My father passed away fifteen years ago today. It was a Tuesday. I was a freshman in college, a few hours away by car. I had gotten a call in the middle of the night on Sunday and got picked up Monday morning by some family friends, so I was able to get home and go to the hospital and everything.
Soon it will be more than half my life without him than with him. In terms of my conscious life of memories, it's already reached that threshold, I suppose. I don't really know what to think of all that. I sort of don't even know what I'm missing--who I've become and who he would have been and what our relationship would have been like as I became more of an independent adult. Whatever milestones he's missed (hard to see those things from here).
Both my grandfathers had already passed away before I was born, and both my grandmothers since then. I think about death fairly freely. My own. My mother or brother's. Family friends. It's not so much "frequently" as much as it is a regular undercurrent, a perspective that I have on life. I don't think that it's too morbid. (Maybe it is.)
In light of that, I try not to assume my life and the steady steps of numbered days. Sometimes it helps color my interactions with loved ones--not taking them for granted and not assuming that I'll see them or talk to them again. And I think that's a good thing. Heartbeats and breaths--smooth muscle cells that I can't control, after all.
----------
Lately I feel like life has been more disappointment than joy. More fear than freedom. I feel like I've lost touch with the transformative power of the Gospel working itself out in real ways in my real life. It's easier for me to dwell on the broken and the unsatisfying than on the restoration and redemption of those sad, disappointing, frustrating, tiresome, heavy things.
Prayer of a certain kind comes easy--the immediate, the conversational, the pleading and crying out and thanking. The community around me (whatever that means) is good, I think. But I want a magic bullet. I want the easy. I want what I want. And when I don't get what I want, my brain is able to be rational and grateful to God for keeping me from what he would not have me have. But the rest of me is just wondering when it's all gonna change and when I'm going to be satisfied, content, happy, at peace in Christ.
Which I suppose isn't the point, looking to some future time. Today is the day and right now is the moment. Repentance and returning. Resisting and rejecting. Rejoicing and...resting.
Showing posts with label Soulache. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Soulache. Show all posts
09 February 2014
14 August 2011
Ready or not...
Here I come. Internet. With an update.
Back in April, the uncertainties at the time had to do with:
1) Whether or not I would get involved with a new church plant that would take me to a different part of Nashville
2) Whether or not I would quit my job
3) A dating relationship
So, in order:
A) I decided to stay at my current home church and not join the church plant.
B) I did quit my job. Sort of. I became a part-time temp with a half-time schedule since May. It's made a world of difference in my life sanity quotient. I can enjoy the work that I still do there, and I can also breathe when the music work gets full, which is has this summer. A lot.
C) We stayed together. Until last night. We made it six months, and then we just couldn't keep going, for various reasons. It's pretty sad, for the both of us. I don't think I'll say much about it here. She's a wonderful woman. We just couldn't make it work.
I consoled myself by eating half a pint of this.
I've only mentioned the breakup to a handful of folks. And now to the Internet. I have a few misgivings about that, especially since some of you will learn through here and not in person, which is not the point of this post. Sorry, I'm still processing and gradually letting people know.
The reason for the post is for something else that happened tonight. I learned that a friend of mine just got engaged. She was someone that I had made a real idol of a few years ago, and my idolatry caused a lot of damage to a lot of relationships. We've reconciled as much as we can and interact fine. But once you give yourself over to an idol, there's always a part of you that remembers the scar. It was just odd timing--the weight of the breakup and the weight of this old wound, one on top of the other.
That's all. I don't have a lot to say on all that right now. Just processing. And finishing my pint of ice cream. (OK, fine, sorbet.)
Time for the next course: red wine and potato chips.
Food-Coping: Not Just for Girls.
22 January 2010
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)
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)
23 July 2009
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.
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.
12 April 2009
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.
--------------------
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.
--------------------
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?
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.
--------------------
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.
--------------------
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?
22 February 2009
Affirmation / Negation
There's a balance, a scale.
On one side: "Life is great! Things are looking up!"
On the other side: "Life sucks! This is never going to get any better!"
And I'm pushing down on the good side.
But all the while I'm sitting on the other side.
Church is happening now and I'm at home. I never know how far into the service I'll make it before I can't take it anymore and have to leave. Today I made it to the second song. Sometimes I get as far as the offering, or even the sermon and Communion. I don't remember the last full service that I made it through--I guess it was a few weeks ago when I was on the worship team (blah). I've had rehearsals and gigs the last couple Sundays, too, so that was a welcome excuse not to make it to church at all.
I feel like God has been pouring out blessings in my life this last month or so--the tangible, easy to grasp kind of blessings. Good time spent with friends, some great music, fun movies, cool art, even a bit of unexpected French. I also have a biweekly Sunday brunch + book club with a few guys from church, which is very much a blessing.
