out what things will pair well (watching other cooks helps you learn that) then you can add flavor as you subtract fat and make yummy food.

It's worth noting I couldn't give you nutritional values for any of this. Anyone who wants to look them up and report back is welcome to.

Musical Musing: Sing Alleluia, Jennifer Knapp & Mac Powell, City On Hill

2008-10-04T00:37:00.000-05:00

Now playing: Jennifer Knapp/Mac Powell - Sing Alleluia
via FoxyTunes
----------------
All creatures of our God and King
Lift up your voice and with us sing
Sun, moon and stars rejoice on high
Praise to the Lord of light divine

Sing alleluia, sing alleluia
Praise the Father above
Sing alleluia
Sing alleluia, sing alleluia
For His infinite love
Sing alleluia

Praise to the Giver of good things
Merciful Father, holy King
Join with the angels, sing out loud
Praise Him who reigns above the clouds

Sing alleluia, sing alleluia
Praise the Father above
Sing alleluia
Sing alleluia, sing alleluia
For His infinite love
Sing alleluia

O praise Him (when the morning comes)
Alleluia (for the rising sun)
O praise Him (when the day is done)
Alleluia (praise the Lord of love)
O praise Him (alleluia)
Alleluia (alleluia)

All creatures of our God and King
Lift up your voice and with us sing!

Sing alleluia, sing alleluia
Praise the Father above
Sing alleluia
Sing alleluia, sing alleluia
For His infinite love
Sing alleluia

Sing alleluia, sing alleluia
Praise the Father above
Sing alleluia
Sing alleluia, sing alleluia
For His infinite love
Sing alleluia

OK, so maybe I’m a little slow on this one. I’ll grant that. I tend to be rather stubborn and bull-headed and have to learn things the hard way… I may joke that God has a high holy 2x4 in heaven with a Heather shaped dent in it, but it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if it were true… that it takes that much to hammer through my thick head and get through to me. So if the following seems like old news to you, I apologise. Try not to yawn too much… try remembering how it felt for you the day it was first made real to you, the day it burst forth in your soul the way it is in mine today (so much that even though I was driving to the gym, I had to leave myself a voice message and call my parents to have them email me so I’d remember to write about it once I finished my workout) and enjoy it vicariously.

If you’ve been reading my blog with any regularity, if you’ve read much of my work, or know me well at all, then you know that I’ve not exactly had a cakewalk for life. There have been plenty of nights when I’ve had more than enough reason to cry myself to sleep, more than enough anxieties and worries to fray my mind and wear at my strength, more than enough reasonable excuses to unwind my sanity and sink into the relatively safe blanket of catatonia. And yes, there have been many nights that I’ve cried myself to sleep, many days lost to anxieties and worries, and even a few times I’ve reached for escape.

What I’ve learned in the past 30 years, and more acutely in the past 10 than in the previous 20 before those, is how to soothe my savage breast. I’ve learned, when the heartache threatens to crush me, how to throw out a life-line to sanity and hope and cling through the worst storms my life can throw me. I’ve learned, when stress tries to cut me down, how to crawl away from it until I can soar free of it. I’ve found the secret that comforts my broken heart when I’m crying at night, when I’m fearful in the day, when I’m stressed, or yes, even when I’m driving (probably too fast, though I’m trying to do better about that).

I listen to, and unashamedly sing along with (though sometimes silently) praise music. It’s how you get these Musical Musings, big surprise. I play the songs over and over and over again, sometimes on repeat, sometimes in shuffle, and sometimes, it’s just me trying to sing the songs I’ve sung before, silently because I can’t sing aloud (try it in an MRI machine sometime… until the machine gets so loud that you can’t hear yourself thinking inside your own head, it’s a pretty nifty calming technique!) for whatever reason.

So what, you may be asking yourself. Why would it matter? Well, for a long time, I thought it was as simple as the fact that when I turned my focus from myself to my Saviour, then it was harder to wallow in sorrow. But… how is praise music able to break that hold when nothing else does? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love the Beatles, but John, Paul, Ringo and George were never able to break me out of a funk the way Third Day or Nichole Nordeman can. I’d never given it much thought.

Until tonight, that is. As I drove the short distance to the Y, with my obligatory praise mix-CD in the car stereo (yes, you do want that playing… I’m more patient, thoughtful, and kind a driver when my mood is tempered by music that reminds me I’ve been bought for a very dear price), “Sing Alleluia” came on. Now, I’ve had this CD for years now… I’ve listened to this song hundreds of times, I’m sure. I’ve sung with it, I’ve loved it, the call the worship within its words, the way it’s almost a doxology. But something about it hit me tonight, and I finally understood something about the mystery of Praising God that I’ve never understood before.

You see, God doesn’t give us commands or rules for empty reasons. Every law He ever handed down was put into place to protect or preserve us somehow, to teach us about who He is, His nature… but also as a loving Father, an adoring husband… (yes, I know, that’s really weird. I’m looking forward to eternity so He can explain THAT one to me). For instance… Men, you may want to close your eyes for this, but if you’ll bear with me, I do have a point…

In the Old Testament, God instructs that male infants be circumcised on the 8th day after birth. Stop squirming and keep reading. At the time, the procedure would help provide the people with the cleanliness they needed to stay healthy. But then why wait? Why not just do it right away, before the Baby knows what’s really going on, while the trauma of birth is still fresh enough to cover everything else? A newborn doesn’t have a fully developed immune system. His immunities have been completely dependent upon his mother’s blood supply until birth. He’s not making his own antibodies yet (neither are girl babies, but this is a procedure done on males, so we’re sticking with the male pronoun) because he hasn’t had to yet. For the first few days after his birth, he’s still totally dependent upon his mother for antibodies and immunities. But, cut off from her blood supply, how is she to provide him with what he needs? Every time her tender love and nurturing instincts cause her to kiss him, she picks up all of the microbes on his body. Her body, with a mature, fully functioning immune system, makes the antibodies to fight the very bugs she’s picked up by kissing her son, and then supplies them to him in her breast milk. It’s an amazing thing, really. And by the time her son is 8 days old, all the constant feeding, all the kisses and the passed antibodies, all the time he’s had gives him the time to build an immune system of his own. If the procedure were done before he was 8 days old, the risk of him developing an infection is too high. If it’s done after that, the risk that he’ll remember it, remember the pain goes up. God gives a rule to protect his people, giving what seems an esoteric time demand on it, and all the time, there’s protection in it.

Praise is the same way. No, it’s not a surgical procedure, not quite. But it is a command that we’re given, and I’m coming to believe that, while it is hugely beneficial to God, it is of far far greater benefit to us. If you want to dispute the claim that it’s a command, just do a concordance or word study… see how many times the word “praise” shows up in the Bible. Seriously. Boggles the mind. But while we are certainly told to praise God because He is more than worthy of our praise, as creator, as God, as Saviour, as Judge… for all the wonderful reasons I’ve listed and all the ones I will ever list, there’s something else at work.

Psalm 22:3 tells us that God is enthroned in our praise. Other translations say that He inhabits our praise. Stop and think about that for a moment. God almighty, who is so big that even heaven can’t contain Him (1Kings 8:27) LIVES in our praise.

When I am afraid, and I sing myself to sleep, my God, the All Mighty, is LIVING in the praises I sing to Him. He is with me.

When I am lost, heartbroken and utterly alone, and I sing praise songs silently in my head, my God, the Comforter that my Saviour promised me, is LIVING in the praises I sing to Him. He is with me.

When I am in my car, trying to obey the speed limit, and a song comes on my cd player, and I sing absently until the thoughts seize my mind and I am thrilled again, my God, my Beloved who gave up Heaven to redeem me to Himself, makes my song HIS THRONE. He is with me.

God. Inhabits. My praise. Immanuel. God WITH us.

Are you stunned yet? Because as awesome a thought as that was, it got better.

You see, Beloved, the reason I’m not afraid when I sing praise? It’s not just because I take the focus off my own temporary, limited view (though that certainly helps) and my own pithy problems. It’s because GOD inhabits my praise… And Beloved… Where God is, there is no mourning, there is no sorrow, there is no death. There is only JOY. Joy. Pure, unadulterated Joy. God commands us to praise Him because He know it will plug into the source of life, of love, of joy… it will plug us into Him!

Revelation 21:1-7 Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away." He who was seated on the throne said, "I am making everything new!" Then he said, "Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true." He said to me: "It is done. I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End. To him who is thirsty I will give to drink without cost from the spring of the water of life. He who overcomes will inherit all this, and I will be his God and he will be my son…”

Isaiah 44:23 Sing for joy, O heavens, for the LORD has done this; shout aloud, O earth beneath. Burst into song, you mountains, you forests and all your trees, for the LORD has redeemed Jacob, he displays his glory in Israel.

Isaiah 51:11 The ransomed of the LORD will return. They will enter Zion with singing; everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.

Zephaniah 3:17 “The LORD your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love,
he will rejoice over you with singing."

Beloved, I will sing. I will sing, because when I sing, God Himself is with me, enthroned upon my praise, rejoicing with me, singing with me, delighting in me, quieting my fears and anxieties with His love. Sing with me, Beloved, sing with me, and experience the miracle of Immanuel!

Musical Musing: Beyond The Cross

2008-08-03T12:24:00.000-05:00

Beyond The Cross
Beyond the cross, beyond the grave
There is a hope for those Christ came to save
He bled and died, He paid the cost
To free us from the chains of death
And give us life beyond the cross

I wanted to give you that chorus, because it’s what drove me from my seat this morning in church (yup, I even get Musical Musings in the middle of church). You might be sitting there and going “yeah yeah, eternal life because of what Christ did on the cross, does me good when I die, but what about now?!” Ah, see, that’s a misunderstanding of the word “eternal”. You see, we can remember that eternal doesn’t have an end, but we forget that the very nature of “eternal” means there’s no beginning, either. Dictionary.com defines eternal as “without beginning or end” and “perpetual” and “immutable” (immutable means changeless, don’t worry, I had to look it up, too). You see, Beloved, eternal life isn’t something that begins with our death. It’s more than just “life after death”… eternal life is here and now and available for you to enjoy.

Now, I’m not saying that we won’t die if we enjoy eternal life now. The fact of the matter is that our bodies are broken and are forever ticking away towards death. It’s as inescapable as taxes. This body is locked into time, and yes, your body will die. It’s why your grandparents died, you parents will die, your pets will die, and yes, even your children. It’s not pretty, but from the moment our cells join and begin to form us, we already have within us the stopwatch on our lives (study telomeres… even cloning can’t extend them!)

What I’m saying is that we are more than this body, and just as we are more than the bodies we inhabit, so too is there more to this life than the limits of time. That’s where “eternal” life now comes in. Living the eternal life while you’re still, well, alive, isn’t about being immortal, but about living life fully and freely. It’s about abundance, about plugging into the Source of our life and our joy and finding that there is hope and life beyond the salvation we find in the cross.
In John, (and I mean the gospel, not my husband), we are told that “Christ came to give us life, and give it to us abundantly” or “to the full measure”. In Ezekiel, God says that it gives Him no pleasure that any should die, pleading with His people that they would live. Psalm 16 tells us that God makes known the path of life, filling us with joy. Eternal life is about life after this one, but more than that, it’s about a difference in THIS life, here and now.

That’s what stopped me in the song. It’s not that this is a new idea to me; I went through training that taught me that eternal is eternal in the hereafter, but it’s abundant life in the here and now, showing me the scriptures that promise that (and more than just the ones I listed above). But it’s so easy to forget that our faith is meant to do more than just secure our eternal future. The cross isn’t just about giving me fire insurance to keep me from hell. No, the power of what Christ accomplished on the cross (and it wasn’t the cross, in and of itself that has any power, but rather that Eternal God limited himself and condescended to bring us back into relationship with Him, so that the cross is the symbol, but not the Thing itself) is available in every minute of every day.

I’ve talked before about joy, and rejoicing and the ladies in the office with me (who don’t quite know what to do with me when I get exuberant and excitable) notice it in me. I’ve learned that joy is something precious, to be savored and, well, enjoyed, whenever possible (it’s possible I’m rather hedonistic, just not nihilistic… I’m such an odd duck). I grab hold of the small joys in life, and then when the big ones come along, I’m practiced in finding joy, in experiencing it, in reveling in it. There is a joy in the smell of your favorite flower, or your favorite food. There is joy in drawing a breath unimpeded by illness or unpleasant odors. There is joy in watching a child discover the world around them. There is joy, Beloved, in every aspect of your life, waiting for you to find it.

And that, I think, is part of the abundant life that Christ promised beyond the cross. You see, I can hope that I will have a life after I die, but more than that, I can hope that no matter what I’m experiencing, there’s a reason and a purpose being accomplished. I can hope that the greatest sorrows will be redeemed and used to improve the lives of others. I can hope that nothing will be wasted in this life. I can hope that when I wake up tomorrow, I will find a new someone with whom to share life, I will find a new way to speak life into someone. I can have a hope that my everyday has meaning beyond the doldrums of daily life. And yes, that gives me joy.

You see, Beloved, we have a life after death. But beyond that, we can have life NOW. What’s the point of living every day hoping that we’ll die and get to heaven, if we can’t enjoy the days we’re given here? What’s the point of eternal life if it is empty, meaningless, and joyless?

I serve a God who loves children, who smiled with children. I serve a Creator who created a stunningly beautiful world. I serve a God who delights in His creation. I serve a God who knows that Life is meant to be lived. If you don’t know my Jesus, the Jesus who came to the cross for you, not just for some someday off in the future, but for today, for right now, for this moment you’re living, I’d love for you to meet Him. He came to die on the cross for you… but more than that, he came to give you a life beyond the cross.

Musical Musings: Ordinary People, John Legend

2008-07-07T17:16:00.001-05:00

Now playing: John Legend - Ordinary People
via FoxyTunes

"Ordinary People"

[Verse 1]

Girl I'm in love with you
This ain't the honeymoon
Past the infatuation phase
Right in the thick of love
At times we get sick of love
It seems like we argue everyday

[Bridge]

I know i misbehaved
And you made your mistakes
And we both still got room left to grow
And though love sometimes hurts
I still put you first
And we'll make this thing work
But I think we should take it slow

[Chorus]

We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
Cuz we're ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow

[Verse 2]

This ain't a movie no
No fairy tale conclusion ya'll
It gets more confusing everyday
Sometimes it's heaven sent
Then we head back to hell again
We kiss then we make up on the way

[Bridge]

I hang up you call
We rise and we fall
And we feel like just walking away
As our love advances
We take second chances
Though it's not a fantasy
I Still want you to stay

[Chorus]

We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
Cuz we're ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow

[Verse 3]

Take it slow
Maybe we'll live and learn
Maybe we'll crash and burn
Maybe you'll stay, maybe you'll leave,
maybe you'll return
Maybe another fight
Maybe we won't survive
But maybe we'll grow
We never know baby youuuu and I

[Chorus]

We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
Cuz we're ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow (Heyyy)
We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
Cuz we're ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow (Take it slow oh oh ohh)
This time we'll take it slow

I know I've done John Legend before, and I know that you don't expect to find secular music in a devotional. Bear with me. After all, if Paul could find the Creator in Athens' Unknown God (Acts 17:23), surely I can find something worth working with in a secular song?

When I first fell in love with this song and added it to my library, I marveled at the honest treatment of relationships in it. To take such a frank view of love, to admit that relationships take work and time to survive, but that in the end, it's worth it... I really liked it. And yes, I still see that in here, and that may well be why the original musing is included (if it gets included. If not, you can go back to my website hjourdenjackson.blogspot.com and read it).

But see, there's something I want us to consider beyond romantic love here. You see, while this is really directed at two people in a romantic relationship, there are truths here that go so much deeper, that call to the truths I find in existentialism. You see, there are things we can learn on the small level, to use in relationships with our lovers, but also to expand to a larger view of things and apply to how we relate to other people (and to be fair, Beloved, sometimes we need to take the way we treat others, outside of our family, and offer our families the same level of consideration and respect; it's too easy to take our loved ones for granted. But that's not the main thrust of my point today, so you're getting off easy).

I've discussed existentialism before, and I want to recap it very briefly here, just so that we define our terms. To me, existentialism is about stripping away all the definitions and labels (essence) we carry and getting back to the basics of sheer existence before we make value judgments about people. It strips away behavior and descriptors and respects and loves on the one thing we all share in common; we all exist.

There's more to it than just that, both my understanding and concept of existentialism, and to the larger ideas of Kierkegaard and Sartre (don't worry, you don't have to remember or know how to pronounce or spell the names). But for the purposes of what I want to discuss, that's the core: stripped to the basics, we are all the same. We are all, as Legend sings, Ordinary People.

So what? What's the big deal? Well, it's easy to forget that sometimes. It's easy to forget that there are very few truly evil people in the world (I won't say there aren't any; history proves me wrong on that count), but there are also very few true saints. Indeed... there are far more of the evil sorts than there are of the perfect; there's only been one of the perfect variety! The rest of us? We're all the same folks, the same average Joes and Joses and Joannas (or JoAmbers!).

That means we all make the same sorts of mistakes all the time. We mean to do well, but we make mistakes. He forgot your birthday. He doesn't hate you... he just... forgot. She interrupted you during the game. She doesn't hate you... she just... forgot. She's human, same as you. He's human, same as you. He cut you off in traffic. Her foot slipped off the brake at the red light and she brushed your fender. He miscounted your change. She wasn't Suzy Sunshine. Maybe they're having the same bad day you are... or worse. Maybe she's worried about a sick child she had to leave at home because she's working two jobs just to make ends meet. Maybe he's worried about a distant wife. Maybe she's worried about a mother who fell down at home, or a grandparent who's just been hospitalized. Maybe he just got distracted. Who knows? What was it the last time you were the one making the mistake?

Beloved, this life is short. We get 70? 90? 100? years on earth? And that's if we're lucky. We might get 2 minutes, 2 months, 2 years, 2 decades... you get the idea. You could spend your entire life going from one upset to the next, always angry with someone for some perceived slight. I'd about guarantee you won't get 100 years that way. Why should you waste the few days you get being angry and carrying a grudge?

Isn't it preferable to let go of the little stuff? Isn't it easier to forgive every time, 7 times, 70 times, 77 times, 490 times... or even yet, to choose to not let little stuff get under your skin? It's easy to forgive 490 times if there was never any offense taken. (Where am I getting those numbers? What's this 490 nonsense? Matthew 18:21-35. The Seventy Seven Times is considered by some to actually be seventy sevens of times, thus not 77, but 70x7=490!)

We're just ordinary people. We don't know which way to go. Maybe we should take it slow. Because Beloved, Life is too short not to spend yourself on Love.

Musical Musings: "Can Anybody Hear Her" Casting Crowns

2008-07-03T15:54:00.001-05:00

Musical Musings: “Can Anybody Hear Her”, Casting Crowns
She is running
A hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction
She is trying
But the canyon's ever widening
In the depths of her cold heart
So she sets out on another misadventure just to find
She's another two years older
And she's three more steps behind

Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?
Or does anybody even know she's going down today
Under the shadow of our steeple
With all the lost and lonely people
Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me
Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?

She is yearning
For shelter and affection
That she never found at home
She is searching
For a hero to ride in
To ride in and save the day
And in walks her prince charming
And he knows just what to say
Momentary lapse of reason
And she gives herself away

Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?
Or does anybody even know she's going down today
Under the shadow of our steeple
With all the lost and lonely people
Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me
Does anybody hear her? Can anybody see?

If judgment looms under every steeple
If lofty glances from lofty people
Can't see past her scarlet letter
And we've never even met her
If judgment looms under every steeple
If lofty glances from lofty people
Can't see past her scarlet letter
And we've never even met her
Never even met her
(Never Even Met her)

Does anybody hear her? Does anybody see?
Or does anybody even know she's going down today
Under the shadow of our steeple
With all the lost and lonely people
Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me

Does anybody hear her? (Does anybody hear her?) Does anybody see? (Does anybody See?)
Does anybody even know she's going down today?
Under the shadow of our steeple (shadow of her steeple)
With all the lost and lonely people (Lost and Lonely people)
Searching for the hope that's tucked away in you and me
Does anybody hear her? Does anybody see?

He is running a hundred miles an hour in the wrong direction

My niece, the oldest of a dozen nieces and nephews, actually introduced this song to me, and when I listen to it, it gives me hope that God will preserve a tender heart within her… God can work with tender hearts in amazing ways if only we will let Him.
Beloved, we live in a fallen world. We live among people who make mistakes, who stumble and stutter their way through life. We live with people who hurt, with heartaches deeper than we can imagine, deeper than we can imagine. Just like you and I, who’ve had heartbreaks in our lives, who’ve borne wounds we weren’t sure we could survive, they, too, are broken and feel alone. Beloved, we live with people just like us. Or… almost just like us.
What’s the difference between “us” and “them”? Look past the behavior and look deeper, Beloved, and ask yourself, really, what the difference is. Why is it that when our hearts seem to shatter within us, we are able to get up again and keep going, and it stops them in their tracks? What gives us joy in the face of grief? What makes our lives seem so perfect from the outside looking in?
Christ. Christ is the difference between us. And I don’t mean the simple Sunday School answers… because when you’re really hurting, you need more than simple Sunday School answers to salve a broken soul. I’m talking about the living Christ, the resurrected Lord of the Gospel. The God who limited Himself to human form to redeem us to Him, the God who redeems even our heartbreak from the world to bring Him ever greater glory, the God who changes lives is the difference between us.
You see, Beloved, it’s not that I haven’t hurt in my life. It’s not that I’ve somehow led some charmed life where nothing has ever gone wrong. And even you, Beloved, reading this… you’ve got a heartbreak. You’ve got something in your past that was the deepest wound you’ve ever borne. Maybe it was a miscarriage… hoping beyond hope for a child, only to lose the baby before you had a chance to even name her. Maybe it was the death of a treasured love one. Or a divorce in the family. Or betrayal by a friend. I know there’s a hurt there. And in that way, we are no different from the lost that surround us. It’s what God has done with that hurt in our lives… it’s that we’ve come to a place where we gave ourselves completely to the God who gave Himself completely for us. It’s that we found the strength to surrender to Him. It’s the power of God to resurrect the death in our lives, trading it for His life instead. It’s the grace of God… for without it, we would be as lost as “they” are.
You see, Beloved, there is no “us” and “them”. There’s only “before” and “after”. They are the before picture, lost, stumbling, blind, confused, hurting. We are the after, eyes opened by grace, freed by grace, given peace and life and direction through the great and incomparable grace of God. And it is the deepest desire of God’s heart that we would ALL, every one of us, be an “after”.
God built us to be with Him. In the beginning, He created a garden for us to provide for us and then would come and just BE with us, walking and talking. When we fell away from Him, choosing our own ways over His, He provided us with a way to come back to Him, to walk again with Him in the garden. Even now, Beloved, He longs to woo us to Himself, to show us things of beauty and wonder, to walk with us in the garden.
So how do we get back there? How do we get from before to after? What does all of this have to do with the body of believers and the lost? Christ. Christ is the path that was made to get us back to the garden with God. He is the way. He is the door into the garden. He is the only way to God, no matter what this world would say otherwise. The redemptive work of Christ in our lives through grace takes us from before to after… indeed, that’s what I mean by “before” and “after”… before is our lives before experience the redemptive work of Christ, and after is our lives after we’ve been set free.
Oh, I know, this still sounds like a lot of Sunday School. And for a minute, it will still (though just because something sounds like simple drivel spouted without meaning doesn’t mean that it’s simple, meaningless drivel!). You see, Beloved, we Afters, we’re the Body of Christ in this world. We are His eyes, seeing the pain of our neighbors. We are His ears, hearing the cries of broken hearts. We are His hands, reaching out to the men and women stumbling in the dark. We are His feet, flying to those who so desperately need Him. We are His voice, speaking Love to wounded souls. We are the living embodiment of the change the Befores need, and if they never see it in our lives, will they ever see it at all?
It is past time for us to stop looking at this as an “us” and “them” issue. It is past time for us to stop judging our brothers and sisters for the mistakes they’ve made. It is past time for us to get down off the lofty pedestal we’ve lifted ourselves up on, to get down off our high horses. It is past time, Beloved, to humble yourself. Dare to look at the sinner not as a project or an object, but as a person in need of the same grace you need. There, but for the grace of God, go you and I.
I know what you’re saying. “That way lies madness! There are people who use compassionate people, who abuse goodness. There are people who are looking for every chance to wound and destroy! Why, if I were to give of myself that way, what would happen to me, to my family?” Frankly, you’re right. There are people who use good people. There are people who would take advantage of you. And you know what? You could die.
You know what, though, Beloved? You will die. I promise. Unless Christ comes for us first, death will come for you. Not might. Not maybe. Will. You can take that one to the bank, so to speak. But how will the Befores ever know Christ if the Body of Christ never reaches out to them? How are they to know a Jesus they never see? How will they ever stop being Befores, ever stop being people who use and abuse people and substances until the Body of Christ steps into their lives and shows them the difference?
And your family? You want to change your family? Show them the love of God in action. Show them the radical way that God loves people… not for what they can give Him, but because He can do nothing else. Let them see your life marked not by fear of what could happen, but by Love that changes lives. Let them see the way God’s love changes today, tomorrow, and forever. Demonstrate the history changing power of God, not by ignoring the lost, but by reaching out to them.
Where do I get off saying these things? Let me remind you of the Christ whose name you claim. This is the Man who dined with Tax Collectors (thieves) and prostitutes. This is the man who healed the demon-possessed and touched lepers. This is the man who fed thousands of hungry people who followed him. This is the man who forgave the men who drove the nails through his flesh.
Of course, if that’s not enough to convince you to love radically, (and really, if it’s not, then maybe you’re really a Before after all…) then what about this reminder?
The Sheep and the Goats
"When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his throne in heavenly glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
"Then the King will say to those on his right, 'Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.'
"Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?'
"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.'
"Then he will say to those on his left, 'Depart from me, you who are cursed, into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels. For I was hungry and you gave me nothing to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not invite me in, I needed clothes and you did not clothe me, I was sick and in prison and you did not look after me.'
"They also will answer, 'Lord, when did we see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or needing clothes or sick or in prison, and did not help you?'
"He will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me.'
"Then they will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life."
Beloved, you and I are the ones who can make a difference. Stop judging, Beloved. What sin have they committed that carries them so far that the cross can’t reach them? Who are you to judge them as beyond the grip of grace? Who are you to deny them what you yourself have been given so freely? Who are you to disobey the example and the command of Christ to reach out even to the “least” among us?
OK, so now you’re feeling convicted, but you don’t know how to start. I could sit here and give you some concrete steps to take to improve your community… but sometimes, we have to start changing our hearts in order for a change in our lives to really take. So before you go looking for ways to reach out to the lost and hurting people in your life, I want you to pray. I want the heart that beats within you to be as radically changed as your soul was, for your life to really be renewed… because if you choose to do this in your own strength, through your own resources, you will wear yourself out, and you risk treating people like projects instead of people.
So how to start? Pray. Hey, you had to pray to find Christ, right? And isn’t the Christian life supposed to be marked by prayer? Why should this be different. Pray that you will see people the way God does. Pray that you will learn to see them with His eyes, not your own. Pray that He will prick your heart to tenderness for your fellow man. Pray that it will not be you loving them, but rather that you will be a conduit, a vessel, for the endless, unconditional love of God. Pray, Beloved, that you will be the Body, but that He will be the energizing force behind it all. Pray for God to change your heart until you become the man or woman He created you to be, useful to Him for His purposes. Pray, Beloved, that you will see yourself, your fellow man (and woman) and God in the proper perspective.
Then, and only then, Beloved, will you find the ability to love freely. Then, and only then, will fear fade. Then you will find that you can’t NOT love… that the option to not have compassion seems to almost disappear. It won’t make you a sucker. It doesn’t have to leave you a doormat or abused. You understand that you are the child of the King… and that the King takes care of His own. You begin to love as you never could have before. You begin to see as you couldn’t. You’re now equipped, Beloved, to reach out and LOVE the Befores… which is the first step in them becoming Afters! God will reveal the next step to you, far better than I ever could. You will truly become the body of Christ.
Beloved, God longs to redeem every soul on this planet. He needs you and I to see, to hear, to reach out to the people who feel invisible. They need hope. You’ve got it. Won’t you heed the call to Love?

