Today is a huge day for me. I just took a step in a new direction. I played my last time with my church's praise team. I've sat on the podium for eighteen years playing guitar. That adds up to a lot of Sundays. Before 2000, I was a worship leader and played guitar for two other churches beginning in 1984. And before that, played some for the church of my youth and a Christian band in high school. I've played guitar for over fifty years, having taken my first attempted strums at the age of ten.
I threw my hat in the ring in my early twenties for some all female folk rock bands. Played around town a little, but nothing came of it. It wasn't meant to be. Tried going solo, recording an album of my own Christian compositions in Nashville. Wanted to be the next big star. The producer took it around and pitched it, but no record label picked it up. It wasn't meant to be.
Serving God doesn't mean big tent revival meetings and giant ministries traveling the world or performing on the big stage. There are people called to that, but that's not what God had in mind for me. My service has been limited to churches numbering maybe 125 or so. And now, the numbers have dwindled down to maybe 30-40. But I've been where God wanted me for different seasons. God counts lives touched by us one at a time. It's my true heart's desire that these past years have born fruit for his glory. I have sought no recognition, just showing up Sunday mornings to sit on a stool off to the side not entirely visible, a preference. Just to offer my guitar playing to the Lord. Sometimes feeling overwhelmed spiritually, other times struggling just to play. My emotions sometimes raw and bleeding, and at times dull. But I was doing what God wanted me to do. He gave me a gift and I used it. Now he's leading me a new direction.
I feel strangely numb at the moment. Which is odd. Playing guitar in church has been my identity for my entire adult life. I am now 63. I have accompanied many singers and played with many different musicians over the years. I expected tears as I was packing up my guitar for the last time this morning. I felt numb. Maybe the Lord is doing me a kindness. Now I have to learn a whole new identity as a servant of God. I know I have been released to write beyond blogging. And I know some part of past experience or innate knowledge will now come into play, but what it's going to look like I haven't a clue.
It will be a new year in two days, and my new ministry begins. Using my mind and words instead of holy emotions and hands. I must remember one is not superior to the other and God given talents can be used in a multitude of ways. I am still a part of the Body. Not sure what part I am now, but God will make that known. There will be a time of adjustment, and not just for me.
My prayer is I hold tightly to the Lord's hand as he leads me. Life is changing. Like the Godly women of old who followed their nomad husbands to unknown lands and futures as they followed the Lord's leading, so too, I will follow where God is leading. It's a little scary. Well, a lot scary. But my life is in God's hands and I want to please him. So, here I am, just as I am, and waiting and watching for him to lead me down a new path to an unknown future. May I have the heart of Mary and let it be done.
Sunday, December 30, 2018
Saturday, December 15, 2018
Waiting
Today I awakened with a migraine. It’s Saturday and my hopes of catching up on sleep were dashed. I did what I normally do. Got up, took a double dose of Motrin and drank coffee. After about two hours the pain eased up and I felt like not having to cry. It was a rough Friday at work and I think the stress wasn’t relieved by sleep, hence the headache.
I have been home sick twice this month. I rarely ever get sick, but now I take a medication for my rheumatoid arthritis that suppresses the immune system a bit. It’s frustrating. But I don’t want RA spreading, so I take it. We live in fragile shells and have to cope with whatever happens in them. I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I have the ability to put things in perspective when I look at how others suffer far worse. My ailments are miniscule.
But I am struggling with Christmas. It’s always been a struggle in my adulthood. Americans make it such a spectacle. Both magical and commercial. Even the church can get caught up in the hype. My senses get bombarded by commercials and Christmas music that drones on endlessly. And all the while I wonder when Jesus will show up.
My church is low key in a good way. There is a tree and an empty manger, but the decorations are restrained. In the past it was covered with red and green and lights. I feel far more comfortable with less. It’s like Jesus isn’t going to get missed. He’ll be front and center when his time comes. I don’t want to lose what anticipation I have mustered.
This may seem a poor blog entry, but there are people just like me who are brokenhearted at Christmas. I think of being with my mother when she passed away during the Advent season. I still cry and it’s been five years. She was longing to go home and I whispered in her ear that it was okay to let go. She looked at me and said thank you. I did it knowing full well I would soon be kissing her for the last time. She passed away the next morning. I sobbed when I realized she was no longer breathing. It was a hard Christmas. But I am grateful I had the chance to say I was sorry for hurts and disappointments I had caused. And to say I loved her one last time. I have a peace about that.
