Hands Out, Palms Up: I Surrender

Its a rush, its revealing
There’s not much I can to
To prevent her from stealing
My heart; I wont protect
Its too late for that
Even so its not like I could select
She wasn’t just a face in a crowd
She wasn’t just an arbitrary thought
To love; my heart wishes it was allowed.

Masterpiece

Sometimes i feel like a piece of stained glass. one that everyone looks at and admires and "oohs" and "aahs" as the sunlight hits me and scatters brilliance all around. But i look down at me and see the minute imperfections: the bubbles in the glass, the stains and uneven surfaces. And i see the glaring imperfections: the cracks, the the chips and the broken pieces...i know that if anyone could see me from where i see me they would not ooh and aah so much anymore.

I also feel like a hypocrite. im just glass...im nothing special--infact im just painted glass. im something ordianry that has been chopped up into a mosaic and displayed in grandios fake glory--DONT LOOK AT ME. i scream it in my heart of hearts. but then in my pride i like being looked at, i enjoy the praise of others. and in my vain i marvel at my own color spashed on the walls by the sun. yes, what a real hypocrite i am. I am selfish in my hypocricy too, i dont want anyone to look at the other pieces of stained glass, no, only look at me. i dont want them to like any of my fellow stained glass panes, they must only appreciate MY color and MY beauty. its sad really. at the end of the day when all the admirerers have gone home i reflect on my reflection and realize how utterly selfish and prideful i really am.

Thats when i overemphasize my cracks, thats where i scrutinize the small imperfecions on my glossy exterior and mourn the chips that mar my surface. "why?" i scream. "Why did i do this to myself?" "no one will want me...no one will ever accept me because of what i've done!" My pride turns to despair and self-loathing. There never seems to be a middle ground. I am either in love with my own magnificence or crushed by my own imperfections.

But you know the wonderful thing about stained glass? The wonderful thing about stained glass is that it was created. I did not make myself. Oh, in those moments of selfish pride i imagine that i have...but did i fasion my translucent pane by myself? did i design my mosaic? did i paint the beautiful artwork that is me?
See, the wonderful thing about stained glass is that it had a maker. a designer. an artist.
I am HIS masterpiece. When the sun hits me and casts out my array of colors it is HE who gets the credit for my brilliance.
And my artist is patient enough with me when i break myself. He is compassionate when others chip me. And he reminds me that i was born and conceived in imperfection and that someday my shiny surface will be without imperfections.
It is then that i realize that though my surface is marred by many cracks--some of them quite large, and though i have some gauges and chips, these imperfections only serve to make the light shine more beautifully through me because they have become additional refractors of light in my artist's brilliant masterpiece.

My Strength Has Failed

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High Will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the LORD, "My refuge and my fortress, My God in whom i trust!" For it is He who delivers you from the snare of the trapper and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover you with his pinons and under His wings you may seek refuge; His faithfulness is a shield and bulwark. (Psalm 91:1-4)

When i came across these few verses in Psalms they just seemed to jump off the page. I was first struck by the many names for God used, "Most High", "Almighty", "LORD", "My God", This is purposeful and deliberate. The writer is seeking to show the many facets of God's character that are the reasons for his psalm of trust. The writer goes on to describe God as a "refuge", "Fortress", "deliverer", "Shield" and a "Bulwark". He also uses the imagery of a mother bird protecting her young under her wings.

The beginning of this passage says that it will be the one who dwells in the "shelter of the Most High" who receives the benefits of the Lord's protection and provision. Adam Clark in his commentary points out that the "shelter of the Most High" probably refers to the Holy of Holies in the tabernacle. He who enters legitimately there shall be covered with the cloud of God's glory-the protection of the all-sufficient God. This was the privilege of the high priest only, under the law: but under the new covenant all believers in Christ have boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus; and those who thus enter are safe from every evil. John Gill says that it is in this place that believers also are shown His everlasting love, it is made known to them and they dwell in it.

Its fascinating how this provision and protection that we as God's Children receive is at once seen as a mighty defensive structure (shield, refuge and bulwark) and at the same time also a tender caregiver (A mother hen protecting her young), both something that we as fragile humans desperately need. This metaphor of a mother bird sheltering her chicks is common in sacred writings, it refers to God taking us under his wings when birds of prey appear, and also sheltering us from chilling blasts. Furthermore, it is interesting that the The Septuagint reads: εντοις μετα φρενοις αυτου επισκιασεισοι “He will overshadow thee between his shoulders” This alludes to the custom of parents carrying their weak or sick children on their backs, and having them covered even there with a mantle.

This Psalm of faith written most likely by David reminds me that my God is worthy to be trusted in all circumstances, those in which he is my fortress and shield and even those that in which he is my father, cradling me upon his massive, capable shoulders when my strength has failed. and many times he is both these things--and more--at the same time.

Hard Boiled Eggs?

