Awe like Lightning

I like feeling small.

And last night I stood wind-whipped, with the porch planks as amphitheater seats, and heard a colossal concert that dwarfed the assumed largeness of myself.  Crickets hummed like violins, strong wind blew flute song through my ponytailed hair, and the percussive thunder punctuating the symphony matched the pounding of my awestruck heart.

I thought I may as well be struck by lightning because the excitement pulsed through every synapse and left me glowing and electrified.


What if we stood up and took notice when we say “wow”? Awe is an integral Christian “disposition of the soul,” [Herbert] Anderson* contends. It leads us into and disposes us toward faith. Luther himself said, “Wonder brings faith.” Such a disposition is what actually connects belief and practice. Without an outlook titled toward awe, belief becomes a hallow platitude and practice turns into empty habit. Builidng on Luther, Anderson emphasizes, “We will be more disposed toward moments of extraordinary awe if we have been attending all along to wonder and awe in the ordinary.”
-In the Midst of Chaos, Bonnie J. Miller-McLemore

Desperation and Cold Water

As of today, I've read Ecclesiastes 3 times.  The first time was when I read the Bible straight through because reading the Bible straight through is like a rite of passage for all good Christians, just having dc Talk's "Jesus Freak" on your iPod or being a rabid Tim Tebow fan.  It's just what we do.  I didn't get much out of Ecclesiastes that time, most likely because I was 11 years old and the Bible is a very long book and, to an 11-year-old, Ecclesiastes is pretty forgettable.

The second time was last fall on a whim.  I realized that I didn't remember a thing Ecclesiastes said and figured I should probably read it again because, being the Word of God and all, it might have some important things to say.  I read the 12 chapters in a day (which is the only way that book can be read...suicide is likely if you stop before the end) and decided it was one of the best things I've ever read.  We blitzed through the book again this morning in Awesome (if you're not a FEFC-goer, Awesome is what we call Sunday School, because seriously, who wants to go to school on Sunday?!  And Awesome is a pretty good description of everyone and everything there, so it didn't take long for us to pick that name instead.), and I was reminded why I like this book so much.
See, I spend a lot of time around desperate people.  The majority of my friends aren't content with the mediocre existence offered by society, many come from difficult family situations, and quite a few struggle with depression of one form or another.  So they, we, look for something to quench our soul-thirst, to satisfy the yearning we have, to give us a sense of purpose.

That's pretty much what Solomon covers in the first 11 chapters of Ecclesiastes.  I envision him as a knight on a quest, hunting for anything that will give meaning to his life.  Through eleven chapters he searches, looking first to wisdom, then to pleasures, to work, to advancements, to wealth, to everything he can think of that might possibly offer him a reason to live.  Each experiment ends the same way, though: "This too is meaningless, a chasing after the wind."  Solomon echoes the bumper sticker maxim, "He who dies with the most toys still dies."  He goes so far as to say that it's better to never even be born than to see the oppression and wickedness in the world.  For eleven chapters, it seems that the end of his quest is the conclusion that the best anyone can hope to do is to work hard and enjoy the life they have while it lasts.  YOLO?
But
(There's always a but when things look hopeless)
But then chapter 12 happens and Solomon remembers God. 
"Remember your Creator in the days of your youth...Fear God and keep his commandments, for this is the whole duty of man."
"The whole duty of man."
Our entire purpose.
Seems almost like a letdown.  That's it?

But to desperately thirsty souls on a quest for Abundant Life, it's like a long drink of cold water. 

And the commandment to keep commandments?  It's not a heavy, burdensome demand.  Really, there are only two commandments: to love God and love people.  These aren't rules; they're relationships. 

In the end, Solomon discovered what Jesus would sum up thousands of years later...

"Anyone who drinks from this well will be thirsty again, (we run to wells we know won't satisfy), but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst.  Indeed, the water I give them will become a spring of water welling up to eternal life."

One List I Don't Need

I make a lot of lists because I have a tendency to forget.  I list homework assignments, people I need to call, ideas I have, quotes I like, places I have to go, things I need to pack, and even music I like to listen to.  The previous sentence was a list of lists.  Lists keep me organized and focused, two things I have trouble being. 

