Psalms in the Smokies

Bless the Lord, O my soul!

O Lord my God, You are very great;

You are clothed with splendor and majesty,

Covering Yourself with light as with a cloak,

Stretching out heaven like a tent curtain.

He lays the beams of His upper chambers in the waters;

He makes the winds His messengers,

Flaming fire His ministers.

He established the earth upon its foundations,

So that it will not totter forever and ever.

You covered it with the deep as with a garment;

The waters were standing above the mountains.

At Your rebuke they fled,

At the sound of Your thunder they hurried away.

The mountains rose; the valleys sank down

To the place which You established for them.

You set a boundary that they may not pass over,

So that they will not return to cover the earth.

He sends forth springs in the valleys;

They flow between the mountains;

They give drink to every beast of the field;

The wild deer quench their thirst.

Beside them the birds of the heavens dwell;

They lift up their voices among the branches.

He waters the mountains from His upper chambers;

The earth is satisfied with the fruit of His works.

He causes the grass to grow for the cattle,

And vegetation for the labor of man,

So that he may bring forth food from the earth,

And moonshine with makes man's heart glad,

So that he may make his face glisten with oil,

And food which sustains man's heart.

The trees of the Lord drink their fill,

The cedars of Cherokee which he planted,

Where the birds build their nests,

And the eagle, whose home is the fir trees.

The high mountains are for the wild black bears;

The cliffs are a refuge for their cubs.

He made the moon for the seasons;

The sun knows the place of its setting.

You appoint darkness and it becomes night,

In which all the beasts of the forest prowl about.
The young cougars (and mountain folk) roar after their pray

And seek their food from God (at the local brewery).

When the sun rises they withdraw 

And lie down in their dens.

Man goes forth to his work

And to his labor until evening.

O Lord, how many are Your works!

In wisdom You have made them all;

The earth is full of Your possessions...

They all wait for You 

To give them their food in due season.

You give to them, they gather it up;

You open Your hand, they are satisfied with good.

You hide Your face, they are dismayed;

You take away their spirit, they expire

And return to their dust.

You send forth Your Spirit, they are created;

And You renew the face of the ground.

Let the glory of the Lord endure forever;

Let the Lord be glad in His works;

He looks at the earth, and it trembles;

He touches the mountains, and they smoke.

I will sing to the Lord as long as I live;

I will sing praise to my God while I have my being.

{Psalm 104, edited slightly to fit the land and wildlife of the Smoky Mountains,
 lying majestically across the border of Tennessee and North Carolina}
{Pictures taken in the Smokies, circa August 2011}
{Do you see why my heart aches for this land?}

Frozen Heart

For the first time this year (and the first significant time this whole winter long), snow rages through the air and settles deep on the ground.  And as I sit here, coffee betwixt my fingers and thumb, warm to the bones and full to the brim with everything I need and many of the things I want, I remember...

I remember Walter, the man with the cardboard sign who only asked for help to keep his 6-year-old son off the streets.  I remember the many veterans, men and women, who have fought long and hard with body and mind, now frail in both, who sit on the side of the highway exits, judged for being physically and emotionally and mentally scarred by the battles they've seen.  I remember the man under the overpass, his bed of old, smelly sleeping bags made with care, practicing his kirate -- or dancing; I couldn't quite tell.  And the snow flew anyway.  And as the ground beneath them froze, so did my heart.  And I realize I don't know the meaning of these words as well as I often think I do:

Remember my affliction and my wandering, the wormwood and bitterness.

Surely my soul remembers and is bowed down within me.

No, that I do not remember.  But they do.

But it's not too late for them, for their frozen bodies.  Nor me, for my frozen heart.

This I recall to my mind, 

Therefore I have hope.

The Lord's lovingkindnesses indeed never cease,

For His compassions never fail.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness.

His lovingkindness and compassion are extended to my heart each and every day, and I have the choice each day to extend it beyond myself, to those in need.  

