Sometimes it's the simplest things that can evoke the most powerful emotions within us.
Tonight I was upstairs waiting on some laundry to finish. All the lights were off, and I was the only one in the house. The kitchen window above the sink was open, leaving nothing but the thin screen between me and the outside world. I walked over to the sink and put bent over just a bit so that my face could feel the wind coming in through the window. As the cool breeze swept across my face, I had one of those simple moments. A feeling of complete satisfaction, in which joy came upon me, tapped me on the shoulder, and left as soon as it had come.
C.S. Lewis spent a good part of his life pursuing this ever evasive kind of joy. The kind of joy that is like sneaking a peek behind the curtain of heaven and seeing something new for the first time.
The busier I am, the less I experience these intense moments of joy. And I think there's a simple reason why. When I'm busy running around, even with the best intentions, I just do not have the capacity to feel that special kind of joy. It's a bit like trying to look through binoculars at a bird in the distance. When I'm busy, experiencing intense joy is like trying to view the bird from the backseat of a moving landrover...it's nearly impossible.
The earth has perked up around me these past few weeks. One day while I was running, I looked away from the trail in front of me for a moment and realized that I was witnessing the dawn of spring. The buds were still sleeping the day before. But as I was running, the buds seemed to have just opened up overnight and cast a spell on everything around them. It was as if spring had come in the middle of the night, wanting to make some sort of grand entrance. Which it accomplished easily in my opinion.
These moments of joy don't have to be few and far between. The Psalmist writes that the Heavens declare the glory of God and the firmament showeth his handiwork. The King James makes it a little bit edgier to me, a little bit more majestic. Each day the glory of God is being displayed, by all parts of creation, both through the natural world and through humans.
My eyes, I fear, are not often open, though. My disposition becomes an entrapment. I focus on just the few square feet around me, seeing the world through the distorted lens of my selfishness. It is only when I take off these glasses, and allow the Lord to let me see with new, fresh eyes, that I am awakened to His goodness all around me.
What are we missing today?
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Rwanda, Bishop John, and Redemption
I want to share a journal entry that I wrote after the visit of Bishop John Rucyahana (rooshahana) this past week. I mark this as a transformational week in my life and my heart, and The Lord is to be praised for bringing this man of God to our campus to speak to us and encourage us to pursue Christ. So here's the journal entry:
After just walking out of convo, I am left with so much weight upon my heart. A weight placed directly by God, I am sure. Bishop John, the leader of the reconciliation movement in Rwanda, spoke to us about the grace of God and how his nation has recovered after such a horrific genocide. He told of the deep pain and hurt that filled the hearts of the perpetrators of the genocide, and how through the power of God the families of those killed were able to forgive the perpetrators.
His message was powerful because he spoke of the living God, not the distant, abstract God that we talk about so often in America. He spoke of a God, mighty in power to save, and full of grace and redemption, actively working to recreate a place where death and pain had reigned. He spoke of a God that loves deeply and whose fire burns bright for all the world to see. He spoke of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and of Scripture at large.
We so desperately needed to hear this message. My community here at Samford is so God saturated ,but we keep Christ and the fury of His love at a safe distance. We are comfortable with God and with religion, but we squirm when we hear that Christ requires our full submission and our entire lives, calling us to deeper discipleship to Him.
I'm still sorting out this week, with all that God revealed to me, and trying to figure out what the Lord wants me to learn. I am so thankful for Bishop John's visit. The Lord is good.
After just walking out of convo, I am left with so much weight upon my heart. A weight placed directly by God, I am sure. Bishop John, the leader of the reconciliation movement in Rwanda, spoke to us about the grace of God and how his nation has recovered after such a horrific genocide. He told of the deep pain and hurt that filled the hearts of the perpetrators of the genocide, and how through the power of God the families of those killed were able to forgive the perpetrators.
His message was powerful because he spoke of the living God, not the distant, abstract God that we talk about so often in America. He spoke of a God, mighty in power to save, and full of grace and redemption, actively working to recreate a place where death and pain had reigned. He spoke of a God that loves deeply and whose fire burns bright for all the world to see. He spoke of the God of Abraham, Isaac, and of Scripture at large.
We so desperately needed to hear this message. My community here at Samford is so God saturated ,but we keep Christ and the fury of His love at a safe distance. We are comfortable with God and with religion, but we squirm when we hear that Christ requires our full submission and our entire lives, calling us to deeper discipleship to Him.
