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Sunday, July 20
notes from the pew
I'm taking a mini-break today from my series on change. In fact, I looked inside my brain last night, and I think I only have one more change post in there anyway, leaning up against my week's to do list and a box full of song lyrics from 1983. If I ever doubt there's a God in heaven, I find my faith again when I turn on the radio and all the words to a Men at Work song leap from my mouth like I'm still wearing a lace bow and Madonna bracelets. Because of course, only God could make a brain that worked like that.
As the title indicates, I'm blogging from church this morning. I'm in the little side room, watching my husband teach (I'll actually hear him in the next service). We just came off stage from the first worship set, where we sang a new song called Healer:
I believe You're my healer
I believe You are all I need
I believe You're my Portion
I believe You're more than enough for me
Jesus, You're all I need
The song is so new that I don't think you can even buy it yet. It was written by a guy from Australia named Mike.
Mike went to the doctor one day, learned that he had terminal cancer, drove home to his piano, and wrote the song from start to finish without stopping.
That, my friends, is true worship. It is something that pours from your heart toward God even in the midst of the worst day ever — your acknowledgment that He is all you need in the ups, the downs, the spin-arounds of life. The rocks of your soul awake and cry out, and you cannot keep the words in, even if you tried.
I never feel worthy of climbing the steps and singing holy words like the ones in Healer. But when I'm up there, God always weeds through that dusty pile of memories stored in my head. He brings to mind the places He has been Friend, Father, Lover, Healer — and He calls me out to sing.
As the title indicates, I'm blogging from church this morning. I'm in the little side room, watching my husband teach (I'll actually hear him in the next service). We just came off stage from the first worship set, where we sang a new song called Healer:
I believe You're my healer
I believe You are all I need
I believe You're my Portion
I believe You're more than enough for me
Jesus, You're all I need
The song is so new that I don't think you can even buy it yet. It was written by a guy from Australia named Mike.
Mike went to the doctor one day, learned that he had terminal cancer, drove home to his piano, and wrote the song from start to finish without stopping.
That, my friends, is true worship. It is something that pours from your heart toward God even in the midst of the worst day ever — your acknowledgment that He is all you need in the ups, the downs, the spin-arounds of life. The rocks of your soul awake and cry out, and you cannot keep the words in, even if you tried.
I never feel worthy of climbing the steps and singing holy words like the ones in Healer. But when I'm up there, God always weeds through that dusty pile of memories stored in my head. He brings to mind the places He has been Friend, Father, Lover, Healer — and He calls me out to sing.
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It's one of those lesser-known passages of Scripture where Jesus tells his disciples that thy friends do not dance and if they don't dance, then verily, they are no friends of mine.
That indeed is a great song, and I enjoyed it in service this morning. However, as I sung it, I got this feeling like I wished I really believed what I was singing. I want Jesus to be all I need--I really, really do. But, most of the time, as I live life, I yearn for someone with skin on. Someone that I could lean on. Someone who cares. I wonder if maybe I don't love God enough and that's why Jesus doesn't seem to be enough. And yet through all my wondering, wishing, and yearning, the loneliness just keeps pressing in.
I don't have the answers, Anonymous, can't even try. I can tell you that almost every time I lead worship, I am praying that God will make the words true for me. I don't feel what I'm singing all the time. Sometimes desire is all we have, but that is where God starts His work.
You'll be getting some truth on this topic coming up soon at Grace, too.... keep your eyes peeled for our September teaching series.
You'll be getting some truth on this topic coming up soon at Grace, too.... keep your eyes peeled for our September teaching series.
Anne, I first received your comment on my phone in the car, and I almost drove off the road. Are you trying to kill me?
Kelly, thanks for the response. I don't mean to drag out a somewhat negative-themed discussion, but unfortunately there's stuff in my head that wants to get out, sooo. . .
The frustrating part is that I KNOW the answer. The answer is that God intended for us to live in community and "we" (collectively) have all we need when we have Jesus. My life, however, is much more solitary. Sure I put on a happy face (sometimes it's even genuine) when I come to church on Sunday mornings, but that's just a temporary anomaly--it's not the norm. Unfortunately, I know where I am and I know where I need to be. I just don't know how to get from here to there.
The frustrating part is that I KNOW the answer. The answer is that God intended for us to live in community and "we" (collectively) have all we need when we have Jesus. My life, however, is much more solitary. Sure I put on a happy face (sometimes it's even genuine) when I come to church on Sunday mornings, but that's just a temporary anomaly--it's not the norm. Unfortunately, I know where I am and I know where I need to be. I just don't know how to get from here to there.