We Won't Be Shaken

I am a very awkward person.

Some might disagree with that statement. I have heard in the past that I am less awkward than I think I am, but at my heart I know that I am quite awkward. Large social settings intimidate me. My self confidence is low enough that within a week of moving away from a place I immediately believe that everyone has forgotten me. I create grandiose scenarios in my head that leave me alone and afraid of the world and the people in it, but despite my shortcomings God gave me a personality that draws people--I have no idea how. If left to my own devices I would probably spend forever reading, knitting and finding random adventures to escape the monotony of life. God, however, pulls me out of my comfort zone and gives me incredible friendships, long conversations, and a desire to know people better, to love and care for them. Like David defeating Goliath or Daniel in the lions' den, God uses a foolish, awkward child to shame the wise. It's beautiful, really.

Tonight at church we changed things up. We did what was called a kind of "campfire" worship--we all gathered around in a circle and sang a few songs together. I loved it because for once I could truly see each member of the congretation. It didn't feel like I was worshipping "at" them, but truly with them. As we sang the chorus to the song "We Won't Be Shaken" I had a feeling of community. No. I did not know them all on a personal level and there was a good chance that I never would. I probably didn't agree with everything that they thought or felt. We probably viewed God in completely different ways--and we were probably all wrong as I tend to be when it comes to seeing God--but none of that mattered. What mattered was that in that moment we were all worshipping the same God. We were all together for one purpose and one purpose alone and I felt it. I felt included in a body that though broken was striving for perfection.

One of my favorite bands--if you read my blog you'll hear that thrown around a lot. I just love music so I have a lot of "favorites"--has an album called Campfire. In it they talk about the heart of worship and community and tonight that is what I felt for the first time in a long time. It made me see the church in a beautiful and simple way. A group of people just focusing not on each other or their own selfish desires, but on God at the center of their worship. The only one worthy of praise.

the beauty of church is that it champions unity while adamantly rejecting uniformity. While the “megachurch” models itself on the picture of God in His might, glory and holiness, the campfire model tries to reflect God in His incarnate form: something human, touchable, and humbly beautiful. -Rend Collective Experiment 

Heavenly Father,

Let me not get caught up in the show, but let my heart humbly seek you in all things. Let me worship you with a desperate abandon because without you I am nothing. Thank you for your bride to encourage me in my pursuit of you. We love you, Lord. Let us not forget that simple truth.

Amen 

roll away your stone

The other day I was driving to Chick Fil A for lunch whilst listening to a Jonathan Martin sermon called "The Absurdity of Grace" about the parable of the laborers in the vineyard and the prayers of the Pharisee and the tax collector. 

I'd heard these story so many times in the past. I thought I understood them. The last shall be first, don't be arrogant. That makes sense to me, but when I listened to Martin riff on the topic I realized there was a big thing that I was missing.

You see, we look at these parables--particularly when we grow up in the church--as stories that just reveal the way that we should act and view the world. We know deep down that they reveal God but I wonder if we actually find him there in all of his beauty and grace. At face value, this parable is not something that should make us feel good inside. It is something that should baffle us with how unfair it is. I think that is one of the most beautiful things about God. We think we have him figured out. We can quote Micah 6:8 and we smile as we try to live up to it, but do we even know what justice means? How can we do it? We think we know, but then I see parables like these that if acted out in front of us would seem wholly unfair. A man who lives a "righteous" life, giving what he has  and being disciplined, leaves unjustified while the man who extorts and steals is justified because he humbled himself in a moment of utter weakness. The laborers who work one hour are paid the same as the ones who worked all day. It would drive anyone mad so that leaves me to think that my own definition of what is "fair" needs a re-evaluation. Martin says in his sermon,  

"What makes God so much more glorious than us is not that he is so much more bright and shiny than we are--this abstract hazy thing called the glory of God. In Isaiah that famous verse that says, "His ways are higher than our ways and his thoughts are higher than our thoughts" comes directly after God telling his wayward sons and daughters that he will forgive their sins without any impunity. What is the point? The basis of the glory of God has always been his mercy...has always been his love. What makes him so glorious and what makes him so holy is not the fact that he shines on Sinai but that his love and his mercy and compassion are infinitely beyond any form of human comparison. It is a love that absolutely defies any capacity we have for reason. It doesn't makes sense!"

The Gospel does not make sense. What Christ did for us is insane, and that is what makes it beautiful. Grace is not fair. Relient K has been saying that for years, and I knew it, but sometimes I forget. One of my favorite bands has a song called  The Cave and in it they say, "so come out of your cave walking on your hands and see the world hanging upside down you can understand dependence when you know the maker's land." We think we see the world as it really is, but by accepting the gospel we are essentially called to see the world completely upside down. Completely scandalized by the grace that was given to us. (There's a great article that goes far more in depth on the content behind these lyrics that you can check out here.)

