there's a blog post somewhere in my heart/mind that wants to shout-shout-shout laud, praise, and honor to the Lord for the amazing things He did yesterday and how He filled my heart to overflow.

I want to write about that tension between joy and sorrow. 

I want to write about the same heart that "day after day" has sorrow in it but also rejoices in the Lord's salvation.

I want to say that yesterday I learned it is an exquisite privilege to wrestle with the "how long?"s and the "why?"s that comprise human suffering because we only ask those questions if we have great faith in a great God.

He's too good.

He's more than all the words I have

He's more than every song I know

He's more than the Scriptures (but thank You, Lord, for the Scriptures!).

He's the one that prompted people to "amen" me as I spoke in front of a group yesterday. (They're listening! They're alive! Hear that, pastor? Some people listen. Some people care. God is working.) He's the one that repairs brokenness. He's the one that sustains. He's the one that gives strength and encourages. He's the one that will be victorious (and already is). He's the one that quells spiritual warfare.

He's the one that made me. He's the one that loves me. He's the one that will bring me home. He's my reason for everything. He's my reason to press on. He's my joy. He's my good. He is my light, my strength, my song.

He made me say true things yesterday! (True and encouraging / empowering / restorative.) He put truth in my hands. He put a new song in my mouth! He is wonderful and marvellous.

He's....

ugh.

    thank You, Lord. You alone know.

Oh, Lord. Let me not forget.

Let me not forget!


Let me not forget what it is like to be encouraged and to know You. Let me not forget what it's like to be standing tall as if nothing is too heavy, nothing is too much.

Remind me when the clouds roll in. Remind me.

Arrested in triplicate.

Something that snagged my attention like a knitted sweater passing briers:

"Come now, let us settle the matter,"
  says the Lord.
"Though your sins are like scarlet,
  they shall be white as snow;
though they are crimson,
  they shall be like wool.

It's the eighteenth verse of the first chapter of Isaiah. The other seventeen verses are piles of charge and condemnation and judgment perfectly deserved. And then this. Though you are hopeless and dead, I will revive you and make you beautiful. He's that guy.


Something that chilled me to my core like witnessing a violent head injury:

The rulers and nations in Psalm 2 try to throw off the rule of the One who sits enthroned in heaven. Yesterday it was preached that, "this attempt to pull God off the throne is exactly like what happened with Jesus. The very first time rebellious people can get their hands on God, they kill Him."

[I can't find the words to make comment.]


Something that got me in a truly new and beautiful way, like that sunset which makes you do a double-take and hold your breath:

As rebels, it's mercy that we're given the opportunity to surrender. It's mercy that we aren't made slaves or otherwise treated poorly. It's grace that we get dignity... it's incalculable grace and mercy and love that we are restored to right relationship with the King. It's unreal!

God has encouraged me.

I wrote it all out in detail but I don't like it. Maybe I gave away too much. Maybe the details of particular events are not enough to make Him look as good as I see Him right now.

I should at least say I'm [excited/thrilled] about how He seems to be working and changing things at the local church where I worship.

I'm also exceedingly thankful and awed (truly awed) about a budding friendship and beautiful connection He's initiated with a sister in the Lord.

I keep forgetting that I asked Him several weeks ago to give me a greater hunger for the Word but He is answering ferociously.

This post isn't very eloquent or deep but if I wait til I have something more, I probably won't post.

#stillmoreawesomethaniknow

Three Lewises.

(1) One of the things I have been enjoying about The Chronicles of Narnia is the way the narrator enters the story. Sometimes it's a vantage point, where he tells you what cannot be seen or heard, sometimes it's a playful knock against adults from a child's perspective. I guess what I like even more is when the author behaves like a narrator and doesn't provide details that he could, given that he is the creator of the entire world/story. It shows some kind of integrity, brilliance, and creativity that I know nothing about. Every time I read a little excerpt like that it squimpingly wiggles my toes, smiles my face, and inspires my art glands.

 Edmund stared hard for a while and then said, "No. There's nothing there. You've got dazzled and muddled with the moonlight. One does, you know. I thought I saw something for a moment myself. It's only an optical what-do-you-call-it." (152)

Lewis made the character forget a word! 

--

(2) And this. It's beautiful and right.

  "Aslan, Aslan. Dear Aslan," sobbed Lucy. "At last."

  The great beast rolled over on his side so that Lucy fell, half sitting and half lying between his front paws. He bent forward and just touched her nose with his tongue. His warm breath came all round her. She gazed up into the large, wise face.

