In this world of pain and suffering, injustice and cruelty, indifference and ignorance— remember to hope, and fill your joy tank, so you have gas for the journey of justice and mercy, reconciliation and restoration. It’s a long trek and you’ll need to resupply with poetry and purring cats, quiet trees and crashing oceans, and fireflies. The One who weeps and died for us, welcomed children and their laughter, and told jokes disarming the authorities. We lament from our depths the wicked wrongs of the world, because because we know Hope. So we follow in the footsteps of our big Brother, bleeding love, and disarming the Powers with our fierce hope and joy.
This is the first in what might become an occasional series of reflections on the glimpses of divine in everyday objects.
The Kingdom of Heaven is like chocolate. No, more specific. The Kingdom of Heaven is like a fair trade chocolate truffle. Bear with me on this.
I like chocolate. And I generally won't turn down any chocolate that you'd like to offer me. I'll eat Hershey's Kisses and M&Ms. But I eat M&Ms by grabbing a handful from that bowl on your desk as I pass by, tossing them in my mouth and chewing them all at once while I walk back to my desk. It's a tangential incident to what I'm already doing, forgotten almost as soon as actions of crunch and swallow are over.
But what I really mean when I like chocolate is something more like a hand made, fair trade, dark chocolate truffle with hazelnut ganache.
All my senses are involved. I look at the chocolate and appreciate it's rich color and intentionally crafted shape.
As I pick it up, my conscience is at peace knowing that my soon enjoyment of this confection isn't at the expense of exploitative child slave labor. (I mean, is satisfying my sweet tooth really worth the sacrifice of a child's safety and future?)
Raising the chocolate, the warm, sweet earthiness wafts into my nostrils. (Yes, I smell all of my food first. It's just a thing I do.) My mouth moistens with anticipation, and I take one more deep sniff.
While this chocolate truffle could technically fit in my mouth whole--how could I do such an unthinkable thing? I take a bite, one half or perhaps one fourth of the truffle. I press the morsel to the roof of my mouth, allowing my body heat to release more of the complex flavors. And I don't use my teeth, but only my tongue to compress the chocolate and release it's complicated flavors. Delaying swallowing, I savor it one last time, and then finish consuming that first bite.
And the second and possibly third bite is the same. In the time I have eaten one chocolate truffle, most have eaten the other three in the box. But having more than one in a day seems almost decadent, indecent, improper! I feel as if I would wrong the chocolate I just ate by eating another so soon and commingling them. Switching attention so quickly shatters the reverence.
Oh, and please, silence is appreciated when performing this chocolate ritual. If you ask me a question while I am eating my chocolate, you will have to wait two or three minutes until I am done for an answer. Opening my mouth to speak destroys the delicate balance.
The joy I derive from chocolate doesn't stop after I swallow. If I was given four truffles, knowing that I have three more is delightful. Seriously, I have great pleasure in knowing that there is more for me. And that I could share.
I know this sounds like hyperbole. But ask my husband--this is honestly how I eat chocolate. With all of my senses, taking time to find the delight in each different facet of the experience.
It might sound sacrilegious to say chocolate is divine--and it is. But it also isn't. The Kingdom of Heaven is not chocolate in a literal sense. But there's a glimpse there. Justice is an important part. It requires time and attention. There's a tasting and seeing--and smelling--of the goodness! There is a huge joy, and an anticipation of more. I find it to be an amazing picture of God's extravagant love and grace.
A-ha! Lightbulb moment: I need to be as appreciative of the grace Jesus bought for me as I am of the chocolate bought for me. And as much as I look for and receive joy in chocolate, how much more should I look for and receive joy in the Father's great love?
Selah. (I need a moment to let that sink in.)
Wow. So the next time you eat chocolate, pause, invite the Kingdom of God into that ordinary moment, and taste the extravagant love of God for you.
I want to tell you about my freakin' awesome Monday night!“What happened?” you ask?The short answer is that I went to a Mumford
and Sons concert.And my car was stolen.
Let me back up and explain.
For several months, up until, well, halfway through Monday
(Memorial Day), I had been stressed out, crabby, not particularly thankful, and
approaching burnout.Picture an
antagonistic Eeyore.I didn’t like being around me.Then Tuesday I was joyful, excited, thankful,
expectant even.I felt like I
was the real me again--that everything that had buried me before was pealed off.
