Great is Thy Faithfulness

"Amazing Grace" is my new favorite movie. The soundtrack is just beautiful. I was listening as I cleaned the kitchen, and this song just pricked my heart, and my worship of Him just flowed out of me.

I needed to see the lyrics, so here they are:

Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father;
There is no shadow of turning with Thee;
Thou changest not, Thy compassions, they fail not;
As Thou hast been, Thou forever will be.

Refrain

Great is Thy faithfulness!
Great is Thy faithfulness!
Morning by morning new mercies I see.
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided;
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me!

Summer and winter and springtime and harvest,
Sun, moon and stars in their courses above
Join with all nature in manifold witness
To Thy great faithfulness, mercy and love.

Refrain

Pardon for sin and a peace that endureth
Thine own dear presence to cheer and to guide;
Strength for today and bright hope for tomorrow,
Blessings all mine, with ten thousand beside!

Refrain 

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This is the version I'm listening to at the moment:

I'm so in love with hymns right now. 

Maybe it's because we're singing hymns at church right now. Maybe it's because I see the beauty of these old hymns in a way I haven't seen before. Maybe it's because they seem so refreshing and inspiring after years of singing "contemporary" songs. (Now I don't dislike contemporary worship songs. That's not what this is about.)

Maybe it was singing "I Surrender All" and it NOT being during an extended invitation at the end of a message that led me to the beauty and simplicity of that song and reminded me of how much I love these hymns I sang so absentmindedly as a kid and young adult.

 I'm so glad my kids are being exposed to them. I LOVE that they heard "I'll Fly Away" for the first time last week and said it was their new favorite song. I'm so thankful for these simple expressions of devotion. I mean "Trust and Obey"? That will preach. To me, anyway...

I mean come on... 

When we walk with the Lord
  In the light of His Word,
What a glory He sheds on our way;
  While we do His good will,
  He abides with us still,
And with all who will trust and obey.

    Trust and obey,
    For there's no other way
    To be happy in Jesus,
      But to trust and obey.

Not a shadow can rise,
  Not a cloud in the skies,
But His smile quickly drives it away;
  Not a doubt or a fear,
  Not a sigh or a tear,
Can abide while we trust and obey.

Not a burden we bear,
  Not a sorrow we share,
But our toil He doth richly repay;
  Not a grief or a loss,
  Not a frown or a cross,
But is blest if we trust and obey.

But we never can prove
  The delights of His love,
Until all on the altar we lay;
  For the favor He shows,
  And the joy He bestows,
Are for them who will trust and obey.

Then in fellowship sweet
  We will sit at His feet,
Or we'll walk by His side in the way;
  What He says we will do;
  Where He sends. we will go,
Never fear, only trust and obey.
 

In my church growing up, we sang "How Great Thou Art" to close every single service. A way to run song clear in the ground must be to sing it too much. (I'm sure this was done with good intent. It is a good song. Maybe it deserves to be sung at the close of every service.) It closes out the "Amazing Grace" soundtrack and as I listened with fresh ears, I got chills and tears. 

O Lord my God, When I in awesome wonder,
Consider all the worlds Thy Hands have made;
I see the stars, I hear the rolling thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed.


Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!


When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze.


Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!


And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing;
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.


Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!


When Christ shall come, with shout of acclamation,
And take me home, what joy shall fill my heart.
Then I shall bow, in humble adoration,
And then proclaim: "My God, how great Thou art!"


Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art.
Then sings my soul, My Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, How great Thou art!

One more:

(May I add that when I sing to myself, in my head, I sound just like Carrie Underwood?  So glad I nailed down of whom I remind myself.) 

I'm on a hymn rampage. I can't get enough. And I think I stole a hymnal from our old church. Or perhaps I was given the hymnal when our  church bought new ones. Yeah, I'm going with that. Anyway, I'm about to locate that sucker and sing aloud these great hymns as part of my worship this week. And you know what? I'm going to sing every single 3rd stanza. 

Fear Not...

I ordered this book for a friend:

It came to my house, and before I gave it to her, I opened it up and read a few pages. 

She never got her book. 

I guess I should call doubt, worry and fear a "blind spot," or blind spots as the case may be, in my life. I am ashamed to say that I didn't get from Scripture what I am getting from this book. This book is using Scripture to show me how much I allowed these things to dominate my life. And though I  knew that I struggled with these things to an extent, I didn't realize how detrimental they were to my walk and to my relationship with Christ.

