Recounting: Part 1

“When was the moment that you first fell in love with me?” She asks, waiting patiently for my response.

The question comes repeatedly, sometimes on dates and dinners, but most often on anniversaries. I know this may sound insensitive, but for a while I couldn’t understand why my wife had such a terrible memory. “Haven’t I told her this story a hundred times?” I would think to myself.

I soon realized that it was not gaps in her memory that I needed to fill in for her. She wasn’t asking because she didn’t already know. She wasn’t having memory lapses about this particular area of our journey or some type of chronic amnesia that seemed to only crop up on special days. She wanted to hear the story of our love’s genesis again. My wife wanted us, in the present moment, to bring the past forward to re-present this eternally significant moment of our story.

When we recount our story, we relive the feelings that surfaced in those cherished moments. Essentially, we bring a portion of the past to the present, and it subsequently causes us to look forward to the future of our love. Our story needs to be continually told.

The beauty of the Eucharist, or Communion, is that it does just this. This act stands as one of the most significant actions of Christian worship. It’s an action that not only crosses geographical limitations to unite us with believers across the globe, but suspends the limits of time to connect us to Christians from every generation who have partaken in this simple, glorious act.

The centrality of the Eucharist in Christian worship has been lost in much of Western Christianity. Many contemporary churches see it as more of a nuisance that clumsily hacks into their struggle for “relevance.” (When you’re entire service is geared towards those outside of the community of faith, it becomes an awkward addition to any church gathering.) But since they consider it an “ordinance,” they appease their spiritual consciences by taking part in it quarterly or yearly. Much of the significance placed on it by the early church and the majority has been abandoned, and the vast weight of the rest of historical Christianity has been lost.

When we partake of the bread and the wine, it is effectively a recounting of the story of the gospel. At its most basic level, it is a joyous retelling of the story of God’s salvation of humanity. It is an action that is inextricably linked to the ancient past in its echoes of the Jewish Passover, but even this connection does little to fully explain the heavy depth of the union of spirit and flesh that the meal declares.

Unintentional Hiatus

Most sabbatical's are planned or announced beforehand. Not so here.
Hope to get back into the swing of things soon.

Sifting Opportunity

Opportunity usually arrives in erratic surges; at least that’s what I’ve noticed in my life. The only predictable characteristic of opportunity is that, inevitably, there will be an ebb and flow of when it presents itself; a small gush against the shoreline, full of possible new paths or prospects, followed by a recoil of circumstance, drawing out the moisture of chance from the sand and leaving desert-like sterility in its retreat.

When opportunity does spring forward, presenting numerous paths or doors to be explored, the difficult task of sifting through the choices that are presented has to be undertaken in order to discover where, exactly, the Spirit is drawing. This is not easy for me. My first instinct is to follow opportunity wherever it leads and ask questions later. But every door that opens is not always meant to be walked through. Every path that presents itself is not always meant to taken. Sifting opportunity is difficult for me because I always have had this nagging sensation that I’ll miss something life-changing if I make the wrong life-choices. For whatever reason, I feel this strange omnipotence when it comes to having the ability to screw up my own life. Oh, how foolish I am.

But opportunity must be placed inside a sieve to determine its ultimate worth and meaning for my family and our journey. A good opportunity is not necessarily the best opportunity for our lives. Ultimately, some opportunities must be turned down. I’m learning not to jump forward just because something presents itself that sounds appealing, but to wait and ponder and pray.

In his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps.


Proverbs 16:9

Celebrating Obscurity

A good friend of mine had a birthday the other day. In our brief conversation that morning, he jokingly mentioned his fear of getting older and becoming irrelevant. I responded by saying that I had already embraced the fact that I am destined for a life of obscurity and irrelevance.

After we hung up, I thought about that short exchange a little deeper. Have I really become content with the place that God may have for me? For whatever reason, contentment is something I've always really struggled with. I know a certain level of discontent is good and keeps us striving and pushing forward, but I think my issue goes a little deeper.

I heard a statistic once that stated that something like 70% of people between the ages of 18-25 think they are, in some way, going to enjoy some type of notoriety or fame. Everyone wants to be famous, and apparently, most young people in this age bracket actually believe it. Our culture is obsessed with fame, and the church is no different. Even most ministers (though most would never admit it) secretly want to pastor a mega church, or be a best-selling author, or sign a record deal.

