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| It's like trying to/listening to a conversation through the wall. It's like you're trying to make out one word and then you make out another word and you have to make sense of the sentence out of those couple of words. So you've surely got to be quite perceptive/quiet. Usually the melody comes a split second before the vowels and the sibilance. You kind of see them. Or feel them rather, like climbing down a ladder at night. You put your foot down and there's another rung. Well you put your mind down and there's another meaning and a sense of what it is. Then you put them all together. There's a trick to it like focusing your eyes. Like talking to someone, only you can't quite hear them, and you feel kind of stupid because they're so much more clever than you. Sometimes the ideas just hover and shimmer in the air so delicately, like a soap bubble and you dare not even look at it directly in case it burst. But you're familiar with the way of ideas and you let it shimmer looking away, thinking about something else. And on the slightest of breezes/breaths it floats down glistening all the way into the palm/most tender part of your outstretched heart/heart. | | |
| I still have yet to find a loophole.
No, for you and I
life is unavoidable. And not just the mud on a shirt or a missed
television show. I mean the moments that life really presses in. The
moment the weight becomes crushingly unbearable by certainly any other.
When tragedy intrudes and we are robbed of any logical proofs that God
is good. When the book of Job suddenly seems our unauthorized
biography. I wrote the song “My Hope” out of the experience of life and the comfort I found in Job. This book is not concerned so much with the why of life’s eruptions but the faith
of a man throughout them. A godly man in possession of a faith that all
of his afflictions could not shake. To find a man and eavesdrop long
enough to hear him in intimate honesty ask “though You slay me, yet
will I trust You?” (13:15) and to see his story answer in a resounding
“yes” that can still be clearly and effectually heard today. And to see
God show up in all of His majestic glory that pen and paper can
express. Chapter 38. Everything that we thought was troublesome or
painful or disappointing or hard or wearisome or frustrating or
maddening is swept away. We become aware of His constant presence, and
full of awe we, along with our concerns, are resized. We are swept away
in this wonderful, beautifully glorious storm of who He is. He speaks
out of the silence and it’s so terrifyingly plain that we have been
right all along. He is in control. Beyond even our wildest imaginings.
“MY HOPE”
Here I am again
In this raging sea
On my knees again
Deep calls to deep
In the roar of Your waterfall
In the wonderful storm of You
May You find me holding on
My You find me true
I put my hope
I put my trust
I put myself in You, in You Lord
Here I am again
In need of You
Broken, beaten
Needing You
Wash me clean
Set me free
Hold me close
And cover me
I put my hope
I put my trust
I put myself in You, in You Lord
Here I am
Job 1:1 - 42:17
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Have you ever walked into a gothic cathedral? I grew up protestant evangelical
in east Texas. There weren't many gothic cathedrals around, though there were
pick up trucks. In truth, the first time I stepped foot into one it was 1998 in
Paris France and I had no idea what sensory stimulation awaited me. We walked
through these huge, ancient, wooden doors that looked older than time and then¡
"Oh my."
"How?"
"Who?"
"I didn't know this was
possible."
"This is how old?"
"Was the hammer even around at that
point?"
Here they built to resize you upon entrance. They forced your
gaze upwards. They surrounded you with beauty that astonishes and creates the
wonder of the impossible before your eyes. Here I am lost in massive stained
glass windows reaching towards heaven and telling stories on their ascent¡walls
seeming to stretch up away from me arching to meet growing pillars forming a
stone canopy far overhead¡an amazingly ornate altar, unapproachable except for a
few¡a pulpit elevated above the congregants, even above the lectern for the
reading of scripture to come from on high, from a place above humanity¡Candles
aglow with prayers rising from dancing flames, as saints and angles frozen in
marble flight look on¡I have one predominate feeling standing in the middle of
this; He is big-I am small.
I think my generation has missed this. I
believe we have a great concept of the immanent God¡Jesus¡Friend¡Lover of my
soul¡My romancer. But this feeling of unattainable transcendence is something
new. Back home in America the trend is to build churches to look more like
office complexes. Accessible. Very un-intimidating. I don't know if this is a
terrible place to be found but is it the total picture of rescue? We surely are
rescued from ourselves, from our sin but are we also not rescued from the
justice of this Holy God. God is love, yes, but if he is also unchanging then He
is still vengeful and His vengeance for justice must somehow be an extension of
that love. I think if we could embrace this greater picture of 'holiness come
near' Christ's rescue would be sweeter and our surrender deeper. Grace, even,
may become a bit unnerving. That he would rescue us and keep rescuing us demands
a fuller response than what I find in myself too often.