Watch this space

2008-07-03T13:05:00.002-05:00

Big changes are coming in the months to come. I've been writing for a long time, and I've been told for a long time that I need to be published, but I've never felt that the perfect storm of things had come together for me to feel like I could actually publish and do something meaningful and not just be another voice in the cacophany.

At least, I didn't use to.

Web 2.0 has changed a lot of things, beyond just the way we use the internet. Among the things it's brought is the right sets of tools and formats that I feel like I can actually try to publish without it being an exercise in futility and defeat.

It's going to take a lot of work, of course. Even when you consider that much of what I plan to publish in book form is already written, I have to save it and format it in a way that it works for a book, make sure that all my legal ducks are in a row, and actually assemble the book. And that's all just the work of getting the manuscript together, and doesn't include any new writing that will happen in the mean time.

As I'm struck by deep, ponderous thoughts, they'll still be here. As I'm struck with flighty silliness, well, those will likely stay here. But keep your eyes open. As we get closer to launch, there will be a new website, and I'll likely start hosting this blog over there. (I may even change which blogging service I use, but there will always be directions to get you there from here).

In the meantime? If you're the sort who prays, please keep me in your prayers. It takes a lot of work, and a lot of courage, to do this. I'll need your prayers.

Thanks, folks!

Musical Musing: “How Can I Keep From Singing?” Chris Tomlin

2008-06-25T14:31:00.002-05:00

How Can I Keep From Singing?

There is an endless song
Echoes in my soul
I hear the music ring
And though the storms may come
I am holding on
To the rock I cling

How can I keep from singing Your praise
How can I ever say enough
How amazing is Your love
How can I keep from shouting Your name
I know I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart want to sing

I will lift my eyes
In the darkest night
For I know my Savior lives
And I will walk with You
Knowing You'll see me through
And sing the songs You give

How can I keep from singing Your praise
How can I ever say enough
How amazing is Your love
How can I keep from shouting Your name
I know I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart want to sing

I can sing in the troubled times
Sing when I win
I can sing when I lose my step
And fall down again
I can sing 'cause You pick me up
Sing 'cause You're there
I can sing 'cause You hear me, Lord
When I call to You in prayer
I can sing with my last breath
Sing for I know
That I'll sing with the angels
And the saints around the throne

How can I keep from singing Your praise
How can I ever say enough
How amazing is Your love
How can I keep from shouting Your name
I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart
I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart
I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart want to sing
Yeah
I can sing!

Yes, I know, I did this song last month. That's how upbeat this song, how much fun it is, how much I enjoy it. You see, while it speaks to that idea of praising God even when we seemingly have no reason to praise Him, it also speaks to the joy and peace that flood over a believer firmly in the grip of grace.

When you can understand the freedom that comes with the grace I spoke about in my last post (Also Chris Tomlin, this time “Amazing Grace, My Chains Are Gone”), when you really experience that freedom for yourself, it is life changing. There is a peace that you cannot begin to imagine until you possess it, and that you cannot describe to those who do not own it. It really does “surpass all understanding”.

But it's more than just peace... it's joy. I'm not talking about a momentary happiness. This isn't the up and down emotional turmoil of the roller coaster of life, where you are happy in one moment and sad the next. This isn't dependent upon the events in your life. Even in your deepest griefs, you are able to cling to this joy. Even in your darkest heartbreaks, this joy shines. When you have no earthly reason to rejoice, the joy that comes with the experience of grace bursts through your life and gives you a reason to rejoice.

Paul gives us a beautiful instruction in his letter to the Philippian church. “Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!” Rejoice in the Lord. And not just sometimes, but ALWAYS. And this instruction is so important, that he repeats it. It's as if he's saying “OK, folks, there will be a quiz at the end, and this will be on it. Rejoice! Did you get that? Rejoice!” You see, Beloved, rejoicing, living in this abiding joy, is one of the secrets to living the abundant life that Christ promised us.

I do not have the perfect life. I have many physical limitations and illnesses that trouble me. I struggle with headaches all the time (I've had one every day this week. Can they stop already? Please?) I have problems with my family, people with whom I am unable to have healthy relationships, and so I find I must have no relationship at all, much to my heartbreak. I cannot have children, and yet I have longed for them. I am the survivor of physical, emotional, and sexual abuse. My father died when I was 17. There are numerous reasons why I could have turned my back on my faith, rejected God. There are countless reasons to be depressed, or afraid, or lost, or hurt. And when I did not understand Grace, the miraculous power of the love of God and His grace, I struggled with Paul's command to rejoice always. And to be honest, there are still time I struggle (particularly when the pain gets bad).

But that's the thing about grace-fueled joy. It's not based on my circumstances. It's not based on my past, it's not based on my present, it's not based on my future. It's not about who I am, or what I've done, or what I will do. Joy isn't about me. As long as I seek joy IN me, I will struggle, and so will you. But like Grace isn't based on what I've done to earn it, neither is joy.

Joy is founded in and fed by gratefulness to God. When I stop looking at myself, when I stop focusing all that's right or wrong in my life, and I look instead to the God who created me, to the God who loves me, to the God who redeemed me, and who will sing over me in joy when I am with Him in eternity, His joy pours over me. I am able to marvel is the greatness of God. I can stand amazed at the variety of His creation, at the beauty of His world, at the largess of His grace, at His consistancy, His power, His love. I can look at the clouds and enjoy them, knowing that nothing that will come from them is beyond His control. I can look at the grass and trees and marvel at the way they work... and that nothing man has ever built has ever done what plants do the way plants do it on the scale they do it, and isn't it just amazing that God didn't need a drawing board to think it through? Beloved, when I remember who God is, when I remember who I am, and who He's chosen to make me, I am awash in the joy of the Lord. That's rejoicing in the Lord.

God's Love is so big, so expansive, that we cannot begin to grasp it (and oh, what fun it is to try to gasp it, and then pause, and realize you haven't even gotten close, and it's even better than you've even begun to imagine!) I feel like I am a fountain, connected to the great Source of Living Water, and I am constantly being filled, even overfilled, by His Love. I feel like there's no getting close to me without getting splashed... not because of who I am, but because of how BIG He is, how big His love is. It is His love pouring through me that splashes those around me. And so, too, I think, is it with Joy. When I am rejoicing in the Lord, it's almost as if I'm somehow connecting to the Joy that God feels when He looks at His creation, and getting to share some of His joy. It's like plugging into a live wire!

Maybe that's why Christ told us to “abide in Him”... He knew that if we would but seek Him, if we would put Him first in our thoughts and our goals, that we'd plug into that Source of eternal life, and there we would find the Joy that carries us through. He knew what we could not: that we NEED joy to make it through this life we live, in this fallen world. It's why Paul tells us to rejoice... but not just to rejoice, but rejoice in the Lord. They're all telling us to plug in to God's Joy.

Beloved, if you're wondering how we can sing when it would seem we have no reason, I ask you, nay, I beg you, for the sake of your own soul, to find the Grace of God. You will never feel so free, you will never have peace like it, and you will never know the joy that sustains me in the darkest days, until you do. There is nothing in all the world like the Joy of the Lord, nothing. And when you've found Him, then you can join us... because really,

How can I can I keep from singing?!

Musical Musings: Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone), Chris Tomlin

2008-06-23T15:40:00.003-05:00

Now playing: Chris Tomlin - Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone)
via FoxyTunes

----------------

Amazing Grace (My Chains Are Gone), Chris Tomlin

Amazing grace
How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me
I once was lost, but now I'm found
Was blind, but now I see

'Twas grace that taught my heart to fear
And grace my fears relieved
How precious did that grace appear
The hour I first believed

My chains are gone
I've been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy reigns
Unending love, Amazing grace

The Lord has promised good to me
His word my hope secures
He will my shield and portion be
As long as life endures

My chains are gone
I've been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy reigns
Unending love, Amazing grace

My chains are gone
I've been set free
My God, my Savior has ransomed me
And like a flood His mercy reigns
Unending love, Amazing grace

The earth shall soon dissolve like snow
The sun forbear to shine
But God, Who called me here below
Will be forever mine
Will be forever mine
You are forever mine

I write these with the song on repeat on my laptop as I write, so I hear it over and over again as I write. I find myself struggling this time to put into words quite what I want to say; I'm stolen away again and again by the beauty of this song, these lyrics. And there are tears in my eyes (which is good... it makes it easier to see, actually!) because of the truth ringing through every word, every note.

Amazing Grace is not a new song. It was written around 1772 by a former slave trader (though not until some 22 years after he left the slave trade for health reasons) and has been used not only as a hymn in Christian churches, but also as an anthem for human rights groups. (See the Wikipedia article for more information on the history of the song and its author.) It's a favorite on bagpipes at funerals (and yes, I LOVE hearing it on bagpipes!) and was even in the second Star Trek film, the Wrath of Khan (yes, I recognised it the first time I heard it in the movie!). Because of it's simple meter, it gets set to other melodies, and even Elvis covered it.

But there's something amazing about this version by Chris Tomlin. It's simple, it's sweet, Chris' voice accompanied by a piano (and maybe a guitar?) and joined on the chorus for layers of harmony. But more than the simple majesty of the music, there is the message. And, oh, what a message.

The Creator of the universe pours out grace upon us to redeem us to Himself. The God who spoke time into existence, who breathes life into our frail bodies, who set the heavenly bodies in their courses, who divided the land from the sea and created every living thing upon this earth... this is the God who condescends to pour grace upon us and redeem us. This God who speaks from the whirlwind and in the whisper gave up the limitlessness of divinity for us.

Me. Who lied to my mother. Who hated my stepfathers. Who disobeys His commands. Me. In this frail, mortal body, marked by death (your very genetic structure contains a countdown clock until your death... the telomeres that shorten with every division until they no longer protect your cells genetic coding from mutation and error and death, that even cloning can't get around). Me. A housewife in suburban Oklahoma, on the edge between city and farm. Me. God gave up divinity for ME.

Stop for a minute, beloved, and reread that paragraph, but put yourself in it. Think about all the things about yourself, even the ones you never tell anyone, all the shortcomings and failures in your life. Think about every reason you don't deserve anything good. You know what they are. Even now, guilt is whispering in your ear.

Who am I, who are you, that God would descend from Heaven, would step from outside of time into entropy, would limit himself, for me, for you? What, Beloved, in your life deserves such a sacrifice? I know there is nothing in my life that is worthy of that sort of divine condescension. And if you are honest with yourself, truly honest, brutally so, you will know the same is true of you.

And that, Beloved, is what's so amazing about grace.

Grace is not given for what we do. It is not given for who we know. There is nothing in our lives that would merit what God did for us. Nothing. Even the good you do, you should be doing anyway, so it cannot outweigh the ill you do. Grace has nothing to do with who we are. Listen to me, Beloved. Grace has NOTHING to do with who we are or what we do.

Stop striving, stop struggling, stop fighting to be enough. Stop. You cannot earn grace. You cannot do enough. And while that causes a panic at first, doesn't it sort of feel good to just stop? Doesn't it feel good on some level to just stop fighting?

Grace is not about me. It's not about you. Grace is God. It's all about God. Grace is God, looking at us, seeing that we are completely unworthy, completely unable, and completely undeserving. Grace is the Creator of the universe seeing our failings... and overcoming them Himself. Grace is God stepping out of eternity, into time, and redeeming us from our mistakes. Grace is the divine condescending to come to earth, the Creator coming to His creation, and drawing us to Him.

Grace says you don't have to be enough. You don't have to do enough. Grace knows you can never be enough or do enough... and it doesn't matter. Grace comes to you, undeserving you. Grace says “Stop fighting Me, Beloved, and rest in My embrace.” Grace cries over the heartbreak “I love you, not for what you have done, but because of who I am. I love you, Beloved. I can do no other.”

I remember when my baby sister (she's 18 now, rapidly approaching 19, and less a baby... but she will always be my baby sister, a fact she's been told her entire life) was tiny. I was responsible for caring for her, and there were times I let her cry. I'd put her to bed, and she'd cry; babies never understand why you're going away, why they have to stop and sleep. They cry because their will is being thwarted and they don't know how else to protest. Sometimes, you just have to let them cry. It's part of how they learn to comfort themselves (“self-soothe”) and cope with the unfairness of life, even at that tender age. But sometimes, they don't know how to stop. I may have stepped away and let her cry her frustrations out... but I could hear when the cry changed from “this isn't fair!” to “I don't know how to stop!” And that's when I'd go back in to her. I'd scoop her into my arms and hold her. And she'd fight me; she was still upset, she still didn't want to be thwarted (though she certainly couldn't have put it in such clear, articulate terms). But she also needed me to hold her close, to comfort her, to soothe her and help her stop crying. I had to hold her tightly while she fought me, knowing that she wouldn't have peace until she trusted me enough to stop fighting. If you've spent time with small children, none of this should be surprising to you; you may have done this with your child, or niece or nephew, or grandchild.

That's Grace, Beloved. God steps down to earth because He sees we cannot stop by ourselves, and He holds us in His arms and lets us weep it out, lets us fight it out. He holds us close as we struggle, soothing us and waiting for us to trust Him enough to stop fighting.

When I tell you to stop, that's what I mean. God is waiting, Beloved, His arms outstretched, waiting for us to trust Him. And just as it feels good to be comforted in the embrace of another, to stop fighting and just let it go, oh, Beloved, how much better it feels when that embrace is God's.

I was bound in chains. I was blind, lost, confused. I could not even see the chains that held me. I could not tell I was blind. All I knew is that every day was an endless battle, a heartbreaking fight that sapped me of all my strength and life. I did not know I needed Grace... I did not know what I needed. I was suicidal from exhaustion... it wasn't a longing for death, it was a weariness of the existence I was leading. There was nothing in me that deserved what I needed.

And God ran to me. He was ever there, ever waiting for me to stop fighting and surrender to Him. Like my sister in my arms, fighting me even as she needed me, I had to give over my will to His... and oh, how much better it is now.

Beloved, Grace is available. It is ever unchanging, because it exists outside of the limits of time. It is eternal, always present, always working in us. And when the end of days comes, when the sun finally reaches the end of its life and the earth dies as all things must, Beloved, Grace is still there. You will never run so far that Grace cannot reach you. You will never unearn Grace... for indeed, if you could not earn it, how could you lose it?

Ah, you say, but if it is always there, then what is the rush? Or, perhaps you are mortified by so “easy” a Grace... you fear that Grace so readily reached is unappreciated and abused. You see, Beloved, another thing amazing about grace is what it does in the life of its recipient. Grace, freely given, lavishly poured out, a libation from God instead of to Him, forever changes those who receive it. Aware of our great need for it, our gratitude for it is great. Indeed, I would say that the greater our awareness of our need for grace, the more we receive and the more we appreciate it.

The best illustration I can offer for this comes from my marriage. You see, my husband loves me. I do not doubt this. It is tattooed indelibly on my soul. And I know, that like the grace I receive from God, my husband's love for me is not based on what I do for him, but rather on who he is. He has chosen to love me; he can do no other. There is nothing I could to take from him his love for me (though it should be noted that any spouse can grieve their partner past the breaking point... we are human, after all, with human weaknesses, and even my husband is only human). I could take advantage of that love and treat him horribly. I could trust that my husband will always be there for me, when I am ready for him, and run around on him, abusing him. I could trust that his love will always be there for me, and cheat on him, or even intentionally fight him. I could, if I so chose, intentionally make his marriage to me the most miserable thing ever he did.

But I don't. You see, because I am so keenly aware of just how precious my husband's love for me truly is, I treasure it. Because I know that there is nothing in me that he should love me, I treasure and prize and am extremely grateful for his love. I don't have to dress up when he takes me out; he loves me in pajamas as much as he does in fancy dresses. I don't have to do my hair when we go nice places; he doesn't care if my hair is up or down, grey or red, long... none of that matters to him. I choose to dress up, I choose to look nice not in order to earn his love, but out of appreciation for it. When people look at us, I want them to think well of my husband because of me. I want to reflect well on my Beloved. I want my life to be a witness, a testimony, of his love for me. Because he loves me, I change myself to be more pleasing to him in gratitude.

That's how it is with Grace. I don't live right in order to earn grace, just as I don't dress up to earn love. Because I am so keenly aware of my need, I treasure what I have been freely given as a gift. I don't take advantage of it, trusting it will always be there... because life is short, and the tomorrow I'm counting on may never come. I don't abuse the gifts I'm given, nor do I abuse the giver. And because I am so grateful, I change myself to please those who have given to me. I seek to reflect well on the one who gives to me. I live “right” not out of fear for my future, but to please the one who sealed my future.

And, that, Beloved, is Amazing Grace. Grace saw me in my wretchedness, in my lost, blind, chained state, wholly unworthy of it, and condescended to come to me anyway. And because Grace came to me, because I have been freed, I will forever live to please the one who freed me. Won't you stop fighting? Won't you let Him hold you close? I so want you to feel the thrill I do when I sing

My chains are gone!
I've been set free!
My God, my Savior, has ransomed me!
And like a flood, His mercy reigns
Unending love, Amazing Grace...
And God, who called me...
will be forever mine.

There is nothing like it in all the earth. Once you are free, you will marvel that you stayed chained so long. Life is sweet, Beloved. Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the one who takes refuge in Him. (Psalm 34:8). Won't you come?

Musical Musings, Kutless "Better For You"

2008-06-23T01:22:00.001-05:00

My decision can not be put off again
I see the right choice but my heart is filled with dread
It all seems backwards in my head, my head

I know it seems too wrong to be right
This way is so much harder to fight
But in the end I know it is true
This way is better, it's better for you

Choose a little pain and gain a life with joy
Accepting pleasure now will earn a life of pain
It all seems backwards in my head, my head

I know it seems too wrong to be right
This way is so much harder to fight
But in the end I know it is true
This way is better
It's better for you, for you

Sometimes I wonder why it's this way
When it's done the burden is gone
This discomfort will be taken away
As soon as it's over, it's over for me

I know it seems too wrong to be right
This way is so much harder to fight
But in the end I know it is true
This way is better
It's better for you, for you

I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do... For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. (Romans 7: 15, 18-19)

it is written: "I will destroy the wisdom of the wise; the intelligence of the intelligent I will frustrate." Where is the wise man? Where is the scholar? Where is the philosopher of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since in the wisdom of God the world through its wisdom did not know him, God was pleased through the foolishness of what was preached to save those who believe. Jews demand miraculous signs and Greeks look for wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified: a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles, but to those whom God has called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength. (1 Corinthians 1: 19-25)

“My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways My ways," declares the LORD. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” (Isaiah 55:8-9)

The way of a fool seems right to him, but a wise man listens to advice. (Proverbs 12:15)

There is a way that seems right to a man, but in the end it leads to death. (Proverbs 14:12 & Proverbs 16:25)

Christianity must seem foolishness indeed. We choose the hard path through life and say that the burden is lighter. We live in trials and praise God for His goodness. We seem to walk in the midst of contradiction and confusion. We speak of enthroning God in our lives and no longer being slaves. I can understand why it might be confusing.

God told us it would be confusing. He told us we wouldn't understand. He tells us that His ways are higher than ours. You see, Beloved, He's looking at an eternal view, while we study a small piece of the now. In our view, things are jumbled, confused, and ugly. But if we could see from God's persepctivce, we'd find that the view is as different as the back of a piece of needlework is from the front.

Let's take Joseph, for instance. God gives Joseph dreams. Joseph brags about them. Joseph gets thrown into a pit and sold into slavery. He finds favor with his master, only to be tempted by and accused of raping his master's wife. He's thrown into prison, where he finds favor with the warden. He interprets dreams, and is forgotten. He comes before Pharaoh to interpret his dreams, and is placed in charge of all of Egypt. It's easy to have a narrow view of things, to see all the ways his life went wrong and conclude (wrongly) that God had deserted him. But widen your view a moment.

Because Joseph is sold into slavery, he is brought to Egypt ahead of his family. Because he earns favor with his master, he is imprisoned instead of being executed. Because he lives faithfully, he is in a position to interpret dreams. Because he interprets them correctly and has shown faithful service to his masters that prospers them, he is placed in a position of power. There, he is able to prepare Egypt for the famine that brings his brothers back to him... where they bow before him just as they had in his dream. God uses the sins of the brothers to fulfill His plan for Joseph.

But wait... step back with me further. Because Jacob and his 12 sons come to Egypt during the famine for Joseph to take care of them, they are there for years. They wind up enslaved by the Egyptians, building their monuments. 400 years they toil until God raises up Moses and leads them from bondage into the promised land. God uses Joseph's position of power to woo his chosen people back to Him in one of the greatest demonstrations of His mercy and His power in history. Lives are forever changed through the Exodus... the nation is changed.

Wait, though. We still haven't stepped back far enough... there's still an eternal view we're missing. Because you see, Beloved, the Exodus, the Passover, the entire bondage of the nation of Israel foreshadows another Exodus, another Passover, another delivery from bondage. The lambs they killed in Egypt were a symbol of the Lamb who would be slain for their souls just as the lambs then were killed for their lives. The blood that signaled that they should be passed over, that they were the children of God was a hint of the blood that would flow to seal us for God later. And the bondage the Israelites escaped was but a whisper of the greater bondage of sin that Christ frees us from.

And I may still not have the full picture. I don't know. Because God's ways are so different from mine that I can't even begin to conceive of them. But can you begin to see how easy it is to fall into seeing the right now and losing sight of the eternal? God is so different from us that trying to understand Him and His motives is like trying to get an amoeba to understand our motives!

When you can't understand what God is trying to accomplish, even in the midst of the deepest hurts of our lives that we can't begin to grasp, I want you to stop. He didn't ask us to understand Him. Indeed, He pretty much promised we couldn't. When the Word of God seems to make no sense to you, I want you to stop and try to step back. Look for the eternal perspective. Remind yourself that it won't always make sense to us. But it doesn't have to. I want you to step back, reach for the eternal view, and trust that God's way, however baffling and confusing it is to us, it really is better.

Musical Musings: Praise You In This Storm, Casting Crowns

2008-06-22T01:31:00.000-05:00

Praise You In This Storm, Casting Crowns

I was sure by now
God, You would have reached down
And wiped our tears away
Stepped in and saved the day
But once again, I say “Amen”, and it’s still raining

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I’ll praise You in this storm
And I will lift my hands
For You are who You are
No matter where I am
Every tear I’ve cried
You hold in Your hand
You never left my side
And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

I remember when
I stumbled in the wind
You heard my cry
You raised me up again
My strength is almost gone
How can I carry on
If I can’t find You

As the thunder rolls
I barely hear You whisper through the rain
“I’m with you”
And as Your mercy falls
I raise my hands and praise the God who gives
And takes away

I lift my eyes unto the hills
Where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord
The Maker of Heaven and Earth

And though my heart is torn
I will praise You in this storm

The Health and Wealth doctrine is a lie from the depths of Hell. Yes, I said it. Anyone who claims that living a righteous life will bring you health and physical wholeness is wrong. It's true, that living a right life will preserve you from many illnesses and injuries, but it cannot guarantee that you will never be ill or broken. It does not guarantee life forever on earth. Death is a fact of temporal life. We cannot avoid it, and the longing for perfect health is just another manifestation of the fear of Death. The promise of the Gospel is not perfect health, but of a hope of Life after Death, the removal of fear through the great and merciful gift of God. Likewise, wealth is NEVER a promise in the gospel.

If you have been deceived into believing that life in Christ means that you will never again suffer, never again doubt, never again have a sorrow in life, you have been sorely mislead. Beloved, let me speak peace to your heart: just because you struggle with your faith or your health or your wealth, it does not mean that you do not have Christ. Do not doubt your salvation, beloved, when everything seems to go wrong. Our God is far greater than ANY trouble on this temporary Earth.

That's not to say that we aren't ever responsible for our troubles; certainly if you are doing drugs and living a promiscuous lifestyle, there is very little that stands between you and disease and death. I do not mean to say that we are never responsible for the choices we make, that we never suffer consequences for our actions. No: that, too, is a lie from Hell. Being a Christian isn't a get out of trouble free card, and grace is not a license to sin freely.

What I do want to share with you today, Beloved reader, is encouragement. I want you to learn to trust in God despite the challenges of life. I want you to find Him the one and only reliable comfort, even when it seems there is no comfort to be had. I want you to walk in obedience to His commands until He tattoos it onto your soul.

Christ Himself, God Almighty veiled in human form, suffered in life. He suffered the limitations of His human form, from His life as an infant, to His obedience to the parents He'd formed in love. He hungered. He thirsted. He became tired. He fasted for 40 days and nights, and was tempted. He was hated. Several times, hands were raised against Him. And then, Beloved, He was betrayed by one of those nearest Him, sold and arrested, beaten, spat upon, whipped, mocked, pierced. He was led before the people He'd come to save, and had to listen to them call for His death. Whipped to the point just before death (and indeed, many of those who suffered the beatings He did did not survive them), He was forced to carry the instrument of His execution through the city to the site of His death. There, He suffered for hours before willingly giving up His life, having to fight for each breath to speak every word He spoke before He let the Divine Spark within Him go.

How then, Beloved, do we think we will not suffer? If God's own Son suffered so, how are we to be spared? Indeed, Paul, inspired by the Holy Spirit of God (His very breath, the pneumos) tells us that we are like sheep to be slaughtered. Jesus tells us that we will have no where to lay our heads. He tells us we will be persecuted. Hear the heartbreak at the Last Supper, when He tells Simon Peter, "Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift youas wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have turned back, strengthen your brothers."

You see, Beloved, the challenge of the Christian life, of being called by the name of Christ, is not that we lead the perfect life, that we never struggle, that we never falter. It's how we respond to the trials and tests and turmoils that come. Look at the life of Job. He was righteous; God Himself points him out as righteous and faithful. And yet, Job suffers. And as long as Job does not curse God or demand justification, Job never sins. Job only falters when he demands an answer from the Creator, daring to lift himself on equal standing with the God who made him.

God makes the rain to fall on the just and the unjust. Life is unfair. But Beloved, your heartbreak and your tears are not ignored. Psalm 56:8 tells us that God stores our tears, recording each one. In 2 Kings, God says that He has seen tears, and is moving on them. Your heartbreak has not gone unnoticed. Your pain is not empty or in vain. Your hurts are not ignored or forgotten. In Matthew, in the parable of the sheep and the goats, Christ says that things done to or for the least of His children are done to and for Him. He sees it all.

You see, the question is not if we will suffer. It's not even why we suffer... because to be honest, I cannot give an answer that will satisfy a broken heart (and I speak from profound experience here... even when I understand intellectually why suffering happens, it does not salve the wounds that God continues to heal in me). It's more... it's more a question of how we respond to our suffering. Do we curse God, and suffer lost, hopeless, and alone? Or do we dare trust that God has a purpose and plan to redeem our pain? Dare we trust God enough to praise Him for His goodness even when we struggle to see it?

That's what's at the heart of this song (and several others I've heard, such as “Held”). Our prayers to God don't make problems go away. It's learning to trust God despite the pain. It's having to faith to rest in Him when it seems we have no reason to. To praise God in the storm is not necessarily to praise Him FOR the storm, but to cling to the good things He's done and been, and to trust that even now, even in the storm and pain, He is still God, and He is still good.

When my father died, the last rock of my life was torn from me. He was the last person in my life that I really knew loved me. (It wasn't that I wasn't loved... looking back on my life as an adult, outside of the anguish of my upbringing and the torments of adolescence, I know now that I was always loved. But when I was young, I didn't know that... so the loss of my father was especially devastating.) I was truly in the midst of a storm, lost, confused, hurting. I didn't know whom I could rely upon; I'd lost the other person I knew loved me not even 6 months earlier.

