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.
...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.
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.
