This song came on on my Pandora radio station, it reached inside of me, grabbed the lies I believe and ripped them out. Skillet "Whispers in the Dark" Ignore the video, listen to the song and read the lyrics. It is not a real worship song, but it is impossible to deny the truth inside.
Despite the lies that you're making
Your love is mine for the taking
My love is just waiting
To turn your tears to roses
Despite the lies that you're making
Your love is mine for the taking
My love is just waiting
To turn your tears to roses
I will be the one that's gonna hold you
I will be the one that you run to
My love is a burning, consuming fire
No, you'll never be alone
When darkness comes I'll light the night with stars
Hear my whispers in the dark
No, you'll never be alone
When darkness comes you know I'm never far
Hear the whispers in the dark
Whispers in the dark
You feel so lonely and ragged
You lay there broken and naked
My love is just waiting
To clothe you in crimson roses
I will be the one that's gonna find you
I will be the one that's gonna guide you
My love is a burning, consuming fire
No, you'll never be alone
When darkness comes I'll light the night with stars
Hear my whispers in the dark
No, you'll never be alone
When darkness comes you know I'm never far
Hear the whispers in the dark
No, you'll never be alone
When darkness comes I'll light the night with stars
Hear the whispers in the dark
No, you'll never be alone
When darkness comes you know I'm never far
Hear the whispers in the dark
Whispers in the dark
Whispers in the dark
Whispers in the dark
As I sit here, eating my lunch, I re-acknowledge that the fears I have of His love, fear of losing it, fear of not measuring up, not being able to perform well enough, are not based on Him. My fears are founded in my selfish pride.
If I am in any way capable of deflecting, refusing, stopping, cutting off, or changing the love my God has for me, then I am setting myself far higher than I could ever truly be. It is not a mere whim that causes Him to love me, no random chance or choice of convenience. His very nature demands His love for us. He cannot deny who He is, or that He is love (1 John 4:8). The love He shows me, has shown me, will always show me, is an outpouring of who He is.
More to come on this later.
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
Ambition
The greatest thing for us to remember is that we go up to Jerusalem to fulfill God’s purpose, not our own. In the natural life our ambitions are our own, but in the Christian life we have no goals of our own.
Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, August 3rd.
I say I don't have ambitions. I declare myself dream-free, that the place, the condition, the state of being, in which I currently am is all that I need to achieve some sense of fulfillment or satisfaction. I call it being free, looking for what God wants in my life, not seeing the purpose I am supposed to have in the moment.
But the truth is that I fear myself.
I fear that in my self-contempt I will create a dream so meaningless and yet unreachable that I will spend a whole lifetime trying to fulfill a worthless dream. I shroud my shallow muzzle in the trappings of imitation righteousness, not completely false, but a misdirection, a feint. "If God has plans for me, I will take that as my dream." The words out of my mouth fail to cover the doubt shouting in my mind, "Failure is not an option, you know where the empty, broken dreams leave you. Protect yourself."
So here I sit, about to start a book study on the Journey of Desire, yet filled with a lack of the very thing I would love to claim to be an expert on. I am afraid that I will dream too much or dream too little. I ache for the lost ability to ask like a child asks a father. "Can I have a pony?" is as equally hard to say as "Can I have a gumball?". I fear that if I ask too much, desire too deeply, and have so badly missed what I was supposed to want that in the fulfilling of what truly will satisfy me, I am left looking for the one gift under the tree that I didn't get. And I fear the shame of asking for the temporal, the momentary, those fleeting accomplishments and gains that will not leave this world, just because I am supposed to want more.
What is more for me? In a vast sea of dreams, unending ocean of desires and ambitions, how do I know what more is? So I bitterly cling to the dry land, watching the waves come in, thinking that one of them is right, just not that one. Or that one. Or that one. And as time rocks along, and days turn into years, the waves look the same. After all, I can't just pick any wave. What if it is not for me? What if it is really meant for someone else to enjoy, to achieve?