  "Welcome, child," he said.

  "Aslan," said Lucy, "you're bigger."

  "That is because you are older, little one," answered he.

  "Not because you are?"

  "I am not. But every year you grow, you will find me bigger."

  For a time she was so happy that she did not want to speak. (148)

---

(3) And this is marvellously magnificent. We push on, so we do, so we do, so we do. I especially like the "it is hard for you" admission. I hope God is really like that, compassionate and understanding.

  "Oh dear, oh dear," said Lucy. "And I was so pleased at finding you [Aslan] again. And I thought you'd come roaring in and frighten all the enemies away--like last time. And now everything is going to be horrid."

  "It is hard for you, little one," said Aslan. "But things never happen the same way twice. It has been hard for us all in Narnia before now."

  Lucy buried her head in his mane to hide from his face. But there must have been magic in his mane. She could feel lion-strength going into her. Quite suddenly she sat up.

  "I'm sorry, Aslan," she said. "I'm ready now." (150)

A mighty fortress is our God, 

A bulwark never failing;

Our helper He amid the flood

Of mortal ills prevailing. 

Did we in our own strength confide,

Our striving would be losing,

Were not the right man on out side,

The man of God's own choosing.

Dost ask who that may be?

Christ Jesus, it is He--

Lord Sabbaoth His name,

From age to age the same,

And He must win the battle.

Lewis, Clive Staples. "Prince Caspian". The Chronicles of Narnia. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2002. Print.
Luther, Martin. "A Mighty Fortress is Our God". The Hymnal for Worship and Celebration. Ed. Tom Fettke. Waco, Texas: Word Music, 1986. Print.

description defying!

I don't know how to describe the little nugget-bubble of joy-smile-happy that I experience the first time someone who isn't normally given to silliness uses a silly name to sign an email or address me.

Those people that don't seem to get me or why I use silly language, people whose brains seem too sensible and responsible to want to dabble, so I use my silliness at maybe 10 or 20% with them, to be kind. Those people. Then they cave and I feel indescribably zimpzhilerated inside. I'll never forget the day our pastor succumbed by using the word "Fringle". I always do my best not to pounce on them on their first foray so I don't scare them off. I want them to think it can be or can sound natural. Ah.

Just got an email from a straight-laced friend where she called me "Freddie". Her first! The firsts are usually not very creative at all, but I will wait happily.

It was only a month ago that the fiancé of a friend said his first "bert" and I wanted to die. That guy is unfathomably straight-sensible-normal. I actually didn't even know I berted around him that much.

Last week and the week before I have been trying to explain to friends this very same nugget-bubble that I get when people use terms that I've coined. They use it silly-ly at first but then it catches on and becomes an easy reference so something like "smoup" (for "small group") has become first nature among my fellow smoupites AND I LOVE IT. It's a snappy little short form. It's caught on. 

I tried to explain to one frem [sic] how to me it means something like being accepted. Something like being allowed to be me and being welcomed/connected. It's like being known. It's real nice! I can know I'm just me and they see me that way. It's actually profoundly meaningful.

Or, profrumply bertingful, if you schwill.

Professor of Fahrenheit,

Freddie

Praise the Lord, O my soul; all my inmost being, praise his holy name.

(I'm actually asleep right now but) I read through Book IV of the Psalms and I have something to say.

I don't know if it's just my music- and poetry-loving heart, or my Music Director brain or if it's just as a believer that I found Psalms 95 through 98 so engaging and delicious tonight... but I did. I'm grateful to God. Truly grateful. His timing is perfect and His tenderness is inviting. His love didn't scare me today... Today I really loved leaning in and listening.

I had considered reading about an hour before but that was more a legalistic silver bullet than a desire to hear/learn/meditate/worship. I was enshrouded by a heavy low mood and thought that reading the Bible was what good Christians did when they were upset. Firstly, Christians shouldn't be having bad feelings but if they must then Scripture is the antidote. (And if I was wrong about that, at least I could know I tried the "right" thing. No guilt.)

Sigh. But I didn't pick up the Word then because I didn't want to be a legalistic bum! I think there is a thing called living relationships with the Living God. I think there are different times for different things (citation: Ecclesiastes & Garfunkel). So at the time, I asked Him what should be done and though I didn't get His text-messages because the reception is poor in the basement, it seems I ended up where He would have me.