Years ago, I wrote a song (partially, anyway…which apparently is my writing style;) that had the following lyric, “Take my hand and follow me, into the bliss of obscurity”. I was struggling then with the prospect of never being anyone in the eyes of the world. I wrestled with that reality then, and I think I still wrestle with it from time to time now. When we think of obscurity, of drifting into the background and blending in with everything else that goes on in our world, most of us are gripped with a nagging fear. Christianity doesn't automatically make us immune to this desire.We long to be unique and valued by others. We hope that our lives will stand out and that we will enjoy some type of notoriety in whatever field or ministry we find ourselves in. We all want to be known and celebrated for who we are and what we accomplish. And of course, unlike everyone else, we’re convinced that we would carry our “fame” with a modest humility.

But this is not the path that the vast majority of us will take. In fact, Christ promises the exact opposite. Parenthetically, if the culture of 1st century Judea had been as obsessed with fame as we have become, I’m confident that Christ would have included a fame amendment to go along his “easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to enter the kingdom of God” speech to the rich young ruler.

Why is obscurity so frightening? Why is it hard for us to settle into the prospect of just having an “average” life?

Father, grant me a deep peace that overrides any other urge in my life. Fill me with a sense of Your purpose and Your notoriety and not a lust for my own.

So, I take my seat at the table of obscurity that God has prepared for me; where anonymity rids its inhabitants of any pride, greed, or itch for notoriety; where all eyes turn to celebrate the only One worthy of fame, the One who deserves this feast.

Stepping on anyone's toes?

Saw this first on Scott Bailey's blog.

Wow...just...wow.
And think, this is what most contemporary western churches aspire to.

"Sunday's Coming" Movie Trailer from North Point Media on Vimeo.

God bless Nashville

I love this city.

If you would have asked me 10 years ago, my response would have likely been different. At 17, I was at that age where all you want to do is escape from the place you grew up. It’s in those late teen years that you tend to view every part of your childhood with repugnance.

But now, I’m ready to embrace, respect and, yes, even love those various pieces that have come together to make me who I am. Nashville has so much to do with that. Even with the tourist traps, the dense cluster of jaded musicians, and the constant barrage of demos being passed around to no one in particular by aspiring singer-songwriters, I absolutely adore this city.

I was listening to a father talk about his feelings toward his son last night. He told a story where his son had gotten injured and taken to the hospital. The father told of the panic and emotion that rose up in his soul at that moment. It was in those few seconds that all the love he had for his son surfaced, overwhelming his emotions.

Strangely, I think I’ve felt something similar for Nashville in the past few days. I could never really understand how much I care for this city and the people that call it home until the aftermath of this past weekend’s flood. The pain that this city has undergone in just a few days breaks my heart. But the way the city is coming together in the midst of the tragedy is amazing. Half a dozen benefit concerts have already been scheduled. A telethon is scheduled for tonight to raise money for the Red Cross and its effort to provide relief to those that are coping with the loss of their loved ones, homes, and possessions. The city is brimming with volunteers ready to help in whatever way they can. When you see people coming together like this, the true emotions you have for a place quickly surface.

I pray for my hometown as it starts on the long road of rebuilding and recovery.

God bless Nashville.

The greatest song I’ve ever written…

I have a constant ache to create.

I believe that we’re all born with it. I think it is part of being made in the image of God. We’re created to create, just as He creates. Our creative capacities and impulses no doubt differ from one person to the next, but as a whole, I believe that every human has an innate desire to craft something of worth. Whether you are a songwriter, poet, painter, parent, interior designer, or anything else, I believe that this longing to create something of value and beauty resides in us all.

My desire to create has been satisfied, to some extent, over the past year. That doesn’t at all mean that I don’t feel the urge to write a melody, or a poem, or a song on a regular basis. That compulsion still exists and I have to attend to it constantly, sometimes quenching it, sometimes appeasing it, sometimes postponing it.

But for the most part, over the last year, my creative inclinations have been temporarily contented. I think I have a pretty good understanding of why. If you feel like you’ve composed a masterpiece, it’s very hard to go back to writing anything less…;)

Happy birthday, my son.
March 8, 2010