Psalm 139 has a lot of really good stuff in it about God's omnipresence (the attribute he has to be able to be everywhere, at all times), but in verses 13-16 David talks about God forming him before he was born. He uses words like "knitted me together in my mother's womb," and "when I was being made in secret," and "intricately woven in the depths of the earth." It's a beautiful passage, and it adds to my "theology of darkness" that I've been thinking about lately.
The image in my mind is such an intimate one. God the Father, in the dark, putting a little baby together. He's done this billions of times before, but each time, no matter what his will has in store for this person, he gets to spend the very first moments with this baby alone, in the quiet, in the dark, weaving and knitting in all the elements of personality, spiritual gifts that may or may not be activated one day, talents, and yes, even predispositions to certain sins. It's quiet work, it's beautiful work, and it happens in the dark. (On a side note, I'm wondering if this could be why one of my favorite things to do is to babysit a little baby that's fussy, and getting to go sit with it, in the dark, in the rocking chair, and just talk and pray for him/her. Maybe it's because that's a little glimpse of what God does with us before we're an embryo,fetus, or whatever.)
Now, here's the thing: we may not always like some of the things that are woven into us. There are plenty of things in my own life that I wish God hadn't chosen to include in his knitting. Yet, there is a tremendous sense of peace and hope that comes in knowing he selected each one for a purpose, and that he knows every single thread used and has complete control over them all. What a wonderful thing that is happening, even right now all over the world. . . in complete darkness.
Showing posts with label Things That Go Bump in the Night. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Things That Go Bump in the Night. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Slain in the Dark
It was a council of three, called to order by the Father, and it was done in the dark. The topic of conversation was man's sin. How to deal with and make atonement for the sinful nature that all men would have as a result of the actions of the first man and woman. There was no discussion, there was no other point of view. God had to become man, live as a perfect man, and die for the sins of those he'd chosen. There was no other way it could happen, nothing else that could be done. So, there in the darkness, before the world was created (Revelation 13:8), in the mind of God the Father, his son was slain, thus opening the way for men and women of faith to find life in Christ, even before he came to earth. It happened in the dark. The decision, the settled certainty of the event that would bring more light and more hope to the world than any other in all of history, and it gives us another reason to cherish the darkness.
Monday, February 9, 2009
It Hath Charms
One of the effects of (or perhaps causes of) my nightmares and sleep issues has been extreme restlessness. It's not too hard to imagine that getting 2-3 hours of sleep each night would make it hard to concetrate and focus and be still, or it could be that this is spiritual warfare and demonic activity in my life and that's why I'm having trouble sleeping in the first place. At any rate, the result is I'm restless in body, soul, and mind most of the time. Except when there's music playing. The longer I live with this, the more things get added to the "weird" column, and I almost put this one into that column, until the Holy Spirit brought to mind the passage from I Samuel 16:14-23. It's after God has rejected Saul as king of Israel, and he (God) sends an evil spirit to torment Saul. The passage says that David was brought into Saul's presence and "whenever the eveil spirit from God was upon Saul, David took the lyre and played it with his hand. So Saul was refreshed and was well, and the evil spirit departed from him."
Okay, I gotta clarify a few things here, before I start getting a bunch of phone calls and e-mails. I'm not saying that God has rejected me as he did Saul. Biblically, I don't think that's possible. And, I'm also not saying that whatever is going on with me is an evil spirit that God has "sent" to torment me. The only parallel I'm drawing between Saul and myself right now is the fact that we both were/are tormented by something, and we both found/find comfort in the playing of music.
Here's the thing: throughout all this, I've found such comfort in music, both as it's played and sung. It's given me brief moments of peace and rest for my soul and emotions. One of the most precious (in multiple senses of the word) hours I've had through all this is each Wednesday night going to choir practice at my church. This past Sunday, as I was looking over my lesson for Sunday School one more time, I went up to the sanctuary where the praise team and band were practicing for the worship service, just so I could be near the music. It may not last forever, and right now it doesn't seem to be a permanent "fix" to the situation. When the music stops, the restlessness returns. But those moments while it's playing I am refreshed and well, and the evil really does seem to depart.
