I love rain. There, I said it. I love the smell of it. I love the sound of it. I don't really love the taste of it, but I could probably learn to love that too. I love the feeling of it hitting my hair and face and arms and shoulders and neck, the soft tapping and dripping, almost like the sky is using my body as a living drum. I think of the times when I was a kid and my dad and I would go out on our front deck, eat an orange, and play in the rain. I would run through the puddles like I could walk or glide across the water, until I landed ankle-deep in what was probably Salmonella-ridden water. But I didn't care. The splash alone was a pay-off greater than getting a deadly infection.
The splash would come up and hit my legs and shins like a snare drum. Pop pop pop. Like a machine gun round, all the drops hit in rapid succession and my previously dry legs became streaked with mud and dirt and rain water. It was magic.
The water from below, though, was nowhere as awe-inspiring as the rain falling from the sky. As a kid I didn't care that the clouds I loved to watch on a sunny day were at this time emptying themselves on the Earth because the gaseous form they were in was too much to hold and therefore needed to be converted to water and fall on me. I had no clue. All I knew was what I saw, and what I saw was water from above coming down so I could play in it. It didn't matter how much rain was falling, heavy or light I played and laughed with all my might, because that was all I knew.
The rain praises the Lord as it falls from the sky. Each strike or fall or drip or tap on a person, on us living drums, is a sound of the natural worship the Creation offers back to the Creator. The splashes of children playing in rain puddles is pleasing to the Lord. It is His Creation calling back to Him in thanks and praise for showing His might and love and playfulness. Imagine Christ as a child, running through the streets of Bethlehem or Jerusalem after a rain storm, playing with the other children, dancing in rain puddles, playing with His own creation! That is amazing!! Our Creator played with His Creation, and it praised Him for it. At least I like to think so.
Playful Wind
It's on days like this that I begin to get a grasp and feel of the majesty of my Lord around me. The blue sky above me shines bright, deep, and thoughtful with a mind of its own. The wispy white clouds that streak the sky flow along with the gusts of wind that blow past my face, playing with me like an excited child and saying "Watch what I can do! Look, look!" I can't help but laugh. The warmth of the sun is so obvious as I walk from the shade to the sunlight streaming through the atmosphere. It heats up the skin that was previously so cold and dark and lightens it up, giving life and light.
All of these things I see around me in creation, each seemingly with it's own personality, flows from the breath and hands of the Creator. They are in place in perfect harmony by a Heavenly Composer, and the beautiful thing is: they know it!
They know they are here on Earth because of a Creator. They don't say to themselves, "I'm an amazing sky, look at my color," or "I am warming up this world with my light, and I'm proud of it." No! They simply say, "Look! Look at who made me! Isn't he amazing!" They know their proper place. They understand that they are here for His glory, reflecting His majesty, and pointing back to His grace. Wow! I hope I can learn from the blue sky and white clouds and playful wind and warm sun to praise my Creator that well. I want to glorify Him, because without Him, I am nothing.
D
All of these things I see around me in creation, each seemingly with it's own personality, flows from the breath and hands of the Creator. They are in place in perfect harmony by a Heavenly Composer, and the beautiful thing is: they know it!
They know they are here on Earth because of a Creator. They don't say to themselves, "I'm an amazing sky, look at my color," or "I am warming up this world with my light, and I'm proud of it." No! They simply say, "Look! Look at who made me! Isn't he amazing!" They know their proper place. They understand that they are here for His glory, reflecting His majesty, and pointing back to His grace. Wow! I hope I can learn from the blue sky and white clouds and playful wind and warm sun to praise my Creator that well. I want to glorify Him, because without Him, I am nothing.
D
Flesh-Heart
Recently, I've been wrestling with what true, biblical worship is. What does it look like? What does it entail? What are we supposed to do or say or sing or play? How important is it? So many questions, so there's an equal need for answers. It's a subject that I feel responsible to have at least a decent grasp on, seeing as I am a worship leader. How can I be a proficient leader in worship if I don't understand what it is I'm leading people in? So, here's what I've come up with so far, with help from worship leaders before me.
"Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship." -Romans 12:1
We were created for God's glory out of his unconditional, never-ending love. He didn't need us, but He desired us. He is perfect, holy, and complete without imperfect humans, but because of His love, he desired to show love to another. If we can grasp that off the bat, that's at least half of worship as I see it: we need God infinitely more than He needs us.