I won't outline everything I'm learning, but I will say this. 

The author pointed out that over 300 times in Scripture, the exhortation "Fear not..." is given. His point was that the simple fact that this command is repeated so often gives us a clue as to how important, and damaging and sinful, fear is.

A quick search of the phrase "Fear Not..." at Biblos.com yielded 446 results. I'm going to look them up and write them down. 

I found two of them yesterday reading in Joel.

They are everywhere.

Did God know we, that I, would struggle with fear? And doubt? And worry? Is that why He allowed His Word to be saturated with commands to not dance with these things? Not to play with them? Entertain them? Allow them to be my companions?

This book is showing me what I'm mourning that I could not see on my own. These things are sin against a Holy God.

I knew this. I just didn't live it.

If you have ever thought you might perhaps have a tendency towards fear, worry and/or anxiety, please get this book. The author's gentle manner and use of Scripture will challenge you and comfort you all at the same time.

I guess I need to order another one for my friend. I'm keeping this one. 

Running Scared 

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Where is your mother?

I used to be really judgmental. I'd hear about something happening to a kid and I think, "Gosh, where was their mother?"

This was a long time ago. Before I lost a kid at Home Depot. And before a neighbor brought a  little girl kid of mine to the front door and said, "Um, she was outside in the front yard..."(I can neither confirm or deny that there may be other stories similar to these...)

So yeah, now when I hear something happened to a kid, I think, "Oh yeah, that could totally happen to me..."

For instance.

The girl kid likes to look at pictures on the computer while I cook dinner. So tonight all three of the kids were giggling gathered around the computer. I've been at this long enough to know that giggling usually means something's up.

They were looking at this picture:

Fine. Yeah, it's funny and all. But I look at this picture and I see the glass and iron bedside tables that are on each side of the bed. I see stitches, broken bones and more monthly payments to another hospital. And more.

(because I'm totally not a huge worrier or anything like that...)

I screeched, "WHAT ARE YOU GUYS DOING?????"

The girl got a small voice and said, "We call it 'Rocket'."

"AND WHERE WAS I???" I screeched again.

"Cooking breakfast," came the reply.

Good grief.

I probably thought they were upstairs cleaning their rooms or something like that. 

Stinkers.

And yes, "Rocket" is no longer an acceptable game at our house.

I wonder what else I don't know about what goes on around here...

Read this~

I don't do two posts in a day because.... well, for one, no one needs that much of my brain in one day. In spite of my last post, I just had to put this here. I was about to start school with the non-sick school age kid, and I happened upon this. Now I'm just sitting, starting at the computer. I don't know why this has undone me so. I think it's because where my heart longs to be. Or maybe because I'm jealous. Or maybe because it's what I've been spinning over in my head. Oh who cares. It's not about me. Read this with me, please. (It was written by a high school friend of mine.)

This Ain’t Where You From

by "_________" on Tuesday, January 11, 2011 at 2:08pm

Since I have been in East Lake, I have really struggled with an identity crisis.  It reached a climax last week when I met a man while out walking in search of a place that provides free Wi-Fi.  Since my van is out of gas and has a flat tire, I have been reduced to walking, a reduction I now know to be a blessing given how familiar I have become with the local area and people as a result.  On my first walk, I came to a group of people that looked like fellow transients congregating outside The Episcopal Church in Woodlawn.   So, seeing an ideal opportunity to network with a local ministry, I decided to stop and introduce myself.  One of them standing just outside the door said he worked there as a part of their food ministry.  He told me in about an hour they would be serving ham, black-eyed peas and collard greens and I was welcome to stay and eat.  Excited by the chance for such a fine meal, I gratefully accepted his invitation.  After conversing for a while with him and a few others in the group, I told him about my original quest to find Wi-Fi.  He pointed across the street to a sign outside what he said was the library that read “Free Wi-Fi,” a sign I am certain to have missed had I not stopped to talk since I did not know Woodlawn even had a library.  I thanked him for the clue I so did not have then began looking both ways to find a crosswalk.  They said “No!  Across the street!”  I said, “I know!  I’m looking for a crosswalk!”  They said “Just cross the street!”  Concerned I might misrepresent my faith by breaking the law I asked, “Isn’t that jaywalking?”   Though stunned for a moment, one of them chuckled as he responded, “This ain’t where you from!”  Offended by his stereotype, I told him I grew up not far from here.  I started to explain I am not as alien as he assumes me to be as I thought about how similar he and I really are.  He interrupted before I could, reiterating with a smile, “No!  You don’t understand!  This ain’t where you from!”  I never cease to be amazed by how God so often speaks with such characteristic profundity through such seemingly unintentional, unlikely and unrehearsed ways.  As he said it again, I was stunned into silence as I heard God say, “This ain’t where you from!”    

