Inner View

In the midst of economic woes, I have a personal and vested interest in utilizing my creative gifts to earn a living. Recently, I had an opportunity that looked promising towards such an end. Within a 24 hour window, I had: 1. An email in my inbox asking me to contact the interested company as soon as possible regarding an interview, 2. The phone interview, 3. The physical interview, 4. The job offer, and most importantly of all 5. An opportunity to trust in Grace.

My attitude initially was very poor. I did not expect to be offered employment, and as a matter of fact, I had actually planned on such a contingency, so as not to be disappointed. Thus far, I had chosen to disregard the Savior's provision and lovingkindness in favor of another attempt at control. Having not interviewed for several years, my skills were quite rusty. Thankfully, the hiring manager was not overly seasoned, and God brought me favor during the interview process. In what seemed like a dizzying blur, the interview was concluded and I was seated at a conference table with the business owners. In the midst of aural whiplash, I was able to ascertain that I was being offered the job. Then, the emotional roller coaster began a quick descent.

The amount being offered was junior level and not what I considered ideal for my skill set and experience. But on the other hand, I have been without steady work for nine months, and the presence of a consistent paycheck was quite enticing. My mind jumped immediately to the, "What if...?" questions, and I neglected the fine print in the stipulations of the employment offer. Heart racing, palms sweating, I gave a "Let me think about it" reply, belying my physiological excitement.

The drive home was a whirlwind of uncertainty and mixed feelings. I waffled between agony and ecstasy, wondering what God was up to. After phoning several friends and colleagues, I was able to begin to pick apart the situation and examine the details. In an escalation of emotion and tension, I began a short volley with the business owners in a last ditch effort to tip the scales in my direction to make the job "fit" my "needs". In just a matter of hours, my attitude had gone from skeptic to frantic, as I lost touch with the love of my Lord. I made one final awkward attempt to negotiate in my favor and was snapped at by my contact at the business; further souring the already poor impression I had developed.

I couldn't believe it. I was offered a job I had decided I wouldn't get, and now it was being taken away on terms that I didn't consent to. In retrospect, the thread of control glares so obviously from the tapestry of events. At the time, it couldn't have felt more confusing, however. My heart felt jumbled and my head was reeling. It was as if my heart was the candidate being interviewed. I laid out my portfolio of dependency for the Father to see. It took 24 hours and a lot of deliberation, but once again, my community reminded me of what Grace looks like: provision. A new opportunity to trust: 1. God is in control, 2. God is absolutely crazy about me, and 3. God has custom tailored my needs so that only He can meet them.

Halfway House

Imagine an architectural undertaking of grand proportions. Vast arrays of room after room, and seemingly endless passageways wind on and on. Dust hangs in the air with the busyness of construction and activity. Hammers pound, shovels scrape, and ropes groan under the burden of change. Layer by layer the structure begins to take form, with painstaking attention given to each blueprinted detail. The first several weeks are a blur; the next few months a flurry of motion.

Subtly, the pace alters ever so slightly. At first, it seems, it's just one hammer swing that's out of sync. The rhythm of the builders loses a little of its efficacy, but is still humming along. The edifice is taking shape now, and the purposes of various spaces can be speculated. Growth in size appears to be exacting its cost from the labor, however, as things continue to gently slow. Ebbing strength dictates more asynchronous behavior and development becomes sporadic. Eventually, all movement grinds to a halt, casting an almost deathly pallor over the once-aggressive project.

With the decrease in structural work, there is a hidden enemy. Mutinous pacts are made in the camp and mutterings of conflict simmer like a sulfuric stew. Murmurs grow in frequency, peppered by shouts of unrest. A masked attack is launched under cover of night and panic strikes. Fire engulfs a large portion of the partly-finished building and the clamor of chaos rises to deafening levels. Civil war rages and within days the structure is all but completely abandoned. Can you imagine?

Many of today's congregants operate stiffly around forgotten dusty complexes, wondering why the "christian life" they were sold seems hollow. I, too, have been part of this group, and struggle to surface for air from the quagmire. Those church members that become aware of the problem often reach for a rag and some cleaning solvent to polish their knee-high brick walls. I am embarrassed to admit that this group still welcomes me in occasionally during times of fear.


When I choose a "stopping point" in my trust journey with my God, I choose to allow the building to slow to a painful crawl in my heart. It's not that it's about me or my effort; quite the opposite. The foundation of previous experiences of the grace of the Lord allow me to trust for Him to continue construction. Sure, there will be outbreaks of war against the flesh from time to time. But those are opportunities for me to reflect on the work that's already been accomplished for me. I can recall the foundation that was laid by Christ, and I can even learn more about the engineering going on in others' hearts.