I've said it before, and I'll say it again:

I was raised in a culture that said, "God helps those who help themselves" and "You reap what you sow" and "I'll help you if you prove to me you're worth it."  Nowhere in any of those statements is the gospel present.  The gospel is about God helping people who cannot help themselves, and reaping something that someone else sowed, and understanding that we're all unworthy of help and that's why it's so awesome that God's love and care is not based on worth!  The gospel is God helping the poor, namely me and you.  And those who've heard and understood and accepted this gospel are called to be extenders of the same grace we were given. 

That means helping people who can't -- maybe even won't -- help themselves. 

That means giving people things that they didn't work for. 

That means extending care and grace and provision to people whether we deem them "worthy" or not.  Because neither are we.  Yet, God lavished all of his fullness on us anyway.

And you know what?  You and every other person on this planet may not be worthy of another's unconditional love and provision, but we all have eternal, immeasurable value -- God's image imprinted on every eye and every fingerprint and every soul.  And with that value comes responsibility for making that choice, for extending that grace, for loving God by loving our neighbors.

Yes, my heart is often distracted -- or even intentionally turned away -- from the needs of others.  But I pray God above and within will help me turn my eyes and spirit to those in need, and help me extend to them my arms and my love, cold though it may be, that His love working through me might warm and thaw this frozen heart.

2012: Abide

I realize that all the one word for 2012 posts have long been posted by now.  But I don't mind reminding myself that, really, we're only 10 days in.  We've all gone back to work and workouts and just saying 'no' to all the candy that has somehow ridden out the wake of Christmastime and lingers menacingly from the coffee table, calling out to us... just one more.  Still, even though back to reality, we sense a rush of rest now that all the holiday shenanigans are behind us forever... except that they're 10 months ahead.  See, 10 isn't very much after all...  

I don't normally have one word for the year.  That is, my mind is usually just a little too disjointed to focus on or even tie everything together into one thing for 12 months.  But then, on January 1st, we studied part of John 15 at our church service and... well... I couldn't get this word out of my mind.  

Abide.  

Here's the passage we studied, Jesus' very words:

I am the true vine, and My Father is the vinedresser. Every branch in Me that does not bear fruit, He takes away; and every branch that bears fruit, He prunes it so that it may bear more fruit. You are already clean because of the word which I have spoken to you. Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me. I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing. 

If anyone does not abide in Me, he is thrown away as a branch and dries up; and they gather them, and cast them into the fire and they are burned. If you abide in Me, and My words abide in you, ask whatever you wish, and it will be done for you. My Father is glorified by this, that you bear much fruit, and so prove to be My disciples. Just as the Father has loved Me, I have also loved you; abide in My love. If you keep My commandments, you will abide in My love; just as I have kept My Father’s commandments and abide in His love. These things I have spoken to you so that My joy may be in you, and that your joy may be made full. This is My commandment, that you love one another, just as I have loved you.

::breathe deeply::

Simply abide.  Abide in Jesus, and abide in His love.  And let His words abide in me.

Last year about this time, I felt like I was in a fruitless season, in the sense that I believed nothing was happening to or through me and that I wasn't going to be of much use to anyone for a while.  But in the midst of that season, I remembered these words, and they gave me rest:

             How blessed is the (woman) 

who does not walk

in the counsel of the wicked,

Nor stand in the path of sinners,

Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!

But (her) delight is in the law of the LORD,

And in His law (she) meditates

day and night.

(She) will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water,

Which yields its fruit in its season

And its leaf does not wither;

And in whatever (she) does, 

                        (she) prospers.

These words from Psalm 1 gave me peace... To know that even the tree that is firmly planted by streams of water -- in God's Spirit and drinking in God's living word, that is -- even that tree isn't expected to bear fruit year-round.  No, and just because it's not bearing fruit in a particular season does not mean it's dead, for "its leaf does not wither."  And that was me last year.  Not dead, just not particularly fruitful.  And that was OK.  God didn't (and still doesn't) expect me to bear fruit year-round (or even every year).  He gave me rest and peace in the truth that there is a season to be fruitful, but that there is also a season to simply be alive.  

