Today, I’m honored to have another guest post at Godly Writers, Five Reasons Christian Writers Should Go Back to the Drawing Board. This post was inspired after a bit of a breakthrough on my work in progress. Unfortunately, that breakthrough showed me that I need to rewrite and rethink a lot of what I’ve already done. I wrote a post about that and what I’ve learned along the way.
If you’re here from Godly Writers, welcome! Thanks for visiting.
The highlight of Holy week for me was not Easter. It came in an unexpected way, on Maundy Thursday.
The Maundy Thursday service was a Tenebrae service. I had attended one years before, and was touched by how powerful it was. In a Tenebrae service, the lights are slowly lowered throughout the service, until the sanctuary is cloaked in complete darkness, symbolizing the darkness that fell upon the earth as Jesus died on the cross (Matthew 27:45).
I appreciated the quiet, the stillness, and the contemplation. I feel like those moments make the celebrations much more meaningful on Easter Sunday.
What surprised me most was how much the liturgy that was woven throughout the service touched me. I have mixed feelings about liturgy. Sometimes it just seems like rote routine that we trudge through. I think of stories I’ve heard of the early Catholic church, where people recited words in Latin that they barely understood. I’m wary of reading words that are placed before me, out of fear that I’m just reading them instead of letting them into my heart. I don’t want to become a stagnant shell, simply going through the motions.
Sometimes liturgy brings comfort. Although I feel we tend to overuse the Lord’s Prayer without really thinking through what it means, those words bring me comfort as I quietly let them slide off my lips. Whenever I recite the words of confession from the Methodist hymnal that I learned so many years ago, the words touch the very innermost part of my soul.
Merciful God, we confess that we have not loved You with our whole heart. We have failed to be an obedient church.We have not done Your will, We have broken Your law, we have rebelled against Your love, we have not loved our neighbors, and we have not heard the cry of the needy. Forgive us, we pray. Free us for joyful obedience, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
As I sat in that Maundy Thursday service, we recited liturgy. It didn’t feel forced or rote. It felt meaningful and sincere. I let the full effect of each word slip into my soul. I thought of Jesus and the incredible sacrifice He made and how unworthy I am. How amazing this crazy thing called Christianity is.
Christ has died.
Christ is risen.
Christ will come again.
Amen.
Time for the monthly gratitude list! Here’s what I’m thankful for this month.
What are you thankful for this month?
This is why I don’t dance in worship.
I first “met” Andi Cumbo through a Twitter chat for writers that she led once a week. I then met her face to face last fall at the Quitter conference. We had some time to chat over dinner, and she shared a bit about her dream of building a farm; a respite for artists, musicians, and writers. I had been following her on Twitter and knew that she had bought the farm and was in the process of cleaning it up and making it ready for visitors.
Since meeting her face to face, I’ve followed her blog more closely. I had already fallen in love with her dream of a farm and was secretly envious. As I read more of her writing, I also fell in love with her passionate style of writing. She has true affection for the written word, and it shines through with each word she puts to page.
I was excited when she released an ebook about her farm and her vision for it. I didn’t realize how much it would touch me.
God’s Whisper Manifesto is a call to a beautiful life that I want to be a part of. She shares how the farmhouse will be a place of community, where everyone loves and respects each other. Everyone is valuable. At God’s Whisper, everyone will make good use of the resources available. People will be intentional,but not pretentious. Art, play, and the dinner table are valued and precious. There are blankets everywhere because sometimes you just need to snuggle under something. Coats and scarves are welcome to be used by all. There are walking trails everywhere, cozy spots all over, and no one pressuring you to be part of the group if you don’t want to. Stories are told and treasured, and people are helped in any way possible.
It sounds like a little bit of heaven.
As I read through this manifesto for the second time, it brought tears to my eyes. I want to drop everything and go live there. Then it dawned on me that this is what the church is called to be. Loving, accepting, fun, intentional.
As much as I want to drop everything in my life and go live on this magical farm with Andi, I realized that I need to bring a little bit of this manifesto into my own life, cozy blankets included. I think we all do.
I urge you to check out this book. It’s a quick read, but it has a big impact.
For this month’s installment of secular worship songs, I’m featuring a suggestion by a faithful reader.
