Ray Charles & Accidental Grace

I haven't written my blog in several weeks and time escapes me, and moments fly by. Opportunities for me to lavishly paint in broad strokes the glimpses God allows me to see so clearly, pass by.  A strange sense of grief that I missed the opportunity to write with a fresh enthusiasm, tinged with guilt that I didn't go back later then settles upon me, for I feel I have failed to do as I have, for this season, been called to do.

It has been established this writing thing is a call, for I would have never, in a million years, ever thought I would be doing this.  It seems almost impossible to re-examine these Godwinks that have been stuffed into a small pocket that in their own moments were so incredibly sweet, illuminating, and just incredible evidences that reveal the intricacy in which God has woven everything that is your life, with what seems like His never ending spool.  It's just fascinating, when you think on it, really.

Oh to fall behind in sharing that is heavy quite simply because its brilliance has been dimmed by the dust of busy and long days, that become more and more full and more and more telling and weighty.  Days spent ignoring the call to write, days of doubt, as I sift through a past I don't remember while simultaneously discerning how to best move ahead.   It is extremely clear He has me on a journey, one that will reveal more as I walk further into shadows that only He knows how to redeem.  But it is also one in which He shows up, quite frequently to show me He is there, I needn't be afraid, and to simply rest in Him, because He has set me free.

On a whim tonight my child sang a song.  Music holds a special place in my life and has always stirred my affections, and so it is no accident it was then on my mind.  As I've sat here, for the better part two hours, perusing all the greats and even those obscure voices that Youtube has to offer for this timeless tune, I stumbled upon good ol Ray Charles.

 It was in the voice of Ray Charles my soul was liberated -- freed--  from this stagnant, invisible weight I had on my chest that is guilt, rooted in fear.  Right now, I write barely able to see the screen. Tears are falling with the gentle reminder that all I need is grace.

Raw honesty is in this voice.  You can hear it.  Sift through the myriad of recordings of this song and you can hear how different this version is, because these words mean something to a man who walked in grace and is himself, at the recording of this song, close to his own death. Look at the joy on this man's face.

 This song is, as I hear it, utterly drenched in humility, and overwhelmingly infused with an almost fresh sense of grace.  Ray sings so plainly alongside what is literally a royal orchestra, comprised of pristine brass, drums and humming strings-- each individual instrument comes together to culminate in a sound  that seems as explosive and exhaustively beautiful as the grit contained within the gospel itself.  Quite literally it  feels as if the music could completely envelop me in the simple grace of which he sings. 

In all of the versions I have heard tonight, every single one of them cuts out the meat in the middle.  That reminded me of the coffee cup verses in Romans that are nearly always taken out of context:  "..all things  work together for good...if God is for us, who can be against us?"  Take a look at everything that is left out of that.

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.  For those whom he foreknew, he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his son, in order he might be firstborn among many brothers.  And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called, he also justified, and those whom he justified, he also glorified.

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us?

CS  Lewis also recognized the struggle that takes place in the middle when he wrote, "Things often go swimmingly for the first week.  Try six weeks."  Sure, the beginning of that Romans verse, "everything works together for good!" buttressed with "Who can be against us?!"  Umm, no.  Look at the middle.  Everyone in the middle.  I sat there for 30 years.  Ray Charles sat there longer than that, enslaved to all the bandaids the world could offer him to scratch his itch to help him push down bad memories and feel whole, until one day... and that man's story beautifully shows not only on paper, in film, but here, quite simply in his voice, the meat of this verse in Romans.



...those whom he foreknew, he predestined...

Sure, we can read those verses like that!  Done!  Is coming out of Jim Crow south easy?  Blind?  Being addicted to heroin for 15 plus years and get off it? Easy? I think not. Being raised in church, not knowing who God really is and so you run, and do your own thing, to make your own happiness. For me, is coming into a truth that will shake off the residue crafted by religion --both the religion doled out to me that painted Christians as mean, hateful, empty frauds and my own religious self-righteousness that refuted anything other than my own wisdom and that which made me happy and suited my needs that has molded and shaped me going to be easy? No.  No it's not.


 And that is what has kept me from writing. Fear.  Fear from it all, fear from saying too much, fear for not telling this story well, fear of confessing my fear of failure and my fear of man, and on and on it could go, but ultimately what lies at the root all  of that is simply me relying on myself.  Fear, fear, fear, fear.  It's like a festering, highly contagious, yet paralyzing wound, that when left alone breeds self sufficiency, but when acknowledged, beautifully reiterates my dependence on someone I'm still getting to know and even consider I have: my dad.