I found myself clinging to the promises of God. I clung to Him, because I had to hold fast to something or be washed away in my grief. I would sing and sign silently to myself praise songs and promises just to keep it together. I learned the hard way to praise God in the deepest heartbreak of my life. And He was so faithful. He has never left me, never failed me. Even when He didn't calm the storm, He calmed me.

Beloved, you have, you are, or you will face a storm in your life. That is the nature of life. Don't listen to the liars who would discourage and defeat you by claiming your faith is too weak to be rewarded by God. Don't listen to the lies of Satan that would tell you you've failed, or that you are alone. I know, oh, Beloved, I KNOW how hard it is to find the strength to just get through each day... and it seems you have nothing left with which to praise God... and indeed, you wonder why you should, if this is what obedience to His word brings. I KNOW, Beloved. I may never have been exactly where you are, but I KNOW. And I tell you now that if you will consent to obey, even when you don't feel it, when you are honest with God and obey Him anyway, it will make a difference. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow... but in time, you will look back, and you will find He was there the whole time.

I know you're tired. I know you're weak. I know you question God. None of those things are sins. Beloved, cry out to God. “Oh, Lord, I'm so lost. I don't even know if I can praise You... this hurt is so much bigger than I can bear. But, Lord, You said that You hold my tears. You said that You will bless us when we bless You. So Lord, I choose to stand in obedience on Your promise. I can't see the light at the end. I feel alone, Lord, and I need You now so much more than I can say. But I will choose to believe that You are here, with me. I will choose to believe that You have something in this I cannot see, I may never see, but that You have redemption for this pain. I can't pretend I won't struggle, and I so wish You could make me understand why, that You could just FIX this. But I choose to recognize that You give, and You take away, and You deserve praise no matter what happens now. Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.”

Beloved, you are not alone. Stand with me, take my hand as the rains pour down on us, and sing. Sing in obedience while God pours out the grace you so desperately need upon you, until you can sing in confident belief, even in your grief.

100th post: Musical Musing: Kutless, "All Of The Words"

2008-06-19T00:14:00.001-05:00

All Of The Words, Kutless

How do I speak of the indescribable to You
I will try to explain these feelings that are true
So looking to the sky I will sing and from my heart to You I bring

All of the words in all of my life that could never explain and never describe
All of my love, which is nothing to hide so I lift up my hands and I worship
I worship You

In your presence I forever choose to live
I will praise You for it's all I have to give
So looking to the sky I will sing and from my heart to You I bring

All of the words in all of my life that could never explain and never describe
All of my love, which is nothing to hide so I lift up my hands and I worship

By Your grace You let me come talk to You
It's not that I'm worthy I thank you Jesus
For the love that You have shown

All of the words in all of my life that could never explain and never describe
All of my love, which is nothing to hide so I lift up my hands and I worship

With all of the words in all of my life that could never explain and never describe
All of my love, which is nothing to hide so I lift up my hands and I worship
I worship You

I first heard this song on Scrubs; there have been several songs on the show that I have to download after I've heard them. It was surprising to me to hear a Christian song on a network show... but it's still an amazing song, so when I saw the episode again in reruns, I opted to blog about it.

I've felt like this many times in my life, that God is SO big, so far beyond our explanation that I can't even begin to describe who He is, what He is. His grace, given freely, is so much more than we can express, His love is so much greater than we can even begin to imagine. So much of my poetry and my blogging is an attempt to put into words that you and I, in our temporal, limited, mortal bodies and brains can understand, even though the concepts I long to express are so far beyond our comprehension.

For instance: God exists outside of the limits of time; He can see the future and the past in ways we cannot imagine. So, as the Voice of God speaks over the deeps in the first verse of Genesis, He knows already the entirety of history. He can see beyond the limits He builds into earth for our sakes. He sees the sacrifice His Son will make on our behalf. He can see the way we will all stumble blindly. He sees the hatred we will pour out on each other and on His perfect, holy, acceptable Son. And still He says “Let us make man in our image” and that we are “good”. His love breathed into us the divine spark of life, even as He knew it would cost Him His final breath.

How do I express how BIG an idea that is? How can I make real to you the amazing gift of grace that is in the act of creation, in the birth of time? How can I ever bring home to you the inestimable Love of God? And that's just one aspect of His great and mighty love. He is Creator, mighty enough to call existence itself into being, who sets the course of the stars in the heavens and the limits of the waters. He is God Almighty (All Mighty) who creates the great whales and squids and elephants and the smallest blades of grass and the mightiest forests with a word. He is Judge, who sees all that is done in time, and holds us accountable to Him for our actions... no injustice goes unseen, unanswered. He is Grace, pouring out His own life for offenses not His. He is Mercy, applying His sacrifice to our own account. He is Love. He is as far above us as we are above an amoeba. His ways are as far above ours as the sky is from the earth below it.

So I echo the cry of Kutless: How do I express the inexpressible? How do I speak of things that have been tatooed onto my deepest heart to anyone and ever do them justice? What can I do but pour out all my words, though they will never do God justice, though they can never explain who He is, what He is, how AMAZING He is? What can I do but try to find a way in our temporal bodies to pour out all of the Love He's poured into me? What can I do but raise my hands above my head in an attempt to give back every bit He's given me in worship?

I do sign language to praise songs in church; I'm hardly good enough to provide services to the deaf... I know just the 50-100 concepts needed for most praise songs. And yet, as I sing praise to my amazing God, I can no more still my hands than I could silence my voice... even in my limited way, I must pour out all of the words to express all of my love in worship.

Beloved, if you do not know my Jesus, if you have never met the Savior who gave all of who He is to woo you to Himself in love for you, please, do not go another minute. The words of your prayer are less important than the heart behind them.

“Dear God, I want to know You. I know that I have nothing of my own to bring You, nothing that would allow me to come before your perfection and power. Yet I believe that You still seek me, that You sent Your Son Jesus to win me to You. In His name, in His sacrifice, I come to You now. I don't even know where to begin, except to ask that You would draw near to me, make Yourself known to me, and teach me how to walk with You as You desire. In Jesus' name I ask these things. So May It Be.”

Getting to know you...

2008-06-17T22:25:00.004-05:00

Welcome to the 2008 edition of getting to know your friends. Okay, here's what you're supposed to do, and try not to be lame and spoil the fun! Copy this entire email and paste into a new email that you can send, change all the answers so that they apply to you. Then send this to a whole bunch of people you know, INCLUDING the person that sent it to you. Some of you may get this several times (that means you have lots of friends).

1. What is your occupation? Volunteer in my church office, where I make the bulletin every week and then whatever else is needed, including most of the programs and tickets and such for dramas. In drama, too, and beyond that I'm a bad housewife and trivia weirdy.

2. What color are your socks right now? I'm not wearing socks, but the ones I took off a few minutes ago were these lovely soft red, pink and white striped ankle socks that were a gift from a friend.

3. What are you listening to right now? John's watching "Attack Of The Show", so I'm listening to that (they're reviewing DVDs)

4. What was the last thing that you ate? A piece of Subway sandwich, chips, oreos, and chocolate chip cookies.

5. Can you drive a stick shift? No. :(

6. If you were a crayon, what color would you be? Indigo. That color that's somewhere between blue and purple, so blue you're not sure it's not blue, and yet still purple. It's so regal to me.

7. Last person you spoke to on the phone? Honestly? I have no idea. I haven't used the phone since I got home from the office this afternoon, so the last person I spoke to would have been someone calling the church... and I don't know who was the last one... I spoke to so many people today.
8. Do you like the person who sent this to you? Of course I do!!

9. How old are you today? 30 years, 6 months, 3 weeks and 4 days

10. Favorite drinks? chocolate milk, REAL hot chocolate, made with milk & cinnamon

11. What is your favorite sport to watch? Something someone I love is playing, or football (the only sport I can really tolerate)
12. Have you ever dyed your hair? On a regular basis. But I keep it close enough to my natural color, just making it redder, that most people can't tell that I've dyed it.

13. Pets? 2 each dogs and cats, 3 of which are male, leaving me one lonely Lady Cat to keep me company in this sea of testosterone.

15. Last movie you watched? Die Hard 2, I think.

16. Favorite Days of the year? Nov & May 23. Nov is my bday, and the anniv of my first date with my hubby, the anniv of the day he proposed. And May is the day he married me!

17. What do you do to vent anger? Rant, rave, storm around, and then clean.

18. What was your favorite toy as a child? I don't know. Legos? And I played Barbies with my sisters forever. And I played with my uncle's toys, too.

19. What is your favorite season? WINTER. I love the cold. Hot is massive amounts of suck.

20. Hugs or kisses? Hugs, and kisses with my hubby.

21. Cherry or Blueberry? Cherry. Fake Cherry is better than fake blueberries, and real cherries are awesome.

22. Do you want your friends to email you? Yes!

23. Who is most likely to respond? Dunno. Posting it on my blog...

24. Who is least likely to respond? Kimmie: she sent it to me.

25. What animal/vegetable or mineral would you be? Lion. Or Eagle. Or Dolphin. Ooooh... or cabbit!

26. When was the last time you cried? I think it was Friday, when I heard that a 12 yo lost her fight with Cystic Fibrosis. I didn't know her, but it was so sad.

27. What is on the floor of your closet? Laundry. And suitcases. And one has linens, and another has roller skates.

28. Who is the friend you have had the longest that you are sending this to? Probably Kimmie. Because I don't know that I'll send it to many people, so much as post it on my blog.

29. Who is the friend you have had the shortest that you are sending this to? The person who JUST found my blog and is reading this RIGHT NOW. Yes, you. :D

30. Favorite smells? Dark chocolate cake with cinnamon in it, Cinnamon anything, Dove soap, and Baby powder

31. Who inspires you? To be completely honest... my best inspiration comes from my Savior.

32. What are you afraid of? Spiders, but even more, of losing my husband.

33. Plain, cheese or spicy burger? Cheese. Esp with grilled onions & mushrooms, or lots of veggies.
34. Favorite car? Rentals. Its the only time I drive a new car. I wouldn't BUY a new car... but I love driving one when I rent.

Heather = Nerd

2008-06-16T21:44:00.003-05:00

I asked John to let me do the repairs to my machine... that I'd need his help, but I wanted to do the work. I'm sitting on my laptop now. The toasted drive is plugged into the old machine in the office so that I can get data off of it. It's awesome that I was able to do that.

Also: This is so awesome on every nerdy little level. Go ahead and laugh folks - just be sure you're laughing WITH us, and not at us. (For the record, I do not know these people, I am not one of the costumed people, I wasn't there when it happened. STILL awesome!)

It's not too late to get your tickets to "A Man Called Peter" at Rejoice Church. The $20 ticket includes your supper and $10 tax-deductible gift to Student and Drama Ministries Missions trips. The show is Friday at 7:00 pm.

A small casualty

2008-06-09T16:35:00.001-05:00

My laptop's hard drive crashed. *sniff sniff* All blogging and tweeting and general internet usage is limited until it's repaired (well, replaced) and then we will be hoping that I might maybe perhaps be able to get the most important files off my old toasted drive.

See you soon, I hope, folks!

Musical Musing: Graceland, Paul Simon

2008-06-05T10:51:00.001-05:00

I’m sitting here this morning, after being in the mood to hear “Graceland” last night (inspired by a trip through Memphis later this summer… not that we’ll necessarily go to Graceland, but it was brought up when I mentioned it to a friend). I LOVE this album, and so this is one of those rare musings that’s not over a specific song, but rather over an entire project by an artist.

Graceland is marked by African, Zydeco, and even Mexican sounds (including the song written by Los Lobos but not credited to them, “All Around The World or The Myth Of Finger Prints). Simon took the album on tour and played a concert in Zimbabwe that featured many of the African artists on the album, as well as several exiled South African singers. It’s from this concert that the above YouTube clips were taken.

The album may be old (it was released 22 years ago!), and many of the sounds in it may well be much older, but there’s still something alive about it to me. I love the mix of sounds, the way the voices overlap each other, the way the sound of the drums mix with the voices singing… almost as if the voices were an instrument of their own. It’s music like this that helps make my music collection so eclectic… I fall in love with a sound and seek out similar and other artists who are willing to explore the byways that led to modern American sound. (Watching Chevy Chase dance and lip synch in “You Can Call Me Al”, while silly and possibly a guilty pleasure, actually didn’t hurt either. ;) )

So often, music is a rehashing of what’s been done before, and not always a clever rehashing. I once fell in love with Stevie Ray Vaughn’s music, only to be disappointed when I could pick his music out, but not which song, because they all sounded so similar to my casual ear. I want unique songs, sounds I’ve not heard before, even if they’re older than I am. I want a sound that’s new to me… and even as old as this album is, it delivers a new and different sound (and it’s worth noting that this isn’t a new discovery; I was 8 when the album was released, and I grew up with the aforementioned video with Chevy Chase… I’ve loved this album every one of the past 22 years!).

Watching these youtube videos, particularly the one with LadySmith Black Mombaza, is an adventure to me. It seems to me that the lead singer is employing a sort of gestural language along with the words he’s singing (sometimes in English, but other times they’re singing in African languages… I don’t know which one(s)). His whole body tells the story in the song they’re singing. I see a sadness in their faces as they sing “Homeless”, and I wonder how many of them lived that life, or watched as loved ones, or people in their villages or townships, lived that life. Are they thinking about their home in South Africa, suffering under Apartheid at the time? The lyrics were written by Simon, but what is in the heart of these men as they sing it?

It’s easy for people in Western Culture, particularly for those of us in the United States, to forget how much our culture has been influenced and shaped by what came before. It’s easy to listen to rock music and forget that it rose from the sounds and rhythms brought over from Africa. It’s easy to listen to Santana and not consider how much of his sound comes from his Mexican heritage (though not hearing the Latin sound in his music would take work!) It’s entirely too easy for us to insulate ourselves in a single sound and shut out the wonders of music from around the world. Accordions are seen as unhip and not-cool, but how many of us actually listen to music with them? How many of us actually give them a chance to earn our respect? They’re all over this album, but more than that, they’re hiding all over the place in pop culture (Drew Carey, anyone?)

That’s one of the miracles of Graceland. It brought the sounds that were already in our music, in world music, and shared them in an intentional way with insulated American ears. After all, the sounds in Graceland may have been born Under African Skies, but that’s no reason they have to stay there!

Musical Musing: “All You Need Is Love” The Beatles

2008-05-31T19:35:00.002-05:00

All You Need Is Love

Love, love, love.
Love, love, love.
Love, love, love.

There's nothing you can do that can't be done.
Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game.
It's easy.

Nothing you can make that can't be made.
No one you can save that can't be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time.
It's easy.

All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need.

Nothing you can know that isn't known.
Nothing you can see that isn't shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.
It's easy.

All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need.

All you need is love (all together, now!)
All you need is love. (everybody!)
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need (love is all you need).

Yee-hai!
Oh yeah!
She loves you, yeah yeah yeah.
She loves you, yeah yeah yeah,

I feel like I’ve mused on this song before, but that’s one of the awesome things about the Beatles catalogue (and Across the Universe, the movie that celebrated the diversity and story telling of the catalogue); there’s so much there, so much that can be said of it, that even when I’ve finished with this one, I likely won’t be done. But if I get a bit repetitive of things I’ve said before, forgive me.

I’m a Christian existentialist. As I understand it, Existentialism puts existence before essence, and we are defined by our actions. Before you call me dark and moody or dismiss me as a nut, let me explain it this way. All of us are. Before I am a woman, or a wife, or white, or Christian, or straight, or a meat-eater, or a pet owner, or infertile, or any of the other millions ways to describe me, I am. When you strip all the labels away, all of the “essence” that makes me really me, you arrive at the fact that I exist. I am. My husband… before he is a man, or my husband, or white, or of Choctaw descent, or Christian or anything else, he is. If you strip away all the “descriptions” that are used to label and identify us, you come back to the simple existence. As an existentialist, I say that existence is more important than essence, meaning that the sheer fact that you are is more important, of more weight, of more value than any of the things that make up your essence, that make you identifiably you.

That’s important, because when we go back to that common ground, that we are before we are anything else, then we can learn to love and respect each other there. It no longer matters that someone is a different ethnicity, a different religion, a different nationality, a different history or perspective. They deserve (and receive) love and respect for their existence. And when you recognize that the rest is unimportant to their basic value as a human being, then you can celebrate the differences that make each of us unique. I can see the color of your skin as different, and yet no less beautiful, no less worthy, no less deserving than I am. I can view your religion, your nationality, your history and outlook, even when they’re different from my own, as paint over the basic canvas of you, and admire the skill and beauty with which you became the individual you are.

The other facet of existentialism is that we are defined by our actions. And if you think about it, we really are. Those who look at you, who see you, are left to describe and define who you are in their minds by only those things that have an outward effect on the world. They can’t read your mind or your intentions, they can’t know what you mean or meant… all they can judge by is outward actions. So yes, in a very real way, others form their definition of who I am based on my outward actions.

That’s important too. You may have heard that “the road to hell is paved with good intentions”… we all mean to do the best, but how often do our actions have a negative consequence. It demands that we consider the consequences of our actions, not only on the immediate situation, but in the larger sphere of time yet to come and others all around us. If I’m hungry, feeding myself is a good and desirable thing. But beyond just feeding me what my tongue wants to taste, I need to consider the further actions of feeding myself. For one thing, I need to either grow my own food (and consider what eating now means to the future self who will need to eat again) or pay for it, either from the store or the restaurant. Just taking it affects the lives of others, who count on the income they make from selling things so that they can buy food and pay bills and meet their needs, etc. So even my appetite has an effect on other people, and on myself (and that’s before we consider what I should or shouldn’t eat for the greater health of my body). And since the people from whom I took the food don’t know why I took it, I am “thief” in their minds, and not “hungry person”.

Of course, the other side of that is to bring yourself to a place where you stop and think about the intentions of others. I know, that would seem to defy the fact that we can’t read intentions. But if I want people to give me the benefit of the doubt, shouldn’t I do the same? For instance: My father was in a car accident when I was 17. He died instantly. While there are many in my family who are still angry over that, I never really was. Not really. You see, I guessed at the probable, likely intentions of those involved in the accident. The man who caused it was almost certainly not looking to go killing people, did not mean to cause the accident, would not if he could do it over again, and was remorseful (maybe even still is) over the whole thing. The people driving the truck that drove into my father’s door weren’t driving around that morning looking for people to careen into. When you realize that no one intended for anyone to die that day, when you realize that they’re probably sorry it happened, that they would probably do things differently if they could have… that they are no different from who you are on the most basic level of who they are… how can you be angry with them?

Now, I’ll admit, I don’t always practice what I preach, and I’m AWFUL in the car. (No, really… I curse like a sailor at other drivers, even when I’m not driving. It’s really not pretty. I recommend against it.) But if I stop and think about it, if I put existence before essence, if I think about what they might have meant to accomplish by thinking about my own intentions and actions in similar situations, then life becomes more peaceful.

OK. I really did mean to say all of that, but none of it really got back to the song. But maybe I can tie my thoughts on the song to the above. Let’s see…

You may remember that I’ve said I believe God is in complete control of every atom in the universe (or multiverse, but that’s a bit of SciFi geekiness I won’t bore you with just now). That means that nothing happens without a reason, a greater purpose than just what we can observe… just as we can’t observe the reasons or purposes behind other people’s actions (Ha! Did it! W00t!!). We can’t know the mind of God, so we can’t judge why things happen. And His control, His omnipotence (or all-powerfulness, almightiness), requires His omniscience (all-knowingness). In other words, He can’t have control over everything without knowing it already.

If you stretch that idea, if you lay it like a blanket over your view of life, then you may be able to tell where I’m going with this.

“There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done”. On the one hand, because we are all equal on our most basic level, there’s nothing you can do that someone else couldn’t do. Anyone could do it. But more than that, there’s something comforting and reassuring in the knowledge that God is able to do anything we can do, and more. I can’t do something He can’t do… or even undo. I can’t mess up so big that God can’t bring me through it and work it to His glory. Because He knows everything, because He can do everything, because He is all powerful, nothing is impossible. And all you need to do what can be done is Love.

God is Love. 1 John 4:7. One of the deepest, truest, most stunningly life changing things in the bible, that I’ve ever found in my life, is in those three little words. God is Love. Go through the Bible and look at every verse that speaks of Love, and realize that they are all talking about the character of God. Love is patient, Love is kind. No really, look at what it says; all you really need is God. All you need is Love. Nothing you can do, Love can’t do. Nothing you can sing, Love can’t sing.

When it comes down to it, the only thing that only you can do, is learn how to be you. You can learn how to live your life, “play the game”, and be you. All you need in order to be the best you that you can be is Love. All you can do is be you, and all you need to be you is the everything of God.

And you know what? He loves you, yeah, yeah, yeah. He loves you yeah, yeah, yeah.

God loves you, Beloved. It’s His nature. It’s who He is. He can’t not love you. And you know what, that’s all you need. God’s love is so big, so expanisive, so everything, that it’s really all you need. All you need is Love. Love is all you need.

Oh, if only more people knew that. If only the people who gave us that awesome song, so full of amazing truth, had known the truth they were singing.

Musical Musings: “Song For Josiah” Keith Green

2008-05-30T13:55:00.001-05:00

Song For Josiah
Oh my son, you were born in a world that hates you,
And I swear I will never forsake you.
But there was a father centuries ago,
Who watched his beloved son die. Oh, die.

Oh my son, I am weak and I'm trembling,
For the Lord I am always remembering.
Oh what a strong shepherd holds you in His arms.
He'll break you and make you His own.
And then take you home.

Well if I could I would protect you from what you will see.
This world will promise love and beauty, but it lied to me.
And I will show you, if you will listen.
And I will promise, to listen too.

Oh yes, there are some who love the lies, they will kill you if they can.
Though you speak the truth in love, they will hate you like the man,
Jesus. although he was God, he allowed himself broken for you.

Well if I could I would protect you from what you will see.
The world might seem so alive, but it's dead to me.
And I will teach you, if you will hear me.
And I will promise, to hear you too. Yes I do.

Oh my son, I am only your brother.
For a sister, God gave me your mother.
But just like a mother, so long ago, had to watch her beloved son die,
Oh son, we will try, to let you go.

First of all, sweet daughters of Keith, if you’re by some weird chance reading this, I want you to know that I write this in honor of your dear father and his tender heart towards you, so evident in these lyrics. I, too, have lost a father, and I know the deep grief it can cause in a child’s heart. You can carry with you the assurance and peace that you will see your father crowned with glory in eternity if you share his faith as surely as you do his genes.

That said: This song makes me cry in all the best ways. There is something almost magical to me when I see good parenting in action. No, I never met Keith Green or his children or wife, but his heart is so evident in this (and his biography, penned by his wife) that I feel like I can safely say that Keith was a loving father.

Maybe it’s that my own parents struggled so, that I spent so little time with my father and didn’t appreciate his parenting until after he was gone. But when I see parents who love their children and discipline (not necessarily punish, but disciplining them, shaping them into the men and women they were created to be), it’s amazing and beautiful to me.

I have a coworker with a teenaged daughter who comes in from time to time… and I invariably hear her parenting this daughter. I know that her daughter doesn’t love it, and won’t appreciate it yet, but it’s so beautiful that I can’t not love my coworker more for it.

I’ve seen my uncle and my brother in law with their children, both of whom are close to me in age (to be fair, I’ve watched others, but since they were older enough for me to view them as belonging to my mother’s generation more than mine, I’m afraid that their prowess as parents was lost on my lack of appreciation for parenting at the time). I am so touched and blessed by their love and devotion for their children, the way they protect them and set boundaries, but are still able to play with and enjoy them.

Watching my family with my niece and nephew over Easter weekend, when we all came together for my grandparents’ 50th anniversary, was more of this magic. I got to see more of my niece; she was there before her brother, and stayed after he left, and John and I took her home that night. Watching my grandfather sweet-talk her into putting her shoes on (she knew that shoes meant she was going home, and she wanted to stay and play, but it was getting late and she needed to get home so she could go to bed), and knowing he’d done the same with me 25 years ago when I was her size was almost enough to make me cry (and it is enough now). Watching my uncles play with her out front… one carrying her, the other hiding and surprising her, and both of them playing it all up with her… knowing they’d almost certainly done the same with their children, knowing that they’d played with me when I was wee, knowing that this was what healthy interaction looks like, it was amazing.

I watch my friends with their children; instructing them in proper manners (don’t interrupt, say please and thank you) even as we may play together (we were all shooting paper wads at each other Sunday at lunch… if you were in the Owasso RibCrib and didn’t appreciate our play, I’m sorry. Quit being a grump.) When I was a teenager, I saw a friend, an adult I considered a sort of mentor, scoop her child up as he was being disobedient and disrespectful. In one fell swoop, she scooped him up as he was running past (after he’d been told not to run, after he’d been told he was being disobedient), pulled him into her lap, gave him a swat on the bottom and then rocked him close and comforted and instructed him, loving him.

You may take what I’m about to say with a grain of salt because I have no children of my own; all my experience is with my sisters and watching others and former wishing. I don’t mind. I still think what I’m going to say is true.

Loving your child isn’t about giving into their every whim and wish. It’s not about letting them dictate what happens in their world. It’s not about protecting them from everything that could go wrong in life. Let’s face it; you can’t protect them from everything (and certainly you can’t if you’re indulging their every whim!) and still have strong resilient children. You just can’t protect them from everything. I know I tried for my sisters, and couldn’t. And no, that’s not the same, but how many of you have seen your children hurting in a way that you couldn’t protect them from? How many of you have taught your precious one to ride a bike and had to let go, knowing they’d fall and hurt themselves eventually, and let go anyway? Good parents know when to set limits for their children, to protect them and preserve their innocence and health. They risk upsetting their children to do what’s best for them. They know not to panic when he falls down and bumps his head, to stay calm and encourage him to get up and keep trying. It teaches him that every scrape isn’t a crisis. And yet, if there’s something really wrong, they know how to keep him calm and get him what he needs to be healthy.

They don’t have a manual. Their children didn’t come with a book on how to raise them. They take life as it comes, and they follow the advice and examples of those who went before them. They learn from their mistakes and go forward. And they revel in the magic of a child’s innocence and discovery. They revel in the magic of a child.

Like I said, maybe it was my upbringing that makes this all seem so magical to me. Maybe it’s the fact that I don’t get to be a mommy myself. But there is nothing in all the world like watching parents love their children.

And now I come back to the song. Listen to Keith’s heart as he pours it out for his son. Listen to him instructing his son in his faith. Keith knows that no matter how much he wants to protect his child from the difficulties of life, of the pain we all feel, of the difficulty Christians face living in a fallen world, he cannot. Part of the process of growing up, of coming to a saving faith, is enduring the bumps and bruises, and yes, even the breaks of life. He knows that his children (for indeed, while this song is titled “Song for Josiah”, it is surely true for all of Keith’s children) will have to stumble and struggle their way through life to be strong and mature. He knows that his faith can’t be theirs; that they must build their own. And he takes an example and applies it to his own child… the example of how God the Father had to let His Son go, had to release Him to the world with all the physical discomforts and pains. Surely Jesus got bruises. Surely he caught colds. Surely there were times when Mary and Joseph fretted over their feverish firstborn. And we know she was there when Christ was dying on the cross.

Keith knows that his son is, in many ways, no different that the Son of God… and by that, I don’t mean that he sees his child as the divine Son of God, but that if even Christ had to grow up in this fallen world, then so too, will his son. That he can’t count on his son being spared anything; Christ wasn’t. He knows, even as he builds character and faith into his sweet child, that God will break his young heart and shape him as He sees fit. Keith is aware that the work he begins, His Father in heaven will be finishing, and it will not be easy.

