Little Holy Places

Little surprises.  

I am finding that, as I attempt to process (not ignore) all the 'big things,' everything from global news to the way some responsibilities weigh heavy at times, there's an essential balancing in stopping to notice something small and lovely.  Like this Wild Sweet William that confidently pokes out from behind an evergreen, not caring if it actually belongs there or not.  Just being happily pretty.

Or the box of 0.8 mm extra fine blue pens Ken found for me when he was at the stationary store for something else.  Oh how picky I am about my pens!  The very specific type I like is really hard to find now.  And the extra fine ones that I bought a bunch of last March when I was in Thailand are all run out or lost.  I'll buy more when I'm there later this month, but this will be perfect right now.   And when a husband goes to that little bit of extra trouble, it means something.

Or how excited I am that the little boys are coming to visit this afternoon, because over the summer we got to spend that amazing time at the cottage, but otherwise, I was away so much.  And then, as our regular routines of autumn fall into place, it's the big kids that I see more often.  And we'll walk over to the Dollar Store and they will be so happy to be able to choose something to bring back to Gramma's (that Mom likely won't want them to bring home, gee I wonder why), because they are young enough for this simple thing to still be a fun adventure.

And of course, before that.  It's Sunday.  The essential balancing of worship.  

Which actually is not small thing.  A focus, a reorientation on an enormous, beautiful, holy God.  

Isaiah, the prophet, speaking to people who were dreading the big bad things around around them.

Isaiah :11-14

"This is what the LORD says to me with his strong hand upon me, warning me not to follow the way of this people:

            'Do not call conspiracy everything this people calls a conspiracy;

             do not fear what they fear, and do not dread it.

            The LORD Almighty is the one you are to regard as holy,

            he is the one to fear, he is the one you are to dread.

            He will be a holy place.'"

And then Elijah, all worn out and feeling sorry for himself, because big bad enemies were pressing.  And God gives him a chance to have a nap and get something to eat.  And then...  

"Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind.  After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake.  After the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire.  And after the fire there was a gentle whisper."  1 Kings 19:11-12 (emphasis added)

Interesting.  Everything blustering around him, but Elijah only hears God quietly.

And in the bigness of it all, and in the smallness of the noticed things, and in the whisper of a still, small voice, I do actually, yes, find myself in those holy places.  And yes, it does balance me, reorient me, hold me.

So this Sunday morning, I am keeping things small.

Small enough to notice.

Small enough for joy.

Gratitude's Destination

 

The Scripture

“And my God will meet all your needs

according to the riches of His glory

in Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4:19

 

The Song

“For food and friends

and all God sends

we give Him thanks.

Amen”

 

First the song.

 

This simple childhood prayer-song is happily stuck in my head this Thanksgiving Sunday morning.

The way I learned it, it starts high and swings melodically downward in a joyful lilt.

Simple.

But it basically covers it.

 

All the best parts of my life are coming together this day.

Suradet, Yupa and Bell arrived yesterday all the way from Thailand.  Our first hours together have been so rich already.

Worship at Highview in the morning.  What can I say?  How else would you spend Thanksgiving Sunday moring?  

Family gathering for turkey dinner in the evening.  We do not take this for granted!

And everything that unfolds before me is more than everything I could ask or imagine.

 That’s the Scripture.

The promise.

Everyday it comes true in a thousand-million ways of praise.

 

I am overwhelmed.

Oh.  My.  God.

You.

Worship is the inevitable destination of gratitude. 

May your Thanksgiving overwhelm you too.

Not Without You

 

"I rejoiced in the people who said to me,
'We are going to Yahweh's house."
Psalm 122:1 (Goldingay)

That whole thing about being an extravert or an introvert was so liberating when it was first explained to me. Okay! Yes! This is why I so badly crave those times of silence and solitude! This is why being on my own is so restorative!

It's why I post so many pictures of sunrises, and flat water, and teeny flowers close up. These are moments when, all by myself, I am so very connected to who I am and Who He is.

And.

There's a literary feature in Psalm 122 that's kind of fun. It's called 'enjambment' and it describes an on-purpose run-on sentence, usually in poetry, that builds in intensity. It evokes a sense of breathlessness while the reader is brought along in anticipation of the pivotal thought.

Verses 2 to 5 follow that pattern, and it's all about the big feelings of joy the author exudes about going to Jerusalem to - and here's the pivotal thought - worship. And they are heading to Jerusalem, not Zion, which is more about a religious entity than a place. Instead, Jerusalem, a city 'joined together to itself' (v3), is about the bricks and mortar; a physical space.

And yet it's not. Because this is where the people are all heading, together. Not as individuals, but as tribes, or clans (v4). This means there were whole big groups of people. And a lot of them. Crowds. Masses.

So here's the thing. And as clearly as I a an introvert, this is truth.
I desperately, desperately need you.

I need you to point out my blind spots and hold me accountable.
I need you keep my heart oriented towards God and not self.
I need you to affirm and welcome my spiritual gifts as I serve among you.
I need you to forgive me, show me grace, extend your mercy.
I need your help and support when life gets crushing.
I need your acceptance and guidance and correction.
I need your love.
And I very, very badly need to worship with you.

I need to gather in the same physical space together with you, to 'praise the name of the LORD, according to the statute given to God's people' (v4).

Yes, I am aware that admitting this is contrary to our Western mindset of independence and individuality. I do realize that confessing this need opens me up to no end of possible disappointments and pain.

But it's still true.
Even as an introvert.

So let there be rejoicing.
Let there be breathless enjambment anticipation of worship!
Because I can't do this 'living for Jesus' thing without you.
I can't do this 'spiritual formation' thing without you.

I wouldn't even want to try.

Finished

You said it was done.

It's done.

In all my doing I must remember this.

The Cross remembers this for me.

This horrific redemption,

this despicable forgiveness,

this revolting love

finished all the unfinished business between me and You.

Payment in full.

In all my doing I must remember this.

Not by merit am I made whole.

Not by effort or doctrine or intelligence or righteousness

do I crawl my way to good standing with You.

Not by being 'anything' enough am I found here.

Here in restored intimacy with You.

Here with Your face toward me.

Here with You standing behind me, 

leaning forward to whisper clarity into what lays before me.

Here in a wild dance of worship, all golden.

Here with hands clasped tightly, 

pulling towards, 

foreheads touching

until I feel Your Breath on my face.

I am not 'good enough' for this.

But You are.

The Cross remembers this for me.

You finished the space between us.

And now....

And now my doing is for love, not destination.

Because,

like You said.

It is finished.