Okay, I gotta clarify a few things here, before I start getting a bunch of phone calls and e-mails. I'm not saying that God has rejected me as he did Saul. Biblically, I don't think that's possible. And, I'm also not saying that whatever is going on with me is an evil spirit that God has "sent" to torment me. The only parallel I'm drawing between Saul and myself right now is the fact that we both were/are tormented by something, and we both found/find comfort in the playing of music.
Here's the thing: throughout all this, I've found such comfort in music, both as it's played and sung. It's given me brief moments of peace and rest for my soul and emotions. One of the most precious (in multiple senses of the word) hours I've had through all this is each Wednesday night going to choir practice at my church. This past Sunday, as I was looking over my lesson for Sunday School one more time, I went up to the sanctuary where the praise team and band were practicing for the worship service, just so I could be near the music. It may not last forever, and right now it doesn't seem to be a permanent "fix" to the situation. When the music stops, the restlessness returns. But those moments while it's playing I am refreshed and well, and the evil really does seem to depart.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Chosen in the Dark
If you haven't read it yet, please take a minute and read the introduction to this series.
God chose me in the dark. Before light was created (Genesis 1:2-3), before the earth itself was created God chose me to be his son (Ephesians 1:4). There may be no better reason to love the darkness than this! It was in the dark, before there was life, before I could sin or do good works, before I had the ability to know God, he chose me, of his own accord, of his own delight. Even though he certainly knows all, he didn't peer through the darkness to see my decision and pre-empt me by picking me first. Instead, in that moment, the quiet, stillness of the dark, when it was only Him, his Son, and his Spirit, he said "yes" to Jason. Here's the thing: nothing any more significant than that could ever take place in the dark, and it is to that I cling when the darkness feels like a prison cell or like it's closing in fast to suffocate. It becomes, not an agent of constriction but one of freedom.
God chose me in the dark. Before light was created (Genesis 1:2-3), before the earth itself was created God chose me to be his son (Ephesians 1:4). There may be no better reason to love the darkness than this! It was in the dark, before there was life, before I could sin or do good works, before I had the ability to know God, he chose me, of his own accord, of his own delight. Even though he certainly knows all, he didn't peer through the darkness to see my decision and pre-empt me by picking me first. Instead, in that moment, the quiet, stillness of the dark, when it was only Him, his Son, and his Spirit, he said "yes" to Jason. Here's the thing: nothing any more significant than that could ever take place in the dark, and it is to that I cling when the darkness feels like a prison cell or like it's closing in fast to suffocate. It becomes, not an agent of constriction but one of freedom.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
A "Dark Theology": Introduction
Okay, here's the thing: I'm a little nervous about posting this for a couple of reasons. One, I don't have all my ideas fully thought through, and there's nothing like putting something in print that you're not totally sure about! The second thing, is I'm a little afraid that folks will misunderstand where I'm coming from on this and will misinterpret what I'm actually talking about. That being said, here goes. . .
One of the things that can happen when you don't sleep is that you end up spending a lot of time in the dark. Over the course of the past few months, I've reflected on and thought about darkness. Darkness is used over and over again in Scripture as a symbol for sin, often times hidden sin (In John 12, Jesus talks about how he's come into the world so that we no longer have to walk in darkness. In 2 Corinthians Paul uses darkness to represent unbelievers and contrasts that to believers who are in the light. I John 1 admonishes believers not to hide their sins in the dark but to bring them into the light where God is). Figurative darkness is used in Scripture with mostly negative connotations.
But what about actual darkness? Is there a difference? Does physical darkness have about it the same secret, closed off, sinful ethos that figurative darkness does? As I've thought about it, I've come to realize that actually, a lot of really amazing and really important things concerning my Christian life and relationship with God happened in literal darkness, and so I've begun to try and reflect on some of these to make the dark that I find myself in more and more these days (and nights), and over the course of a few blogs, I'm going to be sharing and talking some about what I've discovered.