Listen, too, to his plea for his child to learn from his example, instead of learning the hard way. We all seem to sort of bash our way through life, careening from one day to the next, stumbling, stopping and restarting, repeating the mistakes that every child has made in history. We all do the same thing the same way 10,000 times, and we all expect different results than we and everyone else has ever gotten… and its not until we learn that it doesn’t work that way that we even allow ourselves to think of doing things differently. Listen to Keith try to tell his son how to navigate the minefield of life. Listen to his promise to teach his son, if only his son will listen and heed his words. Listen to the promise to listen to his son. Listen to the vulnerability in his voice. Listen as he tells his son that he can’t protect him from life. Listen as he tells him that he is only human.

And then listen to the promise he makes, assuring his son of the goodness of God. “What a strong shepherd holds you in His arms.” And he promises him that God will shape him and make him, but He will also take him as His own. “He’ll break you and make you His own, and then He’ll take you home.”

Oh, Beloved, hear what I say to you now. Your parents love(d) you. And where they failed you, God will not. God cannot. He is the perfect Father. He will do what good parents do, only better. He will give you limits to protect you, rules to shape you, discipline to make you better people. And He delights in you. That you exist is a joy to Him. Do you hear me? Your existence… not anything you’ve ever done, nothing you’ll ever do, nothing you are, nothing you aren’t… just that you ARE at all, is a delight to God the Father. Life won’t be some perfect cakewalk; it hasn’t ever been for anyone, and surely if the Son of God suffered, so too will you. But He holds you. He’s waiting, arms outstretched for you. Like the prodigal son returning home, He will run to you. Like the mother who disciplined her son and loved him all at once, He will discipline you in love. Like my uncles, my grandparents, like my brother in law and friends, He will protect you from what would destroy you, even as he encourages you to stand up again after you fell down. He loves you.

Keith and his son and oldest daughter went home to be with Jesus in 1982. Josiah was never old enough to take his father’s advice, and his sisters grew up with this song as theirs. My father went home to be with Jesus in 1995, 13 years ago, 13 years after Keith. And yet I feel I can say with certainty that both men would say the same things today that Keith said then.

Hear the parent’s heart in Keith’s song. How much more your Father, who is in heaven, loves you. Good parenting is miraculous. Won’t you come back to the Source of the miracle?

OK, so I'm a little OCD...

2008-05-24T20:13:00.002-05:00

and yet, I don't seem to mind my weird little tendencies. I probably should, I should probably worry about the freaky little ways it manifests iteself, and yet, I can't seem to care. So far, none of them seem unmanagable or dangerous, and I'm not wasting hours of every day on them. Well, not wasting hours of every day to the exclusion of everything else. Well, not wasting every day to the exclusion of everything else including my work (such as it is) or basic hygeine needs. Yeah. The last one.

I'm a completist. If there's a set and I want one part of it, I must have all parts. I avoided buying the Lego Basketball sets because of this; I knew I'd want ALL of them, but I have this issue with Iverson (why are we rewarding bad men just because they're good athletes? If you suck at being a human being, isn't that a bigger deal than if you can throw a ball in a hoop?!) and wouldn't want to own that one... so I didn't buy any of them.

But games? I have to have all of Steve Jackson's Munchkin series. All of the expansions. It doesn't matter that most people won't play with me; the ones that do enjoy all the expansions, too. And the Settlers of Catan. And Ticket to Ride (Nordic Countries, you will be mine! Even if you're in another language... or maybe esp because you're in another language, because that trips a different trigger in me!) And Shadows Over Camelot! But I've resisted Carcassone because I know my husband won't appreciate me having to buy every expansion... he'd like me to enjoy a game that doesn't have 50 bajillion expansions for it. Or at least to not need to buy them all.

I also collect die. Or dice? Crap, I should know the difference. But I now have like 10 sets of nerdy gaming dice, and lots of regular d6s, and a pound of assorted ones. And I knew when I lost ONE of them which I lost. Which is sort of sad, I know. And I have to sort them out, and when I'm playing with them, I find it necessary to turn them all so that the highest number is showing. That's gotten more important of late, and there's no good reason for it. But they can be all jumbled together in their bag, and who cares what side is which in there. That's good, right?

OK, now I sound pathetic. And I'm not even done.

I started collecting dragons. Not actual dragons, either, so at least there's no physical clutter from this one, and it's free, so it's not a financial expense either. Both of those facts are good. But I've got 3 hatchlings and 4 eggs, and I'm eagerly waiting for the 7 of them to grow up so I can get more. Because I've got to have at least one of each, and try breeding them. Because. No, there's not a good reason. If there was a good reason for my madness, it wouldn't be madness, would it?

Before you go looking for the forms for involuntary commitment to the Mental Hospital, let me assure you that I don't have to have my cabinets perfect, I don't have to have all my sheets folded just so, and none of it seems to interfere with my ability to function. I can still cook meals (and good ones, thank you... I just dislike cleaning up after, so I don't cook a ton), and do my work and have a social life outside of my little weirdnesses. Shoot, I couldn't have gotten a sunburn last weekend if I didn't have life beyond the weirdness!

I suppose I should stop wasting time on the computer... or maybe go teach myself Italian (satisfy that wierd little fetish for knowing EVERYTHING, especially languages! YES! Knowledge! Let me devour it and make it mine!!!) and probably do the supper dishes. Yeah, because that would be more healthy than stalking my dragon eggs.

Oh, and did I ask you to click on my eggs so they hatch? No? Here's my scroll; click view on each one (but each one only needs one, because only the first visit from each IP address counts towards the need to hatch (it keeps track of every time the egg is seen, and I have to balance total views with unique views and clicks to keep it healthy))...

I'm rambling. I'm going to go do laundry or something.

Tonight's dinner

2008-05-24T17:03:00.002-05:00

http://himtnjerky.com/

This is the company that makes "Trail Dust", the boutique spice blend I use in almost everything. Yum!

Included in uses of Trail Dust: Tatertot Casserole

Brown 1/2 pound mild italian sausage, 1/2 pound light/lean ground beef, and 1/4-1/3 pounds ground buffalo (you can use all ground beef, or otherwise omit/substitute meats. Brown in a pan with generous shakes of Trail Dust (1-2? tablespoons... I just shook it in, so I'm not sure). Drain excess fat. Mix meat in casserole dish with cans lowfat cream of mushroom soup (you could probably use another cream of something if you wanted), and two cans of cut green beans (again, you can use fresh and parboil them first if you wish, or use frozen...). Sprinkle with 2% mild cheddar and cover with a layer of "crispy crowns" or tater tots. Bake at 450 deg. F for 12 minutes.

No, it's not exciting, but it's satisfying and filling. Someone made something like this for me when I had my appendix out in 2001, and I've found it comforting since. And the Trail dust makes sure that things aren't bland and boring. :D

I had an epiphany...

2008-05-24T01:27:00.004-05:00

I think if you've read this with any consistency at all, I think it's fairly clear that I'm a conservative Christian. So the fact that I think about religious things should be no surprise. Nor should the fact that I believe that God created the world.

I realized tonight one of the great dangers of saying that God DIDN'T create the Earth. But aside from the possibilty of eliminating God, of eliminating the need for God, there's a second danger in denying that He created everything.

Anything I create, I have control over. So it is with God. What He created, He has dominion over and control of. If He has the power to create somethings from nothing, surely He has the power to control them even on the subatomic level. If He does not have the power over even the smallest quarks, then He loses His sovereignty and omnipotence. He no longer has the power to save. He no longer has the power to dictate right and wrong. He's too small to be God.

In Christ, all things were created. In Him we live and move and have our being. We can't afford not to. Which means, He controls even the smallest particles. And I prefer it that way. I like my God BIG.

Were you raised in a BARN?!

2008-05-24T01:27:00.001-05:00

I had a really good 10^th wedding anniversary (One decade behind us, here we come Decade Number 2!!). The things that were wrong with it were neither mine nor John’s fault. If you recognize yourself in this blog, Hello Again, I hope you enjoyed dinner and the movies more than we did. :P

We started with dinner at Osaka Fantasy Steakhouse in Tulsa (51^st and Harvard, in the shopping center on the SE corner, if you’re looking for it). Osaka is one of those nifty hibachi places where they cook on the big table top grill at your table. I LOVE those places, and I’ll likely go back. The food is really good, the service is phenomenal, and most of your tablemates are sane and sober.

If however, you are not sober, please don’t pour your soup on the mushrooms!!! It might not have been so bad, except he had EATEN from the bowl of soup. EW. The poor chef looked as horrified as the rest of us; what was he supposed to do when the dude poured soup on the mushrooms? Seriously, who the hell does that?!

Also, if you are not sober, looking pissy when the waitress brings you another glass of wine, or when your date orders a second, is not so much cool man. (For the record, we don’t know he was drunk, but I sincerely hope he was because it’s the closest I can come to an excuse for his behavior!)

Making a mess at the table by mixing your date’s fried rice with your steamed rice, even after she points it out and suggests mixing it on your plate instead and then ignoring her? Also not cool.

Also not cool? Eating off your date’s plate merely inches from it, WHILE she’s still eating. A: you don’t have to fork it in as fast as possible. The food is all dead, cooked, and not going anywhere… well, except into your date’s mouth. Because it’s HER food! B: Eating it off her plate WHILE she’s eating it? Bad form. And C: INCHES from the plate? Since when is it acceptable to lower your face to the plate and SUCK the food in like a vacuum? You’re in public. Your meal costs more than $10. You freaking bought WINE. STOP SUCKING the food in.

So dude, bad form. You totally suck. And in a bad way.

We then went to see Indiana Jones at AMC Southroads. No real complaints. I liked the movie. :D

And then in a fit of freedom that lack of children and plans tomorrow lends us, we went to see the next show of Prince Caspian. The movie started at 9:50. I heard small children. Why were these children not at home in bed?

Then there were the little old ladies who TALKED the whole time. How the crap did you ladies not know you don’t talk through the film? Did none of the PSA’s telling you to shut your trap get through to you? Seriously? WHY ARE YOU TALKING?

Oh, wait… maybe it’s because AMC forgot that it was still over 80 outside and stupidly turned off the air conditioning. Um, AMC, you’re in Oklahoma. You’re putting many people together in a room. Body heat, outside heat, big lamps… TURN ON THE AC!

That said, I love Prince Caspian, too. I cried (big surprise).

And yes, if you read this blog and you were the rude guy who violated public health codes, or the little old ladies running your yaps all through the movie, YES, I am talking to you. You don’t want to get called out, don’t act like idiots in public!!!

For the most part, I like people. I sympathise greatly. But do you have to be rude?!

Good night, and good luck.

On weeping, and laughing, and lack of subtlety

2008-05-22T11:09:00.001-05:00

The ancient Greeks had an aphorism, well one of many: gnothi seauton. Most of you may have never heard the greek, but you can readily understand the English, even if not in all its depth (which, to be fair, is still hotly debated in philosophical circles): Know Thyself.

Now, I’m not going to sit here and pretend I know the mysteries of all mankind, or even of a particular people group, especially not when I feel I’m still learning how to know just myself (and a little of my husband, you know, so we build a better relationship by sorting out what makes your spouse tick so you can better meet their needs, wants, and avoid unnecessary upsets as much as possible).

But I do actively pursue a course in Heather, and as selfish and self-centered as that may sound, it’s actually a course in “How can I finetune Heather so that she ticks more effectively, more efficiently, more pleasantly… how do I go about finding where she needs some finetuning, and then finetune her to be a better human being. How can Heather become ‘all things to all people that she might reach some?’”

It was some of this “know thyself” stuff that brings me to last night. I saw with John watching a favorite TV show last night. Someone died in the show, a character who has never lived in order to die, someone I didn’t even like all that much. And I sat there and cried my eyes out. I wept brokenhearted for those left behind, for the loss of a future between the characters, for the silly folly of life that means one minute you’re alive and well, and the next you’re on an irreversible course to a death no one imagined for you. (OK, Peanut section, you can giggle at me now… because if it was a TV show, the writers had to imagine that this would be the way the character died. But the character doesn’t know that.)

I marveled on the fact that I have such a tender heart that breaks so easily for fictional characters. I’ve joked that I’m not a small woman because I need room for this big ol’ tender heart of mine… and joked that on nights like this one, where the heartbreak is so big, that maybe I’m not big enough yet, It’s an attempt to bring levity to an absurd situation… Heather’s sobbing over a TV show/movie again. Isn’t that silly!

The truth is that I do weep for fallen characters, but more than that, I weep for the pain it mirrors in real life. Last night, as I wept for a life seemingly cut short, somewhere out there in the great big world, mothers and fathers were saying goodbye to terminally ill children for the last time. Husbands were kissing their wife’s forehead because he couldn’t reach her mouth with all the life-saving equipment in it that just wasn’t working. Children said goodbye to parents, to grandparents, lovers saying goodbye to their beloved, friends saying goodbye to beloved friends. As I sat here, insulated in my home, my heart was there, with the ones whom death leaves behind for a while. I wept for all the losses, for all the stupid mistakes that became fatal mistakes, for all the illness we can’t cure yet, for all hope that seems to die with a loved one. My heart broke for all of them, without knowing any of them,

And because I know myself well enough to know that I don’t sleep well when I’m feeling the hurts of life, I made a point to go find something wonderfully light and glib that makes me laugh for joy… a robot singing about scientific efforts and survivors of said efforts. Yes, I get the irony. “Death depresses her, so she listens to ‘Still Alive’. No, that’s not depressing or about death at all… when it talks about killing, or the ones who are dead…” Yet there’s something about little Moxie singing it that makes me smile and giggle.

As I lay in bed, unwinding, thinking about my reactions, I realized something about myself. There was new knowledge of myself to process and file away. I put it on twitter like this: “My emotional pendulum doesn’t have a ‘subtle’ setting.” I feel deeply. I mean, really really deeply. That thing you saw that was mildly amusing? Days later, I can still laugh myself hoarse and purple at it. I made a joke at my Pastor’s expense (he was there, he chuckled) the last day of April; it still make me giggle when I think of it. People I know hold contests to see how many shades of red they can see me turn if they get me laughing. Folks have threatened to call for an ambulance if I didn’t start breathing.

And if that’s excessive to the point of being almost sad, there’s anger. I don’t watch the news, because I go from mildly upset to outraged and incensed in no time. I’d give the Incredible Hulk a run for his money. And there’s the thing where I weep openly, brokenheartedly for characters I barely liked on a TV show that’s not even real.

Once my emotional pendulum starts to swing, it swings HARD. I once thought I might be bipolar, the way I can swing from such extremes so easily. And I’m not sure that leaping from “That’s not right” with my indoor voice to “HOW DARE THEY!” in a scream is necessarily good or helpful or useful at all. I’m going to need to learn a certain amount of moderation, I know.

But in the continuing study of all there is to this woman we call “Heather”, I’ve found a new, useful fact. Subtlety is not my strong suit. And while I do need to moderate my reactions, I’m still pleased with the tenderness of my heart.

Lord, may I never ceased to be moved by death, for when I am, I am as good as dead myself. May I never cease to laugh freely at even the dumb stuff, for when I do, I lose the joy of more than just a moment, but the connection to the greater Joy I have in You. The road you’ve marked is a narrow one; keep me, Lord, ever on the narrow road.

Things that make me laugh...

2008-05-19T12:32:00.002-05:00

This is by no means an exhaustive list, and I'll have to see if I can figure out how to post videos or something to share the psycho cats and the snake-biting bunny (no, not snakebitten bunny, but the bunny who BITES a SNAKE!)... but in the meantime, enjoy the following items that have made me laugh like a loon today.

http://icanhascheezburger.com/2008/05/19/funny-pictures-shun-the-non-believer/
You'd have to have seen http://youtube.com/watch?v=JPONTneuaF4 to really get why this is so funny. But my husband and I now talk to one of his coworkers in this voice ALL the time. "Hi Marrrrrk!"

http://delilahpaints.blogspot.com/ This mom is hilarious. She's my age, and she's the kind mom I've thought I might be. And did I mention she's funny?

(Note, this list may grow... I don't know if being dayglo red and white like a candy cane makes me laugh more easily or not, but dude, I laugh at my own jokes DAYS later already... so God help John as he has to live with me laughing my face off every 20 minutes...)

The system is down...

2008-05-12T00:11:00.001-05:00

WARNING: This is very angry and contains crude language (in the parenthetical portion of the rant). If you are under 18, please skip this and read something happier, like my apple salad recipe. If you are over 18, please consider what you can do to make a difference. I can’t change the world by myself, but together, we can move mountains.

I confess that, for all my attempts to live in forgiveness, to rise above my past, to overcome the abuse I survived, I find myself tonight still bitter, still angry, still upset, and I don’t know how not to be. Not at my mother, who has come to sincerely regret the things she did, and who I am learning to forgive, even though I have to do it for each thing I remember as though I was starting from scratch each time. Not at my father, who mistakenly thought that the way to protect his girls was to fight for custody of them, and failed at both. I don’t fault him for that. Not even at the man serving time for raping me repeatedly from the time I was 10 until I was 13, including the time he made my sister and I have lesbian sex for his amusement, even though, yes, that still makes me angry. No, what consistently angers me, every time I think about it, without fail, what is still a root of bitterness that eats at me, what I don’t know how to forgive is the system that so consistently failed first me, then my sisters, and now my niece and nephew. How do you forgive a governmental system that you’re told to trust, that you’re told will protect you, that everyone points you to for help, but that consistently fails to do any of those things? How do you forgive a governmental system that is criminal in the way it serves to aid and abet child abuse, especially when there are so many dead children that slipped through the cracks?

Please understand me, I’m not angry at the Guardian ad Litem who was assigned to our case only after I was 17 years old. I’m not angry at the dozens of caseworkers assigned to our family in at least 2 states and 3-5 cities. I’m not angry at the judges who wouldn’t even let me talk to them, wouldn’t listen to what I had to say. They were all working within the confines of what I believe is a criminally broken system. They had too many cases, not enough time, not enough resources, not enough evidence. They were up against a woman who knew how not to leave marks, who knew what to say to appear to be rehabilitated, who knew how to do just enough to satisfy requirements, and would move away from jurisdictions when it suited her. They were against a legal system that, while it wisely protects the innocent from the assumption of guilt, also made it the word of a child against the word of an adult when it came to proof, and tended to default to the adult over the child.

(I do have a personal grudge against the attorney who recused himself from representing the man who raped me for 4 years so that he could TESTIFY on his behalf, who attacked me on the stand verbally and emotionally, who mocked my intelligence when I knew words his own daughter didn’t, taking that not as proof that I was telling the truth, but instead that I’d been coaxed in an evil plot to get this man. Would you be more comfortable with a 13 year old girl saying that he jammed his cock into my cunt over an over and over again, instead of saying that he inserted his penis, pens, vibrators, and whatever else he wanted into my vagina. Does that make you feel better? Yes, I do blame you, Michael King, yes, I do have a personal problem with you. And if you want to sue me for libel, let’s pull up the transcripts of court where you told me I was lying in front of a jury, let’s pull up the transcripts where you stepped down so you could testify for him, let’s pull up the PROOF of what I’m saying you did. It’s not libel when it’s true, Mr. King. I hope you sleep well at night.)

But I’ve gotten off topic. I’m angry because the very system we are told as children to trust to protect us put me in more danger every time I did. I would tell them “if my mother even suspects that I’m the one who told, she’ll beat me worse when I get home.” They would assure me that my mother wouldn’t know, and yet every time, without fail, when I got home, she was waiting to throw me into the wall, to drag me up the stairs, to beat me, choke me, scream in my face. Every time I told, I got it worse when I got home. Wonder why I stopped bothering to tell people.

Eliza Izquierda was 6 when her mother beat her to death and then flipped her tiny body upside down to mop up the spilled blood with little Eliza’s hair. Her mother had been reported to Child Protective Services, or Social Services, or whatever it was called in New York in 1995. There was a caseworker assigned to protect Eliza, to act in her behalf. And yet, in a broken system, Eliza was murdered by her own mother.

Kelsey Briggs was 2 when her mother’s boyfriend beat her to death. She too had a caseworker assigned to her case. The system in Oklahoma was just as broken as it was in Virginia, as it was in New York, as it was everywhere, and Kelsey died even though the system was supposed to be protecting her.

I do not know of a single case where a child told the system “I’m in danger, help me, please, help me,” and the system could do anything about it. I have lost faith in the system. I have no confidence that the very agency that exists to protect our most innocent is actually able to do that. In fact, I honestly believe that the system is SO broken that children are DYING as a result.

Nor do I have faith that a single voice could change things. Even as a survivor of child abuse, I have no confidence that if I were to speak out, anything would really change. Order people to take parenting classes; my mother did. Order them into counseling: my mother picked up a sexual offender in group counseling ordered by the court. Order oversight: I could call the police when my mother was beating me, and nothing changed.

I don’t know the answer. I don’t know the solution. And I don’t know how to stop being angry that the system that failed me repeatedly is still failing children. I don’t know how to not be angry that I survived despite the government sworn to protect me, and that worse, children are actually being killed.

Maybe opening the dialogue is a place to start. Maybe if enough of us demand change, something will happen. Maybe my anger serves a purpose: to give voice to Eliza, to Kelsey, to the millions of other children. Maybe, just maybe, together, we can find a way to save these innocents.

I'm Not Who I Was

2008-05-10T17:50:00.000-05:00

I’ve probably said this a hundred times, to a hundred different people, in a hundred different ways. None of this is really new, none of it is really news, and yet I feel compelled to put it down in some sort of concrete form in a public place.

Brandon Heath has a song, I’m Not Who I Was, all about forgiveness and the changes that are made in our lives as a result. I first heard it when a friend shared it with me, and since then I’ve heard it on various “Christian” radio stations, and finally bought it and downloaded it so I can hear it whenever I need to.

This message, though, is less about forgiveness, and yet I feel that phrase sums it up better than almost anything. You see, we are all born one person in this life, we are all shaped by our experiences in our lives; all of our perceptions become colored by the world around us. In a very real way, we all become a specific person long before we grow into adulthood. Our families know us as that person, they learn to expect things of us based on the person they’ve watched us become, and they learn to react to us based on their understanding of our shared experiences. But if we were to remain the same person all of our lives, never growing up, never changing from our immature and incomplete understanding of things, never maturing in our relationships and our reactions, it would be a very sad, incomplete, and even wasted life. In fact, when individuals are limited to childlike development through injury or illness, we grieve that loss of potential. Just as we become a person when we are young, we must not remain that same person as we grow into adulthood.

When I say that I’m not who I was, I’m referring to that sort of healthy development and maturation, and yet even more. You see, while taking the step from childish perceptions and a selfish focus into adulthood is essential to our lives as adults, there’s another change in our lives that is often overlooked. It is what Christ preached, experiencing the second birth He spoke of to Nicodemus in John 3. If you struggle with the idea, you’re not alone; even the highly educated Nicodemus didn’t understand what “born again” meant, possibly not until after the resurrection of Christ, if even then.

I’m guessing that as you read this, you’re in one of about 3, maybe 4 camps. Maybe you’ve dismissed me already as a religious nut, in which case, I’m surprised you’re still reading. Hopefully, you’ve opted to “hear” me out, and you’ll read this to the end. After all, like the sower in the parable, all I do is plant the seed; what happens to it after that isn’t up to me. Or perhaps you’re in the second camp, where you think that you know what I’m talking about, you may even count yourself among those who claim to be “born again”. But you’ve never had a real change in your life, you’ve never understood what the big deal is, and even now you, like the previous sort of reader, are debating if you should dismiss me as a nut. If you’re in the third and fourth camps, men and women who have seen a change in your life due to faith in Christ, then I ask you to stop reading right now, get before the Father, and pray for the others reading this. When you’re done, come back (by the way, the fourth camp is folks who are saved but are more rational and logical about their faith than I am… but you can still pray, can’t you?)

I grew up in church. I have a book my mother gave me when I was really young “on the occasion of [my] baptism in the Holy Spirit”. I was baptized Catholic as an infant, have Godparents, and have attended nearly every denomination of Christian church there is. I would have described myself as a Christian all my life, even had things in my life that most would think of as “typically Christian”. Yet when I was 16, the first day of my Junior year in High School, I realized there was nothing intentional to my faith. I was floating through life, and if God was moving through me, it was despite me, not in any sort of active cooperation on my part. I claimed the name, but nothing really changed. I decided that wasn’t enough. Floating through religion wasn’t faith, and I wasn’t confident that I had been truly changed. I opted to be, as I recall the imagery being, a glove, empty and ready to be filled with the Hand of God. I wanted to live intentionally.

Now I’m not going to pretend that I was suddenly, magically without sin, or even the impulse to sin. I’ve fallen, stumbled, staggered through life since then. I was far from “pure as the driven snow” (or maybe I was… have you ever seen snow that’s been driven through? It’s black and grey and brown and nasty and filthy… and that I can identify with more than the beautiful unspoiled powder that falls in the dead of winter). I was even suicidal after that. I made serious attempts on my life even after I decided to give my life to God for His purposes, at least one of which landed me in the hospital to get my stomach pumped, and many of which grieved my husband.

You see, in many ways, I was a child in a woman’s body, physically matured, but not emotionally so. I still had deep, deep wounds from my upbringing. While I was able to see that I didn’t want to be the person I’d grown into, I didn’t know how not to be. I didn’t know where to start changing things to change the person I was. I stumbled blindly through life, and yes, through faith, and hurt people I loved in the process. But something was happening inside of me all the same, and the only thing I had to do to start the change was to admit I needed the change and that God could work it. The simple process of recognizing that I wasn’t who I wanted to be was enough to start making me over. It wasn’t an instant change. God is certainly capable of instant changes and miraculous healings of body, mind and soul. But just as a child in the womb begins to grow and change and develop without conscious effort, so too did I.

One summer, about 4 years ago, after the hardest first year of teaching, after suffering for 13 months with head pain and all of the diagnostic tests and medications to try to treat the cause and relieve the symptoms, after yet another suicidal ideation (I was considering going to a bridge just off the school property and throwing myself into the interstate traffic below because I was just so tired of it all), I began the difficult birthing process. My students, who didn’t know quite what I was going through (though a few knew more than others), rallied around me. They did the best they could to take good care of me, even as I was trying to teach them (these were high schoolers, though the burden they carried on my behalf was still unfair to them). Oh, what a blessing they were to me (and several of them continue to be)! After the school year, I went on vacations with my husband’s family, with my adoptive family, and back to see my birth family and my sister’s first child, an angel that God gave my face. Each trip reinforced that unconditional love my students had shown me. A niece who declared her love for me without any prompting moved me (still moves me) to tears. Family members who spoke of their love for me and pride in my accomplishments opened my eyes. Holding the new infant in my arms, just holding her and adoring her, was life-changing. In her, I recognized my need to be loved the way I loved her. I finally saw the light.

I did a bible study that summer and fall, one on the “Beloved Disciple” and another on “Breaking Free” (both by Beth Moore). One afternoon in October 2004, as I worked on several days of study (I’d gotten behind, again), I was brought to tears again, and I walked away from the day feeling like I had truly been born again, literally born a brand new person.

I realized that I spent my life trying to earn love, trying to earn approval, trying to earn the right to wake up the next day. No wonder I was so tired; I didn’t trust anyone’s love for me, I didn’t believe that anybody COULD love me. Even those who said they loved me, I’d doubted- they loved me for what I meant to them, and if I died, yes, they’d grieve me, but without me there to continue earning their love, they’d be able to move on with their lives, able to find better things to do with their time than deal with me. I desperately wanted the unconditional love I gave to the infant, even as I denied I was worthy of it… even as I made it conditional. And as I opened my eyes, I realized that love deserved is a lie, that true love is independent of the recipient, that I’d been created to be loved, that I was always loved, that the thing I’d most wanted all my life had been freely available to me had I only known where to look and how to see it.

