The Long Haul

Our pastor asked us in the congregation to submit a paragraph or a page on the theme of transformational communities--I suppose testimonies of how we’ve experienced transformation in our lives individually and corporately. I have no idea if this is the kind of thing he was looking for, but this is what I wrote.

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I’ve been a part of the community called City Church of East Nashville for just over five years now. From my medium-term perspective, I feel like I’ve seen as many things not change as change.

I’ve seen my own heart, calcified with bitterness and anger, be softened overnight--some miracle of God’s mercy that I certainly didn’t instigate.

I’ve seen a covenant community share life with a family in poverty, to some degree of mutuality, and the difference that can make in one girl’s life as she grows up in the church.

I’ve seen people (myself included, I hope) grow in knowing their sin and their Savior all the more. Grow in prayer and repentance as a community. Grow in love and service and interdependence. Grow as a Gospel community.

I’ve also seen the dividing boundaries of us and them persist.

And I’ve seen the racial diversity of the church more or less stay the same as when I first came, attracted as I was by the mission statement that I saw online about “reconciling the diversity of East Nashville.”

Marriages and divorces. Births and deaths. People coming in and moving on. Pretty much everything in Ecclesiastes 3.

I think we do well as a community in weeping with one another as well as rejoicing with one another. In pointing each other to look to Jesus in order to glorify the Savior together.

And while so many things look the same as they did five years ago, I don’t lament that terribly right now. So much heart change isn’t necessarily evident at first glance. Seeds planted that may not show yet. Some sow, others reap, and we enter into each other’s labors.

Sara Groves has a song called “The Long Defeat”:

I have joined the long defeat

that falling set in motion

and all my strength and energy

are raindrops in the ocean

I can't just fight when I think I'll win

that's the end of all belief

and nothing has provoked it more

than a possible defeat

and I pray for a vision

and a way I cannot see

it's too heavy to carry

and impossible to leave

I guess that’s part of what I feel about being in it for the long haul. Praying and laboring the unseen kingdom into the here and now of our daily lives.

In the meantime, in the waiting and in the working, as I wrestle with all the false gods and idols that maybe, just maybe, might fix my life this time (not true, thank God), I find myself in a community that reminds me that Jesus is real. He is my portion. He is the Lover that I long for. To Him be all glory, in this place and all places, forever and ever.

Jesus Is My Portion

If I could fit this into a facebook status, I would, but I don't think I can, so I'll try here.

Tonight I shared the stage with some amazing musicians and people, playing cello for one song for this benefit show. I was up there with some Famous People & Real Musicians. I struggled with some deep deep insecurities, a sense that I totally didn't belong on the stage with them, as well as envy of their Talent and Success and yes, even the fact that they're all Married.

And just to be clear, they are all super gracious folks, a couple of whom I would even consider friends.

But I need to name my idols, so there you have it. All because I lose sight of the fact that Jesus is my portion. It was a real struggle, believing the lies that Satan was feeding me about my identity. So I prayed and reached out to a couple friends to pray for me, too. I worked through it and found some center and sufficiency in Jesus.

I am not my own. My gifts and talents are a gift of God's grace. It was an honor and a privilege and a joy to offer them up and be a part of the evening. I certainly couldn't have orchestrated having such a cool opportunity.

But it was a hard hard struggle inside, and I know it's not over. I know it'll happen again. Then again, I guess I know that I won't ever stop needing Jesus, either.

Oh yeah, and I got a free copy of Donald Miller's latest book out of the deal, too, so hey.

Box

People talk about putting God in a box (or letting him out of the box or whatever), so I'll tell you about one of mine.

I don't know if this would qualify as "artistic sensibilities," since I'm not exactly making a whole ton of art, but my disposition when I look at the world and try to put words to it is to focus on the brokenness. To see Jesus' redemption and God's truth, certainly, but to understand the lens of the fallenness of the world. Or something vaguely pretentious like that.

The downside (and I'm not sure I'm exactly reaping much of an upside) is that I fixate on my failures and fail to see God's redemptive work in the midst of the mess. For a very concrete example, there are a few people whom I see fairly regularly, since we share the same church community. These are people that I am no longer really friends with, almost entirely due to my foolish mistakes (at least, that's what I tell myself). We're not enemies, thankfully--we've worked out our conflicts and issues, at least to some kind of resolution. But we're not friends anymore, either, for sake of appropriate boundaries and continuing in community in some different way. We're acquaintances, or something, I don't even know what. And with a couple of these people, I deeply lament the loss and wish that we were friends the way we were before. The way things were before. I really screwed it up.

I don't see the redemption that God is working in those relationships. To be honest, I'm not really looking for it. It's tempting to say that I'd rather have a time machine more than redemption, but I don't know how to get past the whole thing about how even if I knew then what I knew now, I would still feel the scars, right? I could stop certain actions from taking place, but the damage inside would have already been felt (by my hypothetical time-traveling self--bear with me here).