I'm still sorting out this week, with all that God revealed to me, and trying to figure out what the Lord wants me to learn. I am so thankful for Bishop John's visit. The Lord is good.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Gibraltar and the Sabbath
About 13 months ago I was sitting in a rickety old train traveling slowly through southern Spain. Andrew Crosson and I were making our pilgrimage across Spain together, and one of the last stops was Gibraltar. We were both excited and intrigued to see what this giant rock would look like in person. Already we'd made stops in Madrid and Sevilla, with incredible results. I was clearly getting the picture that Spain was an incredibly beautiful country with so much history and culture.
Andrew and I were on our way next to Gibraltar, and we were both excited and a little bit tired. By this point we were already 13 days into our travel break (the break at the end of our semester studying abroad in London), and it was getting tiring lugging around a giant pack with that many days worth of provisions. So with a little bit of fatigue and a steady reserve of untapped energy we got on our train to head to Gibraltar.
It was one of those journeys that just sucks the life out of you. The train stopped so many times I began to wonder if it would have been quicker to rent a moped...It also had this weird vibe the whole time. There were literally only a few other people in the train with us, and as we followed the tracks south and the sun set to the west, there was this eerie feeling you get when you're traveling to an unfamiliar place and you're not quite sure if you're going the right direction...
Well we finally got there, and after a quick stay in the hostel that night, we headed out the next morning to see Gibraltar. And what a disappointment it was. I mean it was just a huge let down. Yeah there was a big rock and lots of ocean surrounding the whole peninsula, but the streets were dirty and cramped and the place had an ultra-touristy feel to it. Both Andrew and I left Gibraltar more than a little bummed as we headed to our final destination in Spain.
After 13 months, though, I've realized that it wasn't really Gibraltar that was the let down. It was how we got there. The long, tiring train ride eeked out any of that untapped energy we had in our reserves and left us totally deflated. By the time we even got to Gibraltar our excitement level was so low that it would have taken one of the 7 wonders of the world to shake us out of our stupor. I guess that's just how traveling is. Sometimes when you pack too much in, the journey just gets long and hard and frustrating, and the destination loses its appeal.
You're probably already following where I am going with this. It's kind of the same reason God commanded us to observe the Sabbath and to guard it fiercely. We are creatures designed to work, but in order to do our work well we have to have periods of rest and rejuvenation. If we don't take the time to rest and get recharged, the journey starts feeling like a slug through the mud. Everything, even the fun moments of life, lose their luster when you're so tired and worn down that you can't enjoy them.
I'm starting to see just how much of a difference observing the Sabbath can have in my life. It's amazing. And I want to highly recommend that you try it as well. It just might make the journey that much better.
Andrew and I were on our way next to Gibraltar, and we were both excited and a little bit tired. By this point we were already 13 days into our travel break (the break at the end of our semester studying abroad in London), and it was getting tiring lugging around a giant pack with that many days worth of provisions. So with a little bit of fatigue and a steady reserve of untapped energy we got on our train to head to Gibraltar.
It was one of those journeys that just sucks the life out of you. The train stopped so many times I began to wonder if it would have been quicker to rent a moped...It also had this weird vibe the whole time. There were literally only a few other people in the train with us, and as we followed the tracks south and the sun set to the west, there was this eerie feeling you get when you're traveling to an unfamiliar place and you're not quite sure if you're going the right direction...
Well we finally got there, and after a quick stay in the hostel that night, we headed out the next morning to see Gibraltar. And what a disappointment it was. I mean it was just a huge let down. Yeah there was a big rock and lots of ocean surrounding the whole peninsula, but the streets were dirty and cramped and the place had an ultra-touristy feel to it. Both Andrew and I left Gibraltar more than a little bummed as we headed to our final destination in Spain.
After 13 months, though, I've realized that it wasn't really Gibraltar that was the let down. It was how we got there. The long, tiring train ride eeked out any of that untapped energy we had in our reserves and left us totally deflated. By the time we even got to Gibraltar our excitement level was so low that it would have taken one of the 7 wonders of the world to shake us out of our stupor. I guess that's just how traveling is. Sometimes when you pack too much in, the journey just gets long and hard and frustrating, and the destination loses its appeal.
You're probably already following where I am going with this. It's kind of the same reason God commanded us to observe the Sabbath and to guard it fiercely. We are creatures designed to work, but in order to do our work well we have to have periods of rest and rejuvenation. If we don't take the time to rest and get recharged, the journey starts feeling like a slug through the mud. Everything, even the fun moments of life, lose their luster when you're so tired and worn down that you can't enjoy them.
