Mysterious Ways.

It was night, and I wasn't tired enough to fall asleep in the car on the long drive home.  The lights of the city provided a nightlight for my brain as I collected enough words for thought and wrote them down on the pages of the soul I keep trying to understand and follow and find all at once.  The darkness was comforting, and the somber peace of it matched my mood... contemplative, wandering.  What do I want of the people I love here?  I can't ask them to live the life I lead in America - that doesn't make any sense.  But, then - what of the life I lead in America is relevant to the life they lead here in Russia?  What simple truths translate across oceans, centuries, traditions, languages, and hearts?  What, essentially, does Truth boil down to, if not bound by culture or led by upbringing, but instead formed by reality that was real enough to rock a bunch of fishermen and set the world on fire, for or against?  Which words, I wondered, could convey what really matters, if I myself find it hard to differentiate from the flannel-graph and nursery songs that formed the childhood faith in me that they never knew?  The dark night enveloped my thoughts in a comforting way - neither answering nor swallowing them up... as if my thoughts found a seat among the stars and just let me look at them for a while.  And then, a familiar song on the radio.  Not a tired version of One Republic's Apologize or the overplayed Selena Gomez song that Russians love so much.  No, this was Michael W. Smith.  On a Russian Radio station.  That's right, good ol' 90s Michael W. Smith.  Sometimes when that happens in America, I wonder why the heck they're playing outdated music.  But here, in the middle of the Russian countryside on a holiday night drive between Rostov and Taganrog, in the midst of my thoughts of what I'm doing here and if I could ever convey my hopes for my family and friends here, this song miraculously found its way to my ears...

I will be here for you

Somewhere in the night

Somewhere in the night

I'll shine a light for you

Somewhere in the night

I'll be standing by

I will be here for you

God works in mysterious ways.  But he works, that's for sure.  I don't think I've ever appreciated those words from Michael W. Smith like I did tonight, somewhere in the night, wondering if the light was ever going to shine.  I don't know what he was thinking when he wrote that song, but I'm always amazed at how lyrics of songs can say different things at different times and be equally powerful.  I think I had a frown of disbelief on my face for a full minute, wondering how in the world that song found its way on Russian radio.  But I heard it loud and clear.  More encouragement in the dark.  Proof that he's listening. Proof that he's working.  Proof that the light will shine. 

Encouragement in the Dark.

Art not only communicates truth. It also creates emotional uprisings. Many churches have never considered giving an entire congregation the chance to experience intense stirrings. Many church leaders are uncomfortable if the final fill-in-the-blank is left unfilled. It seems far safer to give people tips and techniques and formulas alone, than to give them a license to touch a mystery.

And to be wrecked by it.

This quote, found in an article I randomly read today - I highly recommend it: The Collision of Faith and Creativity ... but seriously, what a blessing and encouragement, on a day where I found myself in a theatre watching people do what I used to do (dance) and don't do as often as I'd like.  It didn't make me sad, it just reminded me that I'm not done with that part of myself, and I need to not give it up, but get it back and keep throwing punches.  And that there's purpose in it still.  And I sat and contemplated all this on the way home, and then came and read this article.  Someone gets it - like, really gets it, and I love that.  I love the fact that art can be seen as purposeful without filling in the blanks, handing it to you on a silver platter, or coloring within the lines.  Giving the audience the license to tough a mystery, and to be wrecked by it - incredible, powerful words.  I'd like that as a career, thank you.  

from Colossians 2:17

The shadows are what are “cast” by a life captured by what matters most. The substance is a someone–Jesus. Without him the shadows are meaningless.
Brian Onken

Thoughts from a Friend on Jonah...

Jonah gets a bad rap... but if we really look into his story, and see how and why God chose Jonah for this journey, it begins to make much more, much deeper sense than the flannel graph Bible story you heard in 2nd grade.  Thoughts from a good friend of mine...

God knows what he is doing in calling you to what he wants for you. Sometimes, you might balk at it, you might reason your way out of it, you might push against it, you might run from what you think God is asking of you. But what I see in Jonah, is that beneath his resistance, behind his fleeing, hidden away in his soul there is something there that God already knew about . . . and it comes to the surface in a crisis moment. The kind of person Jonah is comes into view when the pressure is the greatest . . . and God already knew what kind of man Jonah was. In spite of Jonah’s initial fleeing, he cannot deny living as the man God knows him to be.

In other words, the call that God gives to Jonah is one way that God is going to put on display the kind of man that Jonah really is . . . and we see that here, in the storm, on the sea, with the pagan sailors, as Jonah offers to sacrifice his life so that they can live.

And that drives me to wonder: What is it that God knows about me that he intends to put on display for his glory through the challenges and the call he extends to me? What will become evident in us as the pressure rises?

when things make sense...

I can't connect the dots by looking forward, only backward.  When I look over my shoulder, I think I'm seeing glimpses that make me smile.  Not the cheesy grin for pictures, not the amused smirk with friends, but the slow curving of the lips that comes with a peaceful sigh - the kind that says, 'Yes, that's some of what this was for.  And it's worth it.'

October 8, 2011

Let this day be my offering.
May this time mark the place,
where my soul stops its wandering,
and my shifting feet cease.
You have my heart quieted and calm,
full of sand, wind, and storm.
Would I not run while standing,
to your arms now be drawn.
I could keep up my pace,
I could still wander on...
On my own I'd be leaning,
my own power long gone.
You placed rock 'neath my feet,
while I ran around in the sand;
Please, my Jesus, forgive my vanity,
may I hold tight to your hand.

missing you

   It is a beautiful, humbling thing to be missed.  It is a hearty, real, unsettling thing to miss someone.  There are some things a video screen and conversation can fill, and others - moments you wish to share, times you want to wrap your arms around a person or kiss their cheek - to pick up a phone and bring them into your day, to meet and hear about the mundane or complex things of theirs.
   And I sit here, halfway across the world from (#) of the best friends I could ask for... and many more to name - women I am so thankful to know, to watch them do life, to walk with and learn from, and I wonder how in the world I have anything to offer for them to miss.  Sometimes I think I have so much more to learn from them than they could learn from me... and so I guess what I'm trying to say is, thank you.  I don't deserve the beautiful friendships that you've given me, and at the same time, I hope I can treasure and cherish them, and hold them tight forever.  I know I don't need them.  I know that you are enough for me, and so I am thankful that you've chosen to give them to me.