A word on my concert going history.I’ve been to a handful of concerts, most in
small venues seating two or three hundred.The largest seated a thousand, tops.Also, I don’t like loud noise, nor do I like crowds.The one concert that I’ve walked out of was
actually a worship concert about ten years ago.I walked out because I nearly had a panic attack during it.This was due to the combination of 1. being
squashed in the lobby with a crowd that would make a fire marshal cringe while waiting
for the doors to open, and 2. the music was so loud your heart beat in time and
I had forgotten ear plugs.
About two months or so ago, a good friend asked me if I’d
like to go to this concert.She is a
huge Mumford and Sons fan, and knew that I like their music.She also insisted on paying for my
ticket.I was going to say yes before
that, but free concert for a great band—heck yes!As the concert approached, I learned bits and
pieces about what the concert going experience would be like.First, it would be large.It was at the Rose Garden in Portland.This is where the NBA Trail Blazers
play.It can seat twenty thousand
people.
Later my friend asked, “Do you mind general admission
tickets?Because that’s what I bought.”
“You’re paying, so I’m not going to be choosy about my
seating!” I jovially replied.
“Well, it’s not a seat.It’s standing on the floor.We
can be as close to the stage as possible that way,” she replied, her eyes
gleaming with excitement.
“Oh.Well, ok.”Pause.“Just curious, how much personal space do you have there?” my
inexperienced concert going self asked.
“Less than none.It’s
like a huge four hour long hug.”
“Ah.”Longer
pause.“And we’ll be directly in front
of the speakers.I mean literally
standing mere feet from them, right?”
“More like directly under them.But basically yes.And we’ll be able to hear all the amps on the
stage.”
“Ah.I’m going to
need better ear plugs.”
As the day of the concert approached, my nervousness about
crowds and loud noises crept up and jumped my excitement about hearing a great
band.I wasn’t sure I was going to be
able to go in and stay for all of it.I
wasn’t even quite sure that I wanted to try, since the possibility that I would have a panic attacks was rather
unnerving.But I did go, since, in no
particular order,
1. My friend bought my ticket and I wanted to honor her by
receiving the gift well.
2. It’s Mumford and Sons, and they’re pretty freakin’
awesome.
I am very very glad that I made the decision, in spite of
fear, to push through and go to the concert.That decision made room for the opportunity of my experience at the
concert.My decision to try—even with an
exit strategy in place—gave God something to work with.
So what did God do and how did He do it?Well, there had been several months of
groundwork confronting fear, praying, and being prayed for, which had prepared they
way for the catalyst that was the concert.Put another way, the roller coaster had been climbing that first hill,
and the concert was the moment of cresting the hill and plunging into the
adventure.It’s hard to put the
experience, event, and emotions into words.While I went in afraid that I might leave because of a panic attack, not
only did I stay for the entire concert, but I had an amazingly fun time!I went in browbeaten by fear and left jumping
and stomping on fear’s ugly face. Here are two highlights.
The lyrics that Mumford and Sons write are thoughtful and often draw from
Christian imagery and themes.One of the
songs they played was, “Awake My Soul”. Hearing 20,000 people at a rock concert
singing the chorus “Awake my soul. For you were made to meet your maker,” is
quite something! Singing with gusto and dancing as the space allowed, I prayed
for all the people who hadn’t met their Maker there that night, that as they
spoke those words over themselves, their souls would awake and they would see,
and would meet the One who made them and loves them.It was really something interceding for an
arena full of people!
Mumford and Sons closed the concert with the song, “The Cave.”If you’re not familiar with the song, you
should watch the video or read the lyrics here. No really, go ahead and watch it.
The song talks about walking away from fear, holding on to hope, and
walking in boldness and trust.Which is
exactly what I’ve been resolving to do and what God’s been pushing me
towards.It also happens to be my favorite Mumford
and Sons song.
For the duration of the concert I was three “rows” back (i.e.
standing behind two people).My friend was two
rows back.When “The Cave” started, she
pulled me forward and swapped places with me.I had doubted that being six inches closer to the stage made much
difference, but it does!Her literal
invitation forward was also a symbolic spiritual invitation forward.I sang and danced and declared and proclaimed
and worshiped!It was one of the most
intense and joyful and triumphant God times—right in the midst of a rock concert.It is difficult to explain, but
it was awesome!I went in almost
expecting the crippling anxiety of a panic attack, and instead found: boldness, joy, trust, rest. I hadn’t realized the extent to which fear had stolen these
from me.Where I least expected it, in
the midst of a throng of people, at a deafeningly loud concert, God recovered
what was stolen.