Jesus is the reason for the season. Somehow my joy needs to be rekindled by him. I owe all to him. I was so lost. And he has given me a life beyond what I could have ever imagined. Challenges yes, but without him I’d be dead. No drama, just fact. I’m ready for his coming into the world. I won’t mind the Christmas music of the angels because they won’t detract from the King in the manger. They’ll announce his birth, then leave behind a silent night of wonder and mystery.
I can’t make myself be sociable for holiday parties. I just want to be in his presence. Worshipping the way he has taught me. Not like anyone’s expectations of how worship should look. But between the Lord and me. In the church we stand together. But we kneel alone before him. I might be struggling this Christmas season, but Jesus is near. And he is not judging. That was done at the cross. He is a sympathetic high priest. In the midst of pain, I will adore him. And he will love me.
I have been home sick twice this month. I rarely ever get sick, but now I take a medication for my rheumatoid arthritis that suppresses the immune system a bit. It’s frustrating. But I don’t want RA spreading, so I take it. We live in fragile shells and have to cope with whatever happens in them. I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I have the ability to put things in perspective when I look at how others suffer far worse. My ailments are miniscule.
But I am struggling with Christmas. It’s always been a struggle in my adulthood. Americans make it such a spectacle. Both magical and commercial. Even the church can get caught up in the hype. My senses get bombarded by commercials and Christmas music that drones on endlessly. And all the while I wonder when Jesus will show up.
My church is low key in a good way. There is a tree and an empty manger, but the decorations are restrained. In the past it was covered with red and green and lights. I feel far more comfortable with less. It’s like Jesus isn’t going to get missed. He’ll be front and center when his time comes. I don’t want to lose what anticipation I have mustered.
This may seem a poor blog entry, but there are people just like me who are brokenhearted at Christmas. I think of being with my mother when she passed away during the Advent season. I still cry and it’s been five years. She was longing to go home and I whispered in her ear that it was okay to let go. She looked at me and said thank you. I did it knowing full well I would soon be kissing her for the last time. She passed away the next morning. I sobbed when I realized she was no longer breathing. It was a hard Christmas. But I am grateful I had the chance to say I was sorry for hurts and disappointments I had caused. And to say I loved her one last time. I have a peace about that.
Jesus is the reason for the season. Somehow my joy needs to be rekindled by him. I owe all to him. I was so lost. And he has given me a life beyond what I could have ever imagined. Challenges yes, but without him I’d be dead. No drama, just fact. I’m ready for his coming into the world. I won’t mind the Christmas music of the angels because they won’t detract from the King in the manger. They’ll announce his birth, then leave behind a silent night of wonder and mystery.
I can’t make myself be sociable for holiday parties. I just want to be in his presence. Worshipping the way he has taught me. Not like anyone’s expectations of how worship should look. But between the Lord and me. In the church we stand together. But we kneel alone before him. I might be struggling this Christmas season, but Jesus is near. And he is not judging. That was done at the cross. He is a sympathetic high priest. In the midst of pain, I will adore him. And he will love me.
Sunday, December 2, 2018
Advent Hope
For a child has been born for us, a son is given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish it and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forward and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will do this. Isaiah 9:6-7 NRSV
It's been a long time since I last posted. Many things have come together to form a perfect storm of sorts to hinder my walk with the Lord. Physical and mental ills have conspired to keep me from turning daily to the One who loves me and keeps me. I have been cold, which is bad, but at least according to Jesus is preferable to lukewarm. My years long daily routine of morning prayer and bible reading just fell by the wayside as depression began to rear it's frightful head. I have been battling an increasingly deepening depression and adding to that the holiday blues I've generally fought for years that has been exacerbated by the anniversary of my mother's death at Christmas, and the fact that son will not be home for the holidays has all added up to a downward spiral.
A decision by my doctor to drop one med and double another turned out to be fatefully bad. Changes have been made, but medications take time to work. Weeks, sometimes as long as six, which leaves me on shaky ground this Advent season.
I opened with a well known quote from Isaiah about our blessed Redeemer. Our most precious gift from our Creator, given to us who did not deserve it. As a child I remember being told Santa was watching to see if I was good or bad. A gift depended entirely on my merit. But the Father gave his only Son to us who had no merit due to good behavior. The gift of eternal salvation was bestowed on a wayward and blind people, who walked in ignorance of truth. Beauty distorted, promises broken, lies passed for truth and no one could even begin to comprehend what true love and forgiveness was. Yet here, centuries before the birth of Christ, hidden among some heavy prophecy, is a promise spoken to bring hope to a world in short supply of it.