I sat--with inexplicable perseverance--and did one of my homework assignments which involed me engaging with the very stuff that catapulted me into this season last fall. That old ugly stuff. That stuff that today seemed shockingly surreal and not mine and altogether overwhelming. For much of the time I wasn't able to touch the paper on which I was writing because of the gross words (the descriptions of gross things) it was showing. My writing looked real funny because I could barely hold the pen since it also was touching the paper that held the ugly words.

But in His providence I could do it and it seemed exactly right for that time. I have to say--it was refreshing to be repulsed again, to see that not everything is my fault. And even more refreshing was what I want to call first-order sadness. Sad because of concrete events that are objectively upsetting. Not this second-order mystically ambiguous sadness or third-order how-am-I-still-like-this sadness garbage. REAL crummy stuff; RESPONSIVE tears. Thanks be to God.

Thanks be to God!

And afterward, I gave myself time to recover, I brewed some chai, and then I earnestly wanted to read God's Word. I wanted to and I was riveted. So, I'm so glad for His timing and ordering and God-ness. 

Just one note from my reading since I do need to pretend to go to bed at some point. I was struck by the poignancy of two little verses in Psalm 106 which impeccably capture Israel's (and therefore the human heart's) vicious cycle:

Then they believed his promises 

  and sang his praise.

But they soon forgot what he had done

  and did not wait for his counsel.

I read this and tonight it felt a little like having the wind knocked out of me. I'm gutted that we're like this.

These verses capture similarly:

Many times he delivered them,

  but they were bent on rebellion

  and they wasted away in their sin.

But he took note of their distress

  when he heard their cry;

for their sake he remembered his covenant

  and out of his great love he relented.

Sigh. The gospel is perfect. It's everything. (Get that!) Earlier today, ambushed by a rich hymn, I realised that I love the gospel more now than ever. A new convert doesn't get it: we just can't. We grow into deeper and deeper appreciation of what He's done and who He is as time rolls on. It's...more than I can type. (Rightly so!)

Gosh...that other hymn nails it!

Since I started for the Kingdom,

since my life He controls,

since I gave my heart to Jesus,

the longer I serve Him, the sweeter He grows.

This is post number twelve hundred.

I have so much to say but no heart or mouth. I am at work doing my job properly but my brain (my back-brain) is swirling. There's too much to think about and process. It seems I'm having a bit of a Janus morning. Since last night I've been looking back over the season that began eleven months ago. Reading old blog posts (which are truly journal entries) I have seen that God has carried me, He has loved me, He has led me along and things are healing. There are small ("small") changes, and in a real way, I'm doing better than I was.

And looking forward, looking at the present, I have many unsatiated wonderings. There have been cycles, there have been ups-and-downs, there has been yo-yo-ing, there have been patterns and a degree of predictability but as I type, I am unsure of how to process the moment/the stage/the wait/the next. I sat with a friend yesterday as she cried/grieved and it drew up some strange things in me. I don't know what is the proper thing to write right now.

I feel still and compact but not frayed and haunted. So... it's a day.

YOU'RE out of order!

I have notes from Book 2 that I want to post but today I'm going to post from Book 4 in The Chronicles of Narnia. (So I will be posting out of order.)

"Once there were four children whose names were Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy, and it has been told in another book called The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe how they had a remarkable adventure. They had opened the door of a magic wardrobe and found themselves in a quite different world from ours, and in that different world they had become Kings and Queens in a country called Narnia." (1)

When I read this my gut response was to pompously scoff, "What did they ever do to deserve to be kings and queens?" I've read the book that tells their story: they only had the plumb luck of stumbling through a piece of furniture into an alternate world. What part of crawling and being nosy makes you fit to rule as a monarch? Why do these kids get the authority, privilege, and position of sovereigns because of a game of Hide and Seek gone awry?

In a split-second I had looked down my nose and bristled at the situation, annoyed that greatness was conferred on these undeserving people. And in the next half of that second, I realised that C.S. Lewis, again, has gotten it exactly right. They aren't deserving; they aren't fit to rule; they shouldn't have authority, privilege, and position. Neither should I; neither should we. And yet, see what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God--and that is what we are! The absurdity of a vicious murderer, a rebel, (someone with my proud, disobedient, self-seeking heart) being adopted as a child of God, it's equal to the absurdity of random children of common ilk becoming kings and queens of a foreign nation.