One of the things that can happen when you don't sleep is that you end up spending a lot of time in the dark. Over the course of the past few months, I've reflected on and thought about darkness. Darkness is used over and over again in Scripture as a symbol for sin, often times hidden sin (In John 12, Jesus talks about how he's come into the world so that we no longer have to walk in darkness. In 2 Corinthians Paul uses darkness to represent unbelievers and contrasts that to believers who are in the light. I John 1 admonishes believers not to hide their sins in the dark but to bring them into the light where God is). Figurative darkness is used in Scripture with mostly negative connotations.
But what about actual darkness? Is there a difference? Does physical darkness have about it the same secret, closed off, sinful ethos that figurative darkness does? As I've thought about it, I've come to realize that actually, a lot of really amazing and really important things concerning my Christian life and relationship with God happened in literal darkness, and so I've begun to try and reflect on some of these to make the dark that I find myself in more and more these days (and nights), and over the course of a few blogs, I'm going to be sharing and talking some about what I've discovered.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Easy for YOU to Say. . .
One of the funnier side effects of all the sleep issues I've been dealing with is my speech. It typically happens later in the afternoon or at night, and it manifests itself in a few different ways.
The first way is that sometimes I actually can't put a sentence together. The words come out, but they don't come out in order or connected. It sounds a little something like this, "Yeah, it's like me too." Now, that would be fine if I was a surfer from southern California responding to a question and I added a "fur sure" on the end, but since I live in Alabama and am responding to someone who just said, "I really liked that movie" it tends not to make much sense.
The second way it shows up is stuttering. I've never really had an issue with stuttering or stammering, but all of a sudden I can't get the words out! Sometimes it's the first letter, but more often it's the entire word. I get about halfway through and have to start over. It's cu-cu-cu-curazy!
But, here's the thing: the last one is probably my favorite. That's when I start talking 90 miles-an-hour, like I'm on speed. I did this to a friend of mine the other night on the way home from work. I called her, and just went on and on and on, finally taking a breath to hear her laughing on the other end of the phone! Trust me, of the three, you definitely want the guy on speed to show up. It's much more fun and less frustrating than the other two.
So, next time you see me, and it's afternoon or evening, roll the dice and say "hi." Who knows what you'll get?!
The first way is that sometimes I actually can't put a sentence together. The words come out, but they don't come out in order or connected. It sounds a little something like this, "Yeah, it's like me too." Now, that would be fine if I was a surfer from southern California responding to a question and I added a "fur sure" on the end, but since I live in Alabama and am responding to someone who just said, "I really liked that movie" it tends not to make much sense.
The second way it shows up is stuttering. I've never really had an issue with stuttering or stammering, but all of a sudden I can't get the words out! Sometimes it's the first letter, but more often it's the entire word. I get about halfway through and have to start over. It's cu-cu-cu-curazy!
But, here's the thing: the last one is probably my favorite. That's when I start talking 90 miles-an-hour, like I'm on speed. I did this to a friend of mine the other night on the way home from work. I called her, and just went on and on and on, finally taking a breath to hear her laughing on the other end of the phone! Trust me, of the three, you definitely want the guy on speed to show up. It's much more fun and less frustrating than the other two.
So, next time you see me, and it's afternoon or evening, roll the dice and say "hi." Who knows what you'll get?!
Friday, January 16, 2009
Holding On
Most people that know me well know that I like listening to Steven Curtis Chapman. I buy his CDs, I've been to one of his concerts, I check out his webpage from time-to-time. I'm a fan. It's not so much his music that I connect with, actually his music is pretty different than anything else I listen to. Instead, it's the words to the songs he writes that my heart tends to be drawn too. I have a list of his songs that I send to folks who I know are going through hard times, trials, etc., and this morning I listened to a couple of them on the way in to work. This one is titled "Hold on to Jesus," and it's from Steven's 1997 CD Signs of Life.