But there are other things. Unresolved things for which I don't have any hope for resolution anytime soon. Things I don't feel like I can talk about with anybody (including my pastor), for various reasons. And so I dread Sundays:
Step 1: Go to church.
Step 2: Get overwhelmed and freak out.
Step 3: Leave early and come home.
Step 4: Have a one-sided, closed-minded, lie-believing, self-defeating screaming match with God.
Step 5: Settle down and breathe again.
"The gift is not like the trespass." Christ's work is greater than Adam's (and my) sin. But these days I have a tendency to turn the lesser gifts and blessings into curses. Much worldly sorrow.
Music is one of my lifelines, for sure, my current drug of choice. (TV, too--as I wrote on our fridge with some magnetic poetry words: "TV is my junk anesthetic")
People are reaching out to me. God is speaking comfort and conviction and truth from a variety of sources. I just don't really want it right now. Or I want it to sound a little different--on my terms. I'm still angry, and bitter, and hurt, and broken, and sad, and afraid, about those aforementioned things. Things that feel insurmountable, too big for Jesus to make right, at least anytime soon. My daily reality is more defined by my pain than by my Redeemer. I'm not letting go and getting over it. I don't really want to engage with God. I don't want to read Scripture. I don't want to pray. I am being willful, stubborn, and self-destructive, and my focus isn't on Jesus.
But I'm like a runaway child who can only run as far as the next block, and then he just sits there, wondering what to do next. Too much is true for me to abandon my faith. Too much feels hypocritical and painful for me to feel like I have a place in this community anymore.
But my self-righteousness is a false shelter. I do want things to get better, and there are moments when I feel my hard heart melting. But then certain triggers will just re-open the wounds, and I don't want to do the work of paying it down over and over and over again. Looking back on the last couple years, I couldn't have planned it to be more messy than it is. It's uncanny.
But really, the historical details aren't the most important part. The question is whether or not I believe that God loves me deeply deeply, that Jesus is everything that I need, that grace is there for the healing. I do have some hope that God's pursuing love will save me, set me free. But I think it will be a very bumpy road, and so in the meantime...?
On one side: "Life is great! Things are looking up!"
On the other side: "Life sucks! This is never going to get any better!"
And I'm pushing down on the good side.
But all the while I'm sitting on the other side.
Church is happening now and I'm at home. I never know how far into the service I'll make it before I can't take it anymore and have to leave. Today I made it to the second song. Sometimes I get as far as the offering, or even the sermon and Communion. I don't remember the last full service that I made it through--I guess it was a few weeks ago when I was on the worship team (blah). I've had rehearsals and gigs the last couple Sundays, too, so that was a welcome excuse not to make it to church at all.
I feel like God has been pouring out blessings in my life this last month or so--the tangible, easy to grasp kind of blessings. Good time spent with friends, some great music, fun movies, cool art, even a bit of unexpected French. I also have a biweekly Sunday brunch + book club with a few guys from church, which is very much a blessing.
But there are other things. Unresolved things for which I don't have any hope for resolution anytime soon. Things I don't feel like I can talk about with anybody (including my pastor), for various reasons. And so I dread Sundays:
Step 1: Go to church.
Step 2: Get overwhelmed and freak out.
Step 3: Leave early and come home.
Step 4: Have a one-sided, closed-minded, lie-believing, self-defeating screaming match with God.
Step 5: Settle down and breathe again.
"The gift is not like the trespass." Christ's work is greater than Adam's (and my) sin. But these days I have a tendency to turn the lesser gifts and blessings into curses. Much worldly sorrow.
Music is one of my lifelines, for sure, my current drug of choice. (TV, too--as I wrote on our fridge with some magnetic poetry words: "TV is my junk anesthetic")
People are reaching out to me. God is speaking comfort and conviction and truth from a variety of sources. I just don't really want it right now. Or I want it to sound a little different--on my terms. I'm still angry, and bitter, and hurt, and broken, and sad, and afraid, about those aforementioned things. Things that feel insurmountable, too big for Jesus to make right, at least anytime soon. My daily reality is more defined by my pain than by my Redeemer. I'm not letting go and getting over it. I don't really want to engage with God. I don't want to read Scripture. I don't want to pray. I am being willful, stubborn, and self-destructive, and my focus isn't on Jesus.
But I'm like a runaway child who can only run as far as the next block, and then he just sits there, wondering what to do next. Too much is true for me to abandon my faith. Too much feels hypocritical and painful for me to feel like I have a place in this community anymore.
But my self-righteousness is a false shelter. I do want things to get better, and there are moments when I feel my hard heart melting. But then certain triggers will just re-open the wounds, and I don't want to do the work of paying it down over and over and over again. Looking back on the last couple years, I couldn't have planned it to be more messy than it is. It's uncanny.
But really, the historical details aren't the most important part. The question is whether or not I believe that God loves me deeply deeply, that Jesus is everything that I need, that grace is there for the healing. I do have some hope that God's pursuing love will save me, set me free. But I think it will be a very bumpy road, and so in the meantime...?
