becoming (easter eve)

listening to old pine as i peel potatoes for tomorrow’s dinner. the soundtrack of your sister’s wedding makes a perfect backdrop for my reflection of how far you and i have come. we are works in progress, you and i. not as we were…not as we will be…but reflecting the beauty of becoming.

every rough spot…every mountain top…every fumbly finger trying to find the shape of us…it is all becoming. it is all progress. and it is all beautiful.

i am stronger because of you in my life. i am bolder because of you in my life. i am more myself because of you in my life. my twoish tendencies find their place with you. my smile finds its curve with you.

we have joked about babies and picked out names, and it – if nothing else – brings me joy to think of having the rest of my life by your side. the backroads and discovered beaches and quiet mornings with coffee and smiles…all laid out in a future spent with you.

and, if we are becoming that…if we are taking the shape of us for the rest of our days…then i can breathe more deeply in the hopefulness of

fresh chances

and sweet blessings

and you.

dwell on these things

This past weekend, I did two different things of which I’m proud: I played percussion on my worship team (for the first time), and I made a killer batch of Guinness beef stew. They are very different endeavors, to be certain, but they have something in common. If you take the time to understand and follow a prescribed set of steps, things will usually turn out pretty well.

I’ve been leading worship since I was about 15 years old. That’s more than thirty years of singing and playing guitar and trying to be as transparent as possible as I encourage a group of people to genuinely express their love and need for Jesus. I’m comfortable doing it. Not in a complacent way, but in that I know I can do a reasonably good job and play the right chords and sing the right notes most of the time. Stepping to the side and playing percussion, however, was a stretching experience for me. It forced me out of my comfort zone and into the unfamiliar.

If I’m being completely honest, I nearly bagged on my percussion gig following our rehearsal last Thursday evening. I felt like a near-complete failure, never quite finding the right groove…never fully becoming the rhythm the rest of the band needed. But, with prayer, practice, and the encouragement of my sweet best friend, I hung in there. I listened to the rest of the music with fresh, engaged ears and I played with all my heart.

And it wasn’t horrible.

The stew, on the other hand, was fantastic. I spent much of Sunday preparing the ingredients, mixing and watching and savoring aromas, and anticipating the full flavor of the finished pot of goodness. There is something very satisfying about taking raw elements, refining them, and making something of substance. I realize I wasn’t building a house or anything…but a pot of delicious stew is still a pretty great finished product.

So, what does all of this have to do with the bigger picture?

This weekend, one of my verses of the day was Philippians 4:8. It is a recipe for a healthy mind and a strong heart. It is a blueprint for how to build thoughts that glorify God and lead to my greater purpose.

When I focus my attention on truth, it strengthens me.

When I concentrate on things that are honorable and righteous, it builds me up.

When I regard things that are pure and lovely and excellent, there is shaped in me a reflection of Christ…and my life has substance and meaning. My rhythm is set right and the aroma of my existence is pleasing.

So, that’s my goal. That’s my desire. I want to understand and follow the path that my Maker has set before me. Whether that looks like doing my best playing percussion on the worship team, or cooking and sharing food with people I love, or looking beyond the troubles of the moment and seeing the pure hope of Christ…that’s what I aim to do.

time

when is it time, I wonder,

to walk away?

to accept rejection not as a challenge

but as defeat?

to understand the unreturned sweetness

the absence of affection

the subtly cool response

as my cue to exit?

 

is it a lack of ability or a lack of inclination?

a measure of uncertainty or a deficit of desire?

as much as i hope it isn’t,

is now the time?

is the waiting no longer an act of

courage and adoration,

but a portrait of desperation and

foolishness?

 

has my time

come?

stupidity and redemption

I am a champion when it comes to screwing things up.

I have an innate skill for overreacting, thinking too much, missing cues, and harboring ridiculous wounds. And it completely sucks.

Every time I find myself in the woefully familiar space of interpersonal derailment, I want to kick myself or run my head into a wall. I’m stubborn. And I feel too much. And it gets me into stupid spaces.

The text of this morning’s message at my church was Lamentations 3. The first twenty or so verses are an exhaustive list of the ways God has humbled and tormented the writer. Lines like “He has walled me about so that I cannot escape; He has made my chains heavy; though I call and cry for help, He shuts out my prayer…” underscore the place of utter loss in which he has found himself.

