Sand

Today I didn't go to church.

My internal clock has shifted thanks to the warm weather we've been having so that I haven't been going to sleep before 3am all week. I know that I could have gone anyway, and if I were more disciplined I would have, but the thought of waves of German washing over me just sounded staggering. Instead I've been listening to David Platt's Cross of Christ from his Secret Church series. And now I'm starting to think that these truths from scripture are washing over the same way! But, how inspiring, how empowering is the cross?!

I am most awed by the thought, the simple statement of the Gospel: Man replaced God as mans' authority and thereby sinned against God and separated man from God. So God replaced man as the object of justice to reconcile man back to God.

There are so many other jewels that I heard today, but I feel like they fall through my hands like dry sand. Hah! I'm actually praying that the Living Water would clump up these ideas so that I can hand them over to others.

Too many metaphors today?
Sorry.
Welcome to my abstract brain.

So, in a bit I'm going to go have dinner with some international believers who live in Vienna. I think this is church enough today. Maybe more church than a "worship service". Pray for conversation and relationships that will glorify our King. :-)

Neighbor #1 (Tunnels)

It never fails to amaze me the impact of music on me, and how the songs that have impacted me encompass everything everything I was experiencing in the moment.

One of my earliest album obsession was the Beach Boys Endless Summer. My brother and I played my father's LP over and over again to transport us in this magical world of beaches and girls who are celebrated just for being from California.

I have to admit that I was a strange pre-pubescent because of my obsession with Iron Butterfly's In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida. I guess I was going through the history of twentieth century music working through my parent's LP collection. I listened to that organ solo with awe who knows how many time, just sitting on the floor of my room. NO wonder I didn't fit in; I was about 30 years off from everyone.

Alanis Morssette's Jagged Little Pill even though it came out years before, will forever be the angsty blasting music of riding around with my college girl friends, angry at who knows what and having a blast screaming out the words together. Strangely, that album will always have a sense of community attached to it for me. I got rid of that album years ago, but I can't hear a song without being on the I40 in Knoxville.

Another Album that is forever locked in my college mind is Over the Rhine's Good Dog Bad Dog. It's a pretty obscure little album but my group of coffeehouse ragamuffins adored that album. I can't hear "Don't speak; words come out your eyes" without being at the girls' apartment with Brantley and Stephen melting us into melancholy bliss. "Ecetera, Whatever, I guess all I mean is we're gonna be alright." . . .

Then there are the post-Katrina albums. I remember crossing the causeway for the first time, the water's were still high from Hurricane Rita. My co-worker and new friend Rachel played Sufjan Steven's Seven Swans and that moment still comes into my head when I hear "the Transfiguration". I was having one of that God's fearing moments where I really had never been before. I feared that the water would lap over the bridge, but I also feared what I would see on the other side of that bridge. (for my xanga blog from that time period check this link and this out.) The song reminded me, fear not:

Lost in the cloud, a voice: Have no fear! We draw near!
Lost in the cloud, a sign: Son of man! Turn your ear!
Lost in the cloud, a voice: Lamb of God! We draw near!
Lost in the cloud, a sign: Son of man! Son of God!

And the next January after I moved back onto a "real" bed - sharing a futon with my generous roommate who understood my need to back in the city in any condition - rather than the cots of Riverside BC. The first track of Arcade Fire's Funeral. (This is what inspired me to write this entry, as you can see by the title.) Never have I had such a perfect musical representation of my emotions of the time, even though the lyrics are not telling the story I was going through. Somehow, I feel, it gives voice to my feelings of living at the beginning of a new world when they old one has ended and ill equipped to deal with this new world. The whole album has these hollow sounds and themes that I needed to voice from my heart.

Sometimes We remember our bedrooms and our parent's bedrooms
and the bedrooms of our friends
Then we think of our parents...
Well, whatever happened to them?!

You change all the lead sleeping in my head to gold
As the day grows dim, I hear you sing a golden hymn
It's the song I've been trying to sing...