What the heck am I talking about? I think I'm saying that I wish I didn't need Jesus quite so much. That I wish I could micro-manage my sinfulness and prevent it from bearing fruit in the first place so that I wouldn't screw it all up. Whatever "it" happens to be at the time. That's not the true Gospel, of course.

But in this case, I'm stuck. Stuck in the loss and the screw-up. Every time I see these people, that's what I think about, what I remember. I don't see God's redemptive hand. I do see how he delivered us from the conflict and the hurt, and I am grateful for that. But I don't feel like this new state of things is better than the old. As if I knew better than God, as if I could see with his omniscience.

So I fixate on the brokenness and blind myself to his good work. I don't know how to repent of that. And I know that there are always parts of me that don't want to. Because I've built it up over time into an idol ("my precious"), into my functional identity--the pain, the memories, the heartbreak, the longing. I'm stubborn, that's for sure.

I know from past experience that God can deliver me from the depths. But this doesn't feel so much like depths as much as mucky shallows that I tolerate. And in the meantime, I make my mud pies, because at least it's familiar ground, right?

I wish I were different. Is that a starting place? I wish so many things were different. Am I just holding on here until the ultimate restoration of all things? How am I to live in the meantime? I'm pretty sure that it's not supposed to be like my heart is now. How does that change? How will God break me in these particular struggles of pride and identity? When will I sing again, "I once was lost, but now am found, was blind, but now I see"?

I think engaging with his Word has something to do with it--letting it engage me. And I do believe that the destination is real. But the journey feels like a mystery. Or just too hard, too much for my fear and my laziness to contend with (lies, yes, but I give them power).

Am I still Eustace the Dragon? I guess he didn't just become a boy again--the same selfish, self-centered, mean-spirited, small-minded, small-hearted boy again. His heart changed and he was transformed. So I guess I don't really want to just go back to the way it was before. I guess I want to be whatever it is that God is making me through this. I just have no idea what that will look like, or how and when.

That said, Jesus assures me that his work will be completed, and that he loves me in the meantime, in the here and now, just as I am, a sinful man.

So stop fighting his love, you stubborn fool, and let it be enough for you.

(that's me talking to me, by the way--I certainly wouldn't call you a "stubborn fool")

(at least, not here)

"captive to my own remorse..."

Earlier tonight as I was brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, a really vivid memory came back to me. Something from near the end of my time in college--one of the worst things that I've ever done, and hurtful to a lot of people. I was suddenly overwhelmed by guilt and shame and even fear that tightened up my chest. I told myself that "there is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, for the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death." But, honestly, I didn't really believe that grace in that moment.

I remember the room. I remember generally what I did, but I don't remember everybody who was in the room or everything that I said. It wasn't until much later, probably even years, that I realized the gravity of my sin. I didn't apologize to everyone that I hurt--like I said, I don't even remember everyone who was in the room. And as with a lot of my painful memories, this one still carries a weight of guilt. Yes, Jesus has paid the penalty for my sin...and yet there are oftentimes earthly consequences to our sin--not punishments from God, no, but the effects of the Fall that we participate in. And also there are ways that we're called to make restitution and restoration of our earthly relationships in words and actions. Apologies have almost always been crazy hard for me to do. I don't think I'm alone in that weakness.

One of my favorite books is "The Great Divorce" by C.S. Lewis. Sandra McCracken wrote a song based on it called "The High Countries." And there's a line in there about how "we are just pilgrims of the great divorce / I am witness to the light, and I am captive to my own remorse." I am absolutely captive to my own remorse. Captive to the memories of the hurts that I've given and received. Captive to my past running on constant replay. I am both witness to the light of the world and someone whose gaze is fixed firmly in the darker parts of himself. And I fall to pieces fall to pieces fall to pieces, as it were.

She's currently working on a hymns album called "In Feast or Fallow," and we've sung one of her new songs a couple times at my church. It's something of an Advent hymn called "This is the Christ," and the chorus goes like this:

This is the Christ, our God and Lord
Who in all need shall aid afford
He will himself our Savior be
And from our sins will set us free

I have deep need of Jesus. I feel deep longing to be set free from my sin. I am a bundle of fear and repentance and grief and lamentation and hope and selfishness and love and doubt and too much of me and too little of Jesus.

Somehow, God has chosen to love me, though I was yet (and still) a sinner. Oh, for faith to stop and rest in Jesus.

Control Freak

I don't like not being in control. I don't like not knowing what's going on. I give grace with strings attached, conditions for future change, or else resentment when people fail to meet up to my standards. I am very much unlike God, and yet I still manage to make myself god. How pitiful and pathetic.

I know that the antidote to these particular bits of selfishness is to trust in Jesus. But it's so much easier for me to trust in the things that I can see and touch: money, friends, job, whatever. Even though I know that they will let me down--moreover, that trusting in those finite, fleeting things (not necessarily evil things) will be the death of me. Really.

I think it's because I don't know my Savior. I could expand on that any number of ways, but right now I'll try to rest in the fact that he knows me. Deeply and truly, better than I know myself. He knows me. He loves me. Even when I don't feel it. He is present.

