Worry and anxiety make absolutely no sense.
Whenever I feel worried or anxious, it's usually with the intention - conscious or unconscous - of staying aware or on top of the situation so that it can't get the better of me. It's as if my soul believes unswervingly that if I am not anxious or if I do not worry, then I'm lazy and unaware, and I'll ultimately be overtaken.
The truth of the matter is, however, that the moment I've begun to worry, I am overtaken already. The worrisome situation has already gotten the better of me.
The purpose of trouble is to cause trouble - duh.
If I am troubled about trouble, then trouble's purpose is already satisfied, and it's hardly had to lift its dreary little finger. My worrisome attempt at not being troubled by trouble has done trouble's job for it.
That being said, there can only be one solution:
The only way to overcome trouble is to laugh in the face of it. Big or small, the problems of this life can never overcome one who is not afraid.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Sunday, May 1, 2011
What If I Surrender?
When I say, "I surrender," it immediately demands that I must give up the right to say, "What if?"
We use the words, "What if?" in many different capacities. The phrase is a weapon to ward off our need to be obedient; it is a balm to pacify that nagging thought to step out into the unknown; it is a murderer of hopes and dreams and destiny. The desire to utter those two small, devastating words will remain within us, of course, but the right to speak them aloud or to dwell on them is relinquished with the word "surrender."
The word "surrender" is the most painful word a man can release from his lips. The mechanics of forming words are quite simple, but the heart to speak them truthfully with intent to act upon them is not so easy a task. The word "surrender" is painful because the heart required to speak it with truth and action in mind is a broken heart.
Now, I use the phrase "broken heart" in a different manner than the usual picture it creates. A man who has the heart of surrender is not a blubbering, pathetic, barely tolerable mess of a man, though seasons of being such is mandatory to master the heart of surrender. A man with the heart of surrender is rather a man who has broken away from being obedient to fear, rejection, doubt, shame, laziness, excuses, and the like.
Brokenness is the end of obedience to man-pleasing and self-pleasing. It is the beginning of obedience to the resounding whisper of our Father.
A truly broken heart has surrendered one type of obedience - the one which comes to us naturally - for an obedience of a different sort - the sort of obedience which is learned and has nothing to do with instinct. This is the obedience which leads to a most beautiful satisfaction.
Surrender's broken heart is not a debilitating, emotional state of mind. It is a heart which has stolen itself away from the natural order of the world, hiding itself in an order which makes no sense to man. The heart of surrender has found its hiding place in trusting the Father when He doesn't make sense (which is most of the time, by the way).
A surrendered heart has found its refuge in knowing that nothing in the universe, seen or unseen, can ever render God a liar.
We use the words, "What if?" in many different capacities. The phrase is a weapon to ward off our need to be obedient; it is a balm to pacify that nagging thought to step out into the unknown; it is a murderer of hopes and dreams and destiny. The desire to utter those two small, devastating words will remain within us, of course, but the right to speak them aloud or to dwell on them is relinquished with the word "surrender."
The word "surrender" is the most painful word a man can release from his lips. The mechanics of forming words are quite simple, but the heart to speak them truthfully with intent to act upon them is not so easy a task. The word "surrender" is painful because the heart required to speak it with truth and action in mind is a broken heart.
Now, I use the phrase "broken heart" in a different manner than the usual picture it creates. A man who has the heart of surrender is not a blubbering, pathetic, barely tolerable mess of a man, though seasons of being such is mandatory to master the heart of surrender. A man with the heart of surrender is rather a man who has broken away from being obedient to fear, rejection, doubt, shame, laziness, excuses, and the like.
Brokenness is the end of obedience to man-pleasing and self-pleasing. It is the beginning of obedience to the resounding whisper of our Father.
A truly broken heart has surrendered one type of obedience - the one which comes to us naturally - for an obedience of a different sort - the sort of obedience which is learned and has nothing to do with instinct. This is the obedience which leads to a most beautiful satisfaction.
Surrender's broken heart is not a debilitating, emotional state of mind. It is a heart which has stolen itself away from the natural order of the world, hiding itself in an order which makes no sense to man. The heart of surrender has found its hiding place in trusting the Father when He doesn't make sense (which is most of the time, by the way).
A surrendered heart has found its refuge in knowing that nothing in the universe, seen or unseen, can ever render God a liar.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Joyfully Hopeful Have-Not
Romans 12:12
"Be joyful in hope..."
If the Holy Spirit took the time to inspire Paul to write this one simple phrase, then there is mostly likely an equally simple and doubly as powerful reason that He did.
