to mourn is to sing.

A simple research paper and a little life has begun a revolution in the way I think about a passage of Scripture. The paper I refer to was on Jewish funeral and burial customs in the New Testament world. I won't go into a lot of detail, you can always read the paper :)

In Jewish culture mourning was overt. It was no holds barred. You were expected to look and act and speak like someone in mourning. In fact, culture mandated that you participate in active mourning by such things as restraining from certain social events, entering through a particular temple gate, and dressing in a certain manner. Everyone knew your world had been turned upside down and your heart was breaking, and they were expected to treat you accordingly. What's more, it was in your hands. Those who would offer comfort and condolences to a grieving person were forbidden to speak to the bereaved until they first spoke. (it makes sense why Job's friends did not speak for so long. And it makes even more sense why they should have continued to keep their mouths shut.) Interestingly enough though, after a year of overt grieving broken into a step down process from more intense levels of grief to the less intense, the season of mourning was concluded with a ceremony, and a lifestyle of mourning was no longer permitted. ("For everything there is a season...a time to mourn, and a time to laugh.")

All of this to say, mourning is necessary, and even wonderful. "Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted." To admit heartbreak was to open oneself up to comfort and facilitate healing. To be forced, in a sense, by the cultural norms to continue mourning for a defined season was to be refused the ability to hide from or suppress the hurt and instead to find a way to work through it, with the help of the community.

There is so much that each of us face that is cause for mourning. Drinking the cup of sorrow to the last drop (to paraphrase Henry Nouwen) is the only way to be able to taste fully the cup of joy.

I could regale you with the number of things that have happened in my personal life, family, church family, and in the world that touches me that have been causes for heartbreak in my life over the past few months. I have felt so many times as though I was in mourning, literally and spiritually, sometimes to the point of physical sickness. Some of this is the nature of existence in this world. Some of it is the Enemy's way of battering my soul and trying to discouraging me and make me abandon the path I am on.

But dear ones, we must take comfort in the fact that we are mourning, for we are recognizing and admitting that all is not well in this world, and that there is nothing we can do to raise what is dead back to life. But we know the One who can, who has, and who does. He longs to bring us comfort, but he cannot bring comfort where there is no embracing of pain.

Defiance

I am haunted by two things. How I can ever be a part of making the Name of Jesus Christ great in our world, and how can I make even the tiniest ping of a dent in the suffering that belongs to so much of it? The two are not mutually exclusive. I know that. But I cannot escape the inexplicable feeling that I have nothing to offer for either cause. And what frightens me more than failing to meet some part of such immense need is failing to try.

For some, opportunities for "greatness" as it has been defined for us will never come in this life. We will hear the stories of others who have had this opportunity thrust upon them against their will and who have risen to the challenge. And we will wish for such a moment to come in our own lives. And we will wrestle with a fear of not rising to face it as we hope we will, a question about whether or not we will be so bold should such courage be asked of us. But how easily we forget the courage that must come with living each day as it ought to be lived. How quickly we lose sight of the truth that every day is such an opportunity. A chance to turn and face the injustice of our world head on. To let a tear fall with those who weep, to rejoice at the fortune others celebrate. To give beyond what we can afford to, to refuse to worry about providing for our own comfort. To take the path of integrity when doing so will put us at odds with the culture, to embrace without prejudice the culture that would suffocate everything we believe in. To extend a hand and expose our hearts. To refuse to be backed into a corner or beaten into submission by the threats against our pride and social standing when we offer relentless, unmerited love.

Dear brothers and sisters, we are the warriors on the front lines of the battle. It is we who determine the future. It is we who have been given the opportunity and the responsibility to act. If we refuse to rise to the occassion and meet the enemy head on do we think we will be spared? Never. We will become a casulty of the war that envelopes us, but we will have no reason to be remembered, no hope of offering something of value that perhaps only we can. Real courage is encountered on the front lines of daily life where all is routine and nothing seems to be a matter of life and death. Living life like this is the most painful way. We will encounter resistance every step of the way, and we will be broken, and used up, our ashes scattered in each place we stop along the way.

If you don't believe that, and if you don't think being a Christ-follower has any such ramifications, then you perhaps ought to ask yourself what God you are following, and what Bible you are reading. What Jesus offers is not quiet, uninterrupted, successful, "fat" lives, but a radical lifestyle for which we will be persecuted, but from which we cannot bring ourselves to turn because we know that it is the Life blood of Truth that flows through our veins.