But this year... This year, I can already sense will be different.  I believe, I hope, I pray this is my season to bear fruit.  Whether that means more intentional (but also more organic) ministry to women and music-lovers and blog-readers... whether that means starting a family... whether that means taking Thornfield beyond little coffeeshop gigs to wider audiences...  Whatever it means, I think it will involve planting seeds, nourishing them, and letting them grow.  And if I want them to produce much fruit, good fruit, lasting fruit, there is only one thing I must do: abide in the vine.

So, 2012, I'm drinking of the fruit of the vine to this: to abiding, and thereby to bearing much more fruit to drink of!

Adopting the Unadoptable

You know that feeling you get when you just know God is asking you to do something kinda difficult, and you don't know how or when you'll be able to do it, but the peace you need for the process finally rests in your heart after years of uncertainty?  We had that feeling this past Saturday, when we attended a conference called "Together for Adoption."

We didn't mean to go.  I mean, E and I have given a little thought to adoption, and always figured that the time would come someday in which we'd need to give it serious consideration, given both the theological and practical reasons for pursuing it.  But with no plans or finances or second bedroom to make it happen now, we weren't planning to go to this particular event.  Then, three weeks ago, we were asked if Thornfield would be willing to play some background music during the lunch break.  Jenna had already been planning to go, and since one of Thornfield's missions is to support mercy ministries, we agreed to play for free, and with it came complimentary tickets to the whole shindig.  We were officially going.  And what began as a gig ended as a life-altering calling.

Orphans by Thomas Kennington

It's impossible to convey all that transpired in those seven hours, but suffice it to say: God is moving hearts and souls and hands and feet toward helping the helpless and loving the unloved, sometimes unlovable.  He always has been, of course, but only in the last few years have I begun to open my own eyes to the needs of others and allowed myself to understand that God wants to use my heart, my soul, my hands and my feet to bring about His will "on the earth as it is in heaven."  Sure, I've known for ten years now that He was calling me into Ministry Proper.  It's only just now that I'm seeing the vast, organic, dirty, crazy, lovely world that is Ministry Improper, and seeing that I have a much larger role to play in that than in the other.  

Anyway, What about all this Adoption Business?, you may be wondering.  Me too.  The first speaker at the conference was Vermon Pierre, who spoke of "The God Who Adopts" from Ephesians 1.  Here's part of the Scripture he read:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ, just as He chose us in Him before the foundation of the world, that we would be holy and blameless before Him. In love He predestined us to adoption as sons through Jesus Christ to Himself, according to the kind intention of His will, to the praise of the glory of His grace, which He freely bestowed on us in the Beloved... In Him also we have obtained an inheritance, having been predestined according to His purpose who works all things after the counsel of His will, to the end that we who were the first to hope in Christ would be to the praise of His glory. In Him, you also, after listening to the message of truth, the gospel of your salvation—having also believed, you were sealed in Him with the Holy Spirit of promise, who is given as a pledge of our inheritance, with a view to the redemption of God’s own possession, to the praise of His glory.

To be honest, these verses, though absolutely overflowing with the superfluously wonderful merits of God's grace, always make me a little nervous when they're about to be preached on.  It was while at Moody -- where Calvinism is the presumed doctrine of the educated believer -- that I became suspicious of the word, predestined.  To my utmost relief, Pierre didn't once focus on predestination as a calling of "the elect," but explained the word's use as it shows God's very deliberate and intentional purpose from the very beginning of creation to adopt His people.  Before the foundation of the world, it says, He chose us, to adopt us, to lavish upon us an inheritance not merely of riches but of His very presence as the Holy Spirit within us.  

What really struck me about Pierre's message, what's so remarkable about all of this, is that before God adopted us, we were unadoptable.  We were unwanted, unruly, unworthy to be children of God.  Pierre explained that when people decide to adopt, they're given, basically, a list of things to choose from in a child.  First, they get to decide definite traits, like whether they want a boy or girl, how old a child they'd like, etc.  After that form comes another with checkboxes beside other, less tangible, likely less desirable traits.  Traits such as "Likes to start fires," "Has extreme ADHD," "Has emotional baggage," "Is violent," "Has a history of scraping walls with knives," etc.  This page is often skipped entirely, as these children are often considered "unadoptable."  Now, it may be difficult for us to see ourselves as unadoptable when we compare ourselves to these children.  But if we put ourselves in their shoes, take on their experiences, memories, etc., we may find ourselves closer to their states than we're comfortable with.  And if we believe the gospel is true -- that Jesus died for us -- then we must also believe that we were each personally involved in His death, that we victimized and brutalized and killed God's Son.  