And here it is:
Hoping sucks without joy.
If you're hoping, it means you are a have-not. And having not gets old after a while. These "whiles" have a tendency to be "good, long whiles," dragging on and on until have-nots also become hope-nots.
Unless you can joyfully long for the things for which you hope, you're going to lose your steam along the way. By the time you get the hopeful expectation and graduate from your have-not position, you're so exhausted from being so angry for being a have-not, you can't even enjoy having for the very first time.
Do yourself a favor, have-nots. Get some joyful hope.
Wait joyfully, as a mother waits for the child growing in her belly.
Your have-not hope is already yours. Enjoy every moment of waiting so your joy may be complete when at last you hold it for the first time.
"Be joyful in hope..."
If the Holy Spirit took the time to inspire Paul to write this one simple phrase, then there is mostly likely an equally simple and doubly as powerful reason that He did.
And here it is:
Hoping sucks without joy.
If you're hoping, it means you are a have-not. And having not gets old after a while. These "whiles" have a tendency to be "good, long whiles," dragging on and on until have-nots also become hope-nots.
Unless you can joyfully long for the things for which you hope, you're going to lose your steam along the way. By the time you get the hopeful expectation and graduate from your have-not position, you're so exhausted from being so angry for being a have-not, you can't even enjoy having for the very first time.
Do yourself a favor, have-nots. Get some joyful hope.
Wait joyfully, as a mother waits for the child growing in her belly.
Your have-not hope is already yours. Enjoy every moment of waiting so your joy may be complete when at last you hold it for the first time.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
I'll Know It When I Find it
on the brink
at the edge
staring down
over a ledge
letting go is as simple as
i love you
as final as death
eyes wide open
seeing for the first time
from black and white
to living color
life bursts forth
legs once thought to be
lame
put one foot in front of the other
a heart once though to be
silent
is beating out of its chest
a journey is only a journey
if the destination is
sure
i fancied myself a vagabond
a hopeful wanderer
destination escapes me now
but somewhere there is a
somewhere
to stay
at the edge
staring down
over a ledge
letting go is as simple as
i love you
as final as death
eyes wide open
seeing for the first time
from black and white
to living color
life bursts forth
legs once thought to be
lame
put one foot in front of the other
a heart once though to be
silent
is beating out of its chest
a journey is only a journey
if the destination is
sure
i fancied myself a vagabond
a hopeful wanderer
destination escapes me now
but somewhere there is a
somewhere
to stay
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
The Road Less Traveled
I find it so fascinating that I can always feel when my life's about to break wide open. This has happened umpteen thousands of times in my life. Yet, with each new pressure that life places on me to push this breaking onward, I still find myself terrfied by it, as if I've never been to this place before, as if this is new territory.
It is, of course, new territory in the sense that I've never been to this particular fork in the road. But the concepts and confrontations of forks in this road are nothing new. I've come across thousands and thousands of splits on the road of my life. Each time, I eventually choose, though I often throw the most unseemly and embarrassing tantrum before I do, and then I move forward. And each time, I am ecstatic with my choice, knowing it was You all along guiding my way, and that I had absolutely nothing to do with where this road was taking me in the first place.
At this very moment along this very road, I am standing before a split. A decision must be made, and I am breaking. I feel the pressure of change pressing down on me with every breath and with every heartbeat. Like a woman in labor, the pain and the pressure bears down on my very being, in the deepest places of my life, and whether I am ready for change or not, change is coming. My course is set, and this cannot be stopped. I am moments away from delivering something into my world of which I have no actual concept apart from my dreaming and my longing. I have not a single idea of what it will look like, feel like, smell like, sound like, think like, love like, be like.
It is no secret to You that forks in the road shake me to my very core. You've been by my side at each new twist and turn, and You've been the reasoning behind each decision made. As much as I'd love to be able to take the credit for the course of my life, I know that I cannot. You are my Guide - indeed, the very Way of the path on which I walk.
I have no idea where You are taking me, and I'm as uncomfortable as hell, but I'm letting go, as I have so many times before, and as I will so many times to come.
Help me to choose where it is that You're leading. There are always multiple choices, but there is only one Way.
It is, of course, new territory in the sense that I've never been to this particular fork in the road. But the concepts and confrontations of forks in this road are nothing new. I've come across thousands and thousands of splits on the road of my life. Each time, I eventually choose, though I often throw the most unseemly and embarrassing tantrum before I do, and then I move forward. And each time, I am ecstatic with my choice, knowing it was You all along guiding my way, and that I had absolutely nothing to do with where this road was taking me in the first place.