But where is he? It's not that I feel completely untethered from him, but I certainly don't feel deeply connected. Oh, that he would reveal himself to me more and more. That I would be open and obedient to his wooing me. That his mercies would truly be new to me every day. That I would know the depth of his love, the limitlessness of his peace, and the sufficiency of his grace in my every weakness.

Oh, me of little faith! Oh, soul, call upon--and fall upon--your great savior: Jesus Christ!

little gods with little g's

my heart is an idol factory. it takes things--people, possessions, goals, whatever--and elevates them beyond their right worth. elevates them to be little gods in my life. little gods that i must have and control on my own terms, and all the while they control me. i feel disappointment and elation, self-confidence and self-worthlessness, all based on how they're going in my life from moment to moment. they own me, and i don't let them get away easily. cause i'm stubborn stubborn stubborn.

i give my heart away so easily. mostly to people (read: girls). i sometimes wonder if i have an even greater predilection for it than most other guys. replaying interactions to parse the subtle signs. daydreaming imaginary conversations. i see it happening step by step--churning out another idol off the production line.

in every instance, how quickly do i turn away from the false twist i make--even of true and good and right things in life--and turn back to Jesus. my compass. my light. my peace. my shepherd. my savior. the only one who fully knows everything that is good for me. who desires and ordains all this good for me.

JESUS IS THE LOVER THAT I LONG FOR

i know that i can't change me. i can only have confidence in God's ability to change me. to humble my proud heart. to draw me deeper and deeper into love and worship of him. away from the false gods of my own shoddy making. i have no other true hope.

Praise to the Lord, who over all things so wondrously reigneth
Shelters thee under His wings, yea, so gently sustaineth
Hast thou not seen how thy desires ever have been
Granted in what He ordaineth?

Praise to the Lord, who doth prosper thy work and defend thee
Surely His goodness and mercy shall daily attend thee
Ponder anew what the Almighty can do
If with His love He befriend thee.

I have no end of need for Jesus.

Sometimes that truth is wonderfully freeing, redemptive, beautiful, comforting, a steady light in the swirling darkness.

Other times it feels like a frustrating burden, tiring in its cycles, probably because I'd rather save myself some other way or just have my way, period.

Just being honest.

It's True

A friend shared a bit of their testimony with me recently.

Thinking about it now, my heart aches.

But I also see a picture of beauty rising from the ashes. A flower coming up for air from cinders and soot.

Jesus is real. He is actually risen from having been actually dead. I don't know how often I throw myself into that freakish mystery without some sense of reservation in my brain.

But my friend's story reminds me that it's true. It's True--new life, joy, redemption, wholeness. The darkness is not the end of the story. It's terrible and painful and can steal so much life away, and no one goes through life unscathed. But it's not the end.

Jesus is the light in the darkness.
Jesus is the healing balm.
Jesus is comfort and help in time of need.
Jesus is beauty and mercy and grace and perfect love.
Jesus is the lover we long for.

Jesus will usher in a new heavens and a new earth, tangible realities for our resurrected physical bodies to enjoy and explore for eternity. All the darkness that weighs down our minds and spirits and bodies these halfway days--all the hurts we've inflicted on others and all the hurts we've suffered ourselves--will be left behind and become untrue.

Following him doesn't mean that life right now will be sunshine and roses from here on out, or that the scars from the past necessarily disappear overnight. But he does promise never to forsake us, never to leave us. And he bore our injustices, our falsehoods and sins, on the cross of his sacrifice in order to free us from the darkness and its suffocating chains.

Only he is able.

Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ, King of Endless Glory.

Reasons Why I Don't Blog More

I'm not necessarily able to make the mundane stuff sound interesting, so I tend toward more weighty posts (not to say that that's inherently more interesting, but I at least find it helpful for me to process). I self-censor a fair amount of what I could write here because some people might be able to read into details and fill in the names and faces of mutually known persons.

I value discretion and privacy and generally err on the side of keeping things to myself if it might reflect negatively on a third party. I was raised with that adage that "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." A friend has remarked that I have such a built-in anti-gossip mechanism that I don't even like to gossip about myself, share about my own life. Which can be to my detriment, for sure--I tend to bottle things up more often than deal with them healthily and constructively, especially if I'm not sure of how to do that in a given situation.

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That said, I'll recap my long Easter weekend by saying that it was, by and large, really terrible. I tend to cuss a fair amount these days, but I don't like the way cuss words look in print, so I'll spare that language for now. Mostly as an aesthetic consideration than any particular sense of modesty.

Thursday night I had a conversation that I was not particularly looking forward to. One of the people that I am currently estranged from reached out to me about a month and a half ago, asking if we could talk. I said no. A few weeks later, I assented, on the condition that one of the elders at our church could be there as a witness. So we looked at our calendars and finally had that talk on Thursday. There were some fruitful things about it, but on the whole, I wish it hadn't happened. The cons outweighed the pros for me, and it definitely stirred up some old heartache.