Answer by Sarah McLachlan
I will be the answer
At the end of the line
I will be there for you
While you take the time
In the burning of uncertainty
I will be your solid ground
I will hold the balance
If you can’t look down
If it takes my whole life
I won’t break, I won’t bend
It will all be worth it
Worth it in the end
Cause I can only tell you what I know
That I need you in my life
When the stars have all gone out
You’ll still be burning so bright
Cast me gently
Into morning
For the night has been unkind
Take me to a
Place so holy
That I can wash this from my mind
The memory of choosing not to fight
If it takes my whole life
I won’t break, I won’t bend
It will all be worth it
Worth it in the end
‘Cause I can only tell you what I know
That I need you in my life
When the stars have all burned out
You’ll still be burning so bright
Cast me gently
Into morning
For the night has been unkind
I appreciate Sarah McLachlan’s music. I love her voice and enjoy her songwriting style. This song in particular, I find absolutely beautiful.
I searched for the “real” meaning behind the song, but only found various fan’s opinions. Most seemed to think it was a love ballad, which is probably accurate. But for our purposes, seeking the sacred in the secular, I see it as a conversation between God and the singer. I especially like the line, “Cast me gently into morning, for the night has been unkind.” I see this as a prayer, and it reminds me of the Scripture, “Weeping may stay for the night, but joy comes with the morning.” (Psalm 30:5)
What do you think of this song? Is it just a love song, or do you sense some spiritual elements to it?
For this month’s Behind the Scenes Worship series, I am rerunning a blog I wrote last year about one of my absolute favorite people in the world.
Auntie Ruth is the type of person who makes you feel like you are the most important person in the world. I first met her in 2004, when I traveled to Uganda to begin my journey with the African Children’s Choir. She is one of those truly selfless people that you’re so thankful are still in this world.
Auntie Ruth gave up her bedroom so three clueless Americans could have a comfortable, private place to sleep. Her bed was a simple mattress covered in mosquito netting. She called it her princess bed.
When I walked into that house on my first day in Africa, exhausted, overwhelmed, and wide-eyed, Auntie Ruth welcomed me with open arms. I instantly felt at home and at peace.
When I returned to Uganda three years later, I wasn’t sure if she would remember me. Lots of westerners grace the door of that house. I was prepared to reintroduce myself. Before I could set my bag down, she flew across the room and enveloped me in a huge hug.
“Oh, my auntie has returned!”
Auntie Ruth lives and works at the training facility in Makindye, Uganda, on the outskirts of Kampala. The two-story house comfortably sleeps about 30 people. When children are chosen to tour with the African Children’s Choir, they come to that house for several months to prepare. The children are housed, fed, and taught there. The main room serves as a schoolroom, rehearsal space, and dining hall. The space is well used.
Auntie Ruth prepares food for everyone in the training facility. She makes the best Chapati in Uganda. Chapati is a grilled flatbread that is common in several African countries. It soon became my favorite Ugandan delicacy, and I waited in anticipation when I smelled her cooking it.
She cooks outdoors, over open flames in big iron pots. Each meal takes several hours to prepare. No one in that house ever goes hungry, and those kids eat A LOT. She insists that each visitor take a heaping portion, even if you insist that you’re not that hungry. She even saves the good meat for you. Auntie Ruth makes sure you are well cared for while you are in her home.
I wondered why she would go to bed by 8:00 p.m. most nights, if not earlier. She told me that she awoke at 3:00 a.m. each morning. She had to start on breakfast by at least 5:00. I asked her what she did with those two hours before breakfast preparation.
Auntie Ruth gave me one of her sweet smiles and said, “I pray.”
Two hours in prayer. I cannot fathom spending this kind of time praying. I get antsy after just a few minutes of prayer time, and this humble, beautiful African woman spent two whole hours each day with her Lord and Savior. It explains why she is ever joyful, always smiling, and so able to put other’s needs above her own.
This is the kind of faith I long for. Her simple trust in Jesus continues to inspire and haunt me.
Is there an “Auntie Ruth” if your life?
I started writing to work through some really tangled issues in my head. I had a problem and I wanted to know what was wrong. I wanted to get to the root of it, solve it, and move on.
For a couple years, I’ve assumed my problem was with worship. Since musical worship used to be so special and now is just music, I figured my issue was with that. And while much of the difficulty lies there, it’s bigger than worship.
I think I’ve uncovered the root of my problem, why worship feels fake, and why going to church is such a struggle for me. It’s bigger than not liking the music style or the selection of songs.