But this is real freedom. Freedom for more than pleasure: freedom for life, the fullness of life that comes only with embracing the sacrifice of God and allowing it to echo strongly, passionately in the way we live. We have prayed for God to bless our country for so long, and finally the opportunity for blessing and chance for greatness is upon us. It looks nothing like we expect, but regardless, now is the moment to seize it, to lay down our lives in pursuit of the Kingdom that has come into our daily world and attempts to turn it inside out and upside down.

Blessed are those who have nothing to offer. For theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.
Blessed are those who are consumed with grief for a fallen world. For they will receive comfort.
Blessed are those who submit to the true Authority. For they will inherit the earth.
Blessed are those who are ravenous with an insatiable hunger and unquenchable thirst for the ways of God. For they will be filled.
Blessed are those who extend unlimited, unmerited favor to others. It is they who receive the same.
Blessed are the innocent who know as God knows and see as He intended them to see. For they will see God.
Blessed are those who promote reconciliation, forgiveness, and who make way for the Kingdom of peace. They are the children of God.
Blessed are those who suffer because they take up their cross daily and follow Christ. For theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven.

Are you willing to truly embrace this life with it's heartaches and it's joys? Are you willing to step up to the challenge and live in defiance of the status quo? Am I?

Sometimes other people just say it better.

How deep the Father's love for us
How vast beyond all measure
That He should give His only Son
To make a wretch His treasure

How great the pain of searing loss
The Father turns His face away
As wounds which mar the Chosen One
Bring many sons to glory

I will not boast in anything
No gifts, no power, no wisdom
But I will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection

Why should I gain from His reward
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom


You're the God of this city
You're the Lord of this nation
You're the King of these people
You Are

You're the light in the darkness
You're the hope for the hopeless
You're the peace for the restless
You are

Greater things have yet to come
Greater things have still to be done
In this city

Greater things have yet to come
Greater things are still to be done here


Let my life light up like the city lights
Let it burn for you in the darkest night


When peace like a river attendeth my way
When sorrows like sea billows roll
Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say
It is well, it is well with my soul

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should sway
Let this blest assurance control
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate
And has shed his own blood for my soul


Jesus, You are Life and Breath to me


In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save
Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious day
Up from the grave He rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sins curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life's first cry, to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can every pluck me from His hand
Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ, I'll stand


Be Thou my vision of Lord of my heart
Naught be all else to me save that Thou art
Thou my best thought by day or by night
Waking or sleeping Thy presence my light

Be Thou my Wisdom and Thou my true Word
I ever with Thee and Thou with me Lord
Thou my great Father, I Thy true son
Thou in me dwelling and I in Thee one.

Riches I heed not nor man's empty praise
Thou mine inheritance now and always
Thou and Thou only first in my heart
High King of Heaven my treasure Thou art

Little Bird Flies the Coop

Month one in Virginia is nearing it's long anticipated end. To be perfectly honest, I absolutely know I am supposed to be here, and I absolutely have no idea why. There is a surprising liberty in being able to admit that though. When people I have never met and have no inherent need to impress step into an introductory conversation with, "So, what are you studying?" and I reply, "Intercultural Studies," the almost universally accompanying remark is, "Oh, so you're going to be a missionary?" Something about that makes me laugh every time. As if I cannot have an appreciation for culture without being expressly called to live over seas. It is interesting how in the body of Christ we want to classify the plan of God into neatly labeled packages, and we do it without even realizing. I simply respond with something like, "God hasn't told me yet. He just told me to be here. And, scary as it is, here I am." I mean, we are all missionaries right? Where did this idea of life and ministry and mission being separate entities come from anyway?

Nothing reveals how much you have grown or changed like plopping yourself back into the educational environment. I was one of those undergrads who was paranoid about knowing all the details and getting it all right. I was the one who really wanted that good grade but was struggling to be OK with not being a straight A student for the first time ever. Now, I just want to learn. I don't have to be here. For the first time ever I don't care about the grade (of course, I haven't gotten my first one yet, I may have to get back with you on this one ;). There is no scholarship to maintain, no career to acquire. I am here to increase in knowledge, not to receive the commendation of the ability to regurgitate facts and ideas.

