the sound of music

Anytime music plays, it stirs up powerful emotions in me.  I often don't know what to do with the depth of heart ache, joy, or longing that may come as a result of simply hearing a song.  This is compounded by the fact that after 9 pm I become a hermit and extremely introspective.  It is as if the pressures of the day leave me in a place where it's all I can do to maintain politeness.  

Tonight my friends and I went to the beach.

It was so beautiful.  So. freaking. beautiful.  The moon was out, and you could see almost as if it was day.  The waves were so strong.  That's what I love most about the ocean, I think - the power of the water.  It is so vast, so beautiful, and so powerful.  It reminds me of God every time I see it.

Compounding my post-9 pm self with my I-just-listened-to-music-for-45-minutes-in-the-car self with my I'm-outside-on-a-beautiful-beach self left me in a weird mood to say the least.

I hung out with the group for a while, and then I headed away for a bit to just sit and look at the stars.  That was really what I came to do anyway.  See the stars. I miss being able to go outside and have stars and peace and quiet and just wild beauty at my disposal.  (for that one reason, and that reason only, I miss the farm)  

So I withdrew, spread out my beach towel, and laid in the light of the moon.  

And I started singing.  Old songs from growing up in a church where the hymn book reigned and "Shine Jesus Shine" was a "praise song."  I sang "Majesty" and "I Love You, Lord," and "Sanctuary."  I sang "Create in me a Clean Heart."  I just laid there and looked up at the moon as the surf crashed into the sand, over and over again. And I felt peace restored.  Life found its rhythm again.  In that moment, all was well.  

Sometimes I forget the power of my upbringing.  I forget the blessing of being a farm girl, and I forget the blessing of growing up in a church a bit "behind the times."  I get caught up in my new urban life, and I forget the power of a simpler life populated with corn stalks and baby lambs.  I forget the faith of my youth in favor of a always changing academic faith that allows me to leave my relationship with God on the back burner.

But tonight, in the emotion of entirely arbitrary songs accompanied by chords that never fail to take my breath away just by their sheer power, in the thundering silence of the ocean, in the joyful sound of laughter, in the radiant light of the moon on a sandy beach, I remembered who I am.

Praise to the Lord, the Almighty, the King of Creation.

a story and a question

Tonight I attended a new church. I knew at least half of the people in attendance; they are my bible study group. For that reason I felt like I had come home. The people I love most here in my new home were surrounding me, and it felt like family transplanted to a new building.

The service (or "experience" as they call it) was not my style, which is not at all to knock what they do there, just to state that my church background is very different in terms of music and the service itself. The music was sorta weird (very loud and one song was all about dancing - I DON'T DANCE) and there was tons of pressure to clap (I DON'T CLAP). They even handed out ear plugs. They had bright lights that they had pointed at the crowd, and they'd flash them in time to the music. I felt like I was being watched, but only for a half second at a time every second.  I felt out of my element - awkward and distracted.  I couldn't read my Bible, I couldn't journal, two things that I love to do during worship time.  I was stuck standing in a dark room with flashing bright lights and crazy music.

The point of this, though, is not how much I didn't relate to the worship style.  In fact, in the final analysis, I can fully appreciate the fact that I didn't identify with the worship style.  You see, I've been struggling with so many things related to my faith lately.  Wading through a lot of questions about what it means to follow Jesus - truly FOLLOW Him, not just pray a prayer and believe a creed.  I've been wondering if I even know what discipleship really means, and I've been wondering if I have what it takes to die to myself.  I've basically, in a nut shell, been questioning my salvation.  I've somewhat lost the ability to emotionally connect with God (although I've been that way for years now, if I'm to be completely honest).  Prayer is a gigantic effort for me, because I don't feel like God's listening.  Or anyone, for that matter.

It would have been way too easy to put those questions aside if I had related to the worship style.  I could have let myself go into "worship mode" (whatever that even means) and feel the emotions of souring melody lines and soulful piano.  It would have been great, but I wouldn't have been faced with the glaringly obvious truth that confronted me tonight: I am a failure at the pious part of being a Christian.  Sure, I read my Bible most every day.  Sure, I don't swear.   Sure, I go to Bible study every week.  But sometimes it feels like my relationship with God is so very distant.