Purify the colors, purify my mind
Purify the colors, purify my mind
And spread the ashes of the colors over this heart of mine!

This song came up in my play list today while I was cleaning my wonderful apartment in Vienna with more room than I know what to do with and, and suddenly I was driving on I610 dodging staircases (yes - I did have to dodge a staircase once on I640!) with tear blurred eyes wondering if things were the "same" anywhere and if I wanted to be there or if I was alright with this new, broken but growing world I lived in. At the time I decided that I did want to live and love New Orleans. My friend, Andrew, had lent Funeral to me and I bought it as soon as possible. That album stayed in my car and again and again the first track would be an anthem of acknowledging pain while choosing to live and find a new new normal.

I am trying to find a new normal again. The surroundings are so much more pleasant than my almost post-apocalyptic state I was in there, but sometimes harshly foreign. And I don't have the music for this yet. I have all these songs from past lives that don't speak to what I'm going though.

Any suggestions?

Psalms 139

I know, it looks like I'm cheating again, but no! I am declaring that it is my intention to memorize this Psalm. The Spirit brought this to mind while I was sitting above the clouds last week. And, today it seems just as important. So, I'm committing it, in full this time, to heart.

To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David.

1O LORD, you have searched me and known me!
2You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
you discern my thoughts from afar.
3You search out my path and my lying down
and are acquainted with all my ways.
4Even before a word is on my tongue,
behold, O LORD, you know it altogether.
5You hem me in, behind and before,
and lay your hand upon me.
6Such knowledge is too wonderful for me;
it is high; I cannot attain it.

7Where shall I go from your Spirit?
Or where shall I flee from your presence?
8If I ascend to heaven, you are there!
If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!
9If I take the wings of the morning
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
10even there your hand shall lead me,
and your right hand shall hold me.
11If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me,
and the light about me be night,"
12even the darkness is not dark to you;
the night is bright as the day,
for darkness is as light with you.

13For you formed my inward parts;
you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
14I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.
Wonderful are your works;
my soul knows it very well.
15My frame was not hidden from you,when I was being made in secret,
intricately woven in the depths of the earth.
16Your eyes saw my unformed substance;in your book were written,
every one of them,
the days that were formed for me,
when as yet there was none of them.

17How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
18If I would count them, they are more than(X) the sand.
I awake, and I am still with you.

19Oh that you would slay the wicked, O God!
O men of blood, depart from me!
20They speak against you with malicious intent;
your enemies take your name in vain!
21 Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD?
And do I not loathe those who rise up against you?
22I hate them with complete hatred;
I count them my enemies.

23Search me, O God, and know my heart!
Try me and know my thoughts!
24And see if there be any grievous way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting!

Encouragment through Poet's Voice

I know this is totally cheating, but I was reading Beth Ferguson's blog and needed to take hold of this poetry and share it with anyone unlucky enough not to read Beth's posts.


WE must not force events, but rather make
The heart soil ready for their coming, as
The earth spreads carpets for the feet of Spring,
Or, with the strengthening tonic of the frost,
Prepares for Winter. Should a July noon
Burst suddenly upon a frozen world
Small joy would follow, even tho’ that world
Were longing for the Summer. Should the sting
Of sharp December pierce the heart of June,
What death and devastation would ensue!
All things are planned. The most majestic sphere
That whirls through space is governed and controlled
By supreme law, as is the blade of grass
Which through the bursting bosom of the earth
Creeps up to kiss the light. Poor puny man
Alone doth strive and battle with the Force
Which rules all lives and worlds, and he alone
Demands effect before producing cause.