Who am I kidding, the waves terrify me. Let the others play in the water, I will tell them I am ok where I am. That I like the dusty earth and hot sun, that more is for other people. I am tired of waiting, tired of watching. How do dreams start again?
Oswald Chambers, My Utmost for His Highest, August 3rd.
I say I don't have ambitions. I declare myself dream-free, that the place, the condition, the state of being, in which I currently am is all that I need to achieve some sense of fulfillment or satisfaction. I call it being free, looking for what God wants in my life, not seeing the purpose I am supposed to have in the moment.
But the truth is that I fear myself.
I fear that in my self-contempt I will create a dream so meaningless and yet unreachable that I will spend a whole lifetime trying to fulfill a worthless dream. I shroud my shallow muzzle in the trappings of imitation righteousness, not completely false, but a misdirection, a feint. "If God has plans for me, I will take that as my dream." The words out of my mouth fail to cover the doubt shouting in my mind, "Failure is not an option, you know where the empty, broken dreams leave you. Protect yourself."
So here I sit, about to start a book study on the Journey of Desire, yet filled with a lack of the very thing I would love to claim to be an expert on. I am afraid that I will dream too much or dream too little. I ache for the lost ability to ask like a child asks a father. "Can I have a pony?" is as equally hard to say as "Can I have a gumball?". I fear that if I ask too much, desire too deeply, and have so badly missed what I was supposed to want that in the fulfilling of what truly will satisfy me, I am left looking for the one gift under the tree that I didn't get. And I fear the shame of asking for the temporal, the momentary, those fleeting accomplishments and gains that will not leave this world, just because I am supposed to want more.
What is more for me? In a vast sea of dreams, unending ocean of desires and ambitions, how do I know what more is? So I bitterly cling to the dry land, watching the waves come in, thinking that one of them is right, just not that one. Or that one. Or that one. And as time rocks along, and days turn into years, the waves look the same. After all, I can't just pick any wave. What if it is not for me? What if it is really meant for someone else to enjoy, to achieve?
Who am I kidding, the waves terrify me. Let the others play in the water, I will tell them I am ok where I am. That I like the dusty earth and hot sun, that more is for other people. I am tired of waiting, tired of watching. How do dreams start again?
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
LDB
It has taken me most of my life to figure out why the only Christmas carol I really enjoy is Little Drummer Boy. I always have connected emotionally to it, and it still can bring me to tears. Deep within my own fears and skewed beliefs about myself, I find comfort and joy in the last few lines of the song.
Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum
Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
When we come.
Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum,
On my drum?
Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.
If I were the little drummer boy, my song would sound different. In the face of others who gave impressive gifts of gold or spices, any gift I have would seem too small and insignificant. What could I offer a baby king, the baby King. So I would turn around and go home, in my inability to be worth enough, give enough, be enough for Him to take pleasure and joy in me. Deep within I would be crushed, but would let the world see only a grim acceptance that I need to try harder, do more or get something worth giving. And it is in my insecurity, my self-doubt, my self-abuse, that the song cuts me to the core. I remember hearing it growing up, and thinking how much God would love me if my best was good enough for Him, that He would see my effort and somehow reward it with success. Equating what I did to what made me worthy.
Not until recently have I begun accepting what I know to be God's view of my life. That my value to Him is not restricted by what I do but by what He has done, that my success or failure is not what defines my worth. God doesn't smile at me because I play perfectly. Or because I sound beautiful, or perform well, or entertain Him. God smiles at me because of who I am. It is not because I play well, it is because I play. He takes joy in watching His creation enjoy life, in watching me.
I take pride in being the little drummer boy, that the noise I create is enjoyed by my Savior regardless of how "good" it sounds. And because of that, I play my heart out for Him, I am willing to bare my soul and give Him whatever I can because that is what He desires. His joy gives me strength to give Him more joy. I love feeling my God smile at me.
Come they told me, pa rum pum pum pum
A new born King to see, pa rum pum pum pum
Our finest gifts we bring, pa rum pum pum pum
To lay before the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
So to honor Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
When we come.