I don't know. I often get these things wrong, but as I drove back to work I found myself just utterly amazed again by the gospel. When I began to slip back into reality Mumford and Sons sang back at me, "It seems that all my bridges have been burnt, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing works. It's not the long walk home that will change this heart, but the welcome I receive with a restart."

How often do I get caught up in my own righteousness (that is like filthy rags by the way. an utter mess.) but it is not the works that I do or the long walk that I take to return to my father begging his forgiveness that changes me. It's the open arms that race towards me as they eagerly awaited my return. In my life I play both the role of the prodigal who runs from her father for selfish reasons only to come back humbly on my knees and of the prideful son who remains and misses that the father has already given me everything and jealously watches the return of the prodigal thinking myself righteous because of what I have done. I am no better nor am I worse than any person I have met and I pray, I truly pray that when this euphoria of seeing God rightly--or as rightly as I can in this life--fades that he will continue to remind me that there really is nothing I can do except continually die to myself and awaken to his beautiful calling on my life.

Like Lazarus from the grave all I can do is rise when I hear my savior's voice calling me.

I will continue to roll away that stone until I am called finally home.

Not Yours

In the quiet we can process our emotions.
We can try to figure out the chaos of our minds. Mine is racing.
I yearn for quiet.
I recently had a chat with a friend that I could not stop thinking about.
She was at a marriage seminar and something that was said made her think of me.
The pastor was addressing the husbands, explaining to them the way that they should treat their wives,
"Remember, she's not yours, she's God's. Treat her as such."
On paper we would say we knew that.
We knew that the men and women we share our hearts with are children of God, but when we look at our interactions we would see that we drop the ball constantly.
I let my anger,
my pride,
even my fear get the best of me and I stumble.
I am rude and inconsiderate.
I act without thinking and I speak when I should be silent.
The statement she shared with me was one that I needed to hear.
It was as if God were gently reminding me of not only my place in his heart, but that I needed to take greater strides towards loving his creation,  in seeing them as they truly are meant to be seen.
To truly learn what it means to love my neighbor as myself.

Sometimes love speaks loudest in silence, in the quiet we can grow.

I'll kneel down wait for now...

"In our culture of constant access and nonstop media, nothing feels more like a curse from God than time in the wilderness. To be obscure, to be off the beaten path, to be in the wilderness feels like abandonment. It seems more like exile than vacation..."
-Jonathan Martin, Prototype

Sarai is barren.

She and Abraham are getting on in years and they still do not have children. God promised them descendants as numerous as the stars, but as time went on and no child came Sarai doubted. She sent her servant Hagar to be with Abraham and when Hagar became pregnant Sarai's pride and jealousy overcame her. She was cruel to Hagar and so Hagar fled.

She ran. A young woman alone in the wilderness. Pregnant, afraid.

But then something happened. She heard a voice calling to her. 

"Hagar, servant of Sarai, where have you come from and where are you going?"

"I'm fleeing!", she answers neither question.

 She doesn't know where she is going. She doesn't know where she's been. 

She's just running. (1)

So often in my life I feel as though I'm just running. The world is big. It scares me. I know God's promises to me, but like Sarai I doubt. I try to take matters into my own hands because in my eyes nothing is changing. 

Like Hagar I run and I don't know where I'm going because I don't even know where I've been and sometimes God tells me exactly what he tells Hagar.

"Go back." (2)

The last thing I want to hear. He sends me back to find myself, to find him. He sends me to the place where I feel I have nothing. It is so clear to me that the door is closed, but I am not God. I cannot see all things. He is the God of seeing. Who am I to question?

I listen and turn back.

 I want to run, but I don't because God's faithfulness, his love it draws me. Every fiber of my being yearns for him. I trust him when I am afraid simply because I know he is worthy to be trusted.
It is I who falters...never him.

The wilderness is scary. It is there that we are tempted because it is there that we are weakest, but in our weakness God is strong.  I literally have no where else to turn. I cannot trust myself to act because then I would never stop running so I listen. 

I trust. 

I wait.

It is no easy road before us, but God never promised that it would be. When Hagar is sent back to Sarai she is told that the child she will bare will be "a wild donkey of a man. His hand against everyone and everyone against him." (3) The task before her is not an easy one, but she has God. He is with her and she knows it. 

She listens. She turns back.

No matter the difficulties I face. The days when I would like nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cry with desperation or rage against the storms coming my way I close my eyes and I remember that I am not alone. God promised he would be with me...always.

Isn't that what truly matters? I cannot know the outcome of each situation and I'm not sure I want to know most of the time. I follow Christ by trusting him at his word, to be with me no matter where I go. So as I journey through the wilderness, knowing that the days will not be easy, I hold on anyway not because what awaits on the other side is beautiful but because the one that I follow is worthy.

(1) Genesis 16:1-8

(2) Genesis 16:9

(3) Genesis 16:10-13