A while ago, I thought about making a list of God's characteristics because I'm especially bad at remembering those.  I thought a long, long list of things I know are true of God would help break my cycle of recreating God and stuffing him in a box.  I got a few statements into it: "God is greater than anything around me."  "God's mercies are new every morning."  "God hates injustice."

Those things are true, but eventually I realized that this list thing was kind of weird.  I mean, I don't make lists about any of my other friends.  That would just be crazy.  I don't have to say, "Lexy makes fantastic Cowboy Cookies" or "Mary is a great artist" or "Gabrielle looks like Mandy Moore" or "Autumn has a really sweet car."  I don't make lists about my friends because I know them.  They have a name for people who make lists about other people.  They're called stalkers.

So I've focused on knowing God rather than knowing things about God.  I don't need to make a God list any more than I need to make a Lexy list.  I'm not the best at remembering, but God is very good at reminding.

Enough

Lately, I've been learning that everything in my life that hides under the ugly umbrella of "sin" is really an expression of disbelief - disbelief that God is who He says He is.  If I really believed that God is my source of strength, would I search for security anywhere else?  If I really believed that God will supply all my needs, would I bother to seek fulfillment in something that promises to satisfy, but in reality drains the life out of me?  If I really believed that God's grace is enough, would I cower through the awkward, guilt-ridden stage after He has gently pointed out a(nother) flaw in the dark corners of my heart? 

Time and again, I've asked myself if I really even know God at all.  The walls of my mental God-box begin to rebuild, but before they ever form completely, He does something that smashes the safe, comfortable image I've erected of Him and replaces it with Himself.  It's like He's saying, "This is who I am.  Do you trust now that everything I am is more than enough for you, that the real Me can satisfy every need and desire you have?" 

Always, the answer is yes - I mean, being confronted with a little bit more of who God really is is very overwhelming - but I have a terrible habit of turning back to the things that destroy me, of almost subconsciously replacing the Real God with a monotonous, tame being that looks a lot more like Sophia than it does anything else. 

So how to fix this?  Well, the recent awareness I've gained is definitely a good starting place.  Beyond that, maybe I need to remember the "basics" of prayer and reading the Bible...because how else am I going to get to know the Real God who promises to be my Delight and to satisfy every desire of my heart?  And I will pray with the father who found his last and only hope in Jesus: “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” 

The Relentless Answer to "Why?"

It's been a few weeks since the first question, and the answer stays the same.
"God, I don't understand.  Why have you put so many incredible people in my life?"
Anything to draw you to Myself. 
(Jawdrop)

"Why" is the beginning to many - maybe most - of my questions.  Why is she sick?  Why is that really so wrong?  Why can't I serve two masters?  Why are You allowing this hurricane?  Why should any one person go through that much?  WHY CAN'T I UNDERSTAND THIS MATH HOMEWORK?!?!?!?

And the answer to all of these (except maybe the last one...although on some occasions...) has stayed the same, breathed through the tatters of my tantrum-tired spirit: Anything to draw you to Myself.

In his book Blue Like Jazz, Don Miller writes, "We dream of Christ's love for His bride reading like Romeo and Juliet; two equals inflamed in liberal love.  I think it is more like Lucentio's pursuit of Bianca in The Taming of the Shrew.  That is, the groom endearing the belligerent bride with kindness, patience, and love."

It's life-changing, really, when you look at your life as one big love letter.  When I'm punished for sin (and sin = anything that stacks a brick on the wall between God and me) or just going through a hard time, it isn't because God is a divine bully and wants to ruin my life.  It's because God is crazier in love than Beyonce or anyone else can ever understand.  He loves relentlessly, wooing His creation back into communion with Him.  Why?  Because love desires what is best for the other person, and is anything better than embracing the story for which we were created, a love story that makes Shakespeare and Taylor Swift and Stephanie Meyers (but especially Stephanie Meyers) seem about as knowledgeable on love as a preschooler is on astrophysiology? 