Friday night I played cello at a Good Friday service put on by my church and a sister church in a suburb south of Nashville. I think it was a good service overall. But I felt awful, in part due to the aftermath of the previous night's talk. Driving to a friend's party afterward (yes, I know, nothing says party like Good Friday), I broke down in the car and raged at the intrusion of hell in my life this current season. Feels like Lent and Easter should be reminding me of just the opposite. Alas.

Sunday morning early I walked to a sunrise service that my church was doing at a local park. Same crappiness inside. Anger building on anger. Bitterness hardening.

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There were a few good things, too, though. I had Friday off from work, so I hung out at a friend's place where she was hosting a Good Friday potluck for some of her international students and teaching colleagues, along with an Easter egg hunt that included short readings explaining the meaning of Easter.

And I feel like I was almost ready to take Communion this Sunday evening. I don't know how I'll know when I'm ready. "Just as I am"--but with my huge load of anger and resentment, that I refuse to leave at the Cross, that I hold more tightly and dearly than Jesus? My church makes a frequent point that we're not there to play church--we're there to be the church. So I second-guess myself a lot, my heart's motivations. I try to stick it out as much as possible, at least show up at the services, compelled by this tiny thread of hope that God can work in me, draw me to life again. But I always leave carrying more pain and grief.

How am I supposed to approach the throne of grace? What are the pre-conditions? I know the right answer is "nothing," no pre-conditions--nothing can keep us from the love of God in Christ Jesus. His love is not dependent on my goodness, nor is it hindered by my sin. His perfect work on my behalf is full and complete.

But don't I need to repent? Turn away from myself and my debilitating bitterness, turn to Jesus as my only hope and salvation? Isn't that what I would be declaring by going to the Communion table to receive him, to worship him as my only true God? How can I do that in good conscience when I harbor such bitterness toward some of my brothers and sisters in the faith? I have left my offering and withdrawn myself from the table for months. How long, O Lord? Where is that faith, the faith that is itself a gift from God, something that I can't produce of my own power, faith to throw myself on his mercies and actually believe in God's love for me? For me.

Every day I feel reminders of what I perceive as injustices inflicted on me in the recent past. I see doors closed by others and by myself for ways to deal with the issues. And I choose not to pay it down myself. I choose to let the wounds fester. I choose to hate, rather than cast myself on Jesus' love and sufficiency--that he bore wounds and injustices even greater than that ones that I have born (and inflicted on others), all so that I would be healed. That he went to the lowest depths of death and back, all to rescue me from even beyond my deepest pits.

I don't even know how to turn to Jesus anymore. I am a poison to those around me. Every day I feel more and more convicted that I am too stubborn to be a Christian. And oftentimes, I earnestly wish that I had never been born--I didn't ask for it, and my resentment turns on God for creating me in the first place.

I want life, I do. Unfortunately, I want it on my terms, my rightness. Either Jesus will become even more real to me as he delivers me through all this trial. Or else I'll become a character in "The Great Divorce"--spiteful, narrow-minded, self-consumed, foolishly refusing to ever give or receive mercy.

How long, O Lord?

The New Performance Standard

I appreciate how my church eschews false gospels of new laws masquerading as Gospel truth: the subtle twists and pulls that ultimately leave you with "do more of this, be more of that, and God will love and bless and save you more."

The truth that the pastor preaches often is to look to Jesus all the more. But sometimes it feels like that message can become its own burden--to do that better, harder, more. Turning my eyes upon Jesus is a true thing that I need to hear and do. It's absolutely vital to my life as a believer to recalibrate my standards and my gaze off myself and the world around me, back to the source of all truth and goodness and faith, to the one who did everything that I would ever need to do. But sometimes that can be hard to do. And what I feel is missing sometimes is some loving encouragement in the way that message is spoken, at least for the particular frailties of my own heart.

I do a decent job of preaching the facts of the Gospel to myself, at least in my head. I recognize the importance of being able to do that. But I don't love myself well--I don't preach and believe God's great big beautiful, pursuing, unrelenting, unconditional love for me:

"I see you struggling. I see that it's hard for you to fall down at the cross right now, to fall upon Jesus' love, to repent and believe and be set free. We both know that's the truth you need. And I see that it's hard for you in this season of your life, and I love you anyway."

So it was a real refreshment several weeks ago when a friend down in Peru pointed me to some truth that I needed, while also simply loving me, no strings attached. Some others have been encouraging along the way in the quiet ways I need, letting me know I'm not alone.

Anyway, that's how I feel sometimes.

Worshiping Jesus Now

I know you're out there, a few of you, and I'm well aware that this space is in the wide open Internet web world, and that's ok. I use this blog partly as a pressure valve for my brain-emotions-ideas-melodrama, for when I wake up in the middle of the night and need to sketch out my thoughts in order to quiet my mind down again for sleep.