And yet, He still wants us in the family.  

And yet, He planned to use our own violence to provide salvation for us.

What a gospel!  What hope!  What a good, unbelievably good God!

But notice why He did this, this amazing adoption of the unadoptable, according to Ephesians 1: "that we would be holy and blameless before Him."  In other words, that we would be set apart, that we would be conformed to His own image by and through His Son.  That we would become more like our Heavenly Dad, extending gracious love like He does, adopting the unadoptable like He does.  

And that's why my own thoughts concerning adoption have changed from, "This is something we should really think about, Lord willing," to "This is something we should actually do, and He is."  I won't be anyone else's Holy Spirit, of course.  He leads us each according to His own will for each.  But I've become convinced, not only through this amazing Scriptural concept but also through the callings all Christians are given in James 1, in Zechariah 7, in Proverbs 31, in Isaiah 1, and in countless other verses and chapters and books in God's word, that it is every believer's direct calling to care for the helpless, and in many cases the orphan specifically.  What that looks like for each family will be different.  What that looks like for our family -- I'm nervous but excited and timid but eager to say -- will hopefully someday be a house overflowing with love for each other, adopted and non-adopted children alike.  Because, actually, we're all adopted.

A father of the fatherless ... is God in His holy habitation.

{Psalm 68:5}

Biblical Theologiannes: Mary

It was cold out today.  Very cold.  Chapped-fingers, running-nose, hurting-ears-cold.  Wind-blowing, leaves-swirling, raindrops-floating-cold.  The kind of cold you really don't want to feel without snow on the ground.  Maybe that's the real source of frustration... the painful cold without the delightful snow... the lingering of the temperature in the upper 30's, too chilly but not chilly enough to actually enjoy.  One thing is for sure: that Winter Season I proclaimed was just around the bend, well, she seems to be rounding it right now.  As I said before, though, along with her dark skies come some bright moments... One of which, if you'll pardon my jumping-the-gun, is the Christmas Story.  No, not that one!  (Forget I said "gun." And don't get one; you'll shoot your eye out!)  You know: THE Christmas Story.

Every year about this time, I reopen the gospel account of Luke and lose myself in the Christmas Story all over again.  And every year, it seems, the most striking part to me is this passage from Luke 1:

 ⁴⁶ And Mary said:

    “My soul exalts the Lord, ⁴⁷ And my spirit has rejoiced in God my Savior. 

⁴⁸ For He has had regard for the humble state of His bondslave;

    For behold, from this time on all generations will count me blessed. 

⁴⁹ For the Mighty One has done great things for me; And holy is His name.  

⁵⁰ AND HIS MERCY IS UPON GENERATION AFTER GENERATION

    TOWARD THOSE WHO FEAR HIM. 

⁵¹ He has done mighty deeds with His arm;

   He has scattered those who were proud in the thoughts of their heart. 

⁵² He has brought down rulers from their thrones,

    And has exalted those who were humble. 

⁵³ HE HAS FILLED THE HUNGRY WITH GOOD THINGS;

    And sent away the rich empty-handed. 

⁵⁴ He has given help to Israel His servant, In remembrance of His mercy, 

⁵⁵ As He spoke to our fathers,

    To Abraham and his descendants forever.”

I'd like to introduce you to Mary, Biblical Theologianne.  As is widely accepted, this (literally) iconic lady was only in her mid-teens when she found herself to be the incubator of the Savior of the world.  (You're going to have to pardon a lot of my choices of words/phrases tonight; I'm just in one of those moods.)  A teenager.  A teenager who was also, apparently, not only a poet (singer/songwriter?), but a dang good Old Testament scholar and theologian.  Of course, if one does much Bible reading at all, it's clear that Mary's word choice in her song -- called the Magnificat -- harkens back to psalter-like Old Testament poetry.  In fact, two of the phrases used in the song (those in all caps) are direct quotations from the psalms:

Ps. 103:17

But the lovingkindness of the LORD 

   is from everlasting to everlasting 

   on those who fear Him, 

And His righteousness to children’s children...