I was born that day. My physical birth had been nearly 27 years earlier, and yet, I was born that day. I was the infant I’d cradled, loved, adored, new and alive. I became a new person, different than the person I’d been as a child, different than the person I’d been as an adult, different from anything I’d ever known. In a very real way, I’m really not now who I was before. I’m not who I was. I’m alive, finally really living, and not just surviving from one day to the next.

I’ve still got problems, I still struggle. That’s the nature of life with all its imperfections. But I haven’t been suicidal once since then. I’m 51 months past the last time I had suicidal ideations, past the day I wanted to leap off a bridge into oncoming traffic. In all the languages I’ve studied, I’ve never found a way to express just how different I am that fits better than being born again, born a brand new person.

One of my struggles in life, in fact, possibly the largest struggle, is how to interact with the people who knew me before I was reborn. I’ve been blessed, and most of the people I know who knew me before rejoice with me over the change. They were waiting for me to open my eyes to the truth. It’s really easy to get along with these people. Even the people I’ve met since then are easier to get along with; I am able to see them through new eyes.

At my wedding, the pastor who married us spoke of love – it was a wedding… of course he spoke about love! But something he said really stuck with me. Love multiplies joys and divides sorrows. When I share my joy with someone, love multiplies that joy through us both. They’re happy for me, and that makes me happier. We get into a recursive cycle of emotions, where just being happy makes us happy. I look forward to sharing the things that make me happy because I know that those who love me will be happy for me and with me. And sorrow shared is divided. When I share my grief (even as I’m doing now), then the one with whom I share it helps me carry the grief. They help chip away at the burden of sorrow so that it’s bearable. The encourage me, come alongside me, and buoy me up with their love. That’s love: shared joy is multiplied, shared sorrow is divided. It’s beautiful.

But there are people in my life who don’t multiply shared joys, they don’t divide shared sorrow. Their calls are always about what’s wrong in life. When I share the joys in my life, it’s countered with everything wrong in theirs. When I am foolish enough to expose my hurts, it’s added to as they tell me how much worse they are than I am. It’s gotten to the point that when I see their number on my caller ID, my heart sinks. I have physiological reactions of stress just knowing they called. And because I tend to have weird recursive emotions, the fact that someone in my life leaves me so wounded and upset upsets me. I’m deeply wounded that someone I love would wound me so.

I know I need to learn how to cope better. I know I need to learn to deal with people who hurt me in a way that I can bless them despite them. I know that I need to be a blessing to them, how desperately they need the life I’ve found. I don’t pretend that I’m blameless in this, just as I don’t pretend that I’m perfect or without mistake myself.

But none of my failings make toxic relationships less toxic. None of my mistakes make them less responsible for their end of a healthy relationship. I can do all the work on me in the world, but healthy relationships require both sides to make an effort. I can’t continue to live if the joy I’ve found is choked out of me by the endless sorrows of unhealthy relationships.

The best gift I can offer is to live well. For my father, who died when I was 17, I can live well as a testament to what he gave me. For my mother, who has lived long enough to regret her mistakes, I can live well as proof that mistakes don’t have to be fatal. For my sisters, who continue to struggle blindly through life, I can live well as an example of the path out of the darkness and offer proof of hope. I can actively seek to live in joy instead of settling for mere survival in despair.

Sadly, heartbreakingly, for now that means that I have to live without people I love in my life. It’s not that I don’t love you. It’s not even that you aren’t worthy of love. I can’t protect you, I can’t help you, I can’t change you, I can’t make your choices for you, and I can’t save you. It has never been my job, my responsibility, nor have I ever been able to change your life. At the end of the day, only you can look at your life and decide that you don’t like what you see, only you can decide it’s time for a change.

I’ve shown the way. God waits to birth new life in you, the way He did in me. I stand as testimony to the goodness of God, to the joy that life can offer. I stand the only way I know how, and I challenge you to never settle for survival. And when you’re ready to live, to really live, to really love, to risk sharing my joys instead of just dumping your problems at my feet, you can call me. I’ll be waiting. Until then – forgive me. I’m not who I was, and I won’t allow even you to hold me back from this life.

On forgiveness

2008-05-03T16:59:00.001-05:00

Forgiveness is a funny thing. Many of us talk about it, but few of us really practice it. Maybe that’s because I’m not sure we’ve really got an accurate portrait of what forgiveness really is, and I’m not entirely sure that we can really, truly forgive unless our own forgiveness has been so indelibly carved into us that we’re aware of the remarkable change. Now, I think it’s essential for me to point out that I’m not claiming to have the sole view of forgiveness, or even that I have it completely correct. What I share here on forgiveness is something that’s been wrought in my own heart, born out the fires of trial and even justifiable anger. These are things that I have found are effective in my own soul and scripturally supported. I would challenge you to read the Bible for yourself, to pray for yourself, and ask God to reveal the truth of forgiveness to you rather than to rely on a housewife in northeastern Oklahoma.

The entire idea of forgiveness is riddled and overburdened with ideas of what it is and isn’t, what is required and isn’t, and things that seem good on the surface and actually, may be more harmful than not. For instance, we’ve heard “forgive and forget”. Those in the Christian community have heard this compared the willful forgetfulness of God, who casts our sins into a sea of forgetfulness and separates us from them as far as the east is from the west. The idea is that if we’ve truly forgiven someone, we shouldn’t remember what they’ve done to us anymore. But there are something to remember about this comparison. First of all, in every account I can find of God “forgetting sins”, the offender had repented and turned from their offense, begging God for forgiveness. In other words, God’s forgetfulness seems to be connected with the admission of guilt. I’m not saying His forgiveness is attached to the admission of guilt, I’m only discussing the idea that forgiveness comes hand in hand with forgetting. So while God forgives unconditionally, I’m not certain it would be accurate to just make the blanket statement that He automagically forgets the offense. Secondly, we’re trying to attach the ability of an all-powerful deity outside of the limits of time to men and women who are in a body that will die, who are trapped in time. We’re not God. While God can risk the offender doing it again, we, in our temporal bodies, sometimes dare not, lest the offense be repeated to the detriment of all. I tend to liken this to the idea that I can forgive the guy who shoots me, but only a fool stands there while he reloads and lets him shoot a second time. It is wise to learn from things that have caused you harm, both physical and emotional, in the past and learn to avoid them. We dare not forget that some people are apparently incapable of not hurting others, and to allow them to hurt you again and again, saying you forgave them and forgot what they did. We dare not forget the types of evil mankind is capable of committing. (It’s worth noting here that remembering what was done and being afraid of it are two different things; it’s a delicate balance to not fear the evil that may come to your temporal body, but to be wise enough to avoid it anyway. I’m not afraid of death, but I’m not going to go actively seek it out, either.) Down the road of forgetfulness lies the Holocaust, Death Marches, Gulags, and repeated victimization by sick people. Remembering that these things were done helps us protect ourselves and the innocents who are in our care. Remembering wrongs that have the power to kill and destroy is being wise, or “shrewd as serpents”… not fearing them leaves us “innocent as doves”.

I am absolutely not advocating that there are offenses that we cannot forgive, only that to tie forgetting unconditionally to forgiveness is folly at best and deadly dangerous. I don’t need to remember the kid who tripped me on the playground when I was 6 when I’m 36; I need to forgive him and move on with my life. On the other hand, if someone shoots me, or cheats on me with someone else, remembering the hurt that came from those actions protect me from being hurt again. I forgive the shooter, I forgive the cheater, but I don’t walk around with blinders on, either.

OK, so how do you forgive when there’s been no repentance, or when you can’t afford to forget what was done? How do you get past an offense that continues to do you harm?

That’s where we come to the most important truth in forgiveness. Forgiveness is not about what was done. It’s not about the offense, it’s not even about the offender. You don’t forgive for the good of the one who wronged you. You see, your unforgiveness has no effect on them. They aren’t carrying the physical effects of your unforgiveness in their bodies, you are. Every time you think of them and grow angry, your body has a physical reaction; your brain triggers the release of stress hormones that cause your heart to beat harder and faster so that you can get away from the danger. This reaction is so intrinsic in you, so basic, that it’s not affected by the fact that you aren’t actually seeing the person, that you aren’t in any physical danger now… your body reacts the same to the memory as it does to the initial offense. You’re the one who’s blood pressure rises, you’re the one with stress hormones rising, you’re the one who is slowly but surely being poisoned by a reaction you can’t control to a stimulus you can control.

Wait a minute… a stimulus you can control? Yes. As long as you are unable to forgive someone, the thought of the offense is the stimulus that sets off the biochemical reaction. The way to avoid the chain reaction of stress is to remove the power from the memory… to stop associating even the name of your offender with the offense. Instead of being “Ooooh, that Frank Jones, he did me wrong…” or “Ooooh, I’ll get that Lucy Smith! How dare she!!”, you remember “Oh, yeah… I haven’t thought about Frank or Lucy for a long time… I wonder how they’re doing? They were in a bad place the last time I saw them.”

Bad place? How do I know they were in a bad place? What does that have to do with what they did to you? How do I even begin to get where I care more about them than I care about what they’ve done?

Forgiveness isn’t about what was done. It’s not about the one who did it. Forgiveness is all about your relationship with God. Forgiveness is all about the recognition that you are a sinner, unworthy of grace or forgiveness yourself, no better than the worst of offenders. Forgiveness is readjusting your view of yourself until it’s in proper perspective.

You see, unforgiveness lifts you onto a pedestal, where you’re better than the one who dared offend you. It lifts you above your brothers and sisters. You don’t have to be afraid of heights to know that being high and lifted above others is a dangerous and untenable position. You make a bigger target of yourself. You have farther to fall when you, yourself, are the offender… and don’t pretend you aren’t, because right now, as you’re reading this and thinking of someone who you can’t forgive, someone else puts your picture in the “unforgivable” column.

Forgiveness is recognizing that we are all guilty. It is the recognition that we all need grace, we all need forgiveness. It’s understanding that I am no better than the one who wronged me, that I am no more worthy or deserving of the forgiveness I need than the one I need to forgive.

When I put myself in the right perspective, when I elevate my view of God and demote myself back to my right position as human first, just like my offender, it’s a lot easier to forgive.

It’s not easy. We’re always tempted to think more of ourselves than we ought. (Even if you think ill of yourself… constantly thinking less of yourself is still constantly thinking of yourself.) It’s even harder when the offense is one that we can’t really risk forgetting, when it’s one that’s changed us forever, marked us forever somehow.

But as one who has been greatly offended, hear me out. My father was killed in a car accident in 1994. I can harbor unforgiveness towards the man who ran the stop sign, putting my father in danger, or in the couple who collided with him, causing his death. But what does that get me? None of them did it intentionally, none of them were considering the effect his death would have on me.

Big deal, you say… that was an accident. It wasn’t intentional. It’s different when they knew they were doing you harm and were intentional in their wrongdoing.

My mother’s second husband is serving time in prison for molesting me and my sister for over 3 years. He threatened to kill me repeatedly. He raped me over and over again. He stole my childhood from me, and even though I told repeatedly, he intimidated me into recanting repeatedly. He’s been in prison since I was 13, when I finally had the courage to insist that I was telling the truth, that I had been all along. I had to go to court and testify against him, to his face. To this day, red-headed men scare me.

But I am no more deserving of grace than he is. I am no less a sinner than he is. He is a human first, before he is an offender. I am a human first, before I was his victim. And I will not give him the power over me of being his victim still. I will not poison my body with hatred for a man who was created to be loved, just as I was.

I have to remember to actively forgive him from time to time. I admit that it’s not easy. I don’t pretend it is. But I’ve decided that I am no better than he is, that he, separate from his actions, is just as deserving of God’s grace and love as I am. I don’t deny that his actions were wrong, and I can’t afford to be cavalier about it; I do bear the effects in my person. But until I can remember his name, not in fear or anger or hatred, but in sorrowful remembrance of another soul desperately in need of God’s bountiful grace and love, then I can’t pretend I’ve forgiven him.

I’m getting there. Because the truth is that God loves him just as desperately as he loves me… and just recognizing that was a powerful step of forgiveness.

I’m inviting you to walk with me on this difficult road. The first step is a doozy, but then, falling from the heights we’ve lifted ourselves to always will be. You’re not alone; there are plenty who’ve gone before you and who will come after you yet. But healing can’t begin unless you take the first step.

Musical Musing “How Can I Keep From Singing?”, Chris Tomlin

2008-05-02T17:09:00.001-05:00

How Can I Keep From Singing?

There is an endless song
Echoes in my soul
I hear the music ring
And though the storms may come
I am holding onTo the rock I cling

How can I keep from singing Your praise
How can I ever say enough
How amazing is Your love
How can I keep from shouting Your name
I know I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart want to sing

I will lift my eyes
In the darkest night
For I know my Savior lives
And I will walk with You
Knowing You'll see me through
And sing the songs You give

How can I keep from singing Your praise
How can I ever say enough
How amazing is Your love
How can I keep from shouting Your name
I know I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart want to sing

I can sing in the troubled times
Sing when I win
I can sing when I lose my step
And fall down again
I can sing 'cause You pick me up
Sing 'cause You're there
I can sing 'cause You hear me, Lord
When I call to You in prayer
I can sing with my last breath
Sing for I know
That I'll sing with the angels
And the saints around the throne

How can I keep from singing Your praise
How can I ever say enough
How amazing is Your love
How can I keep from shouting Your name
I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart
I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart
I am loved by the King
And it makes my heart want to sing
Yeah
I can sing!

I’m sitting here, one day post surgery, on the computer after I decided I needed to take a break from it, blogging because of the joy that I have in me when I listen to this song.

What an infectious melody, driving beat, what a just plain fun song! And yet, behind the fun in this piece, there is the solid truth that buoys the spirits and encourages the discouraged (though, actually, unlike last time, I’m not really discouraged about the result, just bored while I let my eyes heal). Indeed, how can I keep from singing? (I suspect John will look at me at some point because I’ve stopped mouthing the words and signing what few I know and started singing out loud, interrupting his news).

This isn’t the only song in the contemporary Christian market right now that contrasts the idea of singing praise to God despite the circumstances that would suggest despair, not even the only one in recent times. Two others spring to mind readily, one done by Mercy Me and the other by Tree 63. I think it’s the truth that’s inside all of these that I’m tapping into when I’m lifted this way, and it’s the same idea that I was reaching for with Victory In Jesus. I wrote that piece when I was really struggling with non-stop pain from a headache (or series of headaches, I’m not sure we ever knew which) that just refused to go away.

I know I’m not the only one who understands the way that pain just wears at you. Even when it’s within tolerable levels, and you can function in your day, being in pain all the time is exhausting and discouraging. It’s easy to get lost in the pain, to think that our pain has become our new definition, to lose hope. It’s easy to be defeated in situations like that, to begin to fear that the “you” you want to be has died, and this new “you”, the one who is limited by pain or disease is all that remains. If you’ve ever suffered from a serious illness or chronic pain, I’m sure you understand what I’m saying. If you’ve watched someone live that way, you have some concept of what I mean when I say that it’s entirely too easy for us to be defeated by our circumstances.

These songs, like my poem, defy the idea that our identity or emotional state need be defined by our disability or disease. They call us to remember that our identity lies not in this life or this temporary trouble, but in the immortal Savior who has redeemed us. Paul, living with disability and chained for his faith called these things “light and momentary troubles” and encourages us to “not lose heart”. He reminds us that nothing in all of creation can separate us from the love of God, even as he reminds us that life is hard and trials will come.

You see, Beloved, Christianity isn’t a promise that life will go smoothly, or that you can pay all your bills on time, or be wealthy beyond imagining, or healthy and hale all the time. Jesus tells us that trials will come, and forgive me for being bold, but anyone who says that they won’t is repeating a lie from hell.

The power in this song, and those like it, isn’t that we praise God for the good thing, it isn’t that we are thanking Him for all the marvelous blessings we have in Him, though both of those things are good and worthy things. The Bible talks about loving people who are good to us, and dismisses this by saying that “even the pagans do this” (note, I mean “non-believers”, and nothing remotely derogatory by it), but instead challenges us to love those who do ill to us.

The power here, the truth that leaves me singing as I sit here in pain in the darkness with my computer set at a huge font just so I can see clearly enough to write, is that my identity is found in my Savior. I am not defined by my pain. I am not defined by my past. I am not defined by my limitations, my illness, my disability, my mistakes, my failings, my ANYTHING. No, Beloved, my identity is that of redeemed, loved, prized, treasured daughter of the creator of the universe. I am the dearly loved and longed for bride of the King of Kings. I am who HE says I am, I am wanted, I am loved, I have value and worth beyond my own estimations.

My identity isn’t temporary, it’s not based on what I do or who I know, it’s not based on what records I hold, what I know, my abilities, or even my disabilities. When you find your identity separate from the temporary things of this world, separate from the sunny days or the dark ones, when you have a promise that everything so far is so light, so minute, so temporary that even cancer and imprisonment can be called “light and momentary troubles” in the face of the glory to come… well, how could you keep from singing?

Beloved, my faith isn’t based on what I’ve done. It isn’t based on my ability to get myself into Heaven. It isn’t based on how smoothly life goes now. My faith is based in the person of God, who provided a way to bring me home to Him through His son, Jesus, and who has sealed me with His own Spirit. Even now, my God is in heaven, singing for joy over me, my Jesus is preparing a place for me, and eagerly awaiting when I take my place at his side as treasured bride. Let life bring what it may. Let me have the worst it has to offer; I’ve survived things that have destroyed others, and even if I don’t survive, I will be with the One who created me, who loved me so much that even before my birth He provided my redemption, who seals me and keeps me for Himself, who even now intervenes and intercedes on my behalf and is waiting to bring His bride to Himself. Bring it, life… because you don’t define me, and I won’t be defeated by temporary things.

You tell me… how can I keep from singing?

Post op

2008-05-01T23:25:00.002-05:00

Well, folks, first of all, I apologize for any and all spelling mistakes.

I really shouldn't be on the computer at all, but scrunching to within a foot of the screen, I can see fairly well, which means when the haze heals off, I should be GREAT.

And knowing what to expect this time made the entire process better. This time the first time around, I was in frightened tears that something had gone terribly wrong. Now I know better, and I'm just coasting through.

I'm coasting my way to bed now... have fun, folks!

Something to remember:

2008-04-23T22:08:00.003-05:00

It should be noted that the only thing really prompting this tonight is watching an episode of DS9, and yet there are many reasons to consider both, not only under the current administration, but even more so under future ones.

The following two statements stand in opposition to each other, and yet are essential to remember. The first, known largely because of a Star Trek episode, is "Inter arma enim silent leges". It's actually a quote from Cicero from the Roman empire, who said "Enim silent leges inter arma"... the word order makes no difference in Latin; the declension of the nouns and conjugations of the verbs determine the meaning, not only of the words themselves, but of the sentence as a whole. The phrase means that the law is mute during 'the time" of arms. DS9 translated it as "In times of war, the law falls silent"; this is similar enough to the actual meaning that we can work from this translation.

The other statement, often attributed to Benjamin Franklin (who said some remarkably similar things, to be fair) but of uncertain origin, comes from the era of American Independence. It is "Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety." It. like the above, is often paraphrased and quoted differently, but again, with enough similarity to the original that it too, can be discussed comfortably.

It should be clear enough why the two are in such complete opposition, yet let me make absolutely clear that it is enumerated. The first, Roman quote, discusses the tendency of government to suspend legal behavior in order to accomplish the "greater" goal of winning a military conflict. Indeed, this was invoked in a Supreme Court decision made in 1866 following the American civil war, when they declared that the Bill of Rights were suspended in times of war, when the safety of the individual was supreme over all other laws. The second, attributed to Franklin, one of the fathers of our nation and indeed, author of the very Bill of Rights that the Supreme Court declared were suspended in time of war, discusses the balance between liberties and safety. It argues that the surrender of freedoms in an attempt to purchase safety is dangerous at best.

I ask you to think these things over. I ask you to be intentional in your political decisions. I know that it sounds as though I'm speaking out against the current administration, but I'm not. I'm speaking of all governments. Do you really want a government large enough to sell our liberties in the name of providing us safety that they can not actually guarantee? (You really think the government LET 9/11 happen, with full knowledge that thousands of innocents would die? Wow... let me read your conspiracy blog!) Do you really want a government large enough that they would ignore the laws put into place to limit it and protect it whenever it feels threatened? The constitution was created to limit the government and protect the people from tyranny... and yet, the very freedoms it guaranteed are now questioned and considered disposable. The right to bear arms was to arm the people against an abusive government; today we are required to register with the government the very firearms we would use to defend ourselves against it.

How big do you want your government?

full disclosure: I am a registered Republican, I agree whole heartedly with the decision to go into Iraq, I don't think we can pull out given the current situation, and while I know how to use a gun, I do not currently own any and couldn't hit the broad side of a barn from 2 feet away. None of those facts negate the discussion above.

Keeping Track of Heather

2008-04-20T14:51:00.006-05:00

Thanks to the internet, our world that was once insurmountably large is now incredibly small. It's not that the planet went on a diet or something (what? Diet? That works?!), but rather that our social networks have grown larger. With the advent of global internet, telephones, cars, trains, airplanes, and other communication and transportation devices, we are no longer limited by how far our legs (or our beast of burden's legs) can carry us before we drop. I have dear friends all over the world and from all over the world.

The internet, particularly what media call "Web 2.0", allows us to share as much (or as little) of our lives as we desire, and often at little or no cost. I've signed up for lots of different websites and web-based services, and it's easy to lose track of them all. So, as much for my sake as yours, I've decided to link as many of them here as possible.

Photos:
Snapfish (Mostly pictures others have shared with me)
Webshots, Webshots, Webshots (My most common "dumping" ground of pictures. Cruise pics here, etc. more than 3000 pictures across the three accounts, folks!)
Flickr (If this doesn't work, leave me a comment, please!)

Video:
LiveVideo (I usually TRACK Vids here, not upload them).
YouTube (My favorites, and vids I've uploaded).

Blogs & MicroBlogs (Twitter)
Blogger
Xanga
Twitter

Social Networks
FaceBook
MySpace

It's worth noting that 99 out of 100 times you find "hjourdenjackson" somewhere, that's likely me. "hjackson" is me, too, quite often, but not always. I'm on forums, in chats, in email... It's entirely possible to have an entire social life online, and I'm living proof of that. The above are just the most common places to find me.

ETA: Nearly forgot one of my favorites. My poetry is regularly listed on the first page of results when you Google me by name. Whoo! (We think that the website where it's located actually winds up inflating the chances of being found...)

Twice-Baked Potatoes (16 April 2008)

2008-04-16T16:08:00.002-05:00

OK, to be fair, I measured NOTHING in this "recipe", so I'm guessing at approximate measurements to replicate it.

Baked 3 HUGE russetts in-skin, in microwave (took 15.5 minutes before they were done, and in a few places, I think the last 30 seconds might have helped...)

Pan-fried 4 strips of turkey bacon and chopped into 1/4"ish square pieces (nothing fancy, just ran my knife through them in a rough chop.)

I halved the potatoes and scooped out the innards, saving skins as possible (If you manage to save all 6 halves, bravo! I only got two!) even though that meant they were not scraped of all the flesh.

Mixed with maybe 1/2?cup of milk (I know I started with about a 1/4 cup, but they needed more, so I tossed in another healthy splash), and about 2? ounces of sour cream in my stand mixer. Added bacon, a handful of shredded romano, 1/2? 1/3? cup shredded sharp cheddar (somewhere between a 1/6 & 1/8th of one of those 2 cup bags) and a tablespoon or two of "trail dust", a boutique spice I found in a flea-market type booth here in town (yes it was sealed!). Added a stick (yes, an entire stick!) of butter (1/4 pound) and about a tablespoon or so of kosher salt as I mixed.

Scooped the two skins full and overflowing (if you save all 6 skins, you may not be able to do quite "overflowing") and had about a quart of mashed potatoes left. Sprinkled about a hand full of sharp cheddar on top and poof... will bake them off in the oven in a few minutes.

It's worth noting: cheddar was 2%, milk was 2%, sour cream was "light", and the bacon was turkey bacon. This SOUNDS horribly decadent, but it's not as bad as it could have been. Also worth noting: The only thing I had to buy specifically for this was the potatoes. I had the seasoning, the bacon, etc. I used up the remains of one bag of cheese in it, and took the cheese to top it with from another opened bag (no, I don't know why I had two bags of the same sort of cheese open).

They say the best cooking is the kind you don't worry or fuss about measuring out, and just put together to your tastes. This was that sort of cooking. Shoot, that's MOST of my cooking. I might start with a recipe, but I rarely follow it exactly (except for baking, where chemistry means I fiddle with things less than other recipes).

Musical Musing: Nichole Nordeman, "Sunrise"

2008-04-15T11:32:00.000-05:00

Sunrise, Nichole Nordeman

If I had the chance

To go back again

Take a different road,

bear a lighter load

Tell an easy story

I would walk away

With my yesterdays

And I would not trade

what is broken for beauty only

Every valley

Every bitter chill

Made me ready

to climb back up the hill

And find that…

You are sunrise

You are blue skies

How would I know the Morning

If I knew not midnight?

You’re my horizon

You’re the Light of a new dawn

So thank You, thank You

That after the long night,

You are sunrise

There’s a moment when

Faith caves in

There’s a time when

every soul is certain God is gone

But every shadow is evidence of sun

And every tomorrow holds out hope for us

For every one of us

You are sunrise

You are blue skies

How would I know the Morning

If I knew not midnight?

You’re my horizon

You’re the Light of a new dawn

So thank You, thank You

That after the long night,

You are sunrise

You alone will shine

You alone can resurrect this heart of mine

You are sunrise

You are blue skies

How would I know the Morning

If I knew not midnight?

You’re my horizon

You’re the Light of a new dawn

So thank You, thank You

That after the long night,

You are sunrise

It’s been a while since I worked on this particular series, but listening to the music again and having a moment after changed doctor’s appoinments and lunches gave me a chance to be still and chew on the lyrics again.

Let me start by giving you some scriptural references that give us the biblical basis for Nichole’s assertions that God is sunrise. There’s a lot here, and I didn’t get them all, so feel free to do your own searches.

Ezra 9:8 Psalm 18:28 Psalm 118:27 Isaiah 60:19 1 Corinthians 4:5

2 Corinthians 4:6 1 Peter 2:9 1 John 1:5 Revelation 21:23 Revelation 22:5

John 8:12 John 12:35 John 12:36 1 John 1:7

I find myself really identifying with these lyrics. I’ve said one version or another of them at different times in my life, even written poetry with these ideas swirling at the foundation. This idea of what we would do differently if we could go back and do it over again often forgets the essential nature of an experiential life; we learn by doing. We gain strength by surviving. We grow through adversity. The abuse I grew up with, the physical beatings, the verbal lashings, the rape and seduction of my innocence, the emotional uncertainties… every bit of it, it was horrible, and no, I wouldn’t wish my past on anyone. I wouldn’t recommend my upbringing to anyone, and I would (and do) report any adult I saw repeating on a child the things that were done to me. Every time, I would stand up and fight for the defense of the child. Please don’t think for a moment that I would ever advocate that child abuse is necessary or acceptable. It is a repellent stain on humanity.

That said, if I had a chance to go back in time and magically prevent what had happened to me, to undo the abuse before it happened, I wouldn’t. I am the woman I am today because I survived that. My faith blossomed in ways I can’t imagine it would have without the struggles I faced.

I’m not saying that the only way to have a deep faith in God is to have a traumatic upbringing or horrifying event in your life. As my sweet mother would say, I don’t have to become an alcoholic to be as aware of my need for grace and reliance on God as the alcoholic walking the path to recovery. God is mighty and wonderful and beyond our imagining; His grace is as individual to each of us as we are to Him.

