Floating

Calm thyself, O my soul, so that the divine can act in thee! Calm thyself, O my soul, so that God is able to repose in thee, so that His peace may cover thee! Soren Kierkegaard

Soren, have you been reading my diary?

So, I don't deal well with change and there is a lot of change on the horizon. And oh my, how lost I can get in the maze of my own thoughts!

Proverbs 3:23-6 says, "When you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet. Have no fear of sudden disaster or of the ruin that overtakes the wicked, for the LORD will be your confidence and will keep your foot from being snared."

It says nothing about lying down to fitful sleep, perchance to dream, of money issues and time management problems and "What on earth am I going to wear tomorrow since I haven't done the laundry in a gazillion years?"

Psalm 94:19 says, "When my anxious thoughts multiply within me, Your consolations delight my soul."

It says nothing of the pseudo-consolation I find in obsessively biting my frazzled fingernails or the satisfaction I find in hankering down with a life-numbing high carbohydrate snack. Yet I do all these things and more when I am seeking to self-console and comfort and calm.

I truly believe that God is good. All the time. I really do! So why do I stress and worry? Why can't I just "let go and let God"?

Thomas Green compares our Christian life with floating in water:"It is puzzling to see what a difficult art floating really is – difficult not because it demands much skill but because it demands much letting go. The secret of floating is in learning not to do all the things we instinctively want to do. We want to keep ourselves rigid, ready to save ourselves the moment a big wave comes along – and yet the more rigid we are the more likely we are to be swamped by the waves; if we relax in the water we can be carried up and down by the rolling sea and never be swamped. To learn to float, it seems, is essentially to learn to trust."

This is the best analogy I’ve ever heard for walking with God. The more we try to keep control and prevent disaster, the more we flail around in danger of drowning. Praising God (just this once) for the density of body fat, I never had a problem floating. It was the only athletic venture I conquered faster than my brother - the stringbean who sunk to the bottom of the pool. But during our childhood swim lessons, I watched him struggle. He would thrash around the deep end, tears streaming down his cheeks in anguish, panicked and clawing at the leader as if she might just leave him there to drown. It was only when he learned to calm down, stop striving, and trust in the teacher that was he able to lean his head back into the water and float.

I know a similar surrender and self-abandonment is what I need. I've been trying. I do trust God. But the way I live my life doesn't reflect that, because quite often I find myself floundering about, trying to act as my own life preserver and doggie paddling in circles til I'm exhausted and gasping for breath.

Calm thyself, O my soul. God, cover me in Your peace. Help me to trust you. Completely.

Never Riddle a Christian

I was sitting in church awhile back and the message just wasn’t speaking to me. My seat neighbor apparently wasn’t feeling it either, so to pass the time we started playing Hangman and Tic-Tac-Toe and other games that can be constructed with a couple of church bulletins and two hocked church pens. After several games, we switched to riddles.

He wrote on the bulletin, “A room has four walls yet they all face the same position. How is that possible?” I thought about it for a minute, but couldn’t come up with anything. Finally, I wrote down: “Matthew 19:26”.

I won.

Inmate #K9

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, "Plans to prosper you, and not to harm you. Plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

So, my dog Suki is a receptacle for genetically poor canine parts: bad back, knees, skin, ears. She has been paralyzed four times in her short life and eventually had to have emergency spinal surgery several years ago. Afterwards, her surgeon prescribed six weeks of recovery in a crate. I put it in the corner of the living room so she would be close enough to keep an eye on as the sentence countdown started.

I sat on the couch across from her and tried to watch television. But she would whimper. She would pout. She would squish her wet little nose between the metal bars of the crate, causing the air to whistle through her nostrils as she breathed forcefully in and out, obviously a plea for my attention. Her beautiful brown eyes seemed to enlarge exponentially as she looked up at me sadly, confused and wondering, “Why are you doing this to me? Do you hate me? What have I done to deserve this?” And my bleeding heart would break in two knowing that I couldn't make her happy.