At this very moment along this very road, I am standing before a split. A decision must be made, and I am breaking. I feel the pressure of change pressing down on me with every breath and with every heartbeat. Like a woman in labor, the pain and the pressure bears down on my very being, in the deepest places of my life, and whether I am ready for change or not, change is coming. My course is set, and this cannot be stopped. I am moments away from delivering something into my world of which I have no actual concept apart from my dreaming and my longing. I have not a single idea of what it will look like, feel like, smell like, sound like, think like, love like, be like.
It is no secret to You that forks in the road shake me to my very core. You've been by my side at each new twist and turn, and You've been the reasoning behind each decision made. As much as I'd love to be able to take the credit for the course of my life, I know that I cannot. You are my Guide - indeed, the very Way of the path on which I walk.
I have no idea where You are taking me, and I'm as uncomfortable as hell, but I'm letting go, as I have so many times before, and as I will so many times to come.
Help me to choose where it is that You're leading. There are always multiple choices, but there is only one Way.
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Creativity Killed the Cat
I am becoming more and more convinced that creativity is God's favorite thing about us. There are several reasons I think this:
1. He is creative, and I'm pretty sure its His favorite pastime.
2. We are created and His favorite of all He created, born out of His relishing in His favorite pastime.
3. All of our creative energy is wasted on trying to not be creative.
In my understanding, if there is a behavior which seems natural to humanity, it is usually the opposite to which we were designed to be inclined. We spend most of our time either trying to be something we're not or trying to be nothing at all. We don't spend a whole lot of time just being.
And we would discover if we did that what we are is creative above all else, living suffocated and stifled if we are anything but.
What is it exactly that we are so afraid of? What is so terrifying about being yourself? Why do we rob the world of our thoughts, ideas, inventions, passions, dreams?
There is too much inside of me to let it sit there any longer. I don't care how terrifying it is. I'm reaching inside, and whatever I find is what You're getting.
1. He is creative, and I'm pretty sure its His favorite pastime.
2. We are created and His favorite of all He created, born out of His relishing in His favorite pastime.
3. All of our creative energy is wasted on trying to not be creative.
In my understanding, if there is a behavior which seems natural to humanity, it is usually the opposite to which we were designed to be inclined. We spend most of our time either trying to be something we're not or trying to be nothing at all. We don't spend a whole lot of time just being.
And we would discover if we did that what we are is creative above all else, living suffocated and stifled if we are anything but.
What is it exactly that we are so afraid of? What is so terrifying about being yourself? Why do we rob the world of our thoughts, ideas, inventions, passions, dreams?
There is too much inside of me to let it sit there any longer. I don't care how terrifying it is. I'm reaching inside, and whatever I find is what You're getting.
Friday, February 11, 2011
Self-Preservation: A Learned Habit for the Cross-Wired Homosapien
I'm the worst blogger EVER.
This was supposed to be something I picked up again to be an outlet for myself, and obviously, we see how well that has worked out.
This fact brings me to a thought: exactly where am I letting-out if not here?
The irony of life as I find it is that the moments you need something the most are also the moments you seem to find the fewest moments for those things. Self-preservation is a natural human instinct and tendency, but somewhere along the way, I'm pretty sure my wires got crossed. I forget that the best way of preserving myself (and thus, those around me from the wrath of who I am when I haven't self-preserved) is to take a few moments to quiet my mind, get with my Jesus, and remind myself that life is not complicated as much as it is wonderful and beautiful and excellent and exciting and satisfying.
Whenever I work with musicians, I always start with this:
"Stick to the KISS principal. Less is more. So give me more by giving me less."
"Stick to the KISS principal. Less is more. So give me more by giving me less."
It's a wonderful concept, lofty in its idealism. And in the area of music, it works almost every single time.
Over the last 2 years, the Lord has had me on a journey specifically to teach me to adhere closely to my own lofty idealisms in every area of my life. My life is more simple than it has ever been, and truly, I hardly know what to do with myself. I fight Him tooth and nail in these matters because for the majority of my life, my identity has been in my busyness, lost somewhere in the swirling mess of sincerely-motivated endeavors gone awry.
Who am I apart from what I do?
I hate to say that I've lost myself in it because I swore to myself that I never would but...
I've lost myself in it.
The beauty of my Jesus and of this life He has graced me with is that He never lets me stay lost for long.
He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters,
He restores my soul.
He preserves me when I cannot find a way to do it myself.
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