I want to build
cathedrals. I want to use words and notes rather than stone and mortar. I want
to write songs that help us gain perspective and say corporately that this God
we pursue and who pursues us is so massive that it sometimes makes our heads
swim. We are sometimes uncomfortable approaching and surely are resized in our
pursuit to do so.
God of Wrath was written trying to capture a full
picture of our God whom we give our hearts and lives to. Do not His wrath and
His love come from the same hand? Is He not unchanging? To surrender all we are
to all He is; this is the place freedom and life is found. That is where the
heart breaks into dancing and our lives beat full of joy. Salvation has truly
come. Musically and lyrically trying to marry opposite emotions, with dark
ominous verses and then a chorus that lifts into a spreading, embracing response
to this fuller picture of who He is, reaching an ultimate confession of whole of
life surrender "¡blood through my veins is for You" until culminating in this
joyous whirling dance caught up in the beauty of this tension. This God, beyond
comprehension who holds night and day, earth and sky, death and life, has come
down and embraced humanity and the only thing we have to offer is ourselves. And
He gladly accepts.
Jeremiah 10:10-11
Psalm 7:11
Nahum
1:2-3
Hosea 11:9-10
Romans 3:5-6
Deuteronomy 3:24
Deuteronomy
32:3
1 Chronicles 29:11
Psalm 145:3
Psalm 150:2
Ezekiel 38:23
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| This story begins with a flashback. (A clever plot device in which we
jump back in time, gathering information that may prove to shed light
on something in the present.)
It's May of the
year 2000 and I'm driving the maroon fifteen-passenger rental van with
the new scratch on the back left quarter panel back from the Passion
OneDay gathering. Memphis TN to Waco TX. The other five members of my
band are asleep, each occupying their space as if it had always been
their space. My wife Toni has just finished discussing where and when
we will stop to eat. I'm for 'going on'. She's for 'the sooner the
better'. But I'm in a zone. The road is before me and my right foot is
heavy and my will is weak and you must respect these moments. Take them
in and ride them out. And…I'm writing a song. This is not strange. I
write most of my songs while driving and I don't use this as a defense
to keep going. I'm above that. I trust that sleep will take her over as
well but alas she is strong of heart and points to the restaurants we
pass while listening to me offer excuses as to why we did not "take
that exit!"
"You've got to give me some warning. This thing is
a beast to maneuver. It's like stopping a train. You know how long it
takes to stop a train. Miles. You're going to have to give me a lot
more time than that to stop a train I guarantee you!"
She's not buying it. We eat at El Chico's.*
Here
we meet fellow travelers. They are returning from OneDay as well and so
we take in food and conversation and form new friendships.
OneDay
had been more than a gathering of college students for the singing of
songs in a field in the middle of America. Although it was in a massive
field, in the middle of America, with tens of thousands of college
students and we did sing a lot of songs. But there was more. It was a
solemn assembly, a calling together of a spiritual remnant of this
generation for the purpose of, as Joel describes in chapter 2, a
rending of the heart. Sounds like a hoot, doesn't it. "'Even now',
declares the LORD, 'return to me with all your heart, with fasting and
weeping and mourning." Rend your heart and not your garments'." Ooh
yes! Where do I sign up? But that is what drew us. We came for prayer
and repentance. Surely the closest I've ever been to Ezra 3:13 "so that
the people could not distinguish the sound of the shout of joy from the
sound of the weeping of the people, for the people shouted with a loud
shout, and the sound was heard far away." Here repentance was loud.
Pleading for His touch was loud. And surely our joy was loud. Caught up
in prayer and song and dance and weeping and laughter and all this for
a King!
"Did you hear how loud we all shouted when we sang 'shout to the north'? unbelievable!"
"All as one voice. As one people, His people."
We wondered things like…
"Was He moved by that?"
"Did that work?"
"Were we heard?"
"Did He feel how moved we were?"
At
this point yes we could've talked at great length in theological
discourse about the impassability or passability of God but here's the
beautiful thing; we wondered but we did not care. We gathered to yes
repent and to move the heart of God to heal our land but what was
unexpected was to be so wrapped up in Him that we needed nothing more
than to be there. Nothing more was needed from Him. He just is and we
are overwhelmed. Our love is so large it takes over and we turn our
gaze upwards and we see nothing but his gaze on us and we are
overwhelmed.