Ps. 107:9

For He has satisfied the thirsty soul,
And the hungry soul He has filled with what is good.

What may be a little less obvious is the resemblance and subject relativity to one psalm in particular: 113.  

Let's give the second half of that one a gander, shall we?

⁴ The LORD is high above all nations; 

  His glory is above the heavens.

⁵ Who is like the LORD our God, 

  Who is enthroned on high, 

⁶ Who humbles Himself to behold 

  The things that are in heaven and in the earth? 

⁷ He raises the poor from the dust 

  And lifts the needy from the ash heap, 

⁸ To make them sit with princes, 

  With the princes of His people. 

⁹ He makes the barren woman abide in the house 

  As a joyful mother of children.

  Praise the LORD!

Psalm 113 is what OT scholars label a "praise psalm," written with the purpose of inciting praise to God by His people, the reason for which is pretty obvious if you read the first three verses.  Now, I really could go on and on about Psalm 113; I could write 20 pages on it!  In fact, now that I think about it, I already have... So I guess there's another blog post in the making.  But for now, I'm satisfied to merely say that the most apparent similarity between Psalm 113 and the Magnificat is the idea of God exalting the humble.  But the fact that God lifts the lowly is not the most staggering part: it's the fact that he humbles, even humiliates Himself in order to do so.  In the psalm's case, He must stoop down into the ash heap in order to lift up His people.  In Mary's case, He must bring Himself down so far... to the point of a fertilized human egg, a growing fetus, a screaming baby... in order to "give help to Israel His servant, in remembrance of His mercy."  

Mary understood this.  She understood that God wasn't simply sending the Messiah in flashing lights and trumpet calls and galloping horses.  No, He was doing something much less self-exalting.  Instead of battlecries, He came in baby cries.  And He chose her to swaddle His own Son not because she was somehow "worthy," but because she was humble in heart, one of "the least of these" that her Son would cherish and guard and call others to become.  It's funny -- when the angel Gabriel told her she was "favored of the Lord," she was "perplexed at this statement."  When he told her that she would bear the world's Savior, she trustingly replied, "Behold, the bondslave of the Lord; may it be done to me according to your word."  In other words, it seems she was more ready to believe in the impossible birth than in the fact that God favored her.  I believe that's why God favored her.  And as her song shows, it is God's regard for "the humble state of His bondslave" that causes her to rejoice in such beautiful song!

In the past few years, I've given a lot of thought to "biblical womanhood."  A lot of times, it seems to be illustrated by some white-washed Martha-Stewart-esque pastor's wife who likes to sew and craft and cook and clean and do all her husband's bidding.  Now I love crafty things and I value cleanliness, but these are simply not the Bible's mandates for women.  Mary, mother of Jesus -- not yet a wife, mind -- was not noted for doing any of these things, and was certainly not chosen because of her faithfulness in them.  But we can see from her words that she is a fine example of -- and quite literally -- a "biblical woman."  And as such, she was also a theologian -- one who knew and loved God's word and was able to express her own experiences in light of it, teaching others to do the same.  And thankfully, she's not the only one.  Over the next couple of months, I'm going to be delving deeper into the lives of other "Biblical Theologiannes" like Hannah, Miriam and Elizabeth.  I'm not sure yet where this is going to take me (I never was good at sticking to a plan), but I hope you'll share the journey with me.

Holy War

I'm a perfectionist and therefore a very bad decision-maker.  There, I said it.  I struggle often with understanding the purpose of this little nook in the cranny of the World Wide Webmonster.  Is this a place for opinionated free-thinking or for Scripture-based teaching?  Is it the home of the world's worst cook's cookbook, or a family album of adorable nieces, Regency balls, and phantasmagoric trips abroad?  Is City Songbird a hoard of shameless gig promos, or a collection of creation?  Of reviews or recordings?  Of the silly or the sacred?  Well, apparently, it is all of the above.