The next twenty verses, however, look back at the faithfulness of the Father.

“But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope…” he writes.

After all of the pain has been detailed. After all of the woes have been uttered. After a portrait of distance from God and suffering at the hand of the Creator has been vividly crafted…

The writer of Lamentations pauses to proclaim the faithfulness of his Maker.

²¹ But this I call to mind,
    and therefore I have hope:

²² The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
    His mercies never come to an end;
²³ they are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.
²⁴ “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
    “therefore I will hope in Him.”

²⁵ The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
    to the soul who seeks Him.
²⁶ It is good that one should wait quietly
    for the salvation of the Lord.
²⁷ It is good for a man that he bear
    the yoke in his youth.

²⁸ Let him sit alone in silence
    when it is laid on him;
²⁹ let him put his mouth in the dust—
    there may yet be hope;
³⁰ let him give his cheek to the one who strikes,
    and let him be filled with insults.

³¹ For the Lord will not
    cast off forever,
³² but, though He cause grief, He will have compassion
    according to the abundance of His steadfast love;
³³ for He does not afflict from His heart
    or grieve the children of men.

I am a champion of stupidity. My skills of saying the wrong thing and reacting incorrectly are clear and evident. It would be ridiculous for me to claim that me putting my foot in my mouth even begins to compare with what the first part of Lamentations 3 describes…but the hope I find in God’s faithfulness is no less real.

God’s enduring love never ceases. I can’t exhaust it through foolishness or misguided moments. HIS love endures.

God’s mercy never comes to an end. I can’t escape it. Mercy is God’s very nature. And every new day offers a fresh opportunity to see it manifest in my life.

God’s faithfulness is great. I can’t fathom how true He is…how unchanging…how – even in my faithless, stubborn, rebellion – HIS faithfulness doesn’t diminish.

I am a champion when it comes to screwing things up. Today, I overreacted to a comment made in jest and derailed the rest of the afternoon. Whether there is legitimacy to my offense or not, I handled it wrong.

Tonight, I am thankful for second chances and third chances and…

Tonight, I am hopeful that the faithful mercy of God will pour into my relationships and bring restoration. Tonight, I am hopeful that my best friend will forgive me…again.

lamentations

Tomorrow morning, my pastor is starting a new series of messages at church. We’re going to spend the six weeks looking at the Old Testament book of Lamentations. To my knowledge, it isn’t a Biblical space many churches choose to go. It’s a story full of loss and depression and brokenness and disillusion and very little sunniness or cheer.

On the surface, Lamentations is kind of a moody hell hole.

Just look at the first verse:

1 How lonely sits the city
    that was full of people!
How like a widow has she become,
    she who was great among the nations!
She who was a princess among the provinces
    has become a slave.

That’s not exactly the text from a Hallmark card, is it?

And, yet, I’m very excited about jumping into the text. It resonates with where I’ve been emotionally the past couple weeks. I mean, I’m really happy much of the time…God has poured incredible blessing into my life. I have everything I need, I have healthy children with whom I have good relationships, I have a great job, and I have a beautiful best friend who I adore. There is, truly, nothing to complain about.

But my brain chemicals get out of whack sometimes and I get mired down in a funk and that’s a lot to burden people with…so I mostly keep it to myself. And, when I DO say anything about it to people, it rarely seems like they get it…so I wind up feeling like an ungrateful complainer.

My best friend told me this afternoon that the Lord is near to the brokenhearted. I’m grateful to her for those words…for that reminder. I’m not, necessarily, brokenhearted…but I need to know – to KNOW in my core – that God is always near and always loving me.

Near the end of the first chapter of Lamentations is this verse:

¹⁶ “For these things I weep;
    my eyes flow with tears;
for a comforter is far from me,
    one to revive my spirit;
my children are desolate,
    for the enemy has prevailed.”

While I understand how the prophet Jeremiah, the writer of Lamentations, could write those words, I also know how close our Comforter is. He never leaves. He never forsakes. He never turns away from us.

So, for the next six weeks, I’ll be walking through this book of brokenness. And I’ll be seeing, again and again, how truly good the love of Jesus is.

 

hazel eyes

I wrote and recorded a song today for my best friend…

I kinda adore her.

hiding place

The other night, while playing guitar and singing with my best friend and her sweet daughter, I was reminded of this song.