This may sound somewhat pessimistic and degrading to humanity, but in reality it is a beautiful thing. We are loved by the Creator of the universe, by the Alpha and Omega, by the Heavenly Father. It's not a love out of requirement, or a love expecting anything in return. It's a love beyond our grasp and comprehension because there is no perfect love that has ever existed here on Earth beyond that of Christ dying in our place. But it stands as a model, an example, which we are called to follow.
As we begin to see God's perfect love more clearly, we equally grow in our grasp on grace. We are depraved, evil-to-the-core, ugly beings who deserve every form of punishment and death available because of the rebellion we have headed against God, "for the wages of sin is death." God cannot stand the sight of sin, and we are stained with it. If it were of our own accord and strength to be made right in God's eyes, we would all fall flat on our faces "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." But there is beauty in our depravity.
Out of that perfect, unconditional love that God is made of, He sent His son for us, His only son, His perfect son, to cover us in grace. He died in our place. He took the punishment for sin, the wrath of God, the separation that we deserved to the grave. And after three days, he rose in victory, forever conquering death and sin. He is our atonement. He is our living sacrifice. His blood covers our sins and allows us to be accepted into God's family. And when we call on Him and give ourselves over to His calling for our lives, we begin our journey of worship. That salvation, the beginning of sanctification, is also our first act of worship.
We stand in victory with Christ over death, and it's not of our own accord or strength, it is through Christ's sacrifice this happens. When we point back to Him, we are worshiping. We are dying to our old selves and taking the new, flesh-heart Christ bought for us, and through that we are glorifying him. When we understand the first half of worship ("we need God infinitely more than He needs us"), the second part falls into place: because of the love-laced grace through which Christ saved us, the least we can do is give ourselves over fully and with nothing held back to God so that the world can see His glorious work in action.
That brings us full circle: ...in view of God’s mercy...offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. We do this for His glory, not our own. We praise and sing and read and pray and dance and breathe and cry and scream and laugh and live for His glory. The more we point back to Him through the gifts He has given us, the better we are fulfilling our purpose here on Earth: to love Him because He loved us, to pursue Him because He pursued us, to woo Him because he wooed us, to surrender ourselves to Him because His son surrendered himself, and to glorify Him because we were made in the image of His glorious self. That is worship in a nutshell. Hope that helps. :-)
D
"Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship." -Romans 12:1
We were created for God's glory out of his unconditional, never-ending love. He didn't need us, but He desired us. He is perfect, holy, and complete without imperfect humans, but because of His love, he desired to show love to another. If we can grasp that off the bat, that's at least half of worship as I see it: we need God infinitely more than He needs us.
This may sound somewhat pessimistic and degrading to humanity, but in reality it is a beautiful thing. We are loved by the Creator of the universe, by the Alpha and Omega, by the Heavenly Father. It's not a love out of requirement, or a love expecting anything in return. It's a love beyond our grasp and comprehension because there is no perfect love that has ever existed here on Earth beyond that of Christ dying in our place. But it stands as a model, an example, which we are called to follow.
As we begin to see God's perfect love more clearly, we equally grow in our grasp on grace. We are depraved, evil-to-the-core, ugly beings who deserve every form of punishment and death available because of the rebellion we have headed against God, "for the wages of sin is death." God cannot stand the sight of sin, and we are stained with it. If it were of our own accord and strength to be made right in God's eyes, we would all fall flat on our faces "for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." But there is beauty in our depravity.
Out of that perfect, unconditional love that God is made of, He sent His son for us, His only son, His perfect son, to cover us in grace. He died in our place. He took the punishment for sin, the wrath of God, the separation that we deserved to the grave. And after three days, he rose in victory, forever conquering death and sin. He is our atonement. He is our living sacrifice. His blood covers our sins and allows us to be accepted into God's family. And when we call on Him and give ourselves over to His calling for our lives, we begin our journey of worship. That salvation, the beginning of sanctification, is also our first act of worship.
We stand in victory with Christ over death, and it's not of our own accord or strength, it is through Christ's sacrifice this happens. When we point back to Him, we are worshiping. We are dying to our old selves and taking the new, flesh-heart Christ bought for us, and through that we are glorifying him. When we understand the first half of worship ("we need God infinitely more than He needs us"), the second part falls into place: because of the love-laced grace through which Christ saved us, the least we can do is give ourselves over fully and with nothing held back to God so that the world can see His glorious work in action.