I'm starting to see just how much of a difference observing the Sabbath can have in my life. It's amazing. And I want to highly recommend that you try it as well. It just might make the journey that much better.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Coats and Jackets
Yesterday I had the beautiful opportunity to rest with good friends. We took a little car drive and rode out into the country, past the blinking lights and the strip malls that seem to be everywhere around us. There was good music in the car, and just the right amount of good conversation. As we drove, I thought about how rarely I take notice of the night sky, the way it blinks and shines with little lights, like a free art show every night.
I thought about how the biting of a sharp gust of wind reminds me that I am alive and that I can not rely on myself. It works itself to your skin, wriggling through your jackets and coats like a hunter stalking prey, and when you feel it in the deep of your bones you realize that even with all these layers on you are vulnerable still. You walk with brisk steps, intent on reaching a destination of warmth. And when you do, you exhale and the blood seems to rush all through your body like a dam being broken. It's a wonderful feeling, and it reminds me that I am alive, and that I am needy as I live out this journey of life.
We have to put on so many layers just to keep warm out in the cold, and it's no different with our hearts. To survive in a world where hurt and pain, distrust and indifference, and hate and grudges are so pervasive we quickly learn to fit our hearts with coats and jackets, insulating ourselves from getting too hurt. When someone says something out of anger to us for the first time, we feel the pain right in the center of our hearts, and we look for wars to keep that from happening again. When we reach out in love to someone and the love is not returned, we turn back toward ourselves like a turtle withdrawing into its shell, never wanting to feel that way again.
So we learn that in order to protect our hearts we must insulate them with coats and jackets. We quickly become very good at this, and learn to be wary of the outstretched hand of another person, of the kind words they offer to us, and of simple hospitality. We present ourselves in just the right light so that the people we meet can know what we want them to know about us. We may even let a few people peek at the heart that lies behind the coats, but it is never for long. And as we do this, we learn how to fit in, with whatever crowd we want to fit in with. We wear the clothes, say the right things, and laugh at the right times. But down deep the heart becomes restless under the weight of so many jackets and coats. It's getting stiflingly hot in there.
It can take a long time to realize this, and thus it takes a long time to replace the coats and blankets with the right kind of insulation. But when we meet the person of Jesus, we know that He sees right through those layers in our hearts. And beyond that, He tells us He wants to recreate us, to make us new in His image. We have to learn to take off these coats and jackets and let the love and mercy of Christ seep into every corner of our thirsty hearts. And there's a certain amount of trust that we must place in Jesus. We have to trust Him because it takes time for Him to fit us with new insulation. Not the old kind of coats and jackets we were used to, but a layer of peace, grace, and love. It is this kind of insulation that protects us from the searing arrows that come our way, but also allow us to open up and be transparent with other people, all at the same time.
It's amazing how intricately God wants to recreate us, and how much He will if we will simply submit ourselves to Him. It's just so hard for me and you to trust that God can do better than we can. When we do, though, we find that the journey is anything but safe, but it is the most amazing journey of new life and new creation.
I thought about how the biting of a sharp gust of wind reminds me that I am alive and that I can not rely on myself. It works itself to your skin, wriggling through your jackets and coats like a hunter stalking prey, and when you feel it in the deep of your bones you realize that even with all these layers on you are vulnerable still. You walk with brisk steps, intent on reaching a destination of warmth. And when you do, you exhale and the blood seems to rush all through your body like a dam being broken. It's a wonderful feeling, and it reminds me that I am alive, and that I am needy as I live out this journey of life.
We have to put on so many layers just to keep warm out in the cold, and it's no different with our hearts. To survive in a world where hurt and pain, distrust and indifference, and hate and grudges are so pervasive we quickly learn to fit our hearts with coats and jackets, insulating ourselves from getting too hurt. When someone says something out of anger to us for the first time, we feel the pain right in the center of our hearts, and we look for wars to keep that from happening again. When we reach out in love to someone and the love is not returned, we turn back toward ourselves like a turtle withdrawing into its shell, never wanting to feel that way again.
So we learn that in order to protect our hearts we must insulate them with coats and jackets. We quickly become very good at this, and learn to be wary of the outstretched hand of another person, of the kind words they offer to us, and of simple hospitality. We present ourselves in just the right light so that the people we meet can know what we want them to know about us. We may even let a few people peek at the heart that lies behind the coats, but it is never for long. And as we do this, we learn how to fit in, with whatever crowd we want to fit in with. We wear the clothes, say the right things, and laugh at the right times. But down deep the heart becomes restless under the weight of so many jackets and coats. It's getting stiflingly hot in there.