Three years of ministry and work in between Belmont and here has brought me to a point of being comfortable in who I am and who I'm not. Growing up in ministry as a pastor's kid and being on a church and ministry staff myself in multiple roles means I have learned something about the risk, the weight, the pain and the struggle and the failure that comes with it. But I also know the reward of watching young people blossom into mature followers of Christ. Of serving along side an elderly saint and drinking in their wisdom. Of holding the hand of the blind, the destitute and the blessed. Of seeing the first light of Christ dawn in the eyes of a new believer. Of the life-change caused by faith, prayer and the exercise of truth. I have fallen and failed and wrestled and surrendered and have come no where close to where I want to be. Every day I realize afresh that I can do absolutely nothing, but I AM can do absolutely everything.

I should have turned away long ago. Without a doubt I would have but for the grace of Christ intervening to hold me steady on this unseen path while I fight with all my might to veer from it. Now it is my purpose to point others to this glorious Jesus I have seen and to encourage them to come to Him, to know Him, and to remain faithful to Him.

The Blackness of White

Blackness permeated the night. It was the kind of blackness that isn't content to hang starless in the sky or weigh heavy on the air, but insists on infiltrating the mood of those who venture out into it. My Sentra's tiny headlights waged war against the darkness, fighting to illuminate the road ahead, even as the whirring of my weedeater engine struggled to inject noise into the silence. Still, they were no match for the opponent and the battle raged thickly in the driver's seat.

"Is it really wise to be walking away from the life I have here, from all my contacts and years of relationships and credibility built? How can that possibly be wisdom speaking?"

I've lived either north, west, or south of Nashville for 19 years, called 8 churches my family (oh the joy of being a pastor's kid), gone to 3 different schools and the best University ever - Belmont, woot! - and I know TONS of people.

I love pretty much everything about Nashville (except the way people drive!). It's small town, big city. People are family here, and the air is alive with the excitement of dreams. Sure, being in the Bible Belt can be frustrating instead of inspiring as a Christ-follower, the commercialism of the music scene can grow tiresome, and the prospect of New Hollywood scares me just a little, but this is home.

Over the past few years I've worked with the best of the best in the industry, and developed close friendships with future A-listers. I realize that can sound a bit vain, but it's just the way things are when you grow up here. It's no uncommon thing to sit beside a Dove award winner in church on Sunday, run into a film celeb at Starbucks on Tuesday, have lunch with a multi-platinum engineer on Thursday, and hang backstage with a soon-to-be-signed band on Saturday. I lost the ability to be starstruck a long time ago, and now I realize that so many of my friends have credentials that make them worthy candidates for name-dropping. But I've never even thought twice about it because we spend our time talking about the merits of Jersey Mike's, the location of my fusebox, the French Revolution, Nacho Libre, and relationship statuses.

So as I'm driving along in the dark realizing that my life puts me in the circle with so many of the "right" people and with some work I could turn those connections into almost any job I want, I'm freaking out and thinking, "Seriously God? Are you absolutely sure it's a good idea to move to Lynchburg, Virginia?! Is it really wise to take my life in an almost completely different direction?"

As dark as it was on the road and in my mind, not thirty seconds after throwing this question out into the night, my headlights pierce the black for a moment and fall on a church sign (normally one of the crummiest of the crummy when it comes to stupid sayings) that reads "I GUIDE YOU IN THE WAY OF WISDOM."

How many times have I joked about God just putting up a billboard to tell me what to do, and BAM! There it is. It's a little humbling to take advice from a tiny Free Will Baptist church in nowheresville, but I guess that's more of the irony of God's upside down economy where the least is the greatest. 

I am reminded once again that the Fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom, that we may make plans, but the unfolding of the future lies in His hands. God wastes nothing in our lives, and just because I don't see how He can take the sum of my experiences and connections and use them in an entirely new way for the Kingdom doesn't mean He can't. If I am seeking Him, waiting on Him, and walking in the path He lays before me, even when it may seem foolish in the eyes of the world, the light of wisdom is shining brightly. 

Driving Lessons and Greener Grass

Rounding the corner to my parents house I passed a silver two-door saturn with a particularly fuzzy faced driver. Or so I thought at first glance. Turns out instead it was a young dad with his daughter in his lap. Her tiny hands grasped the steering wheel and brown curls bounced up and down excitedly as he strained to look around her for approaching vehicles. We shared a wave as we passed. I couldn't help but laugh at her delight, and his obvious entertainment in it. Seems like just yesterday I was sitting in my daddy's lap behind the wheel of our blue station wagon. We'd drive around that Michigan parking lot, waiting for mom to finish her errands. It was so hard for my little hands to turn that steering wheel, but I remember the sheer joy of "driving" and wishing only that I could be big enough to push the pedals myself too.