I was writing in my journal just this morning, in fact; wondering how it is I am supposed to go about following Jesus.  What does He call me to?  How am I to know his voice among all the voices?  I realized this morning that I can relate so well to Peter.  He follows Jesus around for years, and then as Jesus is on trial, Peter splits.  Denies even knowing Jesus.  Can't back up his relationship with Jesus with real action.

Tonight the pastors of the church gave their testimonies.  The first pastor talked about how at one point in his life he had felt like Peter.  At this point in his story, I knew that this was meant for me.  Because it's so true.  I deny Jesus, and yet Jesus calls me to follow him.  Peter's denial of Jesus wasn't the end of the story.

I feel like I'm sort of treading water in life right now.  Holding onto my faith, reading my Bible every day, but never really going anywhere.  I'm not really letting the Bible saturate my soul.  It leaks in here and there but for the most part I just quickly skim a chapter a day so I can feel like I'm being somewhat of a good Christian.

I have to believe that if I truly pursue God, He will change my heart, and more importantly to me at this point in my life, He will change my actions.  I have to believe that if I get to know the Word of God, it will transform me from the inside out.  I have to believe that, because the alternative is a life where I desperately attempt to do good in a vain attempt to please God and earn my salvation.

If you would like to do some sort of in depth Bible study with me, either in person or over skype, let me know.  I can't do this alone.  I know myself too well, and I know that I will fall back into reading simply to read.  I basically really need an accountability partner or two.  I would also love to memorize Scripture with someone, if anyone is interested in that.  I would ask people individually, but I want this to be something you want just as much as I do.  So I'll just post a link to my blog and let you come to me if this is something you're interested in.  Please do.  

following Christ

The last week or so has been difficult.  I’ve been fighting back despair and depression, trying so desperately to not let the darkness overtake me.  I want to be happy and live a joyful life, but sometimes that seems so impossible.

I thought maybe it was the move.  In some ways that is probably part of it.  There’s something so invigorating about stepping outside in a place you love.

I thought maybe it was the lack of purpose in life without homework taking up at least a small place in my mind at all times.  And that’s probably part of it.  There’s something so scary about a life where I come home from work with nothing that I need to do.

More than either of those things, though, I think I’m sad because I feel like I’m not really following Jesus.

Growing up, I had times of doubt.  I would wonder if the Bible was really true, or if God really did love me.  Stuff like that.  In college, I doubted the whole existence of God.  I wrestled with the role of emotion in worship.  I worked through all of that and finally came back to a place of mental equilibrium.

The thing is, I’ve been reading Dietrich Bonhoeffer, and he writes to a place in my soul that I had never really fully visited before: the place that is afraid to take the leap.

He writes in Ethics: “‘Judge not, that ye be not judged’ (Matt. 7.1). This is not an exhortation to prudence and forbearance in passing judgement on one’s fellow-men, such as was also recognized by the Pharisees.  It is a blow struck at the heart of the man who knows good and evil.  It is the word of Him who speaks by virtue of his unity with God, who came not to condemn but to save (John 3.17).  For man in the state of disunion good consists in passing judgement, and the ultimate criterion is man himself.  Knowing good and evil, man is essentially a judge.  As a judge he is like God, except that every judgement he delivers falls back upon himself.  In attacking man as a judge Jesus is demanding the conversion of his entire being, and He shows that precisely in the extreme realization of his good he is ungodly and a sinner.  Jesus demands that the knowledge of good and evil be overcome; He demands unity with God.  Judgement passed on another man always presupposes disunion with him; it is an obstacle to action.  But the good of which Jesus speaks consists entirely in action and not in judgement.” (34)

It’s so easy to read books, to make judgments between good and evil.  It’s so easy to make academic attempts at morality.  God calls me to follow, though.  He calls me to action.  To death to myself.  To make a clean break with the former me and to simply follow.

I know how to be religious.  I know the right words, I know the songs, and I know the prayers.  What I am no longer so sure I know, however, is how to follow.

I’m realizing more and more how little good a prayer prayed is, how little good a religious upbringing is, how little good good intentions do.

Without death, it’s all an exercise in futility.