I have come to this ocean
And the waves of fear are starting to grow
The doubts and questions are rising with the tide
So I'm clinging to the one sure thing I know
Chorus:
I will hold on to the hand of my Savior
And I will hold on with all my might
I will hold loosely to things that are fleeting
And hold on to Jesus
I will hold on to Jesus for life
I've tried to hold many treasures
They just keep slipping through my fingers like sand
But there's one treasure that means more than breath itself
So I'm clinging to it with everything I am Chorus
Bridge:
Like a child holding on to a promise
I will cling to His word and believe
As I press on to take hold of that
for which Christ Jesus took hold of me Chorus
Here's the things that stood out to me this morning: the first stanza and chorus of this song seem to sum up pretty well my life these days. I imagined myself closing the door to my room at bedtime, coming to the bank of the ocean. As I pull back the covers, the fears do start to grow. Each night I wonder and think, "What will it be like tonight? Will this finally be the night of freedom and rest, or will this be another night of battle?" There are so many things about all this that I don't understand and can't even put into coherent thoughts. There is so much about what's real and what's not that is blurred these days for me. My ability to discern things accurately has greatly diminished, and so I have no choice but to believe in the one thing that I know for certain. It is outside me and beyond me, and that's a very good thing, because what's inside and around me may or may not be trustworthy.
So I hold on to Jesus. As cheesy as that sounds, that's what I do, night after night. And I gotta be honest, when I sing, read, hear that line "I will hold on to Jesus for life," for me the meaning isn't holding on to Jesus for life as in an amount of time, as in I will be doing this forever. No, for me it's holding on to Jesus for life like a man hangs onto a root sticking out of the mountain cliff he's just slipped and fallen over. It's holding on for life like a passeger holds onto to a piece of wood that's floating by off the ship she was on that just sunk. Holding on for life.
I have come to this ocean
And the waves of fear are starting to grow
The doubts and questions are rising with the tide
So I'm clinging to the one sure thing I know
Chorus:
I will hold on to the hand of my Savior
And I will hold on with all my might
I will hold loosely to things that are fleeting
And hold on to Jesus
I will hold on to Jesus for life
I've tried to hold many treasures
They just keep slipping through my fingers like sand
But there's one treasure that means more than breath itself
So I'm clinging to it with everything I am Chorus
Bridge:
Like a child holding on to a promise
I will cling to His word and believe
As I press on to take hold of that
for which Christ Jesus took hold of me Chorus
Here's the things that stood out to me this morning: the first stanza and chorus of this song seem to sum up pretty well my life these days. I imagined myself closing the door to my room at bedtime, coming to the bank of the ocean. As I pull back the covers, the fears do start to grow. Each night I wonder and think, "What will it be like tonight? Will this finally be the night of freedom and rest, or will this be another night of battle?" There are so many things about all this that I don't understand and can't even put into coherent thoughts. There is so much about what's real and what's not that is blurred these days for me. My ability to discern things accurately has greatly diminished, and so I have no choice but to believe in the one thing that I know for certain. It is outside me and beyond me, and that's a very good thing, because what's inside and around me may or may not be trustworthy.
So I hold on to Jesus. As cheesy as that sounds, that's what I do, night after night. And I gotta be honest, when I sing, read, hear that line "I will hold on to Jesus for life," for me the meaning isn't holding on to Jesus for life as in an amount of time, as in I will be doing this forever. No, for me it's holding on to Jesus for life like a man hangs onto a root sticking out of the mountain cliff he's just slipped and fallen over. It's holding on for life like a passeger holds onto to a piece of wood that's floating by off the ship she was on that just sunk. Holding on for life.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Putting It Into Words
As I've been sharing with people about my dreams, I constantly find myself at a loss for words when it comes to talking about fear. I talk about being afraid, or the fact that I'm scared, or how I am fearful, but, here's the thing: none of those words, taken at their base definition, really get at how I feel when I get into bed at night, or when I have a nightmare, or when I wake up from a bad dream.