Little Baby, pa rum pum pum pum
I am a poor boy too, pa rum pum pum pum
I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum
That's fit to give the King, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Shall I play for you, pa rum pum pum pum,
On my drum?
Mary nodded, pa rum pum pum pum
The ox and lamb kept time, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my drum for Him, pa rum pum pum pum
I played my best for Him, pa rum pum pum pum,
rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,
Then He smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum
Me and my drum.
If I were the little drummer boy, my song would sound different. In the face of others who gave impressive gifts of gold or spices, any gift I have would seem too small and insignificant. What could I offer a baby king, the baby King. So I would turn around and go home, in my inability to be worth enough, give enough, be enough for Him to take pleasure and joy in me. Deep within I would be crushed, but would let the world see only a grim acceptance that I need to try harder, do more or get something worth giving. And it is in my insecurity, my self-doubt, my self-abuse, that the song cuts me to the core. I remember hearing it growing up, and thinking how much God would love me if my best was good enough for Him, that He would see my effort and somehow reward it with success. Equating what I did to what made me worthy.
Not until recently have I begun accepting what I know to be God's view of my life. That my value to Him is not restricted by what I do but by what He has done, that my success or failure is not what defines my worth. God doesn't smile at me because I play perfectly. Or because I sound beautiful, or perform well, or entertain Him. God smiles at me because of who I am. It is not because I play well, it is because I play. He takes joy in watching His creation enjoy life, in watching me.
I take pride in being the little drummer boy, that the noise I create is enjoyed by my Savior regardless of how "good" it sounds. And because of that, I play my heart out for Him, I am willing to bare my soul and give Him whatever I can because that is what He desires. His joy gives me strength to give Him more joy. I love feeling my God smile at me.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Tension
In the middle.
Caught, aware, of the puzzle that I am in,
Where I go,
defining not just what I do, but who I am.
Do I rely on my intellect,
My strength, determination, work,
My compulsive desire to know
What is before me, what to do, end results,
Left in the tension of faith, risk and peace.
Pulling from every side, dynamic, change,
Reality calls me to set aside my dreams,
Visions of grandeur suppressed, depressed,
Pulled back down to earth by the process.
Not knowing leads to not deciding,
Not deciding leads to remaining,
Remaining leads to defeat,
Defeat leads to my knees in prayer,
Prayer leads me to hope, to dream,
Dreams lead me to desire vision,
Desire leads to stillness, quiet,
Quiet leads me to not knowing.
Endless cycle of interwoven emotion,
Cascading over me, driving me, pulling me.
To risk more than me, more than my future,
Leaves a fear of failure, doubt, self-doubt.
If I cannot continue, where do I go?
Down, up, left, right, forward, backward.
A blank slate, clear of obstacles,
Becomes an obstacle in itself.
Without goals, why go anywhere?
But looking for goals leads back to me,
My deepest core of my being is ... what?
Who am I beneath the layers of chaos,
Created to keep me afloat, stay "normal",
Layers of hiding, unsure of what lies below,
After living to please, to fit in,
What remains to seek, to hope?
Is my desire from one of my layers,
From one of my masks I wear to exist?
Is it from that core that I don't know,
Cannot remember, only hope to see?
Grace is forgiving, but doesn't pay much,
Faith cannot sign my paycheck.
Or can it, can I live in the moment?
Forgetting about my insecurities,
My frailty, my doubt, my disbelief,
For long enough to acknowledge,
The One who called me into being,
His strength, His peace, His safety.
In my failing, He is holy,
In my doubt, He is proven,
In my sin, He is forgiveness,
In my shame, He is grace,
In my anger, He is peace,
In my disbelief, He is truth.
Where did I let myself, make myself,
Become what I needed to "survive",
To exist, to stay enough ahead,
To get through the day, week, year.
When He calls for more, calls for greater,
Reality is what He sees,
Not what I adjust myself to.
My cynicism, "realism",
Just exposes my lack of,
Need for His Truth, direction.