I am fascinated by the complexity of the perceptions of identity and purpose developed in response to the God given ability to ask, “Who am I?”  Generally, the question is answered by a personal name and a list of categorized attributes that more explain “who we are.”  The majorities of humanity huddle in groups of likeness that establish singular identities among their many members, identities otherwise known as cultures.  Many cultural categories are global such as economic class, gender, common interests, vocations and religions.  For example, as a wealthy man, it may be assumed I like to buy nice things and I am attracted to beautiful women.  If I am concerned about my physique, it may be assumed I am careful about what I eat and I exercise.  If I am a master carpenter, it may be assumed I am skilled in woodwork.  If I am a Christian, it may be assumed I am a follower of Jesus Christ.  Other categories are characterized by geography and history such as language, race, food, nationality and traditions.  For example, as an American, it may be assumed I speak English and I celebrate our country’s independence day on the 4th of July.  Further, having been born and raised in Alabama, it may be assumed I eat Bar-B-Q on the 4th of July and I recommend Bar-B-Q by saying, “Ya’ll should try it.”  All of these are legitimate cultural assumptions to me because they are true of the majority of individuals I know in each category.  These assumptions are also called stereotypes.  Stereotypes are efficient but, as I’m sure you have already guessed, they are not always reliable since an individual may be representative of the minority.  Minorities are an exception to the majority rule of the same category that makes one distinct from it though they are still part of it.  For example, I may be wealthy but live poor, a man who prefers men, vain but eat junk food, a master carpenter who is not skilled, a Christian who does not follow Christ, an American who speaks Spanish, or a southerner who is a vegan and says “you all should try tofu.”  People are not necessarily who they seem to be or even who they once claimed to be, much less who they should be.   

As such, I understand the accurate stereotypes that make me foreign to the men who gave me directions.  I’m white.   I grew up in a middle class family that was very involved in church.  Neither my family nor my church would have welcomed them as family.  I am well educated, well read, and well traveled as a result of choosing options readily available to my culture but unimaginable to his.  They do not see people from my culture here very often and the ones they have seen were only passing through, keeping their distance in fear and revulsion as they made their way out.  I used to be one of them, which is why I felt at first so compelled to confess I’m not one of them now.  Now, to my people, I am one of these people.  I am broken, needy, transient, unemployed, untidy, undignified, unrespectable and unacceptable.  I am a traitor to their values and shunned as an outcaste.   Many of my family and friends are ashamed of me.  Nevertheless, when I was told “this ain’t where you from,” I was reminded I’m not one of these either.  I am a “one of them” to both and a “one of us” to neither; quite the incongruity, serving as quite the reminder of where I am really from. 

Incongruities are a reminder to me because they are common to my people.  We must die so we may live, fall so we may be lifted up, lose to gain, be weak to be made strong, be a doormat to be dignified, be poor to become rich, be the least to be the greatest, and be a slave to be free.  What God does through us is not us.  We love our enemy, serve selflessly, forgive repeatedly, and invest in eternity.   Our real is unreal. The pretend wise are made fools and pretend fools are made wise.  Pretend treasures are made worthless and the worthless are made invaluable.  We are unnatural because we are made supernatural.   We rejoice when we suffer, clap for joy while we weep with sorrow, claim victory in defeat, believe the unbelievable, and love the unlovable.   We are unified though diversified sharing community with the Trinity in whom the unknowable is made knowable, the mundane is made mystical, the fantastical is made trivial, and the unimaginable becomes manageable.  We live partly in infinity until the day we enter it fully.  Such is the incongruity of this present reality and the hope of going home eternally.     