But that's when I heard the first part of the song T'was Grace that taught my heart to fear. And Grace, my fears relieved... and I felt, right then, the covering of grace in the simplicity of Ray's voice, which led me to find the verses that, like those in Romans, are never sung:


Through many dangers, toils and snares...
we have already come.
T'was Grace that brought us safe thus far...
and Grace will lead us home.

The Lord has promised good to me...
His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be...
as long as life endures.

 Now listen to this same song, with this video, put together by someone, somewhere,at some time, that I just happened to come upon and listen, knowing these verses are right in between the already and not yet, where so many of us get lost.

And that is the whole point:  the meat in the middle of Romans?  He already knew me.  He knew Ray. He even knew Johnny Cash, since we're talking musicians.  He even knows you.

And the best part?  Grace was the very outcome of the Cross.  To be wrecked by God is the most beautiful, freeing experience this world has to offer .

Recently I dreampt of a house.  It's shown up several times, but this was the most telling version of the dream thus far, and for that reason I will not tell about it completely, quite simply because it is not time to do so.  In this majestic home there is a long, rectangular gallery, probably about half the size of a ballroom.  Either side is lined by massive easels, each draped and covered.  There is a huge window behind me, and as I had hold of my child's hand, I knew I had to walk this gallery.  With each step the light would slowly creep past me, just beyond my big toe, and I know as I am able to go deeper into the room, the light would extend a little further the further I go. In the end, the hallway will be bathed in light and each easel will at some point, reveal the draped painting  I didn't even get to the first easel before I had to leave the room.  This journey, I'm afraid may be slow and arduous, but constantly He reveals to me, in the healing light that only He can be, that I need only to rely on Him.

His timing is always perfect, He never throws you more than you can handle.


 The neglected verses in Amazing Grace will be so sweet to me as I walk that gallery. I do so willingly, knowing it is necessary to walk in true freedom that will leave a legacy for my child that, in this dream, holds my hand and maybe, one day, I'll even paint again.

How funny: I just remembered my child took her first steps to Ray Charles.

As I type this, Lean on Me began to play. Go figure.

I love this version, by the way.  Used to watch this movie over and over and over again.
 

Learning by Extraction

As a child sitting in my Grandma Davis' kitchen, at the bar height counter during lunch time, grossed out because I was being forced to eat veg-all, I remember being teased I had a mole on my right arm.  It was small and brown.  About three or four years ago it began to grow.  Within the last two it grew and changed color.  Within the last year, it grew almost twice it's size, about half the size of a penny.



 I just had it removed, and when I did, would you believe it had an entire team of dermatological pathologists perplexed as to what it was?  They had no clue.  Not one.  My mother did not find any irony that I would confuse even a panel scientists all the way in San Diego that look at skin samples all day long.Go figure.

I wasn't worried about the results at all.  Quite frankly I didn't want to pursue testing because I somehow already knew everything was ok.  Somehow there was a peace there.  But still, they persisted, and two weeks later, a paper arrived at my doctor's office with a very very long word that essentially meant 'harmless.'

Know what's interesting?  When I met James, he too had a growth. It was about the size of my thumb and black as my hair.  Obviously dangerous. Bad.  It had grown for years, and was easily forgotten because he couldn't see it on his back.  I could, and I made him go to the doctor, and then we faced a major cancer scare.  By God's grace he is free and clear, but it was scary.  There is a moral to that story too, in that just because you cant see it, or you push it down or even fake it -- pretending the danger is not there does not work.  How funny that my mole decided to change like crazy the entire time I dated him? I had it my whole life, and that is when it grows?  He gets a huge wake up call and has his removed. We break up a year or so later and seven months after that, I get mine removed? I get it cut out and it's harmless?   That is no coincidence.  That's God.  He orchestrated that mole and the mark it will leave upon my skin. And his, for that matter.

I go into such detail as to illustrate timing.  It was one of the remaining pieces of Old Hollie. God's timing is always perfect, and I will always remember that as I look upon what will be a small scar where nine stitches once were. First and foremost, I will remember the healing that is happening within me right now, in ways even that only Christ knows and will reveal to me in His timing.  A mentor recently wrote to me, "God is like a surgeon, he might cut you but it’s always to save you or your quality of life.  He is no butcher or ambulance driver."  I didn't realize I still had that email.  Now I'm glad I do, because His healing hands and His timing are what I will always see when I see this scar.  He went on to tell me in that email that sometimes God will do this work in us without us even knowing it.  How awesome is that?


You see,  the offer for Italy came at this time.  First it was to stay for two months.  Then for two weeks.  Right there I was surprised I was not angry at the change -- as Old Hollie would have been -- but rather, still so thankful I was being considered for the opportunity and humbled to serve, to use the talents, gifts, personality and history the Lord had already provided for me.