God's design is for the growth to be rooted in love, producing joy. When I opt to break out the rock polish or forget about Truth in favor of works, I experience what I would call "painful sanctification". My Savior will have my allegiance at any cost, and He is willing to woo me with suffering to help me admit my dependence upon Him. He is glorified by me being honest about this need in the context of community, as honesty breeds honesty.

I guess that must be why it's called "edification".

Keep it to Yourself

Once upon a time, I heard that if I didn't have anything nice to say, then I shouldn't say anything at all. It seemed logical enough. I certainly appreciated, I thought, living in a realm of silence rather than negativity. What I couldn't see, however, was the seeping, wispy black cloud sneaking steadily through a crack in the door. I bought into the idea and it allowed a slow yet constant stream of grossness to flow into my space.

With silent darkness as their incubator, the lies began to take shape and grow. Though their development was subtle, there were several points along the way when I was startled by the inundation. Spores gave way to ground cover, which gave way to small foliage, which eventually became a forest so thick that I could barely distinguish what was right in front of me.

The problem, you see, was not that I wasn't saying anything nice. Rather, it was that I had become confused as to what nice was. That word had gotten thrown into a tumultuous spin cycle with passive aggression and had come out looking very different. By remaining silent I had alienated edifying speech and had settled for bitter solitude instead of blurting out my own shortcomings.

Thankfully, it was Grace that was right in front of me. It had teased and tantalized me with its winsome aroma; asking me simply to trust. As I painfully stretched out an atrophied hand, I was met with a warm and sweet embrace that invited me gently to speak up. My unused voice quavered with uncertainty, but was met with such sweetness. I grew stronger, little by little, as I recounted the goodness and richness of the Grace. Admittedly, the more I said, the more I wanted to say. It bubbled forth with increasing exuberance, and truth pushed back the inky darkness of the lies.

The cares of mundane survival continue to be eclipsed by the magnificence and magnitude of my Savior's grace. As I strain to use dormant muscles to trust Him in me, I find pieces of joy that are nearly indescribable. Rejection, approval, favor, discontentment...these are words that flail like drying socks in a stiff breeze. Cold and lifeless I see them now and am grateful to be speaking up, even when it's messy.

Could it be True?

One of my personal favorites from the message of TrueFaced is the principle that talks about God's design. Being currently stuck somewhere between underemployed and unemployed, I've had ample opportunity to give this some thought. Admittedly, I am the sort of person that would much prefer to leave the Savior out of the equation. In a practical sense, give me a paycheck and a time clock, and I will gladly give my allegiance to...myself.

The writers of TrueFaced echo sound biblical counsel that speaks of the incredible purpose that we are built into. Beyond and superseding the mundane, the Father's intimate knowledge of His children allows Him to perfectly craft their development into a vibrant and integral part of His body. His ways are perfect because His knowledge is perfect. No one in the universe is more qualified to dream with and for us than our God.

Previously, this concept has been foreign to me not because it did not sound alluring, but because I failed to believe that it could be true. After all, wasn't God in the business of sending unwilling converts to Africa to be thrown to the tribesmen? Lately, I have been given grace to begin to timidly allow small shoots of hope to take root in my life. These tender plants have begun to take shape and I wonder at what the Father is up to at the moment. Could He really mean that He has built me to trust Him through messy circumstances to make His glory known?

I have eluded to lofty goals of self-employment and commercial recording for the last several years. I have consistently stayed at arms length from these dreams because I was convinced that I was incapable of seeing them through to completion. As I continue to grow and learn, I am thankful to see that yes, I am incapable, but I serve an amazing God who is the very definition of capable. And by the way, He's so crazy about me that He's got even bigger and greater plans for me than I can ask or imagine!

Semantics

Today, I had the privilege of playing a well-worn contemporary tune with what I believe to be an oft-confused message. In my previous existence as a legalist, I understood this message to be self-focused. Even more recently as a recovering grace pharisee, I had a warped view of what the text was really saying. In typical Western fashion, I operated as though I had intimate knowledge of the author's intent and heart attitude through the lyrics, though I had taken zero initiative to discover what that was.