Some days are days for harmless tête-à-tête.  Other days are days for gentle encouragement.  Still others are days for brutal but honest conviction.  The latter are the most anxiety-ridden, for I've seen the damage that "honest conviction" can do.  So I sit on my windy little balcony, coffee at my elbow, air conditioner six stories down serving as white noise to distract me from the traffic-cluttered street below and the thought-cluttered mind within, thinking and thinking and alluding to but never typing exactly what I'm thinking, afraid of hurting or being hurt.  Or worse still, being called a heretic.  

But today... today is a new day.  I'm going to say what's on my mind.  I'm going to trust that the Spirit is still in my heart, guiding and guarding my thoughts and words and actions.  And I might stir up the holy water a bit, but better a little choppy than stale.  So.  Here goes.

I have a problem with the way Christians (myself included) use God's word.  We use it as a defense for our prejudiced -- no, not strong enough -- bigoted opinions.  We use it to hate and bully others whose lifestyles and preferences we detest.  We use it to judge and to tear down and to condemn.  We do all this in the name of "edification," forgetting that to edify means to build up.  We remember well that the Bible is "a double-edged sword," but instead of turning it on our Enemy, we turn it on one another -- on other Christians and on those of other faiths and decrees.  We teach our children to do the same, preparing them with "Sword Drills" but often neglecting to teach them which Holy War they're being prepared to fight.  With it, we slay our brothers and sisters, our mothers and fathers, even our children.    With it, we pierce and leave for dead those we should be protecting and fighting on behalf of.  

We forget that "our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the powers, against the world forces of this darkness, against the spiritual forces of wickedness in the heavenly places" (Ephesians 6).  Not against the government.  Not against the liberals.  Not against the communists.  Not against the conservatives.  Not against the feminists.  Not against the LGBT community.  Not against the Catholics, nor the main-line churches.  Not against the legalists or the licentious.  Not even against the Arminians or the Calvinists.  Not against the "effeminate" men or the unfeminine women.  Not against the filthy-mouthed rappers or the over-sexualized pop idols.  In short, not against any other human being, but against Satan.  Truth is, we're so busy fighting our battles with one another, we don't even notice him craftily smirking on the sidelines, pleased with the work he has done in distracting us from the Real Battle so that he can keep dragging sword-less souls into the pits to share his sentence of despair and destruction.  Really, we're making his job a whole lot easier.

I'm not exempt from this lot of sword-mishandling slayers.  This is as much my own battle as it may be yours or the next person’s.  But I hope someone'll hear me out while I crawl on my knees, scarred from the battles I've won as badly as the ones I've lost, begging the Church -- the Body of Jesus, Prince of Peace -- to please stop using God's word to break wills and hearts.  Instead of using it to kill, we must use it to heal.  Instead of using it to tear, we must use it to mend.  If the greatest commandment is to love God and love one another, than the surest way to defeat the Enemy is to use God's word -- the one weapon He has for some reason given and trusted us with -- to love.  

I read Matthew 5:43-45 for the umpteenth time this morning, and the Father graciously let me in on something I’ve overlooked or simply ignored so many times before, and that is: God loves His enemies.  Loves them.  Lavishes blessings on them – the sun, the rain (which may be difficult to see as a blessing in Ireland, but is sure as day a blessing in Israel), not to mention eternal salvation – all good things.  And what does Jesus say reveals us as God’s children?  Doing the same.  Loving people.  And not loving only those who love us back or at least agree with our doctrine, but loving those who disagree, despise, would destroy us if they could… like they tried to do to Jesus.  What was His response?  “Father, forgive them; they don’t realize what they’re doing…” 

Father, forgive us.  We don’t realize what we’re doing – how we’re slapping and beating and killing Christ Himself when we use Your very word against Your body, against Your image-bearers.  Teach us to use Your word to love, rather than to prove our doctrinal positions.  Teach us to wield this sword with truth and grace, aiming it true toward the heart of Satan, and placing it with grace into the hands of our brothers and sisters.  Teach us which Holy War You'd have us fight, and keep us far from the battlefields of those in which our enemy is not actually our Enemy, but an object of Your love.  And teach us to love as You do, so that we may be Your children.