He sees me as greater,
He sees me as perfect,
He sees me as holy,
He sees me as righteous,
He sees me as free,
He sees me covered by blood,
Shed for my sin, my shame, my doubt,
That when I cannot see,
He sees what He created,
And He enjoys me.
In the tension, in the process,
He is.
Caught, aware, of the puzzle that I am in,
Where I go,
defining not just what I do, but who I am.
Do I rely on my intellect,
My strength, determination, work,
My compulsive desire to know
What is before me, what to do, end results,
Left in the tension of faith, risk and peace.
Pulling from every side, dynamic, change,
Reality calls me to set aside my dreams,
Visions of grandeur suppressed, depressed,
Pulled back down to earth by the process.
Not knowing leads to not deciding,
Not deciding leads to remaining,
Remaining leads to defeat,
Defeat leads to my knees in prayer,
Prayer leads me to hope, to dream,
Dreams lead me to desire vision,
Desire leads to stillness, quiet,
Quiet leads me to not knowing.
Endless cycle of interwoven emotion,
Cascading over me, driving me, pulling me.
To risk more than me, more than my future,
Leaves a fear of failure, doubt, self-doubt.
If I cannot continue, where do I go?
Down, up, left, right, forward, backward.
A blank slate, clear of obstacles,
Becomes an obstacle in itself.
Without goals, why go anywhere?
But looking for goals leads back to me,
My deepest core of my being is ... what?
Who am I beneath the layers of chaos,
Created to keep me afloat, stay "normal",
Layers of hiding, unsure of what lies below,
After living to please, to fit in,
What remains to seek, to hope?
Is my desire from one of my layers,
From one of my masks I wear to exist?
Is it from that core that I don't know,
Cannot remember, only hope to see?
Grace is forgiving, but doesn't pay much,
Faith cannot sign my paycheck.
Or can it, can I live in the moment?
Forgetting about my insecurities,
My frailty, my doubt, my disbelief,
For long enough to acknowledge,
The One who called me into being,
His strength, His peace, His safety.
In my failing, He is holy,
In my doubt, He is proven,
In my sin, He is forgiveness,
In my shame, He is grace,
In my anger, He is peace,
In my disbelief, He is truth.
Where did I let myself, make myself,
Become what I needed to "survive",
To exist, to stay enough ahead,
To get through the day, week, year.
When He calls for more, calls for greater,
Reality is what He sees,
Not what I adjust myself to.
My cynicism, "realism",
Just exposes my lack of,
Need for His Truth, direction.
He sees me as greater,
He sees me as perfect,
He sees me as holy,
He sees me as righteous,
He sees me as free,
He sees me covered by blood,
Shed for my sin, my shame, my doubt,
That when I cannot see,
He sees what He created,
And He enjoys me.
In the tension, in the process,
He is.
Monday, November 10, 2008
On Worship
Last night was a profound experience. Mike and the worship team did a fantastic job leading us into the throne room of God. There have been a few times when I have opened my heart in worship and last night was one of them.
The flip side of that incredible time was my trying to follow it. It is exceptionally disconcerting to have to jump up and be speaking after such a moving worship time. There is no way to transition into whatever I am saying. So I just have to start talking.
Mike (and all of the team), thank you so much for doing what you do, week in and week out. You spend your time and energy (and talent) to give us an avenue to connect with God in ways that we often don't get to. I am honored to be the follow up act to that, and indeed feel insufficient and inadequate. You guys take all my energy and let me channel it into worship. It is a joy to work with all of you.
The flip side of that incredible time was my trying to follow it. It is exceptionally disconcerting to have to jump up and be speaking after such a moving worship time. There is no way to transition into whatever I am saying. So I just have to start talking.
Mike (and all of the team), thank you so much for doing what you do, week in and week out. You spend your time and energy (and talent) to give us an avenue to connect with God in ways that we often don't get to. I am honored to be the follow up act to that, and indeed feel insufficient and inadequate. You guys take all my energy and let me channel it into worship. It is a joy to work with all of you.
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