I John 3:1 "The mention of being 'born of him' leads John to an outburst of wonder at God's love in making us his children, the allusion being to the divine nature we have received through being born of God rather than to our filial status. The expression how great translates potapēn which meant originally 'of what country'. It is as if the Father's love is so unearthly, so foreign to this world, that John wonders from what country it may come. The word 'always implies astonishment' (Plummer). This love is not only 'shown' us, but actually lavished on us. For children of God is no mere title; it is a fact. True, we are called 'children of God'. But God gives us this privileged designation only because that is what we are by his grace, whatever other people may think or say." (122-123)

Wow.

Lewis, Clive Staples. "Prince Caspian". The Chronicles of Narnia. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2002. Print.
Stott, John R. W. "The Letters of John". Tyndale New Testament Commentaries. Leicester, England: Inter-Varsity Press, 1989. Print.

Series: Ten Aspects (7/7)

(for Thursday)

1) Something for which I am thankful.
That people let me contribute sometimes.

2) Something I learned.
I really (read: deeply, sorely) miss formal learning and being inspired.

3) Something I want to learn.

How to art (v.).

4) A reason to hope.
Some days are good, friends are great, the King reigns--and He is coming again!

5) An attribute of God's that I noticed.
He is beyond-words ultimate and He is God. 

Job knew it:

"If I have put my trust in gold or said to pure gold, 'You are my security,' if I have rejoiced over my great wealth, the fortune my hands had gained, if I have regarded the sun in its radiance or the moon moving in splendor, so that my heart was secretly enticed and my hand offered them a kiss of homage, then these also would be sins to be judged, for I would have been unfaithful to God on high." (31:24-28)

6) Something surprising.

An aquatic friend stopping by my workplace for a hug and a quick chinwag. 

7) Something new. 
Authentic Lebanese food (as authentic as you get outside Lebanon).

8) Something taken for granted.
My body.

9) Something difficult.
Buying up every last drop of contempt on the market and still not having enough to pour on all my pride.

10) Something fun.
Finding (and wrapping!) the needle-threadingest gift for a kind friend. (She did the gasp and the arms shot into the air. It happied me.)

Series: Ten Aspects (6/7)

(for Wednesday)

1) Something for which I am thankful.
That fab encouragement that comes from talking with other believers about things most important.

2) Something I learned.
My medication is not yet at a therapeutic doseage. In this case "therapeutic" seems to mean "helpful at all". I'm a little frustrated but I am supposed to trust my GP.

3) Something I want to learn.

How to improve my skills as a musician.

4) A reason to hope.
"Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us."

5) An attribute of God's that I noticed.
His sovereignty (which is sometimes the only flickering candle that splits the darkness). C.S. Lewis captured it magnificently in "The Horse and His Boy", as I read last night.

6) Something surprising.
How the team listens to me on non-technical things--and yesterday I could really know they had listened. 

We had sung half the chorus of "Be Unto Your Name" a cappella and at the end of the song I was contemplating whether we should keep full accompaniment throughout. I asked the team, "Have you guys read Revelation?" Cautious yeses and nods come back to me (no one wants "read" to be confused with "understood a mote of"). 

"Have you guys heard of the Lamb who was slain?" Confused silence. Then one pipes up, "You sound like [the preaching pastor]...!" Then more to himself than me, "Is that a rhetorical question...?"

I spilled. "I am legitimately ashamed of myself that I could sing, 'Holy, holy Lord God Almighty; worthy is the Lamb who was slain,' and not mean it and not think about the words." I fumbled something about how that isn't good enough and that we had better be mindful of this come Sunday. We had sounded weak, and vacant... like we were on autopilot. I thought better of it and asked them to sing the entire song again.

The difference was so marked it blew me away. And a non-singer began singing, too! That gave me confidence that it was the truth that had resonated, not my direction/authority!

It sounded like worship. It sounded full and passionate. It sounded perfect. Thanks be to God!

7) Something new.
Being referred to as "the Berlin wall" (for my musical standards). I'll take it.

8) Something taken for granted.
God's providence.

9) Something difficult.
Discerning when the help is not helping (or if it's the hard head that needs help).*
*halliteration

10) Something fun.
Reading on the couch, feet up and coffee nearby. 

Series: Ten Aspects (5/7)

1) Something for which I am thankful.
Grace. 

2) Something I learned.

Keeping my motives pure is about as easy as keeping sand out of my shoes when I've been at the beach (or just walked near it).

3) Something I want to learn.

Everything a good Bible college will teach me in a two-year period. 

4) A reason to hope.