What I do mean to say is that faith is tested and proven in the fires of trial and adversity. When it seems there is no reason to hope, no joy to cling to, no future to long for, no external reason to have faith that there is more than the darkness that surrounds us, life is bleak and frightening. But when you are able to see just the faintest glimmer of the coming dawn, when you can reason with yourself that now is not forever, and better will come in time, when you can cling to faith when there’s no obvious reason to do so, then the faith that emerges will be stronger for the trials. In a very real way, our faith is like gold, which must be melted and destroyed in fire in order to remove the impurities and be shaped into its final form. It is like steel, which must be tempered with heat to strengthen it, make it harder and less brittle. It is like clay which must be molded and shaped in the hands of a master craftsman to be useful.

Let’s say for a moment that you’ve lead a privileged life. You never wanted for anything, you never knew what it was to go without. There was never any doubt that you were dearly loved. Life was a cakewalk. You enjoy sunrise, but you never doubted it would come. You have the sort of precious faith that was poured into you by your family and loved ones, that is as much a part of who you are as your own name, your very being. Now try to imagine what it is like for someone who didn’t have that remarkable privilege. Think of a child from a third world country, for whom peanut butter is a luxury rarely afforded. You get tired of the everydayness of peanut butter and jelly sandwich; imagine the poor child, half naked, and delighting in the first peanut butter and jelly sandwich he’s ever had. Give him a burger and fries and look at how stunned he is at the meat… and how ordinary it is to you. Imagine, beloved, that your faith in God is like the food we eat. Sometimes, it’s so easy that it’s easy to take for granted. But when each meal is remarkable, how sweet it tastes, how satisfying it can be! Now go back to our person who has had enough all his days. Suddenly, life changes, and he finds himself hungry, cold, lost and alone. What a shock! What in life has ever prepared him for less than enough? Maybe his family told him what to expect, maybe they raised him with respect for the frailty of life. But the other child, the one who’s known nothing but want all his life? When everything is yanked from him, he’s grown accustomed to the possibility. He’s stronger, harder, not because his lifestyle is good or ideal, but because the only choice he’s ever had was cling to uncertain hope and survive, or give up in despair and succumb to the overwhelming loss and death.

I’m married to a man who is the first, who had a stable, loving home with stable, loving parents. He didn’t have everything he wanted all the time, but his parents made sure he always had what he needed. His faith is no weaker than mine, no less valid than mine. I’m not saying that at all. The trials he faced built him in ways I can’t understand. But in many ways, I’m the second (though I’ve never gone hungry). There were literally days I didn’t know if I’d wake up in the morning, days when I wasn’t sure not waking up would be such a bad thing. But being carried by my faith in Christ meant that when the rug was pulled from beneath my feet (when my father, the one person I thought really “got” me, died when I was 16), I already had in place the faith I needed to carry me through the darkness of grief to the dawn of my life after his death. Because of the way I suffered as a child, I had hope to cling to that, this, too, was survivable. Oh, beloved, there were dark days, darker nights, suicide attempts and heartbreak before and after I lost my Dad, but every night has been faithfully followed with sunlight and hope. Every time I’ve lost all hope, the sun rose in the morning and renewed me.

I guess what I’m trying to say is simply this: When all seems hopeless, in the darkness so bleak you can’t see tomorrow… you’re not alone, you’ve never been alone. I was there before you, and there are times I stumble back into the disheartening darkness. But there is hope, there is a reason to continue. After we’ve been tested and tried, beloved, we stand taller in the coming dawn in the love of Christ who died and was resurrected to bring us to Him. I’ve been where you are, and I stand in the light of a new day, proof that there is a tomorrow. There is worth in our sufferings because we are stronger for them.

Thank You, God, for the long dark night of the soul that showed me how desperately I needed you just to survive. Thank You for the adversity that tested me, tried me, and gave me the strength to survive and testify to Your provision on the other side. Thank You, God, for being my hope when I had none other. Thank You, God. You truly are sunrise.

Meditation...

2008-04-15T00:21:00.002-05:00

I struggle to sleep, and while ambien and CPAP have helped me sleep (I'm more likely to stay asleep long enough to rest thanks to the combination), I'm not always able to fall asleep easily or stay asleep peacefully. After a nightmare, I'm more likely to be restless for the rest of the night, unable to distinguish dream from reality without forcing myself awake, a cycle that repeats itself over and over and over until I finally give up and drag myself through my day, half afraid to go to sleep lest it start over again.

A few years ago, I stumbled across a secret that I forget entirely too often, but as I sit up tonight trying to become tired enough to sleep solidly until I get up almost 2 hours earlier than normal for an appointment, I am reminded again of something I used just last night to find better rest.

I meditate. I don't sit cross-legged and chant the seed sounds of the universe, no, nor do I go to my quiet place or empty of my mind. All of those trails lead to an active mind and restlessness for me; they always have. No, my meditation is singing praise songs in my head, soundlessly worshiping the God who gives me each breath until sleep takes over.

I can't count the number of times I've lain in bed, weeping myself to sleep with some sorrow or grief, either from a broken relationship or from one who's death leaves me lonely without them. How do you quiet a heart so broken that it must weep or destroy itself? How do you calm the mind racing over all the things you could have said, didn't say, need to say? How do you find the rest necessary to actually rest and be renewed and restored? It's something I've struggled with for so long, so consistently, that I had to find something or go mad.

I'm sitting here listening to Christian music, Natalie Grant, Nichole Nordeman, Third Day and others, letting the praise they sing to God wash over and through me. It forces me to stop focusing on myself, on my problems, on all the ways I couldawouldashouldaoughta been different. It pulls my attention to my Creator, my Redeemer, the Savior who is so eagerly waiting to carry me and all my burdens. As I lay my concerns and the weights that hold me back in life aside long enough to search my mind for songs of praise, I find peace, I find stillness, I find the ability to relax and let go... and then I sleep.

I wish I remembered more often to do what my Maker asks, and seek Him first. He did promise that He would meet my needs and give me the desires of my heart if I made HIM the desire of my heart.

I pray that this never becomes a rote ritual for me, something I do to sleep without any of the consideration of the words that play through my mind. My meditation isn't a magical chant to get me solid sleep. It needs to always remain a way of taking my selfish focus and handing it to God, a path to rest in Him and faith in Him.

And now, unto Him who is able to keep that which we give Him against the day of His coming, be all praise, all glory, all He's asked for, all He deserves and more. And if He gives me a peaceful restful night, well... that's icing on this cake.

Try it yourself sometime. Take the last thoughts you think before slumber and focus them on our mighty God, and see if He doesn't do something mighty and wonderful for you... like a peaceful night's sleep. Me? I'm going to listen to "River God" one more time and go crash.

Musical Musings: All You Need Is Love, The Beatles

2008-03-11T14:52:00.002-05:00

Love, love, love.
Love, love, love.
Love, love, love.

There's nothing you can do that can't be done.
Nothing you can sing that can't be sung.
Nothing you can say but you can learn how to play the game.
It's easy.

Nothing you can make that can't be made.
No one you can save that can't be saved.
Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time.
It's easy.

All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need.

All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need.

Nothing you can know that isn't known.
Nothing you can see that isn't shown.
Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.
It's easy.

All you need is love.
All you need is love.
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need.

All you need is love (all together, now!)
All you need is love. (everybody!)
All you need is love, love.
Love is all you need (love is all you need).

Yee-hai!
Oh yeah!
She loves you, yeah yeah yeah.
She loves you, yeah yeah yeah.

1 John 4:8b: God is love.

I’ve meant to blog on this for a long time, and there is a part of me that hopes Sirs Paul and Ringo will read this, though I doubt it.

This song makes me cry. It’s so beautiful, it’s so close to Truth, it’s so effervescent… and yet, I am certain that as close as they came, they missed it.

I fear that we, as a people, are too quick to dismiss the God of the Bible as ancient, distant, irrelevant, and in so doing, we miss the great Truth that lies between the covers of the bestselling book in history. We see the lessons we heard in Sunday School in general (if we even went) and don’t see any application in life today. We bash our way through life looking for answers to questions we’re not even sure how to ask and conclude that God either doesn’t exist or isn’t reachable… and that’s if we even have a concept of God that allows for Him to be a person (as opposed to an ultimate state we can all reach if we try hard enough).

The truth is that nearly all of us are almost certainly worshiping idols, even when we think we’re worshiping the God of the Bible, the God of Christianity. I’m not say there is no true worship of the true God; I am quite certain that when we are stripped of everything, we either arrive at the actual God of this universe or we flail in despair and hopelessness.

God is so beyond what we can understand, so beyond what we can grasp and comprehend, so far above us that we don’t even know where to start. We define him and limit him for our own sake, and then we worship the concept of God we’ve created for our own limited understanding. We may not be as exaggerated as Wil Farrell’s character in Talladega Nights who worshiped “Baby Jesus” instead of God, choosing only that small aspect of Him, and even then, treating him like some sort of genie in a bottle to give us what we ask for. But are we far from it? We “name it and claim it”, quoting a promise from the Bible that God made to Israel and all but demanding he fulfill it today. We conveniently forget that Israel is compared to a prostitute (Gomer, the wife of Hosea) and repeatedly breaks the covenant God made with her… even as we do the same. We want all of the Good He offers without any of the obedience, blithely declaring that grace covers our sins. We want a cheap faith without any requirements, forgetting that Messiah fulfills the law, not revokes it.

Now, I’ll admit, I’m far from understanding who God is, and I don’t deny that I fall into the same trap I’m sitting here decrying, happily worshiping God as loving and merciful and ignoring the justice that demands I change my life. I forget that I am meant to be a temple where His Holy Spirit dwells, pure and sanctified, set apart for His purposes and uses and I use what God made holy for unholy purposes. I don’t deny any of this, and I freely admit that, like Israel before me, I all too often am guilty of breaking the covenant God made with us, that Jesus sealed for us. I don’t exclude myself from the great masses as I write this. I feel like Isaiah in the temple, so aware of my own sin that I cry out “Woe is me, for I am a woman of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips!”

God is love. Can you even begin to fathom what that means? Can you even begin to wrap your minute concept of who God is around the broadness of this ONE aspect of the Almighty? Look at 1 Corinthians 12:31-13. Love is described as “the most excellent way”. It is patient. It is the mercy and love of God that makes Him so patient; He allows us each day to come to Him, even accepting us as His if it is the last breath of our life. Can you conceive of a patience that allows for that sort of behavior? Love is kind. Not petty, not mean, not cruel, but kind and gentle. It is God’s kindness that demanded His mercy, that provides a path back to Him where none is deserved. Love does not envy. Love does not boast; can you understand that when God says He is all mighty, it is not a boast, but simply a statement of complete fact? Love is not proud. Love is not rude, Love is not self-seeking. Love is not easily angered. Oh, praise be to the omnipotent God that He is not easily angered. God’s wrath is mighty, but it takes mighty measures to release it. Love keeps no record of wrongs.

Stop right there. Love keeps no record of wrongs. Read it again. Love keeps no record of wrongs. God keeps no record of wrongs. God keeps NO record of wrongs. Bathe in that for a moment. God is not sitting in heaven like Zeus or Thor with a thunderbolt or a hammer to smite you if you make a mistake. Paul tells us in Romans that there is NO condemnation. David tells us that as far as the East is from the West, that’s how far God has removed our sins. Isaiah tells us that He remembers our sins no more. Every mistake you’ve ever made isn’t waiting for you in heaven. Love keeps no record of wrongs. Oh, beloved, stop and thank God that He keeps no record of our shortfalls.

Love does not delight in evil but rejoices in the truth. God’s JOY is in truth… and He, who IS Truth, knows it better than we can imagine. Love always protects. Love always trusts. Love always hopes. God always hopes that we will turn from our own path and take His hand to walk with Him again in the garden He created for us. Love always perseveres. Love never gives up. God never gives up. He won’t let go of you, He won’t give up on you. He will never stop pursuing you, never stop seeking to woo you to Him. Love never fails. God never falls short. God never makes a mistake. Beloved, you are no mistake.

And now I come back to where I started, with the hopeful song the Beatles first sang over 40 years ago and never understood.

All you need is Love. God is all you need. Not your limited view of Him, not His ability to give you everything you imagine you need. Not the God who his waiting to “get you” for your failings; those are not God. God, in all His majesty, in all His greatness, in all His mercy and justice and all His perfect, unimaginable, incomprehensible Love is all you need. Everything.

Your heart is broken, wounded beyond beating? You need Love, the great physician who never gave up on you and never let you go.

You feel guilty for everything you’ve done, or everything you didn’t? You need Love, who keeps no record of our wrongs, either the ones we did or didn’t.

You feel lost in the darkness? You need Love, who always protects you.

Can you begin to grasp even the edges of what I’m trying to tell you? Love is ALL you need… and not some nebulous concept you can’t define, but the all mighty God of the Universe who is bigger than your concept of Him and is waiting, patiently, lovingly, for you to reach out to Him.

This isn’t all I want to tell you about the truth that dances through this song, but that I fear was missed, but this is the most important. God is more than you think, more than you can conceive, more than you limit Him to for your own understanding. Even one aspect of Him is more than you can understand, and yet He is so much more. Oh beloved, Love really is all you need… and so much more.

My precious readers, if you are reading this, and you have never before understood how much God loves you, if the Spirit has struck you with your need for God, please don’t browse any further before you stop right now. If you know God’s love for your own, then, as Beth says in “The One and Only,” stop and pray in remembrance and awe of the Love of God. There are no magical words, only a profound change in your heart. The words below are but a suggestion if needed.

“Oh, God, I long to walk with You in the garden. I know that, on my own, I can’t reach you. I accept that You’ve provided the Way in the person of Your Son, Jesus. Wash me clean, Lord, and lead me through the garden until I reach You.”

Surgical update 3

2008-02-04T17:14:00.000-06:00

OK, I wrote this at a 48 point font and the letters are still really fuzzy and overlap sometimes.

I know I said I would do this daily, but using the computer gets tiring quickly. I’ve got all my windows set larger so that I can see, and while I did the bulletin last week, it was difficult. A week ago, when I went to the doctor one week post-op (actually, closer to 10 days), I was seeing somewhere between 20/60 and 20/80. I think I’m actually much closer to 20/80. I’m still not legal to drive, and I’m getting headaches and tired easily. Up close is good, it’s the further out that wears me out. If I’m not significantly better by the time I go back in 2 weeks, (19 Feb) I’ll ask for glasses or something, because I’m not functioning as well now as I did before the surgery, and that gets disheartening.

Still, as I said the day after I had the surgery… if I never see the way I did before, I’ll learn to cope. People live with worse all the time. And I will still rely on my Rolling River God to carry me through anything this life has to offer.

It didn’t take overnight to get as blind as I was. It’ll take longer than overnight to recover.

Who Are You Dancing With?

2008-02-04T16:23:00.000-06:00

The Student Ministries Drama Team put this on for our church yesterday, actually acted it out as you see here. It was part of their focus on purity, and I sobbed freely as I watched. Looking it up online when one of the others I'm in drama with mentioned seeing it on youtube, I found the version you see above, and I wept again.

I don't know that I've ever seen such a beautiful, stunning, accurate portrayal of my savior. No, I'm not talking about any of the actors you see, but rather the portrayal of Christ. That, my dear readers, that is the living, loving, Christ.

Watch it again. See the joy in his face as he creates new marvels for her? Do you begin to grasp the delight and love that God Almighty poured into Creation for us? He made a world fit for us to live in, perfectly arranged in the universe, in our solar system, balancing on the razor’s edge of impossible, all for us, in our temporal bodies, to enjoy. He gave us food to eat, beauty to see, water to drink and refresh us. Look at the joy on his face reflected in hers… the way she delights in the good and perfect gifts he gives. It is man, created in the image of living God, mirroring Him as we were made to, as only we can. It is joy, pure and unadulterated.

Now, as you watch the parade of temptations and influences in her life, in the sins she succumbs to and commits without him, look at the despair in both of their faces. Look at his body language, pleading her to stop, to just come back to him, reaching for her each time she reaches for him. Look at the emptiness and heartbreak in her as she tries one thing after another and finds them all unsatisfying. This is man as we are without Christ, empty, lost, separated from him by the very things we thought would fulfill us, would add to us, would be good for us. This is Christ, as He watches in agony as His creation falls away from Him. This is omniscient God in the garden, asking where we are. This is the death we experience apart from the Creator who gave us life.

Look as he spreads his arms, seeming to surrender, and collapses. That, beloved, is the price of freedom. That, beloved, is the price of liberty. That is the price of life, the price of redemption. Christ is not giving up on us, oh, no, nor has He lost any of Himself. This is Christ, the Creator, Perfection itself, the Word made flesh, paying a debt we cannot, sacrificing His life willingly to save ours. This is the cost of redemption.

Look again as she turns and runs to him, fighting off all the chains that shackle her, all the sin that holds her bound and lost. Look as the sin is shed as the shirt off her back. Look at him, beloved. Look at how he fights for her, never giving up, never surrendering, inexorably drawing her to himself. Look as she falls to her knees, how he rushes in, placing his body between hers and the very sins she once chose over him. Look at the struggle.

This is the war in the heavenlies, the battle raging for our souls even now. This is the God who created us fighting back the demons that would hold us back from who we were created to be. This is the shedding of the old, the death to self, the surrender to the fact that Christ alone can save us. This is our salvation, acted out before us. This is who God is, placing His Messiah between us and all that stands against us. This, beloved, is the once for all time, and the every day salvation of Christ in our lives.

Look again, and see him win, see him stand her to her feet, dust the dirt away, and then draw her to him again.

Christ never loses. Nothing in this world, nothing in all of creation, can separate us from Christ, can snatch us out of His holy Hands. This is Christ, washing us clean, removing everything that seperates us from Him. This, oh desperately loved reader, this is God.

Look as they walk away together, marveling again in the joy, held tightly in each others’ arms. Look at the way they dance together, the way they celebrate… look at the pure joy in their faces as he holds her close in his perfect embrace. This, this was God’s plan all along. This is His purpose for us. This is His heart for us. This is His hope, His future, for us. This is eternal God drawing us back into relationship with Him, and walking step by step with Him.

We are each responsible for the choices we make in our lives. At every step of the journey, there is a choice, even in the things where it seems we have no choice. When the night seems darkest, when hope seems lost, when the battle is too much for you, stop, and ask yourself who you’ve been dancing with. When you have no strength to continue, surrender to the One who was waiting to dance with you all along, even when you turned away from Him. Surrender to the One who places Himself between the death of your sin, your errors, your selfishness, and who lifts you to your feet and woos you into His arms again. Surrender to the living Christ.

This is my Jesus. Who are you dancing with?

update

2008-01-18T12:02:00.000-06:00

Let’s try typing now. Still rather blurry, but I can read this without too much work. 60 pt font though, still.

According to the doctor, I’m now at the line for legally blind, which is a HUGE improvement. Wait, weren’t you legally blind before? There’s a difference? How is this an improvement?

Well, I’m starting to be able to read signs and such, and I don’t have to hold things as close to read them as I used to. I’ve not progressed as well as they’d hoped, but none of us did, so it’s OK. They think I’ll be a lot better on Monday, after the bandage contacts come off.

It might take me a month to get “normal” sight. I hope not… but now that I have clearer, more well defined expectations, I can handle the wait.

In the meantime, doctor’s orders call… 1 lortab, some eye drops, eye shields, pretty music, and sleep here I come.

Because we are stronger for the sharing...

2008-01-17T23:31:00.000-06:00

I know this is huge, and yet, it’s a little fuzzy for me, but I wanted you to see where I am tonight. (Galatians 6:11See what large letters I use as I write to you with my own hand!)

I had a procedure similar to LASIK done this morning, well… it was this afternoon before they actually got to me.

In LASIK, in case you don’t know, an ophthalmic surgeon carefully removes a slice off the surface of the eye, folding it to the side, out of the way, and then a preprogrammed laser fires on the eye and shapes the cornea beneath to correct, inside the eye itself, the vision problem that has required a patient to wear corrective lenses. After the laser is done, they gently fold the flap back, and the surgery is finished.

When I was being evaluated, I discovered that my prescription (which I knew was around -11.25) was almost too steep to be done at all. In fact, to correct my vision, the doctor couldn’t do the normal procedure; he had to do what is called Advanced Surface Ablation (or ASA for short). See, in creating the tiny thin flap for LASIK, they actually cut into the cornea itself, and some of the corneal structure (called the stroma, if I recall correctly) is lost to the flap (it doesn’t disappear completely; it’s just unshapable because it’s in the flap, off to the side). They needed every micrometer of my cornea to do the correction for me, so they couldn’t risk the flap. ASA instead places a small ring on the eye itself and then removes the epithelium (sort of like the top layer of your skin, only on the eye itself). Then, with every micrometer of the cornea intact, they do the same procedure with the laser shaping the cornea to the new prescription. Because they actually removed some of the covering of the eye, it takes longer to heal, and it’s more uncomfortable.

Now that the science is out of the way, we get to where I am tonight as I sit up in front of my monitor, typing in a 60 point font (don’t worry, when I publish this, I’ll shrink most of it down to a size you can deal with).

You see, I’m disappointed, afraid, discouraged, and impatient. I had believed that I’d see a dramatic improvement in my sight as soon as I got off the table, that I’d be just able to see… and while I knew there would be fuzziness that would last, I wasn’t expecting to still be blind. And yet, blind I am.

My husband tells me that they were trying to guess where my vision would be tomorrow… and the number he quoted me is so far better than I’ve ever seen that I don’t even know how to imagine what that would be like. If they’re right, then a good night’s sleep will see enough healing to let me finally not be blind… for the first time that I can remember.

I didn’t know that when I left today. I thought I’d get off the table and be a little fuzzy, but with ready vision. No one explained that it would have to heal through the stages of blindness to wholeness… perhaps I’d have been better equipped for the outcome, be less depressed tonight, be less upset.

So here I am, only now hearing thirdhand where they thought I’d be tomorrow, only now realizing that I never understood really how this would happen for me, that maybe, just maybe, the horrible mistake I’ve feared all day hasn’t happened, that I’m exactly where I should be, that maybe I can be hopeful instead in despair.

Surprisingly, there’s music playing on repeat as I write this, helping to soothe this savage breast, to salve this broken heart (*If you know me at all, you know the above is said tongue firmly in cheek). It’s Nichole again, singing a song I sang to myself this morning as I waited for my turn under the laser, as I prayed for wisdom for the doctors and calmness for me in place of anxiety. How did I get through my day and lose this prayer, this focus?

Rolling River God

Little stones are smoothed

Only once the water passes through

So I am a stone

Rough and grainy still

Trying to reconcile this River’s chill

But when I close my eyes

And feel You rushing by

I know that time brings change

And change takes time

And when the sunset comes, my prayer would be this one:

That You might pick me up and notice that I am

Just a little smoother in Your hand.

Sometimes raging wild

Sometimes swollen high

Never have I known this River dry

The deepest part of You

Is where I want to stay

And feel the sharpest edges wash away

But when I close my eyes

And feel You rushing by

I know that time brings change

And change takes time

And when the sunset comes,

My prayer would be just one:

That You might pick me up and notice that I am

Just a little smoother in Your hands

Rolling River God

Little stones are smoothed only once the water passes through

What a beautiful melody, almost like a stone skipping in progressive waves over the surface of a river, and her soft voice almost a ballad.

I’m done weeping in fear. I’m done being discouraged. I’m done letting the Enemy define who I am.

If my fears are right, and this went wrong, and I will remain blind (or even be uncorrectibly so), this is no disaster. Men and women deal with worse every day. There are worse things out there than the loss of what little sight I had. Besides, all of this fear preys on me before the healing process has the time it needs to bring the change it will. I may yet be the exciting case they talk about, going from blind, unable to imagine life without glasses, to being free again.

My rolling river God has never let me down yet. My rolling river God never will. He still holds me in the palm of His hand, and there, curled against Him who created me, who formed me, yes, even these imperfect eyes, there I will rest and let the physical laws He put in motion work. I will give Him the time that change needs to be effective.

And when the despair comes again? I’ll come back to my rolling river God.

And you’ll get messages each day updating my progress… because I suspect that this time next week, I will live a life I never imagined would be mine.

Despair comes. But it doesn’t have to be our companion. Dive into the River God and let Him wash you clean, polish away everything until we are just a little smoother in His hands. Rolling River God… Little stones are smoothed only once the water passes through.

Didn't want to lose this

2008-01-02T10:20:00.000-06:00

I posted the following on a message board 6 December 2007. I didn't want to lose it when it scrolls off the board.

Until October 2004, I went through SERIOUS depressions every 6 or so months. My husband would have to physically restrain me to stop me from doing harm to myself. The last suicidal ideations I had was in Feb 2004.

That year, I finished a brutal first and last year of teaching... and I only finished my contract for love of my students, highschoolers all of them. My Seniors, all 5 of them, hadn't had an English teacher start and finish the year with them since 8th grade. Of the 4 core teachers, 3 of us were new to the school and the fourth was starting his 2nd year (or 3rd, perhaps) at the school. One of the teachers and I got along excellently, but he had a worse year than I did (His house was broken into and his wife attacked one day while he was teaching; he had to leave in a hurry to go take care of her, and his anxiety, which understandably overlapped into his already overloaded schedule, meant that the school refused to renew his contract (which wound up being a moot point as the school was so poorly run it closed before the next term)). Many of my students loved me (and I still keep in touch with 3 of my seniors; spent my birthday with 2 of them, and they came and spent her birthday with me yesterday), and that helped immensely.

That summer, my Zoey-bug was born. The last week of June, I went on a trip with my adoptive family and their 5 children (6 and younger). The second oldest came to me on her own, suddenly, and announced she loved me. Now, they'd told me they loved me before, but usually after I'd given them gifts or played with them; this summer, my knees were troubling me and I couldn't spend as much time with them, and I hadn't just given her something... this was unprovoked and beautiful.

I went the second week of July and saw my sweet Zoeybug just after she'd been born.My GOD, how I love her. How I loved her. I would hold her to me, rocking her softly, bouncing her to sleep, just looking at her beautiful face. There was nothing my sweet Zoey could do to earn my love, and yet love her I did (I do), desperately. I realized I'd spent my entire life trying to earn the love of my family. I saw my aunts and uncle, my grandparents... and I realized they love me the way I adored Zoey. I'd never had to do anything for them to love me; what I'd accomplished in my life was the icing on the cake... not the cake itself.

I took a trip by myself up to see where my father had been laid to rest, and then up to see his sister... she brought in her son, whom I hadn't seen in over a decade, who brought his fiancee and son to meet me, excited by the prospect. They heaped high praise and complements upon me... that I felt I never deserved. By the time I came home, I had a lot to ponder.

I had started one Bible study by Beth Moore (Beloved Disciple) and then another (Breaking Free). They were spectacular, and I soon added what I was learning in the study to what I had to ponder. One night in October, as I was thinking of them, I broke free.

I was MADE to be loved. I've ALWAYS been loved. I NEVER had to earn it. So are you. I know that as deeply in my soul as I know my own name, as I deeply as I know that I AM.

I had been suicidal for SO long because I was tired. I was tired of EARNING love, tired of working for the right, the permission to draw the next breath. I knew that my husband loved me, but I also knew that when I died, he'd get over it, he'd go on with life, and he'd find love, real love, with the sort of woman he deserved. (I am in tears as I tell you this). I was selfish in my suicidal ideations... it wasn't that I wanted to die, just that I was far too tired to keep going. But I considered very seriously the people around me.

One of my attempts, one of my more serious and more nearly successful, was when I was a teenager. I overdosed on my antidepressant after a very bad day, and I purposely fought to stay awake, to stay up after I'd taken the pills until I could put my sisters to bed and go to sleep... they'd be taken care of, and I'd just never wake up.

Until the truth was tattooed on my heart, I couldn't see what I was doing to the ones I loved the most. I couldn't see how horribly selfish it was. Until I learned that I was loved, I couldn't fall in love with life.It's been over 3 years now since the last time I was suicidal. My life is so remarkably different.

Please, be aware that people who are suicidal are in more pain than they know how to cope with.

And please, be aware, that those the suicidal leave behind hurt and miss the ones they've lost more than the lost one can imagine.