Advent hope is a universal gift, yet it spreads one heart at a time. Hearts that long for something more that just a day to day existence. Hearts hungry for a love that will never fade or leave. Broken hearts that see only through a veil of tears. Disturbed hearts, torn by violence and deprivations. And lonely hearts that see no companion to share the journey.
Advent hope comes into a sin weary world. Some announce it from the roof tops, loudly proclaiming the coming of the King. But I see Advent hope speaking gently and with carefully chosen words to individuals who are stumbling along the path, promising to come alongside and stay for the journey. I see Advent hope starting small and unassuming in the heart that cries out for hope and just as a spark kindles a flame that burns brightly, the Light of the world begins to shine in the dark hidden places and soon his light and warmth spreads to all corners of the heart and that renewed heart in turn brings the good news to the one nearby. One by one, Advent hope spreads. The Long awaited Prince of Peace enters in and at his coming and sorrow gives way to joy. Confusion turns to wonder, and the broken are bound up for the healing process.
I feel worn and broken at the beginning of this Advent season. I know I am not alone. But I will not shut my mind to the promise. If I've learned anything at all in my life, it is Jesus appears unexpectedly and never empty-handed. Just when you feel another step isn't possible, an arm braces you up and you keep walking.
Join with me this advent season in looking forward to what God has planned from before the foundation of the world. Let's wait to hear what he will speak in his still small voice. And let's reach out to one another in Christian love, bearing the weak, speaking words of grace to one another, singing hymns to the Savior and praying for the hope than cannot die.
It's been a long time since I last posted. Many things have come together to form a perfect storm of sorts to hinder my walk with the Lord. Physical and mental ills have conspired to keep me from turning daily to the One who loves me and keeps me. I have been cold, which is bad, but at least according to Jesus is preferable to lukewarm. My years long daily routine of morning prayer and bible reading just fell by the wayside as depression began to rear it's frightful head. I have been battling an increasingly deepening depression and adding to that the holiday blues I've generally fought for years that has been exacerbated by the anniversary of my mother's death at Christmas, and the fact that son will not be home for the holidays has all added up to a downward spiral.
A decision by my doctor to drop one med and double another turned out to be fatefully bad. Changes have been made, but medications take time to work. Weeks, sometimes as long as six, which leaves me on shaky ground this Advent season.
I opened with a well known quote from Isaiah about our blessed Redeemer. Our most precious gift from our Creator, given to us who did not deserve it. As a child I remember being told Santa was watching to see if I was good or bad. A gift depended entirely on my merit. But the Father gave his only Son to us who had no merit due to good behavior. The gift of eternal salvation was bestowed on a wayward and blind people, who walked in ignorance of truth. Beauty distorted, promises broken, lies passed for truth and no one could even begin to comprehend what true love and forgiveness was. Yet here, centuries before the birth of Christ, hidden among some heavy prophecy, is a promise spoken to bring hope to a world in short supply of it.
Advent hope is a universal gift, yet it spreads one heart at a time. Hearts that long for something more that just a day to day existence. Hearts hungry for a love that will never fade or leave. Broken hearts that see only through a veil of tears. Disturbed hearts, torn by violence and deprivations. And lonely hearts that see no companion to share the journey.
Advent hope comes into a sin weary world. Some announce it from the roof tops, loudly proclaiming the coming of the King. But I see Advent hope speaking gently and with carefully chosen words to individuals who are stumbling along the path, promising to come alongside and stay for the journey. I see Advent hope starting small and unassuming in the heart that cries out for hope and just as a spark kindles a flame that burns brightly, the Light of the world begins to shine in the dark hidden places and soon his light and warmth spreads to all corners of the heart and that renewed heart in turn brings the good news to the one nearby. One by one, Advent hope spreads. The Long awaited Prince of Peace enters in and at his coming and sorrow gives way to joy. Confusion turns to wonder, and the broken are bound up for the healing process.
I feel worn and broken at the beginning of this Advent season. I know I am not alone. But I will not shut my mind to the promise. If I've learned anything at all in my life, it is Jesus appears unexpectedly and never empty-handed. Just when you feel another step isn't possible, an arm braces you up and you keep walking.
Join with me this advent season in looking forward to what God has planned from before the foundation of the world. Let's wait to hear what he will speak in his still small voice. And let's reach out to one another in Christian love, bearing the weak, speaking words of grace to one another, singing hymns to the Savior and praying for the hope than cannot die.
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