It can take a long time to realize this, and thus it takes a long time to replace the coats and blankets with the right kind of insulation. But when we meet the person of Jesus, we know that He sees right through those layers in our hearts. And beyond that, He tells us He wants to recreate us, to make us new in His image. We have to learn to take off these coats and jackets and let the love and mercy of Christ seep into every corner of our thirsty hearts. And there's a certain amount of trust that we must place in Jesus. We have to trust Him because it takes time for Him to fit us with new insulation. Not the old kind of coats and jackets we were used to, but a layer of peace, grace, and love. It is this kind of insulation that protects us from the searing arrows that come our way, but also allow us to open up and be transparent with other people, all at the same time.
It's amazing how intricately God wants to recreate us, and how much He will if we will simply submit ourselves to Him. It's just so hard for me and you to trust that God can do better than we can. When we do, though, we find that the journey is anything but safe, but it is the most amazing journey of new life and new creation.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Rain, Rain, go away
A couple of weeks ago I took up the initiative of trying to get back in shape. I don't know exactly where "back" is, but it sounds good because I remember being in fairly good physical condition in my high school years. I felt that the time was right for me to try to get back to that state.
Maybe it's better if I look at it as just getting in shape. After all, I can't really even remember how good or bad of shape I was in at any particular moment, i just remember feeling in shape. The point is, I wanted regular strenuous exercise to be a normal, re-occuring thing as I started out the new semester.
So I laced up the shoes and started out with some simple stretching exercises, realizing that it's pretty hard to be effective with any form of exercise if your muscles feel more like wooden boards than pliable tissue. After a few days of intense stretching I was ready to commence with the running.
And boy did it feel good. Running is just so good for so many different reasons. It satisfies that physical urge to feel utterly exhausted, but it also is just such a simple thing that it becomes an easy pleasure. I pushed myself, knowing that without goals my training would amount to nothing more than a series of let downs. If I've learned one thing in personal fitness, it's that you have to learn how to push your body, how to keep going, how to be disciplined.
Well, as I arrived back in birmingham, eager to continue the running, I was met with more rain in the past few days than I could have imagined possible. Seriously. Most of the last three days has been rainy, and not the kind where there is a break, but the kind of steady, sodden rain.
But while the rain has kept me indoors, it's been a good thing in many respects. It's in these kinds of situations where I learn again the truth of the verse that says "a man's heart plans his ways, but the Lord directs his steps". The rainy days that keep me indoors remind me that I must not get so caught up in my daily schedules, my plans and schemes that I miss out on the things the Lord wants me to do, and the things He wants to teach me.
Indeed the Lord works in mysterious ways.
Maybe it's better if I look at it as just getting in shape. After all, I can't really even remember how good or bad of shape I was in at any particular moment, i just remember feeling in shape. The point is, I wanted regular strenuous exercise to be a normal, re-occuring thing as I started out the new semester.
So I laced up the shoes and started out with some simple stretching exercises, realizing that it's pretty hard to be effective with any form of exercise if your muscles feel more like wooden boards than pliable tissue. After a few days of intense stretching I was ready to commence with the running.
And boy did it feel good. Running is just so good for so many different reasons. It satisfies that physical urge to feel utterly exhausted, but it also is just such a simple thing that it becomes an easy pleasure. I pushed myself, knowing that without goals my training would amount to nothing more than a series of let downs. If I've learned one thing in personal fitness, it's that you have to learn how to push your body, how to keep going, how to be disciplined.
Well, as I arrived back in birmingham, eager to continue the running, I was met with more rain in the past few days than I could have imagined possible. Seriously. Most of the last three days has been rainy, and not the kind where there is a break, but the kind of steady, sodden rain.
But while the rain has kept me indoors, it's been a good thing in many respects. It's in these kinds of situations where I learn again the truth of the verse that says "a man's heart plans his ways, but the Lord directs his steps". The rainy days that keep me indoors remind me that I must not get so caught up in my daily schedules, my plans and schemes that I miss out on the things the Lord wants me to do, and the things He wants to teach me.
Indeed the Lord works in mysterious ways.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
New Redemption Song
It's Christmas eve, which means we are hours away from Christmas and all of the strangely wonderful things that it entails. Kids around the world (and many adults too!) can hardly wait to find out what is in those beautifully wrapped packages sitting underneath the tree. Families are coming together to happily, and in some cases, unhappily, share in the creation of new memories through Christmas.