You are my hiding place…

You always fill my heart with songs of deliverance.

Tonight, I’m laying in bed with an unrested mind. I was asleep, now I’m not, and I’m just laying here. Weird dreams woke me up…so I’m sorting through the day, sifting through my thoughts, and the best thing to do is to remember Who God is and how infinitely good He always shows Himself to be.

Whenever I am afraid I will trust in You.

I’m not feeling afraid, really. More a case of the dazed uncertainty that happens when you’ve awakened suddenly. Either way, trusting in God is always the best response.

Trusting in His love…trusting in His salvation…trusting in His grace…trusting in His ability to provide…

That’s the incredible reality of a relationship with Jesus… He knows me and loves me in my highest points and my lowest lows. When I’m shaken and broken, He cares for me. When I’m strong and together, He cares for me.

And that care deserves my complete trust.

Let the weak say “I am strong in the strength of the Lord”.

I am, most certainly, weak. And I, most certainly, will always fall apart if I’m not relying on God’s strength. On my own, I don’t bring much to the table. In Christ, however, I have everything I need.

I will trust in You.

I love how sweet moments can bring back memories and reaffirm truth. Singing old songs with people I love is wonderful on its own…but it’s even more amazing when it reminds me of how good and loving our God is.

one sunday

There are some days I want to chronicle so I don’t forget them…so they don’t slip between the clumsy cracks of life, lost forever.

Sunday was one of those days.

Here, in my makeshift way, is a list of what was wonderful.

SISTERS: My sisters came to town for a visit. One joined me leading worship at church and it was a sweet reminder of how much I enjoy playing music with her. The other came to watch and sing along in the congregation, and it was a gift to look out and see her smiling face.

FAMILY: My nephew and niece and their little baby also came to church. It has been far too long since I’ve held a baby, and she fit in my arms in the most enchanting way. We all -sisters, nephews, nieces, and babies – went to coffee after church. The conversation was sprinkled with stories and laughter, and seasoned with just the right amount of caffeine and sugar.

FRIENDS: Sunday afternoon, I had the absolute pleasure of taking Hazel and her oldest daughter to dinner. Food, drinks, silliness, togetherness…they are the stuff that makes life worthwhile. The time with Hazel was especially sweet because things have been a bit rough lately due to some rather stupid moves I made. The healing is happening little by little…but wounds take time to repair.

Dinner together felt like mercy.

It felt like new chances.

It felt like one step closer to wholeness.

GOD: The whole day was a reminder of the joy and peace and provision that God allows to come into my life even though I don’t deserve it. I have such a knack for messing things up…for being unwise and petty.

But God is good even when I fail.

God is good even when I get temporarily lost.

God is good even when I forget what it means to be loving and gracious.

And, Sunday, God’s goodness was evident all over the place.

rebuild…

Yesterday, at church, my pastor closed the service with a blessing. It’s part of every service…the passing of some specific idea or desire or prayerful aspiration. Based in Scripture, shaped through experience, uttered with power and hopeful confidence.

I texted him afterward and asked for a copy.

His response:

I wrote it on some scratch paper and ended up tossing it somewhere in the sanctuary…accidentally. So, I will attempt to say it now into the phone but some wording may be wrong. Feel free to change it however you like. 🙂

Now, I include his texted preamble because it says so much about him as a man…about his heart. My pastor is a man who knows about real life and real struggles. He is authentic and fallible and genuine and, at times, messy. He is a leader whom God has used in powerful and genuine ways to speak to me in painful moments and in seasons of joy.

I love that he wrote the blessing in the moment…scribbled on scratch paper much like the legend says Abraham Lincoln drafted his Gettysburg Address. And I love that, after having tossed the paper, he took the time to re-craft it for me…simply because I’d asked.

Here, as reconstructed by my pastor, is the blessing from Sunday morning:

May the Lord rebuild your life as you allow Him to restore it from the ground up.

May God give you rest and peace as you surrender all of your anxieties and worries to Him.

And, may you embrace who you are and who He is…the One who calls you His loved one…His beloved…His child.

Those words, based out of Psalm 127:1-2, spoke healing to me Sunday morning. They speak hope to me now. And, I hope, they do the same for you. You, who God calls His Loved one…His beloved…His child.

foolish

me:

believing that we have something real

you:

thinking that we don’t