That brings us full circle: ...in view of God’s mercy...offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God—this is your true and proper worship. We do this for His glory, not our own. We praise and sing and read and pray and dance and breathe and cry and scream and laugh and live for His glory. The more we point back to Him through the gifts He has given us, the better we are fulfilling our purpose here on Earth: to love Him because He loved us, to pursue Him because He pursued us, to woo Him because he wooed us, to surrender ourselves to Him because His son surrendered himself, and to glorify Him because we were made in the image of His glorious self. That is worship in a nutshell. Hope that helps. :-)
D
A Perfect Fit
I have learned recently the necessity of grace, the fact that no matter what I do, no matter what I think, no matter how many good things I try to do to cover up all the bad things, the evilness within myself far outweighs them. It's a lesson that's been a long time coming. For so long I have leaned on my own sense of grace and my own sense of strength that I didn't realize until now that this crooked crutch I've depended on has had me on a path I was never meant to stumble down. Last night, as I was reading Romans 2 and 3, God's words hit so close to home I began to bawl.
I cried for the fact that I have been running from God, wanting to do the things I wanted to do, the things I thought would fulfill my sick desires. I cried for the fact that I had turned my back on my Father. I cried for the fact that I had felt so little remorse for so long for the sins I had used to nail Christ to the cross. I cried out for forgiveness. I cried out for mercy. I cried out in anger towards myself and for the fact that I knew that justice must be served, and that I deserved every bit of it. I prayed in agony for God to just take away this pain, and even more painful was that I knew I deserved it.
This separation from my Creator, my Redeemer, my Savior was hell, in the fullest sense of the word. I knew my sins and I saw them standing there, laughing at me and scoffing at this small, sickly being that knew nothing and had done even less for my Lord. These sins that I had no way of shedding on my own, of my own accord. I was stained to the very bone marrow with sins as crimson as the thickest blood, and there was nothing I could do about it, and that overtook me.
But in my pain, sorrow, anger, emptiness, depravity, I heard a voice through the darkness that was calling my name. I heard a voice that seemed so familiar and so close, I thought it was there with me. It said, "Get up, David. Get up and take my hand. You are my son, my creation, my love, and I have paid the price for you. You are mine. You are wholly mine and you don't have to be captive to these sins any longer." I saw him in my mind, reaching out for me with a hole in one hand and holding a robe of the whitest white in the other. I stood up, cowering in his glorious presence, but he touched my tear-drenched cheek and looked into my eyes.
This was my Father. This was my Savior. This was the One who had conquered death for me and the rest of the world. He was alive in front of me, holding my new robe that he had cleansed by his own blood. The darkness was gone. The pain was gone. The anger was gone. All I felt was acceptance into his family. I knew I was still not perfect, and I knew I had a long road to travel to grow closer to this man, but in his presence, anything was possible. I had found my life in him.
He put it on the white robe he had been holding for me and I put it on...it was a perfect fit.
I cried for the fact that I have been running from God, wanting to do the things I wanted to do, the things I thought would fulfill my sick desires. I cried for the fact that I had turned my back on my Father. I cried for the fact that I had felt so little remorse for so long for the sins I had used to nail Christ to the cross. I cried out for forgiveness. I cried out for mercy. I cried out in anger towards myself and for the fact that I knew that justice must be served, and that I deserved every bit of it. I prayed in agony for God to just take away this pain, and even more painful was that I knew I deserved it.
This separation from my Creator, my Redeemer, my Savior was hell, in the fullest sense of the word. I knew my sins and I saw them standing there, laughing at me and scoffing at this small, sickly being that knew nothing and had done even less for my Lord. These sins that I had no way of shedding on my own, of my own accord. I was stained to the very bone marrow with sins as crimson as the thickest blood, and there was nothing I could do about it, and that overtook me.
But in my pain, sorrow, anger, emptiness, depravity, I heard a voice through the darkness that was calling my name. I heard a voice that seemed so familiar and so close, I thought it was there with me. It said, "Get up, David. Get up and take my hand. You are my son, my creation, my love, and I have paid the price for you. You are mine. You are wholly mine and you don't have to be captive to these sins any longer." I saw him in my mind, reaching out for me with a hole in one hand and holding a robe of the whitest white in the other. I stood up, cowering in his glorious presence, but he touched my tear-drenched cheek and looked into my eyes.