Homesickness is a blessing when the home we miss is heaven.  It reminds me not to even try to get comfortable here because I won’t be here long enough and the people of this world are not my people; not yet anyway.  Though I should not try to fit in I should not try to stay out either.  Instead of trying to identify with them, I am to be Christ so they can decide to identify with him.  “Who I am” is really a “who we are,” for the body of Christ is an every growing community of Christ followers who are possessed by his Spirit.  We are made one and share one purpose; we are to be the body of Christ and draw all men to him by going to them.  The body of Christ is the only stereotype that applies to us because there is no other stereotype that can rightly describe us.  We do not share fellowship with the world; we invite those in the world to come share fellowship with us.  That does not mean we should, as many have, isolate ourselves by building bigger buildings as we include others in our fellowship.  We are the Church who carry the fellowship to them.  Even if I am the only believer within a hundred miles, I worship in community with the Trinity.  I carry the light of the gospel into dark places, looking for those he has given eyes to see and are willing to leave the shadows and walk in the light.  When I find one, I share community with him, teaching him our Way and including him as a new citizen and fellow heir of our kingdom.  When he is ready, I will send him out as we were sent out, as a foreigner carrying the light of the gospel into dark places to draw all people to the One community who lives in him.  My work is not done until all people know and Christ comes to take me home.  When I go home I want my Father to be proud of me for completing the work he sent me here to do, to be able to see his smiling face and hear the words, “Well done!”  My hope in that day drives me on.  Therefore, when I again hear “This ain’t where you from,” my heart will leap with excitement at the reminder I am on my way.

Interesting Read

I did a quick read of this and wanted to post it here to read again later. I think this book might be worth checking out.

 

 

 

Boys Adrift

 

 

 

Another blog?

Good grief. I did, though. Make another blog. Go see:)

"You Won't Starve..." 

Filthy rags

There are times when a phrase rings in my head for days on end. This fact is then compounded by hearing the phrase from outside my head too. Lately it's been the "filthy rags" phrase. My smart friend said, as we talked through some things one day, "You know that means menstrual rags, right?" 

Yeah, I did know that, but the way she said it, and with the odd spin it put on my thought process, I fell in love with the Scriptures all the more. What better way to describe my "best" before God?

Isaiah 64:6

    For all of us have become like one who is unclean,

         And all our righteous deeds are like a filthy garment;

         And all of us wither like a leaf,

         And our iniquities, like the wind, take us away.

I need this. I am just nothing. No matter how great I feel or how much I get congratulated for some show of goodness, it's all just a pile of gross rags. 

I love that. 

As I pulled up to the house today, I spotted the Christmas tree laying on the curb. I wondered to myself if the garbage men would collect it with the trash or if the leaf pick up guys would get it. 

Then it flashed through my mind that the tree was now garbage. Just a few days ago, it was a gorgeous tree that everyone who visited the house lavished with praise. I thought that was funny since it was kind of a janky tree to me this year. I didn't prune it to "perfection" for once, and the kids had a heavy hand in decorating it, which made it look like it was decorated by a bunch of kids instead of perfectly by an adult. I'm glad I let go and let them do. (I really am not that OCD. Fine, I am. But I'm loosening up, okay?)

 A few days ago, this beautifully decorated tree was a glistened up with all sorts of bling and decoration, and was the center of the room-the center of the holiday celebrations in the house, in that I mean we sat around it, looked at it, unwrapped presents under it, and that sort of thing. I don't mean the center in any sort of religious aspect.

Anyway.

Just a few short days and it went from that into garbage.  Trash.

It was just a reminder of all the things that I decorate myself with. Cute shoes, a nice outfit, fluffy hair, makeup, jewelry, kind words, loving touches....

All that conceals what's on the inside. Filthy rags. 

SO. So. 

I go back to this. There's nothing good in me but Christ. Just nothing. That's it. 

I'm a mess. I can't do anything one thing really well. I do manage to do a whole lot of things marginally. I yell at my kids and waste money and drink too much coffee and think judgmental thoughts and say snarky things and lust and crave and covet and lie and watch things I shouldn't and read things I shouldn't and wonder things I shouldn't and cuss in my head even, and for the most part no one knows.

Because I cover it up with fancy things.

And heaven forbid if I stumble and do something right in front of people. Oh, the praise. 

And I think, "Huh. If you only knew."

See as much as I love Christ, and as much as I'm in love with Him, I can do no good. I am no good. Apart from Him I'm just nothing.

And this is just freeing. I'm NOTHING! I'm HOPELESS! I STINK at everything I do. 

Except Him. He makes me able. He's the only good thing about me. And I'm so glad, because that way HE gets all the glory. 

I felt a kinship with that discarded tree. If not for Christ, I'd be laying in a gutter. Probably for real. I loved being reminded that if I even think about boasting in one little thing about myself, that's just me, trying to hang a pretty decoration on a dead tree.  

If I hear a good word about myself, I need to remind myself "That's Christ. I should be in a gutter."

I love it when Christ makes me keep it real.