It caused me to consider things like fundraising, ministry, do I need to sell everything and pack up? Now? Wait?  The unknown.  What about my job?  Will I be able to keep it, since I will soon need to do fundraisers on the weekends?  All of these practical variables came together simultaneously to most beautifully expose some of my struggles, but also to reinforce my dependance and desire to walk in obedience.

He is a God of balance.

I am in transition to full time ministry, and with all the choices I will need to make, the vision or mission the Lord has given me to refine and pursue is far greater than remaining comfortable in what is quite literally the remnants of my former self.  This vision, this passion for the literal Gospel is what makes me wake up in the morning, combined with the fact I have been  chosen to come and play.  These stitches remind me that all these variables will come together naturally, albeit with a little bit of common grace.

Truly it has been difficult to sit on this news.  It has been overwhelming in the positive, I nearly couldn't contain myself -- the opportunity for Italy was being handed over to me!  How all of this story and my talents and giftings coming together and Oh! the sounds of motorini whizzing past, the polluted air and smog first thing in the summer morning as it lovingly assaults your nostrils the moment you open the massive, wooden doors that are the main entrance of the six hundred year old building you have the pleasure to call home.  You're blinded because the morning light outside is so distinct in contrast to the dimly lit stone entrance.  The interior is cool because the building is made of stone and remnants of pietra sienna are exposed, much to your art historical delight.  As the door opens and your pupil instantly retreats almost into itself and your other senses adjust, happily you put one foot in front of the other, to the curb.   You turn to walk the narrow, cobbled path, straight to the corner cafe on your left to get your morning cornetto con crema lightly sprinked with powdered sugar paired with an espresso macchiato that is so creamy, you nearly just don't understand how--particularly as a former barista-- how it's even possible the foam is so creamy when it's nothing more than milk. Foamed.  Oh! that is one of my daydreams.


Then to know I would soon have the opportunity to walk the Vatican with Gospel lenses?  To use the gift of teaching  and the passion for Art History I've been given? To teach those stateside going on mssions or vacation to see art with these Gospel lenses? To live missionally with a purpose to share the passions He's hardwired me to have?  Church planting?  Seriously? 

Shut.that.massive.front.door.

But. not. yet.  It is not yet time to go. 

And that's ok, because I learned a lot in this little bitty growing pain.

The fact that I was having to force the issue of passports should have been my first clue, because in my excitement, I was forgetting one simple truth:  God doesn't make you scramble, and really?  All of this - everything in this story, this blog -has all literally happened, without my even trying to make it up.  God saved me!  Came to me.  I certainly didn't go looking for him and if you are reading this and this is you, guess what?  When He's ready to snatch  you up, get ready.   You simply cannot escape his call that can come softly for years or swiftly in a moment.  His arms are simply that capable. And here I am scrambling for funds to order our passports in a timely manner according to the suggested departure date?  That sounds more like my timeline, not His.


 What a way to really learn to be diligent about the vision, but flexible in the plan (thank you Andy Stanley).

You see, the doors have opened to Italy in more ways than one.

Prayer is being answered.  When I was informed this video had been subtitled into Italian, I just couldn't believe it.  Proof right here He is listening.  He is preparing the hearts of those with whom I will work, those I will meet, those whom I may simply have dinner with, and I am so incredibly humbled that I get to be a part of it.  He is in this completely, hence why I am not upset.

My dream, this vision is not crushed, but rather is being refined.  But only in His timing, in His will, and rest assured, when it's time, all things will work together for good (Romans 8:28).

He's told me yes!  But He's also teaching me to wait on Him, not to go ahead without him, as any good dad does -- because when we do this, it always leads to failure, however minute or extravagant the act of self reliance.



You see, had the opportunity for a summer trip not come up, I do not know that I would be where I am, with the vision I have -- what to work on to get there or the people to walk with.  For that, another answer to constant prayer, I am so thankful.  There is no way I could do this without those who also have been so called, saturated in the word and walking in grace.

Most certainly without God's grace, I would not have been able to take this time delay well, but with it I find His grace sweet.  I believe it's Job who wrote God made the good, so he also doles out the bad, and willingly we should receive them both.  It is His loving response to ensure the success of a heart that beats in overflowing joy for the work He's done in me, to see me back to a place he first sent me, a place I love, a place I used to say I left my soul,a place He knew I would one day serve whole heartedly.

How awesome it is to have a Father that loves me --and you-- that much. There is still much work to do.  Not because I have to in order to earn His love, but rather because He loves me.  It is the only response I can give and still it doesn't seem adequate..

There is still some of Old Hollie that is being exposed and extracted -- like the growth on my arm.  Although some of it is painful and even scary, it is all part and parcel to the process of learning to let God love me, to know who I am in Christ and the role I was made to fill.

And that my Friends, is totally worth the wait. 

The path to Italy is being paved. He is the light to my path.