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Sunday night at church was a lot of everything that I need to hear. One of the things I appreciate about my church is that the sermons--through whatever theme or text--are consistently about Jesus, about commending him and the sufficiency of his gracious work for us, his beloved. So on Sunday our pastor gave an overview of Hebrews as a lead up to a more detailed study of the book for this next season of preaching.

Towards the end, he demonstrated from some Hebrews passages the practice of Robert Murray M'Cheyne's exhortation that for every one look we take at ourselves and our sin, we should look tenfold upon our savior. I may be __________, but in lieu of harping on that over and over to myself, I will gaze upon Jesus Christ: the heir of all things; the creator of all things by the power of his word; the redeemer who made complete purification for sins; the incarnate one who suffered and was tempted--all the more than we because he knew a perfect glory before being born a man--yet remained sinless; and so on the pastor continued, quickly unpacking each snippet's little radiances.

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I generally feel inclined to making music and writing songs that chronicle the brokenness of the world and look for redemption in the various ways that we fight the fall (the execution of that is another matter, but that's at least where my head space is at artistically). But in the course of lamenting the loss of Eden, I somehow missed the later message about persevering in suffering, boasting in weakness, and being content in hardship. While I am able to dial up my suck-it-up-and-deal quotient as needed (particularly when I'm traveling), in general I've always been a wuss about life. The existence of even small hardships can bring on a mini existential crisis. I hate that crap happens at all, and sometimes my reaction is to feel like giving up.

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I said that at the church service there was a lot of everything that I need to hear. But I still couldn't receive and believe it, couldn't quite let go just yet. I struggled with being on the worship team that night and pretty much mailed it in on every level--not sure that I'll be doing that again for a while.

This latest season of life (how long has it been? when did it start?), I feel like my capacity for joy and love has been crippled. Lying in bed that night after church, I got overwhelmed by a sense that life is meaningless, that nothing I do or anyone else does matters. It passed, but it was pretty convincing there for a good while. I suppose part of the reason for this blog is to call out those persistent demons in mundane words like that.

The idea that people's most prominent strengths can also potentially be their deepest weaknesses, depending on how those gifts are applied, or restrained, or the situation--I think that my main "blessing/curse" is my memory. I'm bad with immediate social encounters and remembering names in the short term, and some things I need to write down to not forget them, but other than that, if you and I have a difference of opinion on how some shared past experience happened--well, um, I'm probably right. Just sayin'. There is no easy answer for me for that ice-breaker question of "what's the most embarrassing moment of your life?" The entire collage of every bad or embarrassing moment is there, and out of the blue something will trigger a memory, which will domino into another, and they all still stir up shame or anger to varying degrees.

So I've been replaying various events of the last two years in Nashville, seeing how I got to where I am. Maybe I'll dig into that more in this space at some point. But not for now. I feel like I've talked it out a good amount already with various folks, and it's just the way it is.

I've had a couple good lifelines the last couple weeks, friends from outside who've known me. One who was empathetic and identified with my current struggle with hardness of heart and bitterness. Another who didn't leave me where I was, pointing me to some truth in a gentle, humble way--but still loved me right where I was, regardless.

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I am too convicted and convinced that what I know is true is true (and yes, that could be dangerous, too) to let it all go.

I know that God is real. I see dispatches from the mission field abroad that testify to his active presence. I see and hear it around me here in Nashville--that Jesus is the risen Lord, that the Kingdom is breaking in.

(Though some days I definitely see more discouragement and defeat than victory.)

I know how the song goes:

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control:
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

(Though I don't know that I always make it to the "it is well" part.)

This is me feebly preaching the Gospel to myself, pointing myself to look to Jesus and ask myself the question:

"How do I worship Jesus right now?"

I don't mean to focus on how much I love God or anything (and at the moment, that would be pretty uninspiring), but rather, "How am I responding to his love--do I worship him in every way that he is worthy? Over and above my pride and my pain, will I pay that down, forgive and love my enemies, forgive and love myself? Will I worship Jesus?"

So I think that question will be the theme of my life for at least the next five minutes.

If It Wasn't For The Night

Feeling rigor mortis setting in on my heart.

Bitterness taking root deeply deeply.

Feeling judged, misjudged, misunderstood, presumed upon, holier-than-thou'ed, and held up against hypocritical double standards.

And yes, I certainly did contribute to my predicaments.

And yet, Jesus bore far greater injustices than these.

He bore even these.

How much do I believe that truth vs. the more palpable reality of the immediate painful circumstances?

Still, I'd rather not have to deal with any of it.

Paying it down over and over.

But, this too shall be made right.

Not in a self-righteous way, but in a resting in Jesus way.

If I can let go and find myself there.

Hoping that it will be the death of me in all the good ways.

And not the rigor mortis way.