Suicide is about pain, on both sides.If you're considering ending your life for whatever reason, please, please know you will be desperately missed, more than you can imagine. Please, give us a chance to help carry your burden before it drags you beyond our reach.

You are loved. You ARE loved. YOU ARE LOVED.

Musical Musings: "Let It Be" The Beatles

2007-12-26T21:54:00.000-06:00

When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.
And in my hour of darkness she is standing right in front of me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be, let it be, let it be.
Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

And when the broken hearted people living in the world agree,
there will be an answer, let it be.
For though they may be parted there is still a chance that they will see,
there will be an answer. let it be.

Let it be, let it be, .....

And when the night is cloudy, there is still a light, that shines on me,
shine until tomorrow, let it be.
I wake up to the sound of music, mother Mary comes to me,
speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be, .....

This is a beautiful song, one I grew up hearing thanks to a mother who LOVED the Beatles. I once heard a friend play it on the piano, changing it from a vaguely Catholic song into a Protestant one (instead of Mother Mary, it was the Holy Spirit, if I recall the changes she made correctly).

If it were possible for The Beatle's music to experience a resurgence (if it ever lost popularity enough to need a resurgence), then certainly the film "Across The Universe" would help provide the momentum necessary for surge in popularity. For those unfamiliar with the film, it was directed by Julie Taymor (the woman responsible for the Broadway adaptation of Disney's "The Lion King") and is the story of a young man in 1960s America, told through the music of The Beatles. Jim Sturgess is Jude, and Evan Rachel Wood plays his Lucy.

In the film, this song is sung at the graveside of two different people; a young child killed in Detroit, and Lucy's boyfriend, killed in Vietnam. This song has always been beautiful; as a funereal anthem, it is stunning and moving, carrying a new weight. It is a plea for peace, both in our own hearts as we try to understand the seeming cruelty of life that would seize two young people with so much ahead of them, but in the larger sense of the world as a whole... for peace in place of war.

I am not Catholic by faith, and I don't believe that Mary, the mother of Jesus, provides guidance to me... that those who have walked the Earth come back to guide those still struggling our way through life. That said... the advice voiced through Mary here is excellent.

We all have questions; the heartbreak of life that raises doubts and uncertainties is common to us all. We ask ourselves the same thing: "If God is so loving, then why does He allow suffering. If good exists, then where is there good in the suffering of innocents? Why do the good die young?" There are more questions, more doubts, more uncertainties that plague us in the dark night of the soul, when we are at our most vulnerable. It is our nature to want answers to our questions, to want to understand why things are the way they are. We want to understand before we trust, to weigh our options before leaping in... faith is a hard muscle to exercise and use.

That's where this advice comes into play. You have questions you can't answer: Let them be. Let the questions remain; answers will come in time. Faith comes when you let the questions remain and trust that life is worth living, God really is good, and understanding will come as it is needed. When you don't understand why you must suffer, let it be. Trust that justice will be done, that wrongs won't go unanswered, and just let it be.

This is a prayer that God's will would be done, a declaration of faith, a plea for peace. It's the English translation of the Hebrew word "amen". Each time we end a prayer with Amen, we're invoking the Peace of God to transcend our problems, the Grace of God to overcome our weakness, the Justice of God to right our wrongs, and the Faith to survive it all, arriving safe into the arms of the God who can provide the answers we lack.

I don't understand it all. I can't provide adequate answers for why we suffer, why we lack, why injustices are done. I can't answer all your questions, and I can't understand all the mysteries of the faith (don't ask me to explain the trinity; I know it is, but I can't put it in words adequately). But I know I don't have to. I just have to let it be. I have to trust that my God has the answers I need... that in my long dark night of the soul, my God will come and whisper the words of wisdom I so desperately need.

Let it be. Let it be. There will be an answer... but for now, Let it be.

More Fun and YouTubage

2007-12-17T12:57:00.000-06:00

I've discovered Jonathan Coulton. A friend at the Game Shop played Re: Your Brains, and when I went back to find it to play it for John, I found it had exploded all over YouTube. Wil Wheaton refrences it in his own blog, and in his TVSquad reviews for Star Trek: The Next Generation, making nerds everywhere squee in delight. (squee: to squeal, squeak, or make other noises of unabashed delight and excitement). (Side note: It seems Wil and I follow one of the same comics, a fact I discovered while looking through the archives to link to the specific JoCo references... I SWEAR I wasn't reading xkcd because Wil does... that would be just a bit too Trek Stalker, and I'm not THAT girl!)

I also found that he wrote the title music for Code Monkeys, a show John really enjoys and that pokes 8bit fun at the 80's early game developer culture (They aren't Atari, but they might as well be!)

Then, about a week ago, a friend sent me the youtube link for Still Alive, the closing song for the video game Portal. I have to say... I'm almost thinking that The Orange Box might be worth getting to get Portal and Still Alive. This, too, has exploded over You Tube, including this video, of a little robot seemingly created JUST to sing Still Alive. Further exploration introduced her older brother who loves to dance.

I've also been enjoying Weird Al's stuff on YouTube, too...

And that's not even all the memes I've seen blown up everywhere, but it's all I want to follow for now. And, as always, I am not responsible for the time you waste at YouTube, even if I was the one who pointed out cool videos there. :D

PS: Can anyone figure out how to litter this post with MORE links?

I feel fantastic and I'm Still Alive!

There's a difference

2007-12-02T22:05:00.000-06:00

There's a difference between obeying out of fear of the law and walking in faith of the grace.

There are those who do what they do in life because that's what you do. They view salvation as a sort of fire insurance. They wouldn't admit it, but the there's a certain amount of fear in their obedience to the law, as though if they do enough good, if they are obedient enough, then God will forgive them of their sins and let them into heaven (or, and forgive me the offense, my dearly, DEARLY beloved Catholic friends) out of purgatory. They live their lives in obedience because of fear of the law, and the consequences of disobedience, even unconsciously.

And then there's the other way. There's what I aim for, though I know I often miss. Walking in faith of the grace. What does that mean? What's the difference?

For me, walking in faith of the grace is yes, obedience when I don't feel obedient. But instead of being afraid of what would happen if I weren't obedient, instead of obeying because that's what you do, or to keep my scale balanced, I opt for something different. I am obedient because I am convinced that the grace I've been promised in reward is far far better than any fleeting percieved reward know. It's in recognition that obedience has produced rewards otherwise unimaginable, and it's built my faith in His ability to keep His promises.

We all face trials in life, and we come out of them in one of three ways. We can be delivered from the trial, and not have to face it. This builds our faith, because we see prayers answered. We can be delivered through them, as Shadrach, Meshac, and Abednego were (or, better, Hananiah, Azariah, and Mishael, as they were named to honor the God who spared them). They faced a fire so hot it killed the guards charged with throwing them in, and walked out of it, with neither scorch marks or even the SMELL of smoke. This tests our faith; can we have the faith that He will keep our promises, or even, as they said, as Job said, "Though He slay me, yet I will trust in Him." Or we can be delivered by the trial into the arms of God, completing our faith, perfecting it in the ultimate act of grace (Thanks Beth Moore for this idea). Yes, we are dead in this life... but if we had faith in God and in His gift of grace, then we can conceive that we've not lost anything.

Obedience in fear of the law may accomplish good things, but it is imperfect. Perfect love casts out fear... so we can't operate in fear to reach perfection. Walking in faith of the grace that's promised eliminates the fear. It allows victory, it allows perfect love... It's grace. The amazing thing? When you walk in faith of promised grace, you leave room for grace to be poured out upon you, building your faith in future outpourings of grace. You get the grace you need to experience victory over whatever requires obedience now.

Yes, I obey even when I don't feel like it. I obey because I've experienced the grace I need to experience victory. Walking in faith builds faith and is powered by and rewarded with grace.

Maybe I've talked in circles. Maybe it makes no sense to you. But I understand, and beloved, I choose freedom. I choose to exercise my faith like a muscle, and delight in the victory.

Which will you do? There's a difference... in why, and what results you recieve. But then... there's a difference when your name's been written in the Lamb's Book of Life.

Musical Musings: Nichole Nordeman "Brave"

2007-12-02T10:36:00.000-06:00

Brave

The gate is wide
The road is paved in moderation
The crowd is kind and
quick to pull you in
Welcome to the middle ground
You're safe and sound and
Until now it's where I've been
'Cause it's been fear that
ties me down to everything
But it's been love,
Your love, that cuts the strings

So long status quo
I think I just let go
You make me want to be brave
The way it always was
Is no longer good enough
You make me want to be brave
Brave, brave

I am small
And I speak when I'm spoken to
But I am willing to risk it all
I say Your name
Just Your name and
I'm ready to jump
Even ready to fall...

Why did I take this vow of compromise?
Why did I try to keep it all inside?

So long status quo
I think I just let go
You make me want to be brave
The way it always was
Is no longer good enough
You make me want to be brave
Brave, brave

I've never known a fire
that didn't begin with a flame
Every storm will start
with just a drop of rain
But if you believe in me
That changes everything
So long, I'm gone

So long status quo
I think I just let go
You make me want to be brave
I wanna be brave
The way it always was
Is no longer good enough
You make me want to be brave
Brave, brave

OK, really, who didn't see this coming? Seriously? After I talked about making the choice not to be locked in by fear following a nearly-disasterous near-accident, you couldn't tell that Brave was going to be done in short order? We need spend more time together; you clearly don't know me well enough. ;)

Once I could turn the repeat off of "River God", I went for more songs that would help calm, soothe, and yes, build me up. I started with "Finally Free", and considered blogging that, but kept listening while I caught up on my Sunday morning comic strips. I opted for "Brave", choosing it intentionally when the computer started playing "Is It Any Wonder", which, though it is a good song, wasn't quite what I needed this morning. Now it's the one on repeat while I blog, and while I can't be certain, I think I might be brave enough to drive my own car home... choosing not to be a prisoner of fear may have thrown the bars wide open for me.

Now, I'll grant that Nichole isn't talking about bravery in deciding to drive after an almost accident. In fact, when she sings "Why did I take this vow of compromise" I kept hearing "foul compromise"... rather stronger language that she used, but no less than it deserves.

Christ, in Revelation, speaks of us being neither hot nor cold, but lukewarm. He asks us to be one or the other. I did a study by Beth Moore, and she explained that the location of Laodicea, the church He addresses here in Rev 4: 14-22 is spoken to in rather surprising (for us) detail. You see, Laodicea is equidistant between the cold water of the Mediterranean and Hot Springs... so that the water that they had in Laodicea was neither hot nor cold, but lukewarm, and useless for anything special.

I discuss all that to ask this: How often to do we settle, or worse, aim, for mediocrity? We look for some middle ground that isn't dangerous, that pleases all sides. Why? Because we perceive it as safe. Now, excuse the strong language, but to Hell with that idea! No, really... I mean that literally! Christ wasn't safe; He was radical! Look at the Sermon on the Mount. Not just "do not murder" but "don't even hate your brother!" Not, "don't touch her," but "don't even think about thinking about touching her!" Christ teaches things that were radical in his day: men and women as equals, Jews and Gentiles as equals, Slaves and Free as equal, and all deserving of the same salvation. Look at what He tells us when we start to follow him: We will have no where to lay our head, we must leave all we have, and if we look back, we're not fit for the Kingdom. Where is there a middle ground in "Be perfect, as your Father in Heaven is perfect"?

You want to be like Christ? Christ was radical. You want to be like Christ? Christ was unlike any other. You want to be like Christ? Christ was stoned in his own hometown and hung on a cross. There's no room for cowards if you're going to be like Christ. You want to walk His walk? You want to be shaped by Him and made new? You have to be Brave.

But you know what? Christ is worth it. He demands our sense of security be surrendered, and replaces it with the Holy Spirit, the Comforter. He demands our lives on earth and gives us eternity. He asks us to surrender to give us the Victory.

So long status quo! I think I just let go! You make me want to be brave! The way it always was is no longer good enough You make me want to be brave! If you believe in me, that changes everything! So long! I'm gone!

Do you want to be brave for a change?

River God

2007-12-02T10:00:00.000-06:00

I just blogged on this one last night, and here I am with it on repeat on the laptop, listening to it over and over again. It's very soothing, and at the moment, soothing is what I need. It reminds me that God's hand is in everything, and while our choices may take us contrary to His will, He won't let us go where He can't reach.

I took John to the airport, and by that, I mean I rode while he drove, so that I could drive the car home afterwards. I hadn't even gotten 5 miles from the airport when I hit a slick spot on the roads; there was enough rain to lift the oil from the pavement, but not enough to wash it completely away, so it was at that dangerously slick stage roads reach sometimes. I spun out, doing about 360 degrees of rotation over about 100 yards, on an entrance ramp raised high above traffic...

I didn't hit anything, or anyone, and physically, I am unharmed. I figured out that the car had stalled out (after sitting, trembling, on the outer curve of this curved over-pass ramp for several minutes while I tried to gather my thoughts) and restarted it, finally getting it moving. I started towards home and just wanted somewhere to pull over and calm down, but as I got off the highway, I hit another slick spot and lost traction again. I didn't spin this time, but it was just one more peice of alarming than I could handle. I pulled into the gas station across the way and sat there, trembling, figuring out who I could call on a Sunday Morning to come and help me get home. I found someone, and she came and drove me home; we'll go back in a few hours to get my car. I thought of calling her back, and saying I could drive home, but the more I thought of the idea of driving, the less fond of it I was... the more I trembled.

I'm home now, waiting for church to be over (she offered to take me to church, but all I want right now is to have a good cry and take a little nap) so that I can go with her and her 15 year old to pick up the car. I found I needed music to calm the savage beast of fear that is roaring in my head and chest... and the sweet, simple, haunting echoes of this song seemed perfect.

This is an opportunity. Will I thank my God for keeping me safe through my stupidity (I should have been going slower; I might not have spun out quite so badly if I hadn't hit the slick as fast as I did, though for the life of me, I have no idea how fast I was driving), or will I curse Him for scaring me like that? Will I take the opportunity to learn something and move forward, or will I stay locked in the patterns of fear, unable to progress, trapped in the prison that, just like my father died in a car accident, I will too? Will I accept this incident as an opportunity to be smoothed by my River God, polished to a sheen by the events of life, change my habits, or will I see it as yet another thing taken from me, see it as a flaw, a fatal crack in who I am?

I think you can guess... I do thank my God for keeping me and my car safe. I will eventually even try driving it again (maybe even as soon as when we go to pick it up) and will use this experience to help me become a better driver. After all, little stones are smoothed only when the River passes through. I would be a little smoother in God's hand... and live my life in the victory He says is mine.

You know, writing this has been immensly helpful... I'm calmer and more collected already. Thank you, God, for Your mercies that are new every morning.

Musical Musings: Nichole Nordeman, "River God"

2007-12-01T22:44:00.000-06:00

River God

Rolling River God
Little Stones are smooth
Only once the water passes through
So I am a stone
rough and grainy still
Trying to reconcile this river's chill

CHORUS:
But when I close my eyes
and feel you rushing by
I know that time brings change
and change takes time
And when the sunset comes
my prayer would be this one
that you might pick me up
and notice that I am
just a little smoother in your hand

Sometimes raging wild
sometimes swollen high
never have I known this river dry
The deepest part of You
is where I want to stay
and feel the sharpest edges wash away

CHORUS
And when I close my eyes
and feel you rushing by
I know that time brings change
and change takes time
And when the sunset comes
my prayer would be just one
that you might pick me up
and notice that I am
just a little smoother in your hand

Rolling River God
Little Stones are smooth
Only once the water passes through

This song opens with a haunting piano solo, and it took me some time to understand the lyrics. I was already in love with it though; the simple melody that is echoed repeatedly through the song really sticks with me. It makes me wish that I'd had the opportunity to learn to play the piano when I was younger, and more able to learn... and that I would take the time now.

I like this comparison of God to a river; I've made a similar comparison of God to an ocean before. It's not that He is changeable, as an ocean or a river, but rather an acknowledgement of His power in seemingly insiginificant manifestations. By itself, water can seem tame, powerless. But there is great power in that water, power to erode and change, to carve great canyons, to move glaciers, to smoothe stones in its course.

I also like the idea that the changes brought into our lives as God is shaping and changing us to look like the perfect, glorified versions He sees us as isn't necessarily the most pleasant to us. I've spoken of the Terrible Mercy of God in the past. We want to avoid pain, we want to avoid discomfort, and the idea that we might have to go through some terrible things to get to where God would have us, well, it's not exactly popular, is it? And yet, we were promised that hard times would come, that trials and temptations would come. That's why we were given the Comfortor, the Earnest of God to seal us to himself. That's what refinement is all about... burning away the dross, the waste, and leaving only the precious, valuable, usable material behind. That's what pruning is about... cutting away the old to make room for new growth. That's what surgery is about; removing the dead and decaying to allow for health and life to flourish. That's what polishing a stone is about; chipping away what doesn't belong, polishing out the imperfections and making it shine like a gem.

Sometimes, dare I say oftentimes, the Mercy of a Perfect God is terrible to human eyes. It is the arrow of God, the single son in His quiver, The Word of God that is a two-edged sword, cutting the division between joint and marrow, cutting away all the rot and hurt and filth that we've allowed to persist within us, until he binds us with his own garment to make us whole in Him. We are the stone, tossed and tumbled in the raging river, tumbling through life, wondering what purpose it serves, questioning the pain we feel as our rough edges are broken off of us.

That's what makes Nichole's prayer in the chorus so poignant and beautiful to me. She comes to a place where she knows that this hurt today is leading to the glory of God tomorrow. When the time comes for the Father to pluck her out of the river of life, the River that is God will have taken his time to smooth her, to shine her, to make her worthy of Him. This is naming it and claiming it, not in the popular pentecostal sense of the idea, but in a demonstration of biblically solid faith. We will not all sleep, but behold, we shall ALL be changed.

Rolling River God, roll over me. The only way to smooth me, to mold me and make me whom you have for me to be, is to be caught in the currents. I would be smoother, Lord, when you hold me in your hand... so roll on, Rolling River God. Roll.

Nichole, thank you for the gift you've given in your music. It is a pure and simple joy to meditate on your lyrics and what they say about the Truth of God... it is a delight to find another way to express the Truth He is tattooing on my soul, the beauty and glory He is revealing as He chips away everything in me that hides His glory. Thank you, Nichole, for sharing your gift. Our King speaks through the words you write. If I never see you again on this side of eternity, it will be my pleasure to kneel before the throne of God with you, singing endless praise to our eternally worthy God.

Musical Musing: Nichole Nordeman, “Legacy”

2007-11-20T16:38:00.000-06:00

Nichole Nordeman, Legacy

I don't mind if you've got something nice to say about me
And I enjoy an accolade like the rest
You could take my picture and hang it in a gallery
Of all who's who and so-n-so's that used to be the best
At such'n'such ... it wouldn't matter much

I won't lie, it feels alright to see your name in lights
We all need an 'Atta boy' or 'Atta girl'
But in the end I'd like to hang my hat on more besides
The temporary trappings of this world

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

I don't have to look too far or too long awhile
To make a lengthy list of all that I enjoy
It's an accumulating trinket and a treasure pile
Where moth and rust, thieves and such will soon enough destroy

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

Not well traveled, not well read,
not well-to-do or well bred
Just want to hear instead,
"Well Done" good and faithful one...

I want to leave a legacy
How will they remember me?
Did I choose to love?
Did I point to You enough
To make a mark on things?
I want to leave an offering
A child of mercy and grace who blessed your name unapologetically
And leave that kind of legacy

OK, when I started working on these, I had in the back of my mind that I’d leave these old favorites for last while I worked on the new favorites from this CD. Alas, the not-so-random randomizer on my car’s CD player decided I needed to hear this twice last night, so perhaps there’s a reason for me to move it up and talk about this one sooner.

Humanity seems obsessed with the legacy we leave behind when we’re gone. For those who don’t believe in an eternal life after death, our legacy is all that remains after we’re gone. To some extent, that’s true… those who come after we’ve gone will only know us by the legacy we’ve left on this side of eternity. In an existential viewpoint, we are defined by our actions… what is outwardly visible becomes our legacy.

So, how do we leave something behind for others? What do we want our legacy to be? When people we’ve never met hear our names, what do we want them to think of us? Are we going to be a name on a school that the students within don’t even remember? (I went to C. Vernon Spratley Middle School, and I have to be honest, I have NO CLUE what the man did to get a school named for him!)

If we look at history, it would seem that the existentialists are right: we aren’t remembered for our intentions, only what we actually do. Our ideas go nowhere without us doing something with them, and our intentions are lost to all of time unless we act upon them, and even then, are judged by the results of that action. Judas may have had noble intentions, but all we have are the results of his action, and that is how he is judged.

Nichole talks about her legacy in this song. It’s nice, she says, to have recognition now, but recognition now is nothing compared to what people know of us later. Of what worth is recognition for skill today if what we do with our lives is completely worthless? What use is it to have your name known if it’s forgotten tomorrow, or if what you’re known for isn’t what you want to be remembered for (Names of examples omitted to protect the guilty). Nichole concludes that she wants to be remembered because she pointed to God Almighty. In fact, I think we could go so far as to say that she’d be willing to be forgotten so long as God is remembered because of her actions in life.

Once upon a time, when I still dreamt of my children, I promised myself that I would be content with whatever career they chose, so long as they did the best they could and they loved their God with everything they had. What more could a mother ask, except that her children gave their everything to serve the God of eternity? At the end of my life, nothing will matter to me except that I poured my life out in service of the God who poured His life out for me. I’m not interested in lengthy descriptions of my accomplishments, of everything I’ve ever written or said. I want a legacy that can be summed up this simply: “She loved.”

What will be your legacy?

Musical Musings: I Am, Nichole Nordeman

2007-11-17T23:50:00.000-06:00

Wait a minute, wait a minute... you just did "I Am". You said you were going to blog on each of her songs... what are you doing adding a second entry for one song when you haven't gotten to the rest yet?
Yeah, well, when inspiration strikes, I can't really ignore it. Jeremiah expresses it well in Chapter 20, verse 9 when he says "But if I say, "I will not mention him or speak any more in his name," his word is in my heart like a fire, a fire shut up in my bones. I am weary of holding it in; indeed, I cannot."

Look back at those lyrics. There's a common theme through the chorus... "When I am weak, unable to speak, still I can call you by name..."

Have you ever been there? So at a loss for words that you don't even know where to begin? Have you ever had a hurt or a heartbreak that just stole the words from your mouth, and all you could do was sob? Have you ever been so moved that words could not begin to describe it, and you find it's impossible to limit the wonder with mere language?

I've been there, so broken that I could only sob "Oh God, Oh God," over and over again, rocking on my living room floor as tears flowed freely down my face. I couldn't even stay in my chair... driven to my knees, to my face by Almighty God, in all His mercy and love, I couldn't put word to what was overwhelming my heart.

And yet, I've never had sweeter prayer than in moments like that... when I didn't even know where to start praying, what words to speak to my God. It's happened more than once, and I'm not always in a pile on the floor when I am moved beyond mere words. (If you ever see me alone in my car, tears pouring down my face, chances are good, I'm having one of those moments.) In those moments of utter brokenness, of heartache that moves me so far that my normally verbose self is struck dumb, I find that I am able to pray still.

Romans, the "How To" guide for how to live the Christian life, discusses this amazing situation. Paul tells us in Romans 8:26-27 that in moments of this complete weakness, "the Spirit Himself intercedes on our behalf with groans that words can not express."

That may be one of the greatest roles of Christ and the Spirit in our lives... not to say that salvation isn't amazing, but salvation is the ultimate intercession, isn't it? Job speaks of the intercessor in Job 16:19-21 when he tells us that his intercessor is an advocate on high, interceding even as our eyes pour out before God. In fact, a topical search on intercession reveals many many instances.

So what is an intercessor? What is this all about? The American Heritage Dictionary at Dictionary.com defines intercession as an "Entreaty in favor of another, especially a prayer or petition to God in behalf of another" or "mediation in a dispute". An intercessor provides this entreaty, this mediation. What scripture tells us is that we have an advocate, a friend, an ally on our side before the throne of the Almighty God. When we find we have no words to express, when the tears flow so freely that we can only hiccup as we sob, we have an advocate, speaking the truth that is in our hearts. He is putting into words what we cannot.

So what. Why do we need this intercessor, anyway? Because there is an accuser before the throne, too, one who aspired to sit upon it, and seeks to win at any cost. Satan literally means "accuser". He wanted the throne, He needs the grace we are so freely given. In many ways, he's that 6-7 year old kid who goes running to the teacher at every opportunity. "Lookie what she did! She's not so special! Nenny-nenny!" He's going to the perfect, just, sinless God with all our failures and shortfalls, when we are most vulnerable, trying to get us in trouble. Gee, I think I like the idea of a guy on my side, speaking on my behalf.

When I am most wounded, weakest, most completely overwhelmed, unable to do more than sob His name, I have an intercessor speaking the words I can not. Before I was, I had a King who interceded on my behalf even though it cost Him His life to do so. He bore my failures, my errors, my selfishness, all of my ugliness on His sinless self. "See God? Her failures are covered. The debt she owes? I've paid it in full." And then, He rose from the dead, and ascended to the right hand of the Father. "Look, God... see? She's covered. Oh, Father, can you hear her heart breaking? How she loves her sisters. She doesn't know how to help them, how to show them how free she is in my embrace... Father, do you hear her heart?" And of course He does.

I will be weak, unable to speak, still I will call You by name. "Creator, Maker, Life Sustainer, Comforter, Healer, My Redeemer, Lord and King, Beginning and the End" My intercessor... "I am, yes I Am."

Praise God for providing our needs before we knew how desperately we'd need them. Praise God for the intercessor, who stepped from Heaven to Earth, bore my sin, and returned to the Father where He could speak on my behalf. Praise God for the intercessor, who resides with me, who knows the deepest heart of me, and speaks on my behalf when words fail me. Praise God.

Musical Musings: "I Am" by Nichole Nordeman

2007-11-15T10:24:00.000-06:00

OK, I said I was doing these in no particular order, but I have to start somewhere, right? I’m starting with “I Am” this morning.

Pencil marks on a wall
I wasn't always this tall,
You scattered some monsters from beneath my bed,
You watched my team win,
You watched my team lose,
You watched when my bicycle went down again,

CHORUS:
And When I was weak
unable to speak,
still I could call You by name,
and I said “Elbow healer, Superhero,
come if You can,” and You said “I am”

Only 16,
life is so mean,
what kind of curfew is at ten PM
You saw my mistakes,
You watched my heart break
Heard when I swore I’d never love again

CHORUS:
When I was weak,
unable to speak, still I could call You by name,
and I said “Heart-ache Healer, Secret-keeper,
be my Best Friend” and You said “I am”

You saw me wear white,
by pale candlelight,
I said forever to what lies ahead
two kids and a dream,
with kids that can scream
too much it might seem when it’s two AM

CHORUS:
when I am weak,
unable to speak,
still I will call You by name.
“Oh Shepherd, Savior, Pasture-maker,
hold on to my hand,” and You say “I am.”

The winds of change,
And circumstance blow in and all around us
so we find a foothold that’s familiar,
And bless the moments that we feel You nearer

Life had begun,
I was woven and spun,
You let the angels dance around the throne,
who can say when,
But they’ll dance again,
when I am free and finally headed home

CHORUS:
I will be weak,
unable to speak,
still I will call You by name
“Creator, Maker, Life-sustainer,
Comforter, Healer, My Redeemer,
Lord and King, Beginning andthe End,"
"I am, yes, I am.”

Nichole takes us on a voyage through life in this song, visiting different stages in our lives and expressing what we see in God in each. She starts with the small child first. God is like Superman to us, the hero of the Bible, the rescuer from our innocent terrors. We are still sorting out who He is and what that means… thus we ask him to “Come if You can”.

