Dysfunctional Worship

one of my favorite things is when something with structure or order fails. -Not in situations where structure is need, rather places where people focus too much on it, and forget why they are doing it.

This is why I love it when worship goes horribly wrong. When the leader can’t sing, the guitarist breaks a string, the words don’t get put on the screen, and all that is left is the wailing of the tone-deaf individuals desperately trying to salvage the whole thing. These moments, the one that cause you to cringe inside, and make you wish you had a bag to put over your head, they are so becauiftul.

Suddenly it is not about putting on a show for God. It is doing the best you can with the given situation, and not letting that stop your worship. My favorite part is, I know God does not care about how bad it sounds. He just loves knowing we are still glorifying him.

Soliloquy Voices

A rediscovered poem, one that still holds weight in my life. It is from the book “Painting in the Dark.” it has been a while since I read it, however, I believe it to be a good read.

When?

In the in-between of night, somewhere after dark
and before light, my thoughts, a slough of voices,
noises too noisy to be easily missed and too often
and too honest to be easily dismissed.

When will I know it’s You?

From a lingering guilt haunting my regrets, and from
dizzying heights of accusation I plummet, not at
all a free fall.

Damned by unfinished business, and random
penance, I vow midflight corrections while doubts
of sincere repentance bargain for mercy

Sleep. It seems my best escape from these voices
Voices careening down the fault lines of my over-
active conscience.

Crazy? Maybe. Afraid? Absolutely.
In my walking, a false hope. Perhaps I can organize
the madness and postpone the sadness and disappointment.

But potential and contentment wait still,
anxious and provocative in their teasing,
and reeling I cry, “Please….

“When will I know it’s You?
When will I know You are here?
In the dull and distance of uncertainty,
When will I know you still love me,
and when is that enough…?”

And somehow, as long as I long to know when,
in the slough of of voices, I hear You whisper,

“Now.”

-Paul Thorson.

An Ostrich Flapping Her Useless Wings…

These past few weeks have felt like they exist outside of time. With no connection or correlation to the life that I live and call my own. In fact, this entire year has been a reflection of such a feeling. I never thought I would be where I am, and call it good. Carmel, as best I can describe it, is as close as I have come to wanting what I have. I have poured many hours into many things, and people, causing a personal record of tipping the emotional scale of what I feel in any given period. These emotions -both good, and bad are what have dictated how I act, and respond to those around me. Although not always wise, I know no other way.

In the wee hours of this morning, I feel it is now the time I have to sit and wade through the events, thoughts and emotions to put myself into a state of peace and clarity. Most of what follows will not connect or line up, quite simple they are the honest reverberations of my very being. My soul, heart and mind being splattered on the table in the hopes of breaking the surface of the ocean I now swim. Nothing eloquent will follow, as all the layers are now peeled and all that is left is a vulnerable mass of nerves trying to just make sense. In many ways I really encourage those who feel the need to read my blog, to skim or even skip this post altogether as it holds nothing if impressive stature or wit.

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i) I am such a foolish girl. One who cannot be honest with herself, or dare utter the words that lie beneath the bolted door. Although I desperately want to check this aspect of my life into the nearest dumpster, I linger and hold on and not letting go. A child not yet ripe who needs to set it all down. This realization poses as a glimmer of hope that may one day point me in the right direction. A direction I am afraid of. I have so much to lose.. or so it seems.

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ii) I live in the grey, a color I often find myself drawn to, and even enjoy. This problem however leaves me queasy as I see the line spans a great distance. I cannot decide on my own the place in which I stand, and where I should stand. Questions and discussion of money has haunted the halls in which I visit daily. How much is too much? Is a private jet ok? What about a nice car? 20 pairs of shoes even? I believe material goods are not in themselves bad, yet can I (and this is a purely a question directed at myself and no one else, as I see it as personal) justify living in a huge house one day? If I was giving my 10% could I have the American Dream, would I feel ok? 10%… is that all I owe? is that the perfect amount?… or is it simply the Christian cop-out? The thought I can’t seem to sake is “Yes, If I gave but still had excess I could buy that car, I could buy that cool toy… but so much more could be done. My extra dollars, my car, my shoes, they could save people, they could affect things…” I just can’t seems to let that go. Maybe material things are not bad… but are the wise?

I know as I type this I stand removed from the situation. Not a cent I have is my own, and I am living in a false reality. I am not in a situation where excess is an issue nor, do I feel entitled to what I have, for I did not earn a cent. This could very well change one day… but the thought of living a simple life… taking a vow of poverty as some would say, seems terrifying yes. but, also very appealing. All that good that could come as a result… all the good.