For some, Christmas is nothing more than a lonely time that highlights the pain and despair of life. With so much "happiness" floating around, some people just feel left out. And some people are just trying to make it through Christmas, wondering anxiously where the next paycheck will come from, unsure of the their future.
In the middle of all of this, I think it's time we learn a new song. For those contented folks, like me, who have more than we need and so much to be thankful for, it's time we learn a new song. For those who are lonely or worried this Christmas season, it's time to hear a new song.
We need a song that will break the normal rhythms of Christmas time just a little bit. This song needs to shake us complacents up, calling out in a fresh new way, and the song needs also to carry with it a new, transcendent element, that of hope, for all the downtrodden.
So here we are, Lord. All of us, with all our stuff or lack thereof, are before you, united in our desperate need for the real reason of Christmas to shine through this year. Redemption is what we need. Redemption from the complacency and false trust we've put in the stuff of this life, and redemption from the despair that follows us like an unwanted shadow. Come and teach us a new song, Lord. Come teach us a new redemption song.
Over the Rhine ~ New Redemption Song
Lord we need a new redemption song
Lord we’ve tried
It just seems to come out wrong
Won’t you help us please
Help us just to sing along
A new redemption song
Lord we need
A new redemption day
All our worries
Keep getting in the way
Won’t you help us please
Help us find the words to pray
To bring redemption day
For some, Christmas is nothing more than a lonely time that highlights the pain and despair of life. With so much "happiness" floating around, some people just feel left out. And some people are just trying to make it through Christmas, wondering anxiously where the next paycheck will come from, unsure of the their future.
In the middle of all of this, I think it's time we learn a new song. For those contented folks, like me, who have more than we need and so much to be thankful for, it's time we learn a new song. For those who are lonely or worried this Christmas season, it's time to hear a new song.
We need a song that will break the normal rhythms of Christmas time just a little bit. This song needs to shake us complacents up, calling out in a fresh new way, and the song needs also to carry with it a new, transcendent element, that of hope, for all the downtrodden.
So here we are, Lord. All of us, with all our stuff or lack thereof, are before you, united in our desperate need for the real reason of Christmas to shine through this year. Redemption is what we need. Redemption from the complacency and false trust we've put in the stuff of this life, and redemption from the despair that follows us like an unwanted shadow. Come and teach us a new song, Lord. Come teach us a new redemption song.
Over the Rhine ~ New Redemption Song
Lord we need a new redemption song
Lord we’ve tried
It just seems to come out wrong
Won’t you help us please
Help us just to sing along
A new redemption song
Lord we need
A new redemption day
All our worries
Keep getting in the way
Won’t you help us please
Help us find the words to pray
To bring redemption day
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Good things to carry
I'm in that spot right now. That spot of being a good night's sleep away from driving all day back home, where, in 24 hours time I will in my childhood house, enjoying the Christmas break with family. This time around, going home feels a little different. For one, I've done this trip so many times, and I guess I just know what to expect. But I've also just savored so much the various aspects of this semester, and driving home feels like i'm closing part 1 of a really good book.
So I'll drive home, relishing all the good times I've been able to have in the past few days, soaking up time with good friends. I'll realize what it is to be loved by such a good and gracious Savior. The whole "finality" thing doesn't really bother me right here, because I realize that without phases and seasons in life, we'd never really appreciate the times we have. With no ends comes no missing people, and with no struggle comes no expectant hope of something new. These are the things that make our lives the unique pieces of pottery that they are.
We are fragile and yet we have such thick shells. We need love but we have a hard time giving it. As I drive home tomorrow, i know that I have had a good semester, and that the Lord, as He always does, has cared for me and watched over me, leading and guiding me along the way. I'm so thankful for this.
And that's something to carry with you on a long, long drive.
So I'll drive home, relishing all the good times I've been able to have in the past few days, soaking up time with good friends. I'll realize what it is to be loved by such a good and gracious Savior. The whole "finality" thing doesn't really bother me right here, because I realize that without phases and seasons in life, we'd never really appreciate the times we have. With no ends comes no missing people, and with no struggle comes no expectant hope of something new. These are the things that make our lives the unique pieces of pottery that they are.
We are fragile and yet we have such thick shells. We need love but we have a hard time giving it. As I drive home tomorrow, i know that I have had a good semester, and that the Lord, as He always does, has cared for me and watched over me, leading and guiding me along the way. I'm so thankful for this.
And that's something to carry with you on a long, long drive.
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