I’ve become disillusioned by the Christian culture. This culure that has made me believe this happy, safe bubble was the way to live. That by surrounding myself with music that only speaks of Jesus or shopping in stores that limit their market to the select Christian evangelical, I will be well. Saved. Blessed.
Then I hit the real world, and my bubble got popped. That happy little Christian world I built up has crumbled around me, leaving me in shell shock as I brush off the pieces.
I see Christian music as a marketing tool and Christian stores as irrelevant chains that keep Christians locked away from the real world. I’m resentful. I’m shaking my fist at the church, screaming, “How dare you misguide me?”
I’m completely disillusioned with the church, with Christian subculture, with worship music, with every shiny piece of merchandise that states, “Jesus is the light of the world.”
It makes sense that this problem would surface most obviously in music. Music shaped much of my adult life and made me who I am today. It’s the career path I chose. I believed that I would be taking my music and using it always to glorify Jesus.
And I think that is still my purpose, but with a slightly divergent path.
I’m thankful that I’ve been able to identify the root of my problem. From here, I hope to continue to work through my resentments and emerge healed, albeit bumped and bruised from the journey.
Recently, while reading I Samuel 15, I was troubled. The Old Testament often troubles me, with all it’s gory violence and crazy sacrificing. Sometimes I read some passages and they seem to go against the very nature of the God I believe in.
Here’s the first part of 1 Samuel, chapter 15.
Samuel said to Saul, “I am the one the Lord sent to anoint you king over his people Israel; so listen now to the message from the Lord. 2 This is what the Lord Almighty says: ‘I will punish the Amalekites for what they did to Israel when they waylaid them as they came up from Egypt. 3 Now go, attack the Amalekites and totally destroy all that belongs to them. Do not spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys.’”
Now, the whole point of the story is that Saul is disobedient to God. He doesn’t follow the instructions and spares some of the good cattle, thinking it would be a great idea to make a sacrifice to the Lord. You can read the rest of the chapter to see how he screwed up. But for right now, I’m just looking at these verses.
I get tripped up in passages like this. These instructions that come from God seem so counter intuitive to the gentle, loving God that is preached in our churches. Really, God? Kill everyone? Infants, children? Innocent little babies that are totally clueless? Sweet little bleating sheep that have done nothing?
I took an Old Testament course in college, and we spent lots of time poring over passages like this. I know that the Amalekites were evil, like reeeeally evil. I understand that God wanted to wipe out everyone, to take away all the temptations to be like these people. He was showing mercy to the Israelites, trying to help them out. I get that. But it still bothers me.
It’s easy to just read these words, to brush by them like reading a history textbook. But if I stop and think about it, it’s senseless violence. I struggle with the thought of my God ordering senseless violence.
I know that there are always more sides to the story, and we’re given limited knowledge in this particular story. There is so much going on that I could never understand. And the God I serve is complex and I will never fully understand why He does what He does.
And I also know that my God is big enough to handle my questions like, “Why did you order everyone killed? That’s so mean!!!” I can struggle through those questions and know that He still loves me, and in the end I still love Him.
Do you ever struggle with passages like this?
Sometimes, my heart longs for simple worship songs. When I’m too tired to think, when my soul is weary, the simplicity speaks to me. There is beauty in simplicity. But I don’t want to always stay at simple.
My short attention span has grown shorter these days. I find it hard to sit still, to leave my phone tucked away where I can’t see it. I can’t seem to read blog posts or articles longer than 500 words, and videos longer than 3 minutes never make it past the three minute thirty second mark. If a song requires too much thought, I just listen to the pretty music rather than engaging in the lyrics.
What is happening to my brain? I’m all over the place. I can’t take anything too long, too intellectual, too thought provoking.
Which is why I’m glad I spend two hours each Monday singing Mozart with my community choir.
Mozart is killing me. Seriously. His Mass in C minor is like a flipping book. There are so many eighth and sixteenth notes that my brain cannot keep up. Throw some Latin in there and my head feels like it may explode. The first few run throughs of the Kyrie, and I thought to myself, “AHHH! I’ll never get this!”
And then this week, the rhythms started to click. I was keeping up, on beat, and singing in Latin. Engaging in the lyrics and soaking up the beautiful harmonies.
I’m tired of the status quo that my brain seems satisfied with. I’m done with mediocre. I want to push myself hard and make myself think. Even in my worship time. Though there is a place for simple and easy, there is also a place for hard and thought provoking.