How vain the hope! We cannot harvest joy
Until we sow the seed, and God alone
Knows when that seed has ripened. Oft we stand
And watch the ground with anxious brooding eyes
Complaining of the slow unfruitful yield,
Not knowing that the shadow of ourselves
Keeps off the sunlight and delays result.
Sometimes our fierce impatience of desire
Doth like a sultry May force tender shoots
Of half-formed pleasures and unshaped events
To ripen prematurely, and we reap
But disappointment; or we rot the germs
With briny tears ere they have time to grow.
While stars are born and mighty planets die
And hissing comets scorch the brow of space
The Universe keeps its eternal calm.
Through patient preparation, year on year,
The earth endures the travail of the Spring
And Winter’s desolation. So our souls
In grand submission to a higher law
Should move serene through all the ills of life,
Believing them masked joys.
~ Ella Wheeler Wilcox

On the Way

Wrote this on the train. I'm sorry that things don't come out of me like they used to, but this probably only bothers me. Anyway, this is what I was thinking about:

I’ve been riding since Geneva, three countries and four trains ago. Sometimes looking at the beautiful views, thinking, and sometimes sleeping. I love how trains rock me to sleep. Right now I’m watching out the window, experiencing my first train ride in the rain somewhere in Germany or Austria, I’m not sure where. As much as I have loved the sun shine the past week, I’ve missed the rain and welcome the gray sky. As I look back on the past two weeks or so, I’m taken aback by God’s great hand revealing itself so clearly. I think of my grandfather’s death. How surprisingly it reminded me of my purpose to rescue the perishing; of the worship with my fellow workers; of tears of awe and gratitude.

Right now I’m reminded of a week ago. Last Thursday walking home from dinner, many of us found the steep wooded path back to the hotel too dark. I remembered that I had a small flashlight (thanks to my mother’s passion for them) in my day pack. After I guided my own group, to lighter places, I guided others who were behind us. Martha remarked as I guided her group that this was symbolic of my life’s mission and I agree with her. All the same, as I get closer to home, I wonder what that will look like. I feel so ill prepared.

My mind goes back to yesterday, when I was hanging from a gondola with my aunt and uncle, visibly trembling and clutching my aunt hand as we ascended to a peak of Mont Blanc. I felt so completely out of control and so at awe of the scope of the thing we were climbing at a rocking pace. At times I thought there was no way I could survive. There as an silence among my fellow travelers that told me even the well worn travelers were not immune to the sheer magnitude of the heights we were taking on. Of the view. Of God’s majesty stretched across miles and miles in clear view; above the tree line; above the clouds; where the snow never melts away. We reached the top and I was exhilarated by the views and the adventurers who had clearly climbed their way there; People who had camped on the mountain top. I felt so ashamed of myself for trembling at the thought of taking the gondola back down, but I had no idea what to expect. As it turned out, the trip was not a harrowing as I feared. I was able to marvel at the sites without fear of death.

I pray that I similar thing will happen with my life work. I pray I will have the courage to face the heights far beyond me. I pray that will be challenged by those far more accomplished than me. I pray I will find that I can marvel without fear of anything but the awe of pleasing God.

When Dreams Wake

Today was grueling. I have to admit, because everyone I was in contact with today knows it, I spent most of the day in a wad of self pity. Nothing deeply upsetting; everything was just a little off from my expectation. And, my shoulders are rugburned from my backpack. But, I'm tired of all that now. Now, I thinking about the fact that I'm sitting in a parlor in London. I just had delicious Afghan food - that's still deciding what it thinks of my stomach.

I'm not sure if I'm comfortable with double-decker buses gliding through these tiny streets. Sitting in the front window of the second story is too much like some dreams I've had of flying. Which made me think that really all I've been doing lately is living out all my favorite dreams. I've wanted to go to London since my mother came home with a tea set from her trip to the UK when I was five years old. I've longed to live in Europe. I've dreamed of opening my mouth and something other than English comes out.

These waking dreams are not as easy. They are humiliating and sometimes unnerving. But, I am living the dreams God has given me. I pray I have the courage to continue to live them all out. And, tomorrow I'll wake into my dreams again.

Til then I must sleep to make new dreams for the future.