30 January 2009
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.
--------------------
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.
--------------------
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.
--------------------
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.
--------------------
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.
--------------------
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.
--------------------
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.
--------------------
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.
--------------------
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.
19 January 2009
The Wrong Kind of Dying
There is a dying to self that I simply refuse to do. It hurts too much right now.
Like Eustace assenting to Aslan's painfully clawing away his dragon scales, I know that there is true relief and peace and growth on the other side of that seemingly impossible change. But from where I am right now, it honestly does seem impossible. And it's not greed that's transformed me.
I give up. Talking it out is my natural tendency, but I think I'm done with the cycles of the same conversations over and over--with the people I feel wronged by, with my pastor, with my former or current small group leaders. That hasn't stopped me from spinning through it all in my head, in hypothetical arguments with imaginary people or actual raging at a very real God (though I don't particularly feel his presence or his love most of the time). But the conversations don't resolve anything--or they only start another round of grievances and misunderstandings--and I feel like I know the answer anyway:
I need to repent. To turn to Jesus and trust him. Accept his goodness and love for me--let it transform my heart to love my enemies, to love even myself.
But I refuse. Evidently, I cherish my hatred and hurt more dearly. I am unwilling to submit to the Lordship of Christ--even though I know it's for my good.
Being a Christian involves repentance. Repentance involves humility. I've always been prideful, and there are time when I know that I am just too stubborn to be a Christian.
How long can I keep on worshiping my mess? Forever? I faith to know that that won't be the case, that I am held and upheld by a strength and power and goodness far greater than my fiercest rebellion. Only by the grace of God do I even stand and breathe and speak out my heart's heresies.
My only hope is Jesus. But what does that mean for the here and now, in the aftermath and the everyday bits and pieces? I just don't know how to be a Christian anymore. I've been realizing the last few months how tremendously wide the gulf is between what I know in my head and what I believe in my heart--like I am (at least) two different people.
I give up. Toward the end of the worship service last night, I couldn't take it anymore and I literally RAN away from the church and back to my house. I don't know where that leaves me, kind of treading water, waiting for a thaw (do I even want it?). I have a few ideas, but no real clue. In the meantime, it's not exactly going away or getting any better. And I'm not changing right now, that's for sure.
Tin Man, Tin Man, would you even take this heart of stone?
It isn't doing anything inside this stack of dry bones.
It'll make you think you're living, it'll teach you love and hate.
You might not feel it beating, but I'm sure you'll feel the weight.
Oh, Tin Man, Tin Man...
Like Eustace assenting to Aslan's painfully clawing away his dragon scales, I know that there is true relief and peace and growth on the other side of that seemingly impossible change. But from where I am right now, it honestly does seem impossible. And it's not greed that's transformed me.
I give up. Talking it out is my natural tendency, but I think I'm done with the cycles of the same conversations over and over--with the people I feel wronged by, with my pastor, with my former or current small group leaders. That hasn't stopped me from spinning through it all in my head, in hypothetical arguments with imaginary people or actual raging at a very real God (though I don't particularly feel his presence or his love most of the time). But the conversations don't resolve anything--or they only start another round of grievances and misunderstandings--and I feel like I know the answer anyway:
I need to repent. To turn to Jesus and trust him. Accept his goodness and love for me--let it transform my heart to love my enemies, to love even myself.
But I refuse. Evidently, I cherish my hatred and hurt more dearly. I am unwilling to submit to the Lordship of Christ--even though I know it's for my good.
Being a Christian involves repentance. Repentance involves humility. I've always been prideful, and there are time when I know that I am just too stubborn to be a Christian.
How long can I keep on worshiping my mess? Forever? I faith to know that that won't be the case, that I am held and upheld by a strength and power and goodness far greater than my fiercest rebellion. Only by the grace of God do I even stand and breathe and speak out my heart's heresies.
My only hope is Jesus. But what does that mean for the here and now, in the aftermath and the everyday bits and pieces? I just don't know how to be a Christian anymore. I've been realizing the last few months how tremendously wide the gulf is between what I know in my head and what I believe in my heart--like I am (at least) two different people.
I give up. Toward the end of the worship service last night, I couldn't take it anymore and I literally RAN away from the church and back to my house. I don't know where that leaves me, kind of treading water, waiting for a thaw (do I even want it?). I have a few ideas, but no real clue. In the meantime, it's not exactly going away or getting any better. And I'm not changing right now, that's for sure.
Tin Man, Tin Man, would you even take this heart of stone?
It isn't doing anything inside this stack of dry bones.
It'll make you think you're living, it'll teach you love and hate.
You might not feel it beating, but I'm sure you'll feel the weight.
Oh, Tin Man, Tin Man...
22 December 2008
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:
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
21 May 2008
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.
--------------------------------------------------
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:
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...
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.
--------------------------------------------------
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...
- 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...
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