Thinking about a David Wilcox / Pierce Pettis song:

If it wasn't for the night
So cold this time of year
The stars would never shine so bright
So beautiful and clear

I have walked this road alone
My thin coat against the chill
When the light in me was gone
And my winter house was stilled

When I grieved for all I'd made
Out of all I had to give
On the eve of Christmas day
With no reason left to live

Even then somehow in the bitter wind and cold
Impossibly strong I know
Even then a bloom as tender as a rose
Was breaking through the snow
In the dark night of the soul
In the dark night of the soul

If it wasn't for the babe
Lying helpless on the straw
There would be no Christmas day
And the night would just go on

When it seems that death has won
Buried deep beneath the snow
Where the summer leaves have gone
The seed of hope will grow

"...what is the breadth and length and height and depth..."

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith--that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God.


Sometimes I still get surprised by how broad and deep the brokenness of the world runs. So many things external to myself that I see and am involved in to varying degrees. Sometimes blindsided by Satan's ongoing work to sow dischord and division where we might least be attentive to it. All the systems and interconnected struggles just for the smallest changes and steps from darkness into light, the bearing of fruit in any given life. I'm being vague, and though I'm specifically thinking of other things, I suppose I could be talking about my own life, too.

I know I need to not make myself a savior in any of these situations. I also know that we are workers called into a plentiful harvest field, no matter where we are. Something about persisting through the long defeat, in the holy shadow of an almighty God's already assured victory. Paul's prayer in Ephesians 3 goes on with an apt benediction pointing us to this true God--his faithful hand and his powerful work and his eternal glory.

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I recently got an update from my friend who helps advise the campus ministry at our alma mater. I am heartened once again to read about the work that God is doing in a new generations of believers there. I reflect on His faithfulness before, during, and since my time there. I'm encouraged to hear about the alumni who have been returning for visits to share their experience, heart, and vision of God's kingdom work with the body of Christ in this small college town in Vermont. I really appreciate the hopeful reminders that God sends in the midst of other setbacks or frustrations.


Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.

Finding Center

There are some specific lies of Satan that I tend give a lot of power to, ways that I have always been prone to losing my center and my identity in Christ, the seeds of which were planted long before I came to faith. Issues with self-image and pride and where I look to find validation of my worth. This year most of those issues have been pretty near the surface with everything going on, and I've gotten to see just how deeply they run.

As some of the difficult situations have started to find some sort of resolution and even redemption these last couple weeks, I'm realizing that I've had so much of my identity lately wrapped up in the trials of this year, and now I need to learn how to let go of that rightly and focus all the more on Jesus' beauty and the ridiculous love that God has for me--to see myself as he sees me.

But even with certain storms passing, I'm already frustrated to be picking up right where I left off in finding old ways to be the same old broken me. The names and faces may have changed, but I have not. Hopefully, that means new ways to repent and new ways to turn to Jesus as my truth and center again and again.

My friend has some thoughts on her blog that I find to be encouraging Gospel truth, and so I re-read them occasionally here and here.

I've also been finding some comfort recently in Psalms 142 and 143.

Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust.
Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul.

The Inner Voice of Love

A friend of mine recently gave me this book by Henri Nouwen as a thank-you gift for some work that I did for his wedding. It's a collection of journal entries from the hardest, darkest time of Nouwen's life, December 1987 to June 1988. It's meant to be read slowly, savored and meditated upon. I've only read a handful of entries so far, each is a couple paragraphs to a couple pages long, and it's been rich and fulfilling and challenging reading. It puts succinct words to the core issues I'm dealing with this season--my relationship with God, with other people, with myself and my identity. It's a mixture of comfort and calling to action, even if that action is mostly just resting in God's love.

I am a restless person, so that can be a hard step of faith for me. Stepping out of my pride and fear, out of my right-ness, out of all the other things I look to to fill me up and make my life work. Taking God at His word, knowing what that even is. Something about the compromises of being human and fallen and having to love imperfectly. There is still and ever and always a perfect love, and I hope I'm re-learning to hear (and heed) His voice.

Our pastor at church started preaching on forgiveness and reconciliation last week, and he will be continuing that topic in his sermon this week. So today I'm re-listening to a Tim Keller sermon on the same theme that a good friend of mine gave to me when we were working through some issues last year. I've listened to it a handful of times since then, and it continues to be encouraging. I need it spoken into my life; I need to preach it to myself, the Gospel truth.

We'll be singing one of my favorite hymns at church tonight, "Abide With Me," a re-setting with a gorgeous new melody, so I'll close with these words by Henry Lyte:

Abide with me; fast falls the eventide;
The darkness deepens; Lord with me abide.
When other helpers fail and comforts flee,
Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;
Earth’s joys grow dim; its glories pass away;
Change and decay in all around I see;
O Thou who changest not, abide with me.

Thou on my head in early youth didst smile;
And, though rebellious and perverse meanwhile,
Thou hast not left me, oft as I left Thee,
On to the close, O Lord, abide with me.

I need Thy presence every passing hour.
What but Thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?
Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.

I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness.
Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.

Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;
Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.
Heaven’s morning breaks, and earth’s vain shadows flee;
In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me.

The Wilderness

I was working on a post last week all about the wilderness that I feel like I'm in right now. My friend calls it "the wasteland." I think I've been there since January or so, with a few good spells of refreshing (like the Lenten season). That's the short version, and I'll leave out all the blogtastically confessional melodramatic 'woe is me' details for now.