Her confusion and anger at me was obvious. But while I felt badly, I was willing to risk it because I loved her so much, more than she could ever fathom. And from my higher vantage point, I could see that keeping her locked up was the only way she would be safe. I knew it was the only place that she could heal. I knew it was the difference between life and death. I also knew she would never understand any of this and might always feel some resentment towards me. I took my heavy heart away from her desperate gaze and went to PetSmart (doggie heaven), where I stocked up on bags of treats for now and squeaky toys for the future, each item’s beep on the register’s scanner removing a brick from the wall of guilt laid across my chest.

As I rolled my goods back into the parking lot, wrestling with my emotions (as well as a shopping cart with one stuck wheel), I thought how God must often find himself in this same position. How when we, as humans, are thrown into some kind of "situational prison" – breaking up, getting fired, losing a loved one, etc. - we stick our figurative noses through our metaphorical crates, lips pouting, nostrils whistling, and we look up at God with our big, questioning eyes, crying out in confusion, "What are we doing here?!" and asking why He doesn't love us anymore. But God, in his unbiased omniscience, knows it is exactly where we have to be.

I think that when God reaches out to soothe us in our times of sadness and confusion, frequently we bite the hand that feeds us. We yank away angrily, withdrawing further into our cells to lick our wounds, to self-protect and take control of the little we imagine we have left. And in doing so, we cut God (and His peace) out of the picture. I bet as He watches us process our hurt and fury all by our lonesome, He would love to yell down to us, “I know you don’t understand this sweetie, but it’s ok, I’ve got you! Everything is how is has to be. It will all work out in the end. Stop worrying and trust me!”

But instead God, the gentleman He is, gives us the space we demand. I find He often seems eerily silent during this time, simply absorbing the angry attacks that mask my disappointment until I (hopefully) tire of swinging. And I imagine He fully comprehends the magnitude of risk that we might never stop throwing punches, that we might forever hold a grudge against Him because of how much we, as humans, despise being in situations of confusion and vulnerability; and because many times when we are hurt deeply, we find it difficult to recover - to get our eyes off ourselves and our injuries and back on to God.

But as they say, God cares more about our character than our comfort and He cares more about our holiness than our happiness. He knows it has to be just this way in order to save us from ourselves and allow for the fruition of His perfect plans. And so He is willing to risk it all because His love for us has no limit, His passion for us knows no bounds.

So, when I am feeling doubtful and pitiful and angry with God, I begin to mentally picture myself in Suki’s doggie prison, pouting and sighing and clinking my tin mug up and down the metal bars that enclose me and it makes me laugh because I realize, so obviously, that I am merely seeing a miniscule part of a much bigger picture.

And So I Sing

A happy heart makes the face cheerful.
Proverbs 15:13

Out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks.
Matthew 12:34

So, I'm having a second honeymoon with God. I think it might be evident to others because they keep asking if I got my hair cut? No. Lost weight? I wish. Am I in love? Why...yes, I am!

When I was in seventh grade, I was a chubby, mullet-sporting, clarinet player with huge glasses - obviously very popular with the boys. All year long I had a secret crush on a boy named Matt Bailey. As far as I was concerned, the sun rose and set on him. Basically, I wanted to marry him and have all his babies. The one tiny problem was I didn't think he knew I was alive.

But during our 7th grade party something amazing happened. As the DJ put on Richard Marx's Right Here Waiting For You, he came and asked me to dance. My legs were Jell-O, but somehow I stood. He took my hand (!) and led me to the center of the gymnasium floor. We faced off and embraced each other in true middle school fashion - his hands on my waist, my hands on his shoulders, both of our arms fully extended and elbows locked as to keep maximum distance between our bodies.

And then we danced. And it was magical. It was just like in my dreams.