Next she moves to the teenager, exploring who we are with those around us, learning to test our own independence and yet needing someone to keep us safe still. Having learned that God is indeed the healer of our physical hurts, that He can be with us, we now ask Him for a relationship as we trust him with our secrets and broken heart. Our deepest cry is for a best friend.

We move on to the young wife and new mother, watching her marriage and her struggle with two a.m. feedings. Certain and assured that she has a relationship with the God who healed her body and cradles her heart, she cries out now for peace and a helping hand with the day to day grind. We learn that God wants to be more than just there, more than a best friend, that He’s waiting to help us in every moment of life.

The bridge speaks of the constancy of God, and the way we can cling to Him when life seems changeable and inconsistent around us. It reminds us to go back to the God we trusted when we were young, to the moments when we knew He was there.

Finally, we get to the part that makes me weep with joy every time. Nichole reminds us of the tender care and great joy with which we were knit together, and then speaks of the celebration that will accompany our home-coming. God will be, as He always has been, our Beginning, our End, the Lord and King. We see Him in the full revelation of all He is… and He Is, as He has been always, and will be always.

At the concert, Nichole spoke of the different names of God, but that the greatest of these is “I Am”. This is the name God gave Moses from the burning bush, this is the name Christ invoked in the garden when the guards came to arrest Him. It is the name from which we draw YHWH and Jehova… the first is the literal Hebrew for “I Am”, and the other is a Germanic pronunciation of the Hebrew name.

Here is the marvel of “I Am”… it’s not “I Was,” or “I Will Be”, but rather a constant, an unchanging present. I Am is “I have always Been, I will always Be, I AM.” It is consistency in the midst of chaos. It is His omnipresence. The I AM encompasses everything He’s ever been, will ever be. He is Savior, Redeemer, Healer, Maker, there when we need Him most, our best Best Friend ever… He is all of that and more, because He is the “I Am.”

How can I not weep as I’m reminded that the “I Am” has always been there? It reminds me of an interpretation He gave me once of the story of the Sheep and the Goats (Matthew 25:31-46, the skit I just did with John for church). As I wept, brokenhearted by the things that had been done to me, shattered that I’d felt so alone in those moments when I was beaten, abused, raped, certain that my God, as big as He was, didn’t know what it was like to be raped, He showed me those verses again. “I tell you the truth; whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of Mine, you did for Me.” And then I could almost feel His arms wrapping around me, as I sat there weeping, and I heard Him whisper into my deepest heart, my deepest hurt. “I tell you the truth; whatever you did TO the least of one of these children of Mine, you did TO Me.” My God was there, the great and mighty I Am was there, and He placed His body between mine and every blow that rained on me, between every injury that ever came to my innocent mind and body; the I Am was there.

That is the I Am. When you need Him most, even when you don’t see Him, the I Am is there, coming between you and the worst things you’ve ever imagined, things worse than you can imagine. He comes to scatter our monsters, to calm our storms, to heal our heartbreak, to hold our hands… the I Am sang with joy as He created us and the angels danced around His throne. The I Am is waiting to sing again, for the moment when His hand pulls our eternal soul from our temporal body, when the angels again dance in His victory around the throne and we come home to Him. The I Am is more than you can imagine, more than you can understand, more than you dare dream.

Praise the I Am, from whom all blessings flow. Praise the I Am, all creatures here below. Praise the I Am above, all the angels of the heavenly host, Praise the I Am, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Breath, the Spirit.

I praise You, Great and Mighty I Am.

Musical Musing, Nichole Nordeman's ReCollection

2007-11-15T08:40:00.000-06:00

Ladies and Gentlemen, it's that time again. (It's already been that time again this morning when I cleaned out the litterboxes before I was fully awake so that we could get it out before the trash truck came... but that's not what I mean at the moment...)

I went to Women Of Faith in Oklahoma City Nov. 2-3. It's an awesome conference, and I'm still thinking about some of the things I heard there. One of the things we heard was a concert with Nichole Nordeman, and her talking to us on the topic of "Amazing Freedom" and what that means to her. Afterwards, I went out and bought the first CD I could find with the songs she'd played... and that was ReCollection. Standing in the autograph line with my roommate for a little while got us both some autographed CDs, and I can't stop listening to mine.

Before this, I had a Nichole Nordeman Karaoke CD with 3-4 of her hits... "This Mystery", "Holy", "Legacy" and "To Know You", and I loved them all. These are all great songs, and three of them are in this collection. They're joined by several others from previous albums, and two new recordings. I love every song I've heard, and several of them move me to tears. In fact, I started to muse on just one of them, and then I realized that I liked this one and that one, too, and as I'm sitting here listening to the CD while I write this, I'm wanting to talk about more still...

So in no particular order, you will get seperate posts for each song as I have time to tell you how it's striking my heart. Watch for "Why", "I Am", "Finally Free", and "Is It Any Wonder" in the next few weeks to start with.

Nichole, I told you when you signed my CD for me that I loved your music, that it really speaks to me. God has truly given you a gift for speaking truth in a way that it spurs more thought and meditation... not just on the meaning of the lyrics, but also on the Savior who inspires them. I think, before I'm done, I'll have mused on all of the songs on this album (because "Who You Are", playing at the moment, certainly needs discussing, too...). Praise the God of creativity, of wisdom, of wonder, of freedom, justice, mercy, the God who IS Love, and our common Savior who died that we might have a relationship with the Maker and Sustainer of all things. Praise God from whom all blessings flow, and thank you, Nichole, for having the courage to share your deepest heart with us. May the Lord bless you and keep you, May the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you, May the Lord turn his face upon you and give you Peace.

YouTubage

2007-10-17T22:21:00.000-05:00

These may be two of my favorite You Tube vids EVER.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=luVjkTEIoJc
and
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hNxhrPaaCA4

Be warned: YouTube may suck your day away.

I've had these moments...

2007-08-16T09:23:00.000-05:00

Everyone take a lesson from Bob the Angry Flower. He was nicer than I've been in some of my rants. The Grammar Nazi will return with another lesson later...

Wishlist Extravaganza

2007-08-07T08:50:00.000-05:00

My grandparents (Hi Mama! Hi Papa!) are always asking me what I want for X gift giving occasion, and while I'm always thankful for whatever I receive, I did make myself a bunch of wishlists earlier this year when participating in a secret sister match up online.

It should be noted: NONE OF THESE ARE DEMANDS. These are ideas, thoughts. Shoot, at one point, John and I were memeber of netflix, and then got too busy to watch movies anymore, so we left it, and moved the massive list of movies over to Amazon so that we can work on renting or unboxing or buying them from there. Not only that, some of these are arsty-craftsy sites... either selling artsy craftsy supplies, or selling home-made or lovingly crafted items or perfumes.

I will ask that you be VERY VERY VERY careful if you go OFF the list when buying me fragrances/scented items. It turns out, that's a guaranteed way for me to get bronchitis, very very fast. I stick to very very light scents and use them sparingly. I promise, it's not meant as an insult... I just literally get ill if it's too much. I also prefer fruits to florals or musks.

There's also a picture of the GORGEOUS VASE that my secret sister bought for me in here; that's the accent color we're using in the new house, so we wanted you to see it. :D I LOVE that blue.

(Oooops, almost forgot the vase!)

Here they are:

I have a series of wishlists at Amazon... search for hjourdenjackson@gmail.com and you'll find me. Some are organised by artist/show, some are just random "dumping" grounds where I put items until I have enough to justify a themed list.
I don't know if these links will work or not... but if they do, it might make things easier.
Star Trek
George Harrison
WishList
The Beatles
Paul McCartney
John Lennon
Ringo Starr
Munchkin (It should be noted that when the card games come out I buy them for myself so I can support my local game shop. If you wish to support my Local Game shop, you can call Tulsa's Original Game Shop (918-663-5525) and tell Ben you're shopping for Heather Jackson. :D)

Lush
I can't figure out how to add my Lush wishlist link... so I'm copying and pasting it in instead...I think the SKU number will tell you what the product is... I don't know... when I tried emailing it, I got a weird file. Like I said, I don't know... Also, if you've used this product and know it tends to be heavy, feel free to intervene on my behalf and email and warn me... I'll take it off the list.
Your wishlist currently contains:
SKU Description Quantity Price
2601 Ne Worry Pas $5.25
2158 Think Pink $5.55
18 All That Jasmine $5.40
2429 Black Pearl $4.45
2159 Sakura $5.50
52 Avobath $5.40
2465 The Happy Pill $5.70
2171 Honey Bee $5.60
2172 Blackberry $5.40
032 Big Blue $5.40
2607 Dream On $4.25
12 Butterball $4.50
Youki-Hi $5.50
2476 Golden Slumbers $5.60
2463 Romance In A Stone $4.45
2363 Chelsea Garden $5.50
2477 Still Life $5.30
039 Fairy Jasmine $5.75
2478 Tea and Sympathy $5.30
22374 Party On $10.70
22371 Whoosh $9.90
741 Bathos $5.95
2487 Flosty Gritter $5.45
2485 Marathon Bar $5.45
2468 The Comforter $8.45
742 Blue Skies $9.95
2151 Ma Bar $6.95
2471 Pop In The Bath $5.95
2484 Temple of Truth $5.85
740 Amandopondo $5.95
2189 French Kiss $7.95
2482 Sunny Side $5.85
601 Dreamtime $5.25
592 Ceridwen $7.75
2154 Something Wicked This Way Comes $5.45
2160 In The Nude $5.45
2153 Elixir $5.25
2156 Youve Been Mangoed $5.50
2387 Whoosh Balm $7.95

Here's my slowly growing Etsy wishlist. It's things that I think look nifty and would fit in well in the house, or things that I think would be interesting/worth trying. They're just ideas, and I'll probably share this with family eventually... since they're always bugging me for ideas, too.

Also Neats:This neatly feeds into my addiction to games.

This feeds into my neat and nerdy mug deal... not that I need more mugs... And actually... this store trips all sorts of nifty nerd buttons of joy in me... I think I LOVE this store.

And this is just kinda nifty...

This is lovely.

And I think this makeup might be worth trying...

Ever been to ThinkGeek.com? I have. You can look for my wishlist there by putting in my email address *gmail, please* or my last name and city and state. :D Isn't THAT nifty.

Some of these things are items I'm wishing for. Some of them are things John wishes for. Some of them, we're both wishing for.

But right now, today? We're wishing for:
Already being moved
Cooler weather for moving
Inexpensive but really good quality leather furniture we'll like for the living room
Inexpensive but really good quality dining room set we'll like for the dining area
Inexpensive but really good quality captain's bed frame
A King sized Select Comfort Bed. :D Any variation on King will do, so long as we can put our nifty Inexpensive, really good quality captain's bed underneath it. :D
Did we mention already being moved?

I'm offline for a bit again, folks... see you when next I come up for air!

Catching up

2007-02-15T13:12:00.000-06:00

Lets see...
I went on an AWESOME Cruise at the end of September, where John decided that I apparently knew everyone on the cruise. It wasn't true, but it was fun. :D

I had the knee recovered enough (thanks to my Physical Therapist!!) to do well, but managed to sprain my ankle at our 3rd port of call. It wasn't bad; I was fine after a week or two.

It stayed hot for a long time, but by the end of November, we got a good foot of snow and ice. :D That was SO AWESOME!!! We've gotten more snow since then, too, including a light dusting yesterday. We had no winter last year; we're getting two this year.

I've started volunteering at church... that's fun. :D I get to be social and useful at the same time! I'm also doing some one on one sort of mentoring and private tutoring with someone from church. I help them learn Spanish and mentor their oldest with her writing, and they feed me lunch. :D

Lets see, what else. Jennifer's son is a few months old now, and Sarah's was able to come home before Sarah, which was a first for them. I got to cuddle him at Christmas... it was very nice.

The dogs spend many nights inside, but John and I had to swap sides (which meant we swapped ends, too, cause I can't really swap sides) because they like to come wake us up in the middle of the night every few nights so they can go outside. Just about the time we think we've managed to get them to stop waking us, they wake us up again. Stinky puppies.

We still love Owasso. John's working from home most days, though he does go in to one or the other office twice a week or so (though when it ices, he tends to stay home).

We did get a Wii. :D We love our Wii. And we've got Lego Star Wars (1& 2) that we've been playing through.

And now that I've rambled pointlessly, I need to go find lunch and finish picking up. :D

Musical Musings: Rich Mullins, "Calling Out Your Name"

2007-02-15T12:42:00.000-06:00

Calling Out Your Name lyrics by RICH MULLINS
"Well the moon moved past Nebraska
And spilled laughter on them cold Dakota Hills
And angels danced on Jacob's stairs
Yeah they danced on Jacob's stairs
There is this silence in the Badlands
And over Kansas the whole universe was stilled
By the whisper of a prayer
The whisper of a prayer

And the single hawk bursts into flight
And in the east the whole horizon is in flames
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name

I can feel the earth tremble
Beneath the rumbling of the buffalo hooves
And the fury in the pheasant's wings
And there's fury in a pheasant's wings
It tells me the Lord is in His temple
And there is still a faith that can make the mountains move
And a love that can make the heavens ring
And I've seen love make heaven ring

Where the sacred rivers meet
Beneath the shadow of the Keeper of the plains
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name

From the place where morning gathers
You can look sometimes forever 'til you see
What time may never know
What time may never know
How the Lord takes by its corners this old world
And shakes us forward and shakes us free
To run wild with the hope
To run wild with the hope

The hope that this thirst will not last long
That it will soon drown in the song not sung in vain
And I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And I hear the prairies calling out Your name

And I know this thirst will not last long
That it will soon drown in the song not sung in vain
I feel thunder in the sky
I see the sky about to rain
And with the prairies I am calling out Your name"

There’s a beauty out here I haven’t learned to see yet; I’m still captivated by rolling hills and crashing waves and the mountains covered in trees so tall I have to lay down to see the top. But I know that there are people out here who find comfort and unspeakable beauty in the wide open spaces of the prairies and the grasslands that lie just north and west of us. It seems Rich Mullins may have been one of them.

Actually, though, there’s something deeper here, something that has captured my attention, even if the prairies didn’t. I think there’s something to this song, and while I’ve tried several times to express something similar before, I’m never convinced that I quite do it justice.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem on the back of an unbroken colt, the people greeted him with cries of Hosanna. I could discuss the beauty of that word, which means at once “Save us” and “Our salvation is here” (if I remember correctly, that is), but that’s not what I want to do just now. The Pharisees, the men who knew the Law, the men who knew scripture, knew that the cry made a Messianic claim of Jesus. The went to him, and commanded him to silence the people. His reply? “I tell you the truth, if they did not cry out, even the stones would.”

I’m doing Beth Moore’s study on Daniel… amazing book. In Daniel 9, we see a prediction of 70 “sevens”, something that many scholars agree is a period of 490 years. According to the prophecy, the clock started its countdown when the proclamation was made to restore Jerusalem. Beth points out that this was around the 5th of March, 444 BC. According to the Jewish Calendar, the first 69 sevens started counting on that day… and end around the 30th of March, 33 AD… the day Jesus, the anointed one, Masiyah, entered Jerusalem on the back of an unbroken cold. This was the fulfillment of ancient, centuries old prophecy. No wonder the stones would proclaim his coming!

This isn’t about eschatology, though. This isn’t about when the last seven begins, or the end of days, or any of that. I want to talk about this idea, that even inanimate earth would proclaim truth if mankind did not. (I’m crying just thinking about it all!)

I think that, if we knew how to listen with spiritual ears, we’d hear all of creation praising God. Not that creation is animate, with a spirit to praise Him with, but that the nature of His creation can do nothing else. Just as the nature of a volcano is to erupt, of a dog to bark, of a mountain to thrust into the sky… I think all of those things point to the immeasurable glory of the God who created them, and our inability to see that, to hear it in their cries, is temporal. I think when we get to the other side of eternity, out of the grasp of linear time, we’ll see things differently.

I have to admit, there is a part of me that longs to hear the cry of the rocks, that longs to watch jaws drop when even creation bends its collective knee, so to speak, and confesses with its collective mouths that Jesus Christ is Lord. And yet, I doubt I ever will; I’ve known too many believers who could never be silent long enough to give the rocks need to proclaim what God Almighty has tattooed on our Spirits.

I may not be able to hear it, and I may not be able to appreciate the beauty with which they do it, but like Rich Mullins, with the prairies, I am calling out His name.

Musical Musings: Natalie Grant "The Real Me"

2006-08-22T13:35:00.000-05:00

Natalie Grant, The Real Me

Foolish heart looks like we're here again
Same old game of plastic smile
Don't let anybody in
Hiding my heartache, will this glass house break
How much will they take before I'm empty
Do I let it show, does anybody know?

But you see the real me
Hiding in my skin, broken from within
Unveil me completely
I'm loosening my grasp
There's no need to mask my frailty
Cause you see the real me

Painted on, life is behind a mask
Self-inflicted circus clown
I'm tired of the song and dance
Living a Charade, always on parade
What a mess I've made of my existence
But you love me even now
And still I see somehow

But you see the real me
Hiding in my skin, broken from within
Unveil me completely
I'm loosening my grasp
There's no need to mask my frailty
Cause you see the real me

Wonderful, beautiful is what you see
When you look at me
You're turning the tattered fabric of my life into
A perfect tapestry
I just wanna be me

But you see the real me
Hiding in my skin, broken from within
Unveil me completely
I'm loosening my grasp
There's no need to mask my frailty
Cause you see the real me

And you love me just as I am
Wonderful, Beautiful is what you see
When you look at me

I know, I know…it’s been a while since I did a Musing…but I assure you, this song is totally worth the wait.

I suspect I’m not the only person on earth who often feels like we have to conceal the deepest, truest parts of who we are. I’m not the only one who’s ever been so completely broken that we sometimes forget who we really are, and wonder if there’s any value in our true selves. I know I’m not alone in wondering if anyone will ever love me, really love me, for who I am and not for what I can do for them.

I also know that I have been blessed beyond imagining. I found a family who took me in and patiently loved me even when my behavior and actions were unlovable. I married a man who patiently loved me even when I was convinced I was damaged beyond redemption. I knew that I loved him so fiercely that I couldn’t (and still can’t) imagine how I would get through life without him by my side. I never doubted that he loved me, nor did I ever really fear that he’d leave me; he’s always been too honorable to do something that low. My fear for so many years was that he would eventually learn the “truth” I knew in the deepest parts of me; I didn’t deserve to be loved the way I loved him. I was too damaged to earn that sort of adoration and devotion. He’d never leave me, but he’d grow to resent me for saddling him into a marriage with a hopelessly damaged woman when he could have been happy with a woman who could complete him. It was easy to be suicidal; I never could have earned the kind of love that would leave him destroyed by my death. Sure, he’d grieve me; he’s that kind of man. But he’d get over me, he’d get on with his life, and in the end, he’d be better without me than he could have ever been with me. He’d tell me he loved me, and it was never that I doubted he loved me…it was that I doubted that I was capable of earning the kind of love he always professed. I was too damaged.

I fear I hurt him terribly in those first years of our marriage. Like I said, my lack of trust was never in him, it was in me. But still, I would swing into suicidal depressions every 6 months or so…and he saw it as me not trusting him. It broke his heart to think that I would leave him…never knowing, never understanding that, in my mind, I would have been doing him a favor. I was releasing us both…me from this damaged existence of constant failure, and him from the damaged woman he was burdened with. How it breaks my heart that I allowed my hurt to hurt him so.

And yet, through it all, as I thought I had to earn the right to be loved, to even breathe, he was there, and he was a mirror of the real source of our love for each other. Even went I felt completely unworthy of the air I breathed, or the love he had for me, God was there, He was there, and He loved me. John was a portrait of God’s love for me. He waited, arms open, heart open, crying for me to please, oh please, let him love me…just the way I know God was. They saw my hurt, they saw my heartbreak, and all they wanted from me was to let them love me. They saw past the damage I couldn’t. I saw the scars; they saw the beautiful woman I was created to be.

2 years ago, I went on a trip back east. I stayed with my grandparents, I visited my mother and sisters, I saw my niece. My aunts and an uncle and cousins came and had dinner with me. I went on a vacation with my adoptive family, spent a week with my parents, my sisters, my nieces and nephews, my husband. I visited my aunt and cousins. I traveled to see my aunt and saw a cousin I hadn’t seen in years, and he was delighted to see me. I came home and did some Beth Moore studies. The entire summer was a portrait of the lessons I learned in the studies. It wasn’t an overnight change; each day, each week, was another piece of the puzzle falling into place.

I realized that the “truth” I’d believed for so long was actually a vile lie. I’d allowed myself to be deceived for years, my entire life. All my life, I believed I had to earn the right to be loved, even as I never expected that from others. I never demanded from others that they earn my love; rather, even when my mother had given me every reason, time and again not to love her, I found myself unable to stop loving her. Even those who had never done anything to earn my love, I couldn’t help but love. I couldn’t explain how I lived out a truth I couldn’t grasp for myself, except to say that I didn’t do it in my own strength. My aunts and uncles, my cousins, my nieces and nephews never loved me for what I did. That I live and breathe is reason enough for them to love me. They’ve rejoiced with me as I’ve overcome my past, but they loved me long before I got that far.

Alas, living 26.5 years expecting to earn love instills habits. I find myself even now acting out of those expectations. I find that I’m a people pleaser, wanting to give people reasons to like me, to love me. Granted, as personal problems go, trying to please others isn’t nearly as obvious or as dangerous to others as some problems can be. Nor am I saying that living life so that we can bless as many people as possible is a bad thing; we should all seek to leave the lives we touch better because they’ve known us. But living that way, trying to earn the right to be loved, it does tend to wear a person out. I think that’s why I was always suicidal…I kept getting tired of trying to make everyone happy. I got tired of the constant drain on my emotions and strength. Even now, I find I have to limit my interactions with some people; I find that I too easily fall into the same patterns of behavior, of trying to earn their love...when I shouldn't have to. It drains me, and I can't live that way. I don't have the strength to earn anyone's love...and until I learn how not to react that way, I can't put myself into situations where I feel I have to do that. It would be too easy to wear myself out again...and become suicidal again...and I won't do that to John.

I think that’s why I like this song so much…why it resonates with me. It talks about letting go. Letting go of the appearances we try so hard to maintain, and then discovering that we were loved despite them, not because of them. There’s an indescribable freedom in being loved just because you are. There’s a freedom in having someone see who you are, who you really are, scars and warts and all, and find that they’ve loved you all along…that they see the beautiful person you’ve been underneath it all.

I’m not perfect. I have more scars than I care to count, some of which I’m still finding. I still make mistakes, and I still have burdens and struggles I have to carry. But the difference is this: I have been damaged, but that’s not who I am. I am beautiful, I am worth the air I breathe, and I am loved. That’s the Real Me. And if you look deep enough, you’ll find that’s the Real You, too.

Wonderful, beautiful is what you see when you see the Real me.

Not above 107? Ha!

2006-08-19T11:54:00.000-05:00

Last night, at 6:45, as I was getting gas, I saw the temperature at the bank across the street. 109. 42.7 degrees C for those who are metric.

The Heat SUCKS!

Hey, less than a month!

2006-08-17T10:34:00.000-05:00

OK, lets see.
Still way too hot out there. Not as hot as I was afraid it would be though; I don't think we've gotten above 107 yet (or for my metric readers, 42). Yes, that's too hot, but no, not the 120s I was afraid of. Thank GOD.

Physical therapy is going very well. I've got another 6 weeks, or rather, until I leave for my cruise. I'm doing well. I'm doing stairs at church, and I only limp occasionally...usually right after I did the stairs! Which means no need for exploratory surgery! YAY!!

I've lost 13 pounds since I moved here, and continue to work on it. I haven't gotten out to the exercise like I should; there's a place here in town that has one on one trainers, and I'm thinking of going there. Drinking lots of water, adding fiber to my diet (the nifty stuff you add to your food, but adds no flavor) and the physical therapy are all helping. That and, since we moved, it's easier to keep the kitchen cleaned up, which makes me more willing to cook and such, so I'm eating better, too. YAY!

37 days till we cruise. We'll drive to OKC Friday, fly out WAAAAAAY too early in the morning, and get on the ship. The message boards I've been visiting over at Cruise Critic has nearly 100 more people cruising on our same cruise. I'm so excited! YAY!! (are you catching a theme here?)

Emma had her first birthday and is doing well. Jennifer gave birth to her son last month, Zachary James. My sister Sarah is expecting a baby in November. That means I have 9 neices, 2 nephews, and a nephew on the way. YAY!!

I think that's all the news I have at the moment.

The Heat

The Word On The Knee

2006-07-19T09:56:00.000-05:00

The second set of MRI’s came back negative. The little pops I’m feeling are normal and nothing to worry about. We’re trying Celebrex instead of Naproxen, and I got a steroid shot in my knee. That was quite the adventure…OUCHIES. But then it felt numb, and now it just feels weird. No more brace, go back to therapy, and see if it gets better. Oh, and lose weight. If, in 4 weeks, I’m not doing better, and I’ve still had no relief, and I’ve lost some weight, then they may schedule me for an exploratory arthroscopy…to see why I’m still hurting all the time. I really don’t want it to get that far. I just want my happy, dull little life back.

I think I need to spend LOTS of quality time at the YMCA. They’ve got a pool. I can swim, and it should help in many ways. I’ll look into it for Friday. For now? I’m tired, and I’m going to doze until my therapy appt this afternoon.

...

2006-07-19T06:38:00.000-05:00

It's TOO HOT!

And August isn't here yet.

There are insufficient words to explain how much it sucks to walk out the door and feel like your face just melted OFF. And no, I don't mean make up melting off...I don't wear make up, don't bother with it. No, this is walking outside and feeling like you just got kicked in the goodie bits and your face is melting OFF.

I have NO idea how our guys in the desert are doing this...it's hotter there.

Stupid Heat.

Determination

2006-07-06T09:22:00.000-05:00

I know it’s been a while. I’ve been settling in to my nice little house. I LOVE Owasso. It’s green, there are trees, we let the dogs in most days, where they run around like idiots for 5 minutes, licking everything and everyone before settling down to sleep like the dead. It’s easy to keep my house under control…all that purging I did that was SO painful before we left means that my house is MINE…not clutter’s. This is a good thing.

Oh, and yes, I’m still a klutz. About 2 months ago, as I was getting off the floor after putting groceries away, I rolled on my knee wrong…partial tear of the ACL and strain of the LCL. I’m in physical therapy, and going back to the doctor tomorrow since it made a nearly identical sound in therapy yesterday and I’ve been this huge pile of breathtaking OUCH since then… (folks from Church…that’s where I was last night…here, at home, a huge pile of OUCH that didn’t want to interrupt things when whimpers accompanied a new wave…)

Going to church. We found one, Rejoice Church. It’s actually a Free Will Baptist church, but listening to the Pastor explain it, listening to his sermons…It’s sound teaching. That’s what matters to me more than the denominational affiliation. Is the teaching biblically based and sound? It is here. We haven’t joined yet…but I think we might soon.

Other health problems have forced me to accept that I will probably never have children. John and I are discussing adoption for some point…but not right now. If nothing else, it wouldn’t be fair to our beloved child to bring them into our home when their Mama is still mourning the siblings he’ll never have. Of course, John and I have always known we wanted to adopt…the opportunity to change a child’s life forever, to take a life that would have been rejected. Adoption is such a portrait of God’s love for us…I can’t express how much I long to love a child who might have been forgotten by society.

You know, it’s PAINFUL to let go of a dream. It’s hard, and it’s tempting to just stay there, lost in the pain. To die with your dream. But life is so much more than just our dreams. There are so many things left for me to do, so many opportunities left for me to live the love I’ve been shown. So…just like I grunt through my therapy to repair this stupid knee (Grampa Jourden, I think I got your knees…) so too will I rise in determination that there are far greater things ahead of me than the ones I leave behind. I buried a dream, I buried one hope…but I believe, I stand in, I rest in the biblical promise that there are far greater things ahead…Greater is He who is in me than ANYTHING I face in the world.