In the midst of the various things I'm dealing with and running away from, there is still the Gospel to contend with, of course. There are times when I'd rather actually be dealing with a whole wheelbarrow-ful of cow manure. But the truth of the Gospel isn't going away, and somehow it will bring redemption to the various fears and hurts and craziness. I feel like I need to run and hide a bit from various things and people (rightly or not), and hopefully the shelter I find is in the shadow of God's wings.

I'm learning about boasting all the more of my weaknesses (not one of my natural giftings). I'm definitely finding new things to boast about (I'll spare you here). Brick by brick, I need God to dismantle my false foundations--who I think I am, my identity and motivations apart from Christ. Who I'm being made into in Christ. I need to turn over every rock and repent. This could be a full time job.

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I don't want for this to just be a blog o' my woes and emotional vomit (and yes, I do have other genuinely inter-personal channels in which to deal with my crap), so here are some good things going on:

• in my current housing limbo, the Tullocks have graciously let me come and crash in their upstairs area for a couple weeks...the move a couple weekends ago was surprisingly smooth, and I've settled in as much as I can in just a two-week stay...I'll be moving again for the more indefinite future with another friend from church this coming Memorial Day weekend...
  

• my mother and I have been vaguely talking about it for about a year now, but just recently things came together via my brother and his housemate (who works at an Apple store, I think) to get me a new MacBook Pro...I've been getting by for the last year and a half on a borrowed Tangerine iBook, so this is a bit of a step up...first things first: importing all my CDs into iTunes...
  

• my friend Shannon and I are splitting a quarter-bushel share from the Community Supported Agriculture program of Avalon Acres farm...there's a food drop every Wednesday for 26 weeks...the first drop was a couple weeks ago, and the lettuce was scrumptious...last week's strawberries were amazing...I'm looking forward to the rest of the season's fun bounty...
  

• my friends the Langsdorfs safely had their baby girl, Grace, last week...can't wait to meet her...
  

• the unexpected (but not unwelcome) uptick in music stuff continues...I've been rehearsing with Seth Wood for an EP he's recording this weekend...I'll be rehearsing with Taylor Sorensen for his more acoustically-oriented side project, Kyiv, in preparation for a show in early June...and it's looking like I'll be sitting in on Treva and the Suits' CD release show at The Basement at the end of June...good stuff...but the extra work is keeping me up past my bedtime, for sure...

I suppose all of those could be summed up in the word Provision. Luxury, too, for some of them, but I'll tackle that idol another time.

Another little oasis was this past Friday evening. I went to my friends' wedding rehearsal over at the Tulip Street United Methodist Church here in East Nashville, and after the rehearsal they graciously let me crash the rehearsal dinner at The Acorn over by Centennial Park. At the end of that trying week, it was so good for me to be in the presence of so much joy and love among all kinds of family and friends, and I got to meet some great folks and just feel welcomed all around. The fellowship of the body of Christ, a beautiful blessed thing. And still but a shadow of the joy that awaits us. But thank God for those wonderful intimations of His abiding glory and presence. Things for me to remember in the midst of the soulache.

I know that Jesus is the answer. Sometimes I'm not sure how to get there, days when I feel more like I'm at the bottom of a pit. So He's going to have to come and rescue me. And I know that He is able.

He is able. Here's to a God whom death could not hold, who came to save His beloved, trading His glory to take on our skin and bones for a season out of eternity, who came to redeem what He created and created good. Let me rest assured of His beautiful love and favor upon me. Let me take Him at his word, that He will never leave me nor forsake me.

All other ground is sinking sand...

Your mistakes and your crimes...

...it hurts just to mention
Feel abandoned and alone in desert land
But every mess is a fruit that's ripe for redemption
If you only leave the harvest in his hands.


I'm starting to believe those last couple lines not just in the abstract, but in specific ways for my life. Something of a breakthrough. I tend to remember a lot of things really well, which can certainly be a good and useful thing, of course, but it can also mean holding on tightly to hurts and guilt and all that fun stuff. I'll leave it at that. Just to say that the long-term forecast is actually starting to look more than ok. God's ultimate victory over sin and death and darkness is already secured for us in Jesus Christ. Beautiful. Eric Peters has a song called "The Ending" (on his "Miracle of Forgetting" and "Bookmark" albums) that reminds me of this truth:

I want to know why we fall so hard
And why hope for tomorrow can seem so far away

Don't say it's over when the world's gone mad
I've seen the ending and it's not so bad
Don't say it's over when you lose your heart
'Cause the ending is where we start


Lent was a really good and fruitful time in terms of delving into Scripture, morning quiet times and evening writing times. I don't really know why, but since Easter it's been a pretty dry season, and I've just been riding it out this past month. But I feel like there's a renewing coming now, remembering and knowing that I am here to spend time with God, and what a true joy, peace, and comfort that can be. God's Kingdom breaking into my false little fortress. Thank God. I've had the U2 song "40" (off their "War" album) ringing in my head last night and this morning:

I waited patiently for the Lord
He inclined and heard my cry
He brought me up out of the pit
Out of the miry clay

I will sing, sing a new song
I will sing, sing a new song

How long to sing this song...