Afterwards, I remember floating out of the gym and falling into the backseat of my parent’s car, permagrin in full force. It was dark out and I sunk low into the seat and closed my eyes so I could be alone with my memories. It was over 15 years ago and I can still remember precisely how I felt that night.

Have you ever seen a bellow? Those accordion air pumps that some old fireplaces have nearby to fan the flames? I felt like the left ventricle of my heart was hooked up to the tip of one of those and Big Foot was playing hopscotch on the flat section - pumping, pumping, pumping large channels of air into my heart until it stretched so much it almost popped - and then my rounded heart hovered, floating in my chest, bouncing up and down against my ribcage like a helium balloon bumbles and skirts across a ceiling; full, but light and airy.

I could feel orbs of happiness, like little rubbery balls, ricocheting around the expanse of space in my belly, colliding together and forming larger pools of liquid joy which rose up into my lungs and over the banks of my trachea, bouncing back and forth in the folds of my epiglottis, jumping around to tickle my uvula, dancing the meringue on my tongue and finally melding into pure bliss, rising and bubbling out of me like a pot of boiling water that has been sitting unattended on a hot stove.

The giggling started then. And I couldn’t stop. My parents became suspicious. I told them nothing. I wanted to keep my special night with my special guy my special secret.

Forgive me for what I am going to say next, for as cheesy as this sounds, there is not a better way to describe it. Lately, I feel this same sense of bubbled-over bliss for God. If my friends heard me say this, they might gag and hit me in the face with a throw pillow. But it’s true. I’ll say it. I am one of those people I used to run from. I am sold out Christian. A Jesus freak. So full of God that if I popped a zit right now, I think 100% pure joy would come squirting out. David Crowder explains it much more eloquently than I in his song Wonderful King: "God, you fill our hearts with more than we could hold inside and so we sing... "

La La Laaaaaaaaaaaaa!

<3

A Conversation with God

So, last night, I was like,
"God, I just have to say - Psalm 55:1-8!"

And God was all,
"Relax! 2 Timothy 1:6-7, okay?
Oh, and P.S.: 2 Corinthians 10:4-6."

And I was all,
"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh....."


FOOTNOTES:
Psalm 55:1-8 Listen to my prayer, O God, do not ignore my plea; hear me and answer me. My thoughts trouble me and I am distraught at the voice of the enemy, at the stares of the wicked; for they bring down suffering upon me and revile me in their anger. My heart is in anguish within me; the terrors of death assail me. Fear and trembling have beset me; horror has overwhelmed me. I said, "Oh, that I had the wings of a dove! I would fly away and be at rest - I would flee far away and stay in the desert; I would hurry to my place of shelter, far from the tempest and storm."

2 Timothy 1:6-7 For this reason I remind you to fan into flame the gift of God, which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love and of self-discipline.

2 Corinthians 10:4-6 The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. And we will be ready to punish every act of disobedience, once your obedience is complete.

<3

The Ol' Heave Ho

Hasten, O God, to save me; O LORD, come quickly to help me. Psalm 70:1

So, this week I found out that I pray a whole lot more often when I have food poisoning than when I am healthy.

Good to know.

She-Bang, She-Bang

So, in my previous post, Closer Than My Skin, I said I thought that the beauty of worship is not to be found in the quality of the music, but in the greatness of our God. However, after I went to worship at a friend's church, I'm starting to think it has at least a little to do with the music.

Now, I don't think I have the greatest voice by any means, but imagine standing next to a honking goose as you try and worship. It's a little more difficult to focus in on God when the person next to you is inventing pitches. And I just have to ask - why do the worst singers always seem to sing the loudest? I love them for their unabashed passion and I have no doubts God and the angels think their exuberant wailing is a "joyful noise unto the Lord", but what about the rest of us? When singing is so atrocious it makes everyone stare and even the worship leader has to stifle a giggle behind his guitar, is it still possible to truly worship in that moment?

I feel like the answer should be yes, but personally I'm not there yet.