"The Christian way is different: harder, and easier. Christ says 'Give me all. I don't want so much of your time and so much of your money and so much of your work: I want you. I have not come to torment your natural self, but to kill it. No half measures are any good. I don't want to cut off a branch here and a branch there, I want to have the whole tree down. I don't want to drill the tooth, or crown it, or stop it, but to have it out. Hand over the whole natural self, all the desires which you think innocent as well as the ones you think wicked—the whole outfit. I will give you a new self instead. In fact, I will give you Myself: my own will shall become yours.'"
"...The terrible thing, the almost impossible thing, is to hand over your whole self—all your wishes and precautions—to Christ. But it is far easier than what we are trying to do instead."
"...He [Jesus] never talked vague, idealistic gas. When He said, 'Be perfect,' He meant it. He meant that we must go in for the full treatment. It is hard; but the sort of compromise we are all hankering for is harder—in fact, it is impossible. It may be hard for an egg to turn into a bird: it would be a jolly sight harder for it to learn to fly while remaining an egg. We are like eggs at present. And you cannot go on indefinitely being just an ordinary, decent egg. We must be hatched or go bad."
-C.S. Lewis "Mere Christianity" ch. 8-

A Hill to Die On

We don't see light; we see what it touches. it is more or less invisible, made from nothing, just purposed and focused energy, infinite in its power (it will never tire if fired into a vacuum, going on forever). How fitting then for God to create an existence, then a metaphor, as if to say, here is something entirely unlike you, outside of time, infinite in its power and thrust: here is something you can experience but cannot understand. Throughout the remainder of the Bible, then, God calls Himself light. -Donald Miller, "Through Painted Deserts" p.60

I was talking to my friend Greg the other day and we were remarking on the inexplicable frustration we experienced when people use God, or the words of God, as weapons. It seems to me (to us) that more often than not it is those who have fallen into the path of legalism who are more guilty of this than others. They wield the word of God against their fellow believers (yes, even against their own children) in wrath and self-righteous indignation attempting to prove some point about the validity of their strongly held values. I admire the fever, i admire the conviction, yes i even admire the values sometimes to lesser or greater degrees. But should these be hills to die on? Should we hold with such conviction our values of music? Of dance? Of alcohol? Or even of lesser, petty, theology?
There comes a time when i must think that the heart, yea even the mind, must stop and consider the outlandishness of a value that is an extrapolation of scripture overshadowing the value of love and brotherly kindness. When did our preconceived notions of "Christian morals" become more important than the simple teaching of Christ about Faith, Hope, Truth and Love? When did our personal beliefs become the standard for the rest of Christianity? And when did these personal standards become a pedestal from which we look down on the meager masses of milling Christians wallowing in adulterous sin to their maker? Who gave us that right? Are we so great that we understand the infinite mind of God? Are we so great as to think that what we have interpreted as "right Christian living" is not open for debate; is the only answer and the only true example?
I fear, my friends, that if Christ were to walk among us today we would be the pharisees. I fear that we would be the "whitewashed tombs" who harbor so many rules and regulations that we cannot accept the simple grace of the messiah. For what is grace but a thing undeserved? Why then do we, who have received such a gift, live continually striving to be worthy? For what are all these rules and regulations that we set up but standards we try to meet so as to feel justified and know that God "approves" of us? It is not so my friends. No matter how high your standards, or how exacting your methods, you will never be viewed by God as any better or more spiritually worthy than the next Christian who has none of those standards. God does not judge in that way. My dear friends if He did none of us would be here. And if initial grace is not earned by merit, how then can we think that the grace of sanctification is any different...or anything different than the same grace we initially received?
Why then hold so dear to standards extrapolated from scripture? on music? or on alcohol? or on dancing, smoking, etc.? (or ANYTHING else we feel called to apart from scripture?) These are mere personal standards that have no foundational basis in scripture as to be a command for ALL men. They make no person better, they make no person more worthy Most importantly, they make no person more loved by God--and adherence to them should make no person more or less loved by US.
God, and godliness, and His words are not yours to use as your weapons against your own. He alone is the counselor to His thoughts, He alone will decide whom He loves and gives grace to, He is unthinkable and unsearchable, how dare we play His part in deciding what is, and who has Christian Spirituality by thoughts of our own choosing and making.

Retrace
Anberlin

Oh, how I've tried to get you out of my head.
And I lied, broken words I said.
Never thought I'd walk on this street again.
Standing where it all began.

Tried to forget when I left this town,
But it takes me right back when I come back around.

Retrace the steps we took on that long summer night.
I'm right there by your side.
Retrace the steps we took when we met worlds away.
Counting backwards while the stars are falling.

Oh, how I find every subtle thing screams your name.
It reminds me of places of times we shared.
Couldn't live locked in these memories.
Now I'm chained to my thoughts again.

And I tried to forget when I left this town,
But I'll take you right back if you come back around.

Retrace the steps we took on that long summer night.
I'm right there by your side.
Retrace the steps we took when we met worlds away.
Counting backwards while the stars are falling.

I need some shelter, I need some safety.
Photographs, they haunt me lately.
Chasing shadows as the evening takes me.
I'm still searching, but the picture's fading.

Retrace the steps we took on that long summer night.
I'm right there by your side.
Retrace the steps we took when we met worlds away.
Counting backwards, still counting backwards.

And no where else has ever felt like home.
And I can't fall asleep when I'm lying here alone.
I replay your voice, it's like you're here.
You move the earth, but now the sky is falling.

Retrace the steps we took on that long summer night.
In my mind, I'm back by your side.
Retrace the steps we took when we met worlds away.
Counting backwards while the stars are falling.

Just Like the Sun...But More Like the Moon

How do we love?
Is it the same as sight?
Painted reflections on another’s heart
Sight unseen
Is choice an object?
How much more the intangible?