I read that psalm this morning and this was one of the verses that resonated--"my iniquities have overtaken me, and I cannot see; they are more than the hairs of my head; my heart fails me." I've definitely had a lot of heart failure of all sorts these last few months and weeks, reaping the fruit of my iniquities, falling down in repentance. And yet, there is ever and always God's steadfast love and faithfulness, His mercy, His grace.

I can wait. I think. I hope. God help.

Wednesdays are for crisis management.

The last two Wednesdays I've gotten calls to jump into situations that various friends were in the middle of. It's involved a lot of driving around and taking care of things in person, making too many phone calls, all kinds of craziness and some measure of stress. In the in-between time, I've had my own personal crap to deal with--a resurging awareness of my judgmental heart, my idolatrous heart, my overvaluing of others' good opinion of me--a lot of the same stuff that I was swimming through back in January and February, plus some unexpected extra goodness. I've already mentioned Sunday's freakout/meltdown.

I wrestle with questions like the line between selfless love, self sacrifice, seeking the welfare of others even at your own expense vs. taking care of myself and my own interests, being healthy. How do you do it? Who is my neighbor? What does it mean to love myself? How and when to say no?

If only I were so sure of God's absolute love for me and his abiding favor toward me, secured on my behalf by Christ's perfect labors. If only I actually believed it. I would be set free from feeling like I need to elevate myself above others, from my idolatry, from trying to plug my lifeline into things that can't fulfill me. Everywhere I turn is another false savior. I'll catch myself, repent, then do it again. Lather, rinse, repeat.

I would be set free to love completely and selflessly, without fear, without recoiling or judging, without agenda or self-interest. Set free to worship the only one who bears that ultimate worth. Set free to be wholly dependent on God. I keep on trying to smooth out my life so that I don't need Him, either by micro-managing my sin and avoiding certain situations, or by trying to do life all on my own.

On Tuesday, someone anonymously mailed me a gift card to a local organic grocery store called the Turnip Truck, with a note alluding to some of the ways I served last week (I assume last Wednesday's crisis). Under normal circumstances, I'd be curious to know who it was, but I could deal with the pleasant surprise, I think. But I wasn't really handling life too well just then and started minorly freaking out about it, just needing to know who it was so that I could clear out that bit of clutter in my headspace. I made some phone calls, no luck. I have a couple possible thoughts, but at this point, life has settled to a manageable level of inner turmoil where I don't have to know. I've been able to talk some things out with a couple friends, and it feels like there's a lot lot lot of work that God needs to do in my life about forgiveness, guilt, healing, paying it down, all across the board. And all the rest of it (see above). In the meantime, I'm just waiting for the next crisis. Probably another one of my own.

Give reviving, give refreshing, give the looked-for Jubilee...
- Albert Midlane ("Father, for Thy Promised Blessing")

What Do You Expect?

I can understand when I'm disappointed by the expectations that I have of other people and situations when I can recognize that my expectations are foolish or unrealistic or inappropriately placed. But there are times when I get blindsided by unmet expectations that I didn't even realize I had, since they seemed so logical that I took them for granted and they were just part of my thought process.

I know in the moments when I have a bit of perspective that people will disappoint, it's inevitable in a fallen world, and I disappoint and fail as much as any other. And I can't just ditch all my expectations--they happen so naturally, and even if it were possible, it's probably not a good thing. Something about cynicism. It is what it is, and these are opportunities for me to turn again to God's faithfulness and sure and steady presence.

I suppose I'm saying all this against the backdrop of a sermon my pastor preached in early January where the central image was that of Jacob, laboring seven years for Rachel's hand in marriage, only to be hoodwinked by sneaky uncle Laban and wake up on that first wedding morning to Leah instead. All our Rachel expectations met by Leah disappointments. There's only one who is faithful and true. I am certainly not he.

Otherwise, I'm experiencing some of the same mysterious malaise that weighed me down back in January/February. I think I know what it is, but still, it's a bother. And some of the same tensions as always between human being vs. human doing. Put all that together and Sunday was a crazy day, with some unexpected falling apart.

"Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!"

There's a brain/heart disconnect right now on knowing that that's true.

Reboot

Today was an unexpectedly difficult day. The last few weeks I feel like a lot of things have been catching up with me. Realizing that I don't forgive myself--like, ever (yes, I know it's like spitting in God's face and telling him that His forgiveness isn't good enough for me, I know...just another thing I struggle with). Other things going on at the moment, too, but that's the overarching one.

So this afternoon I got home and wrote out on a big sheet of paper: "WHAT DO I KNOW?" I started with "God is real, He exists" and went from there, trying to preach the Gospel to myself. This coming spring will be a challenging, hopefully growthful, season. I'm already looking forward to Easter.