And not all of the story is wrought in hardship, either.  There are moments of awestruck, grateful giddiness at the unexpected delights hidden like pirate treasure around my life - days of laughter, dandelions peeking through the deep green of the lawn, songs that remind me who I am, quiet mornings alone with ancient King David poetry, and especially the friends who fall like lemonade on my hot-and-tired-and-thirsty spirit.  These, too, pull me in closer.

So the point of everything - everything, from the pink-blossomed trees I walk past every morning, to the heartache of losing a friend, to the daily routine that so quickly becomes monotonous - everything is another word in the love letter God is writing to me, laboring repeatedly, relentlessly, redemptively, to draw me to Himself. 

This song sums it up pretty well: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0urB9mnCx-A

How to Surf in a Hurricane

Hurricane (Hur-ih-keyn) n:  a violent, tropical, cyclonic storm of the Western North Atlantic, having wind speeds of or in excess of 72 miles per hour; a storm of the most intense severity. 

"A storm of the most intense severity."
I'm in a hurricane right now. 

I am rain-drenched and wind-blasted and battle-weary, and my world has been flattened and feels a little bit like this:


Things happen that force you out of your comfort zone.  I had typed the words in a message to a friend.  But when life gives you a hurricane, you go surfing.

Things are happening that I can't control, and there are choices to be made that will hurt no matter what I choose, and there are wounds too big for me to heal, and I am tempted to despair. The control-freak in me is panicking and worry has been my companion far too often these past few weeks. I've spent nights with little sleep and skipped meals because who can eat when they feel like this, who can stay afloat when the ocean is eating them alive? 

Jesus slept soundly through the storm. Jesus ate the meal knowing it would be only a few hours before his friend betrayed him and he would be questioned and tortured and killed. Jesus walked on water too stormy for a boat to cross with ease.  Jesus didn't worry. Jesus trusted.

As Ann Voskamp of 1000 Gifts fame says, I have soul amnesia.  I get slammed by a wave and forget that my God is the One who soothed the sea to sleep with a sentence, fed thousands with a prayer, and lived among us as the Word.  I become disoriented and lose my bearings and everything spins out of control.  I forget that I can trust and instead I panic.  When the "Peace, be still" finally comes through the whirling rain, it is said to me instead of the storm.

In the movie Soul Surfer, there is a scene where shark-attack-survivor Bethany is talking with her father because she wants to surf competitively, even though she lost her arm.  Her father tells her that it won't be easy, and, with an attitude I love, she replies, "I don't need easy.  I just need possible." 

With God, all things are possible.  God knows the plans he has for me and everyone else - plans to prosper and not to harm, plans to give a hope and a future.  God is faithful and forgiving and unchanging and compassionate and loving and just and comforting and relentless and powerful and good.  All he asks is that I trust.  Trust, instead of worry and forget and panic and fear.

Just trust.

That's how to surf in a hurricane.

Me, the Monk...Or, God in Real Life

If I was a guy and Catholic, I would totally be a monk.  I realize that this is not a very normal wish for a generally Protestant teenage girl, but it's true.  Okay, maybe I do like jeans better than itchy woolen habits, and I am a pretty big fan of tasty food, and I do enjoy not being confined to a monastery for my entire life, but sometimes, when life gets stressful, I envy the monastic lifestyle.  Spending the rest of my life meditating, singing, and talking to Jesus and my fellow monks sounds pretty appealing after a long, hard week of the insanity I call my life. 

But, obviously, monkhood is not an option.  In addition to the reasons mentioned before, the fact is that God has things for me to learn where I am.  And where I am right now is often mundane, tiring, and stressful, not to mention distracting. 

But God doesn't just meet me when I'm at rest, or when my mind is completely clear, or when I'm doing something great and "spiritual."  He wants to invade every moment of my life and transform the ordinary into divinity.  God isn't someone who waits at the top of tall mountains for only those with enough time or enough energy or enough whatever to struggle to meet Him; He meets us where we are at and teaches us to meditate in the madness of the mundane.