This long lost memory jilted the cache of my memory file and brought a flood of childhood memories to mind. My first pony ride, first motorcycle ride, the agonizing process of trying to learn to ride a bike, building forts, trying to start a fire, pulling the legs off crickets, flushing my live goldfish, bossing other kids around on the playground...

I always remember being pretty imaginative as a child. When Lindsay was just a baby, Justyn and I would play outside in our front yard in Swartz Creek, Michigan for hours tossing a ball, trying to perfect cartwheels (a feat I have yet to accomplish to this day) riding tricycles with the neighborhood kids and whatever other randomness we came up with. 

One thing we NEVER did was cross behind our house into the neighbor's yard. Apparently there was something super special about their grass. It was luscious, soft, and brilliantly green - I mean, really nice for grass, but grass nonetheless - their pride and joy. We had specific instructions relayed through our mother not to lay a foot on it. Which is sad you know, because our grass was dry and scratchy (this, of course, had nothing to do with our down and dirty playtimes) and I always imagined that grass would be like playing in Eden.  

Anyway, one day we were playing a rousing game of kickball when our ball inevitably went into the forbidden Eden. Naive logic said, well, you gotta get the ball. I mean, if it just sits there, it really will turn the grass brown, plus, they'll probably be MORE mad that we let the ball land in their precious yard. Being the oldest, I got nominated to brave the invisible boundary, dash in, snatch the ball and get out without being seen. Windows were closed, blinds were down. We figured we'd be safe, and it was now or never. Taking a deep breath, I went for it. Gingerly, I ran on my tiptoes into the softest grass my feet had ever touched, grabbed the ball, and turned to make my triumphal exit. All of a sudden, behind me I hear the screen door slam and incoherent shouts come from my neighbor who is chasing me through the yard with a BROOM! Call me crazy, but I was four, pretty sure I was doing a lot less damage to his precious grass than Mr. 250 Pounds was as he plowed through it wielding that broom and screaming like a banshee.

Good times man, good times. With a million more stories like that from my childhood, I guess it doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out how I managed to be such a crazy mess at 25!

Lead of Love

Though Rascal Flatts latest hit Here bears suspicious thematic similarities to their smash single Broken Road, it's still good music. And I confess, I can't get it out of my head. Sometimes the lyrics of a song just resonate, you know? The chorus in particular:

I wouldn't change a thing
I'd walk right back through the rain
Back to every broken heart
On the day that it was breakin
And I'd relive all the years
And be thankful for the tears
I've cried with every stumbled step
That led to you and got me here

I feel something quite like that these days. There is nothing perfect about this life. Nobody has it easy. Everyone gets their heart broken in one way or another. Even the rare moments of bliss are tainted with little bits of regret and humanity. But I just have to say that some of the most bitter experiences have produced some of the sweetest results. Wrestling with the angel in the valley may leave you with a dislocated hip, but at least there's a blessing attached, eh?

Over the past few weeks I've had some tough decisions to face. More than once I've felt like turning around and walking away, doing absolutely nothing to "change the status quo." I don't know if it's curiosity, a sense of adventure, insanity or serious divine grace, but for whatever reason I've turned to face new opportunities and challenges head on.

The lavish outpouring of God's reinforcement that I am indeed following Him has been simply stunning. New school opportunities, new job experiences, new contacts; the past week alone has been crazy! Add one fantastic snow day and an amazing sunrise over snowtopped hills this morning and I can feel Him wrapping His arms around me with delight as He whispers in my ear, "Taste and see that I AM GOOD!"

Tomorrow it could get really hard. It could be time to come down from the mountain. Inevitably the trials will come back with a vengence. I am on a road of resistance because it's the road of using my life for something that counts eternally. For now I'm basking in the affirmation, but the joy and peace of my spirit will last much longer than the high.

I leave you with these words from an old Caedmon's Call song, Lead of Love, which I think could just be my theme song:

Looking back at the road so far
The journey's left it's share of scars
Mostly from leaving the narrow and straight
Looking back it is clear to me
A man is more than the sum of his deeds
How you've made good of this mess I've made
Is a profound mystery

Looking back you know you had to bring me through
All that I was so afraid of
Though I questioned the sky
Now I see why
I had to walk the rocks to see the mountain view
Looking back I see the lead of love