"...since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God."

5) An attribute of God's that I noticed.

His perfection: He deserves the best.

6) Something surprising.
Burger King bought Tim Hortons. (Not the corporate merger, I mean the reigning monarch of Burgerdom purchased a double-double.)

7) Something new.

An olive branch out of left field (to mix metaphors absurdly)!!

8) Something taken for granted.
Those glorious nights when I used to sleep.

9) Something difficult.

Balance, balance, balance. 

10) Something fun.

Stickers of cupcakes with moustaches--and friends who appreciate them. 

Series: Ten Aspects (4/7)

1) Something for which I am thankful.

That God called me to life. That God is able keep me from apostasy and that in the purest light of glory, not one of my faults will show.

2) Something I learned.

The season hasn't changed yet. 

3) Something I want to learn.

How to choose better.

4) A reason to hope.

(I know the context isn't right but) "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me." (John 14:1)

5) An attribute of God's that I noticed.
His bigness / His outside-of-time-ness / that He persists through or above all ages

.

.

.

which must mean He knows more than I do and that His order is good.

6) Something surprising.

How much embarrassment I feel over how little I work. I don't even know how to process it. 

7) Something new.

Evaluating a music theory book for a piano student. (I enjoyed it more than I should have.)

8) Something taken for granted.

Paid work!

9) Something difficult.

Pain with no name.

10) Something fun.

Tacos. (Not joking...they were truly delicious.)

"The Magician's Nephew" has sat on my unspeakably cluttered desk for ten days. Let's do this.

C.S. Lewis, he seems to be insightful and to write poignantly.

This, on prayer:

  "I am hungry," said Digory.
  "Well, tuck in," said Fledge [the horse], taking a big mouthful of grass. Then he raised his head, still chewing and with bits of grass sticking out on each side of his mouth like whiskers, and said, "Come on, you two. Don't be shy. There's plenty for us all."
  "But we can't eat grass," said Digory.
  "H'm, h'm," said Fledge, speaking with his mouth full. "Well--h'm--don't know quite what you'll do then. Very good grass too."
  Polly and Digory stared at one another in dismay.
  "Well I do think someone might have arranged about our meals," said Digory.
  "I'm sure Aslan would have, if you'd asked him, said Fledge.
  "Wouldn't he know without being asked?" said Polly.
  "I've no doubt he would," said the Horse (still with his mouth full). "But I've a sort of idea he likes to be asked." (178)

On hope:

For the rest of that day, whenever he looked at the things about him, and saw how ordinary and unmagical they were, he hardly dared to hope; but when he remembered the face of Aslan he did hope. (216)

On obedience:

  Aslan threw up his shaggy head, opened his mouth, and uttered a long, single note; not very loud, but full of power. Polly's heart jumped in her body when she heard it. She felt sure that it was a call, and that anyone who heard that call would want to obey it and (what's more) would be able to obey it, however many worlds and ages lay between. (163)

Lewis, C.S. "The Magician's Nephew." The Chronicles of Narnia. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2002. Print.

Series: Ten Aspects (3/7)

1) Something for which I am thankful.
A potential new (huge) shift in ministry.

2) Something I learned.
God's Word is amazing.

3) Something I want to learn.

How to see well. (How to "get it"!)

4) A reason to hope.
I lift my eyes up to the mountains--
  where does my help come from?
My help comes from the Lord,
  the Maker of heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot slip--
  he who watches over you will not slumber;
indeed, he who watches over Israel
  will neither slumber nor sleep.

The Lord watches over you--
  the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
the sun will not harm you by day,
  nor the moon by night.

The Lord will keep you from all harm--
  he will watch over your life;
the Lord will watch over your coming and going
  both now and forevermore.

5) An attribute of God's that I noticed.
He is able.

6) Something surprising.
Someone I barely know picking up on my super-hero reference. "Yeah, classic Marvel," he says, without missing a beat.

7) Something new.

Making the acquaintance of the father of a dear friend (an honor I've been looking forward to for a while).

8) Something taken for granted.
Prayer. (I called to Him in a spot I never have and always should, and He really amazed me.)

9) Something difficult.

Praying humbly, dependently, and unrushedly before acting.

10) Something fun.
Choosing very deliberately to sit with people instead of isolating myself during our family worship service this morning. People can be nice. I chatted with three people I normally wouldn't and it was lovely conversation all. I feel blessed. I feel grateful that this interaction does not go under the "Relationship is Painful" column.