I told someone today that I feel like I need to come up with a whole new vocabulary for talking about fear, because the English words we have just don't do it. They just aren't powerful enough. Maybe because our language is just that limited. Maybe because I've used those words to describe feelings in the past that didn't even come close to matching what I'm experiencing now and so I've cheapened them in a way. Whatever the case, I feel like I'm developing a whole new mini-dictionary of definitions for what it means to be afraid. And, the kicker is, I'm scared I'll need it!
I told someone today that I feel like I need to come up with a whole new vocabulary for talking about fear, because the English words we have just don't do it. They just aren't powerful enough. Maybe because our language is just that limited. Maybe because I've used those words to describe feelings in the past that didn't even come close to matching what I'm experiencing now and so I've cheapened them in a way. Whatever the case, I feel like I'm developing a whole new mini-dictionary of definitions for what it means to be afraid. And, the kicker is, I'm scared I'll need it!
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
1 Sheep. . . 2 Sheep. . .
So, here's the thing: I've been debating about whether or not to post something about this on the blog for a while now, but I think I've finally figured out a way to do it that fits with the overall feel of what I want this blog to be about, so I've decided to go ahead with it.
Since September of last year, I've been having nightmares: violent, scary, ugly nightmares. Nightmares that you don't want to know what they're about. Nightmares that even I wish I didn't know what they were about. Nightmares that cause me to wake up in the night yelling. Nightmares that leave me in cold sweats. Nightmares that make me scared to go to sleep at night. Nightmares that make me wonder about lots of things.
Over the course of these past months, it's very common to be awake for large chunks of time so I've been able to think and process in between the tears and anger. See, there are many reasons to be scared right now, there are many things to be afraid of. But through it all, even when I'm lying there in the dark, terrified that my eyes may close and another horrible movie will start to play, and fighting so hard to keep that from happening, there is great peace that comes in knowing that my worst fear, the thing I'm most afraid of --losing my relationship with Christ -- can never happen.
It's not that it can never happen because my faith is strong, sometimes it's almost non-existent. And it's not that it can never happen because I'm the one clinging to God, sometimes I don't have the strength. It's because he's holding tight to me, through the sleeplesness, through the darkness, through the nightmares. It's because nothing on this earth, even my own mind, can ever seperate me from his love. It's because his holding on to me, ultimately has nothing to do with me; it's something he decided to do long ago, in the dark, before there was even light. That's enough to make me rest, whether I sleep or not.
Since September of last year, I've been having nightmares: violent, scary, ugly nightmares. Nightmares that you don't want to know what they're about. Nightmares that even I wish I didn't know what they were about. Nightmares that cause me to wake up in the night yelling. Nightmares that leave me in cold sweats. Nightmares that make me scared to go to sleep at night. Nightmares that make me wonder about lots of things.
Over the course of these past months, it's very common to be awake for large chunks of time so I've been able to think and process in between the tears and anger. See, there are many reasons to be scared right now, there are many things to be afraid of. But through it all, even when I'm lying there in the dark, terrified that my eyes may close and another horrible movie will start to play, and fighting so hard to keep that from happening, there is great peace that comes in knowing that my worst fear, the thing I'm most afraid of --losing my relationship with Christ -- can never happen.
It's not that it can never happen because my faith is strong, sometimes it's almost non-existent. And it's not that it can never happen because I'm the one clinging to God, sometimes I don't have the strength. It's because he's holding tight to me, through the sleeplesness, through the darkness, through the nightmares. It's because nothing on this earth, even my own mind, can ever seperate me from his love. It's because his holding on to me, ultimately has nothing to do with me; it's something he decided to do long ago, in the dark, before there was even light. That's enough to make me rest, whether I sleep or not.
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