This was my Father. This was my Savior. This was the One who had conquered death for me and the rest of the world. He was alive in front of me, holding my new robe that he had cleansed by his own blood. The darkness was gone. The pain was gone. The anger was gone. All I felt was acceptance into his family. I knew I was still not perfect, and I knew I had a long road to travel to grow closer to this man, but in his presence, anything was possible. I had found my life in him.
He put it on the white robe he had been holding for me and I put it on...it was a perfect fit.
Songs With Edges
I like songs with edges...
I like the song that starts as a whisper up in the brooks of a mountain, bubbling and swirling slowly into a melody and the foundation of what flows into a stream. It flows over rocks, like snare hits in a sporadic spread. Then, as it begins reaching the base of the mountain and into the fullness of a green, lush valley, it's become a river. It's wide, deep, and keeps you guessing what's happening under the surface. And near it's climax, the song becomes a waterfall, thunderous, massive, and inescapable. It launches you over the edge into a free fall of emotions. And once you hit rock bottom, wet and worn, you look back up at the mountain-top from whence you started, thinking through all the emotions and twists and turns the music put you through, and say to yourself, "What a beautiful thing I just experienced."
I like the song that starts as a whisper up in the brooks of a mountain, bubbling and swirling slowly into a melody and the foundation of what flows into a stream. It flows over rocks, like snare hits in a sporadic spread. Then, as it begins reaching the base of the mountain and into the fullness of a green, lush valley, it's become a river. It's wide, deep, and keeps you guessing what's happening under the surface. And near it's climax, the song becomes a waterfall, thunderous, massive, and inescapable. It launches you over the edge into a free fall of emotions. And once you hit rock bottom, wet and worn, you look back up at the mountain-top from whence you started, thinking through all the emotions and twists and turns the music put you through, and say to yourself, "What a beautiful thing I just experienced."
Blue Jays Dancing
It's been about two weeks now since I moved out and am facing this brave, new world on my own. Two weeks of multiple Wal-Mart stops for random household objects I took for granted all these years; two weeks of sitting in front of my TV with no remote, wracking my brain as to what comes next; two weeks of forcing myself to do the few dishes I have that are dirty, and finally realizing, "that's what paper plates are there for!" It's a transition. It's a time of change in every aspect of my life.
My relationships are changing, the way I see finances is changing, my attitude towards hard work is changing, but there is one area of change I have so longed for that is now staring me in the face and challenging me to take the next step: my spiritual life and daily sacrifice towards Christ and His church's mission.
Growing up in the youth group of a good 'ole Southern Baptist Church, the hardest decisions were, "should I go to the lock-in or not?" and "should I lift up my hands during this song?" Not saying that my time in youth wasn't positive or in no way helpful toward my walk. I'm just saying that, although there were invitations at youth camps and during retreats, the challenges were so futile and yet seemed so weighty then.
Now, however, the stakes are higher. There is an edginess about my walk and my daily life on this Earth. It's like every step I take could tip the balance of some spiritual battle I am unable to see...and knowing how I step, those battles probably wouldn't turn out too good. And terrifyingly, this isn't too far off base.
Everyday, as I've said before, is a battle. Satan is pushing and pulling and prodding us to trip up, to do something that makes us as "God-fearing people" look like failures in the world's eyes.
Ephesians 6:12 "For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms."
Whenever I am in this world and can emanate Christ's love, HE is winning battles. Whenever I am so in love with Him and am pointing back to HIS glory and grace, HE is winning battles. We may be foot soldiers and tools to be used by God in the grand scheme of things, but it's not our strength or our will that is being done on the battlefield...it's His.
And that is the thing that has changed the most for me. When I sit on the balcony and watch the blue jays dance or hear a sparrow sing or feel the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun, I say a prayer and it goes something like this:
"Lord, you created this all for yourself. It was for the glory of Christ that creation came to be. We are here to give back what love we can, which appears to be a mere sliver of the love you have for us. You know my thoughts, you know my emotions, and you know my passions, but help me realize they were put there by you so that I can give them back in surrendering service of your will. Wherever I am, in whatever state of mind, help me to meditate on your Spirit within me. I give myself to your will alone and not my own. I am your light and salt here in Las Colinas, from the people living around me to the patients I take care of, make me your ambassador of grace, to show others what I have discovered in You!"
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