Today's message was just reiterating how the Gospel is relational, period. There is no skirting the issue. We as human beings are aligning ourselves either with God or with ourselves, and there is no middle ground. If we choose to ignore the relational component of the Good News, then we cheapen grace and effectively nullify the work of Christ at Calvary. We assume the form, but deny His power. It was a great reminder of the Savior's tremendous love and our inability to do anything on our own about it.

In this light then, I was able to re-think the aforementioned song with a joyful heart. Because I am constantly arguing that what churches need is never programmatic, but simply to love each other better, I thought I should take my own advice to heart. A heart that is loved by God is free to express that to others in turn. A loving heart believes and hopes for the best. To put it a different way, the grace of Christ is always anticipating success, rather than failure. In the case of my hangup with this song, I had fallen short of this calling. Instead of looking through the joyful lens of grace, I had looked through the joyless lens of self effort.

So what, then, was the song? The title in question was, "Here I am to Worship". In my practical doubt of the love of the Father, I had always put the emphasis on "Here I am". Such a blatant statement of self-importance is so threatening to someone who is himself self-important. What arrogance! What a narrow view of God to come into His presence singing about how the spiritual party can begin because I have arrived! Thankfully, this morning held something new for me. As I learn more of God's love for me, I am free to celebrate that here, in this spot, in this moment in time, I am blessed to worship the One who loves me so deeply and dearly. I now understand that it's, "HERE I am to Worship".

Oh, what a marvelous difference!

Here I Raise Mine What?!

This fall, I've been working hard at making official what has to this point only been a hobby---a recording label. As I continue to reiterate, Far Beyond Rescue is step one in trusting God with music (and everything else for that matter). Some of the subsequent steps are playing out to be, "Hey world, I've been busy recording things for nearly ten years now and I'm trusting God to do something with it in His time." As I've gone digging through my hard drive, I've stumbled across many recordings that I had completely forgotten about. Thus far, I've found over 60 songs that are what I feel to be retail-ready. With a little more work, the record label will have the entirety of its catalog available on iTunes, with music videos to follow on YouTube.

One of my favorite hymns brings to light a principle I've been pondering lately in regards to singing the praises of our Master. "Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing" references the Israelite Ebenezer Stones, and their significance. The idea behind the stones was to make a sort of crude monument to the Lord's work in the lives of His people. I'm finding that in my own life, looking backwards can be quite instructive. Re-discovering old music has not been simply nostalgic, it's been encouraging. A tidbit of lyric here or there will remind me of the grace journey that God has me on. A musical idea will invoke a memory of a specific instance that God used to teach me.

So here in the fall of 2010, I raise my own symbolic stone to reference moving forward in faith, trusting that the promises of Jesus are actually true. Embracing His worth and value, I am able to finally acknowledge the elephant in the room---I have actually been given musical gifts to use in service to the King of kings.

"Hey world, it's never been about me."

It's All in the Presentation

Music has had a long history in my life, especially as it relates to what dyed-in-the-wool midwesterners would term "special music". The irony that someone singing a solo on Sunday morning is referred to in different vocabulary than the rest of the worship service says something about our skewed church culture...but I digress. One of my first memories of singing in church was a solo I did when I was just four years old. I sang a song entitled, "Pound, Pound, Pound", wherein the composer, Lowell Lundstrom, talks about the story of Noah. I remember climbing the seemingly endless four stair steps up to the podium area. I turned and faced a small sea of faces and had the first taste of gripping fear that I can recall. I timidly waded through the song, at one point forgetting an entire phrase of lyrics.

Many years later, I had the opportunity to sing the National Anthem for a packed crowd at a high school basketball game. Full of self confidence, I dismissed the choir director's advice of utilizing a pitch pipe to locate my starting note. I started several notes too high, and thought I would surely pass out during the "rockets red glare" passage. Just the thought of the Star Spangled Banner sends shivers down my spine.

Last week, I had to present a project in front of my peers. The stage was set for all of my favorite fears to come back to haunt me. I was "that guy"---non-traditional college student in the classroom ten years after getting my undergrad. That awkward skinny guy with the weird hair trying to convince his entitled generation that he has good reason to incorporate 1960's wood paneling into his web design.

Thankfully, there is grace. There is always grace. I didn't have to look out into an array of blank looks, wondering if I'd pull through; if I'd perform up some assumed expectation. Rather, I could relax and present my imperfect project using my imperfect self because I knew that God had my back. I had the assurance of alien achievement and foreign righteousness. I could accept critique because my project and my competency were not determining my story. Instead, my story was being written by the ultimate Author, who is in the best industry I know---the redemption business.