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iii) Life is not logical. Most days are spent contained within a hamster wheel, one that lies underneath a canopy of false belief I am really getting somewhere. The destination I have my eyes set on is utterly unattainable, as I am not moving forward, simply turning in circles. Where does that leave me? At what point do I give my exasperation and burnt-out self over to rest? Furthermore, at what point do I convince myself to run faster?

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iv) I say I want God. I say I need him, he is where I have chosen to seek purpose. -The idea of leaving the safety of believing we have no purpose is not one I want to venture on. Thus, I am left to pursue God… on occasion I hear from him (or at least I think I do) and I feel “lead” to do something.

Well, that happened and all I can say is shit. When I seek, I tend to forget I like my comfortable lifestyle. I don’t want to do such as I am asked to. I can be really stupid sometimes.

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In conclusion, The words of my dear friend Celine hold true. Amidst all of my exhaustion, I find my pretenses flake to the floor, and all that is left before God is my unripe heart. Just me, and  my silenced thoughts and tears. Although I feel so utterly broken, and ashamed of what is left, I smile. Why? Because some how I sense that God is smiling at me and whispering the simple truth That’s more like it. I have been waiting to meet you Elizabeth Elrona Clarke.

My voice comes out in a gentle whisper, Abba.

Proverbs 31 Wife -The Prerequisites.

I have noodle arms, I don’t like getting up early, I enjoy sleep, and I cannot use a spindle.

I guess I would be a bad wife. sorry.

Celebrate.

So, I am watching this movie called Outsourced, in short an American is sent to India to train people there for his former job.

So far it is a pretty good movie, but one part that struck me was the Day of Holi. Which is a festival of colors, it can last up to 16 days and is most widely known for the day when people run through the streets throwing color powder and colored water.

I just love the idea of an entire culture celebrating, celebrating in a way that does not involve buying hundreds of pointless gifts for people they don’t really care for… it is so beautiful. It just seems so attractive, like maybe over here in our westernized world we have given up some culture.

Kind of makes me want to go travel.

this also made me think of this music video…

Bench Warmer.

My voice chimes among a flock of wandering and weary sheep,
though my lips form what seem to be honest and heart-filled words,
the noise produced is cunning and thick with deceit.

My outward actions are mirror of show-home heart,
-complete with fictitious fruit and plasma TV.
My eager search, an under tone of the lyrical ballad I sing stops at my front door,
with gate still closed I half hearted glance into a garden and proclaim it is not there.
yet, when fear of disconnection of sallow ends loom,
every pillow is turned, and nook examined.

when was the last time I sought God?

Haunting Refrain.

How can you have an intimate relationship with someone you’re not even sure exists?

–I don’t know, but deep deep down I want it to be possible. I want it so badly that I carry on …maybe I have more hope then I thought.

I know this is not the main context of these words, yet they resonate truth.

And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn’t easily won
And so it goes, this soldier knows
The battle with the heart isn’t easily won
But it can be won, but it can be won
But it can be won, but it can be won

tick tock.

my hope is more of a sarcastic hope.

like when you need to go to the store, but you have a feeling it is closed, you choose to drive there anyway.

on the off chance the clock may be wrong?

whitewashed.

i went to a camp to talk about relationships however the outcome was not what i expected.

although i spent a healthy amount of time doodling while listening to various people talk about marriage, dating, and the usual topics you would find at a relationship camp; the one that i found myself questioning was my relationship with myself. -or lack there of.

…i still don’t really know me. even in the deep deep depths of my heart there are still things i lie, and hide. odd. i can’t even seem to trust my heart.

i guess this spills over into my relationship with god.

i find myself lying for the sake of lying. embellishing, and euphemizing my thoughts, actions, and  emotions in a way that softens their blow, and mechanizes their impact.

my honesty, is not even honest.

i am like that compulsive house owner. one who pays someone to clean, yet right before the cleaner come i take all the crap, and try to make it looks neater, by proceeding to tuck items away in nooks and crannies. problem is, the cleaner can still see the mess (as can i for that matter) they however, are just to polite to say anything.

lather, rinse, repeat.

so Christmas has come and gone. Here is a quick summery of my past 48 hours.

sleep. austin. breakfast. austin. prep. set. socialize. uke. austin. dinner. manger. church. play. dessert. new scarf. uke. uke. uke. sleep.

sleep. stockings. toms. chocolate. uke. uke. uke. prep. grandparents home. espresso. espresso. espresso. uke. uke. stockings. berts bees. brunch. snuggie. uke. austin. espresso. nap. uke. socialize. uke. uke. dinner. manger. bbq turkey. sweet potatoes. uke. austin. nap. uke. dessert. short bread. butter tarts. uke. austin. socialize. espresso. home.

a lot of repeats, but a good time.