"We love You. We love You. We love You. And You
don't need to answer. Just be who You are and we will just be in You",
and what loud lives this leads to, surely the world will see.
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All I Can Say
Psalm 88
1 OLord, the God of my salvation, I have cried out by day and in the night before You.
2 Let my prayer come before You; Incline Your ear to my cry!
3 For my soul has had enough troubles, And my life has drawn near to Sheol.
4 I am reckoned among those who go down to the pit; I have become like a man without strength,
5 Forsaken among the dead, Like the slain who lie in the grave, Whom You remember no more, And they are cut off from Your hand.
6 You have put me in the lowest pit, In dark places, in the depths.
7 Your wrath has rested upon me, And You have afflicted me with all Your waves. Selah.
8 You have removed my acquaintances far from me; You have made me an object of loathing to them; I am shut up and cannot go out.
9 My eye has wasted away because of affliction; I have called upon You every day, O LORD; I have spread out my hands to You.
10 Will You perform wonders for the dead? Will the departed spirits rise and praise You? Selah.
11 Will Your lovingkindness be declared in the grave, Your faithfulness in Abaddon?
12 Will Your wonders be made known in the darkness? And Your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness?
13 But I, O LORD, have cried out to You for help, And in the morning my prayer comes before You.
14 O LORD, why do You reject my soul? Why do You hide Your face from me?
15 I was afflicted and about to die from my youth on; I suffer Your terrors; I am overcome.
16 Your burning anger has passed over me; Your terrors have destroyed me.
17They have surrounded me like water all day long; They have encompassed me altogether.
18 You have removed lover and friend far from me; My acquaintances are in darkness.
AFTER I WAS THROWN IN THE RIVER AND BEFORE I WAS DROWNED*
*from the short story by dave eggers after I was thrown in the river and before I was drowned
I've
a recent fascination with pinhole cameras. I'm not a photographer.
Don't even like photographers except you there reading this currently,
but you're the only one. I get nervous when those cute tourist couples
ask me, a passer-by, to stop and take their picture. All the buttons
and verbal instructions shouted from these strangers that have no right
to talk that loudly to you who most certainly are doing them a favor.
"You've got to hold it down for 5 seconds!" "No the other button!" "Can
you get the bird as it flies by in the background?!" "Your finger is
blocking the lens!!" And all of this shouted as if the camera has
robbed me of my hearing. I hear great. I've got excellent hearing but
I'm no photographer. Pinhole cameras though are almost comically
primitive. Typically homemade, they lack lenses, traditional shutters,
light meters and focusing controls. They are nothing more than a little
box with a pinhole in it. Exposing a sheet of film placed inside may
require 30 seconds, a couple of minutes or all day. There's no view
finder so to quote an over dramatic friend of mine, "you must
relinquish your soul to the camera." Photographers.
Ps 88 is
this. A picture of a moment when life has pressed in and faith is
turned on its head and the writer has been thrown into a deluge with
the weight of the moment overpoweringly heavy. Life cannot be kept at
bay. It comes. We cry for help. Silence is returned. I think the truth
in this chapter is that it is true. Sometimes we find ourselves
overwhelmed with no answer. In this psalm there are no reasons given
for Gods silence. It's not interested in an explanation. There is no
theological reason requested. We may imagine that the situation is so
desperate that even if a "reason" could be offered, the speaker would
have no interest in it, nor would it help, because the needfulness of
the moment supersedes any reasonable conversation. But the psalmist was
not deterred by the silence. Perhaps the speaker is in fact speaking to
the empty sky, but he is not deterred. It only leads to more intense
address. This psalm simply reports on how it is to be a partner of God
in God's inexplicable absence. There is nothing out of bounds, nothing
precluded or inappropriate. Everything properly belongs in this
conversation of the heart. To withhold parts of life from that
conversation is in fact to withhold part of life from the sovereignty
of God. God must be addressed even if God never answers. In our modern
experience it is believed that enough power and knowledge can tame the
terror and eliminate the darkness. But we regularly learn and discern
that there--more than anywhere else--newness that is not of our own
making breaks upon us and we are surely then drowned in Him. Ps 88
shows us what the cross is about: faithfulness in scenes of complete
abandonment.
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