As we left the concert all hyped up from the energy of it, I
was also bouncing off the proverbial walls from excitement and joy, jumping and
skipping as we walked back to my car.We
had found street parking to avoid the exorbitant cost of the parking garage,
and just before we rounded the last corner to where my car was, I thought, “My
car’s not going to be there.”This
thought surprised me.It wasn’t a
pessimistic thought, it was just matter of fact.And ten feet later, sure enough, empty
parking spot.Falcor, my highly coveted teal green ’94 Ford Escort
wagon was nowhere to be seen.
In that instant I had a choice.I could freak out because my car was
stolen.Or, I could trust.Interesting, seeing as how I had just made
this huge declaration of trust, not more than twenty minutes ago!So I knelt down and committed to trust God
with my car and my transportation needs.I realize this sounds crazy. Honestly I do. I mean, my car was stolen.How could I possibly be calm?And eight hours earlier I would have been
anything but calm and trusting.Had my
car been stolen that morning instead of that night, I would have had a cow
freaking out, worrying about how I’d get to work, how I’d replace it—my worst
case scenario brain would have been in overdrive.But my roller coaster had crested the hill,
and I deliberately chose not to go backwards.Fear had been broken.I would not
let it back in.So I trusted.
(Side note.Before
this sounds like a works mentality, where the responsibility is on me to make
things happen, let me say this.What I
did was choose.God provided the grace
and momentum.I chose to get on the
roller coaster.God powered it up the
hill and off through the adventure of the ride.)
Now, I’ve left out a lot of cool pieces of the story (since
this is a blog post and not a book!).There’s what should have been in my car when it was stolen, but by “chance”
wasn’t in my car that day.There’s the
faith building adventure of safely—and completely without incident—traveling
home across town without a car after midnight!And then there’s how so many friends offered rides, baked cookies, lent
me their truck for the week and insisted that I stay for dinner when I picked
it up.:o)My car was stolen on Monday, but I am the
most content, peaceful, joyful, and grateful I’ve been in many months!
My main emotional reaction specifically to the car is that I
am mostly indignant that the enemy of our souls would try something as petty as
stealing my car to try to distract and get me to live in fear again. I made the
conscious decision to separate the experience of the concert from my car being
stolen.Because I could remember the
night for what I experienced during the concert or I could let it be tainted
and spoiled by the theft of my car.But
I chose to recover what was stolen—joy, boldness, trust, rest.
Now let me at the truth
Which will refresh my broken mind
So tie me to a post and block my ears
I can see widows and orphans through my tears
I know my call despite my faults
And despite my growing fears
But I will hold on hope
And I won't let you choke
On the noose around your neck
And I'll find strength in pain
And I will change my ways
I'll know my name as it's called again
--“The Cave”Mumford
and Sons
**as of Satuday morning (6/1) Falcor is still missing. I will update when he is found.
First, yes, it's really a holiday. The first Friday of May is the day internationally set aside to celebrate and honor the most majestic of instruments, the Tuba! See--here's the official International Tuba Day webpage.
How amazing is the Tuba? Well, feast your ears and eyes on Chuck Daellenbach playing, "Flight of the Tuba Bee."
What's the range of a Tuba?About ten yards if you have a good arm!
Actually, as with any brass instrument, it's theoretically possible to hit any note. But the range of a seasoned Tuba player could be four octaves.
Do Tuba's use major or minor scales?
Neither, they use the Richter scale.
Tuba's can use any scale as well as any key. Certain keys are preferred by certain types of Tubas. The BBb tuba prefers flat keys. But there are C Tubas and F Tubas, and more! Tubas can have anywhere from three to five valves.
What's the difference between a Tuba and a Sousaphone?
You hug the Tuba and the Sousaphone hugs you!
The Sousaphone plays the same as a Tuba. It is just configured for more portability. Sousaphones come in mostly fiberglass models and in all brass models.
I’m going in about six different directions tonight, with
four different ideas that squirmingly won’t sit still and two poems dancing
tantalizingly out of my reach.
This is what I love.This
is what gets me jazzed up.Pondering
ideas.Mulling them over.The random, goofy loose association, that
often connects things in profound ways.Joy for joy’s sake can be profound.But it must be allowed to just be.Just enjoy joy in the moment.Do
not demand wisdom from it.Joy will
birth wisdom when she so desires.Joy is
a gift, and joy delights in giving gifts.Freely receive.Do not require.Approach joy seeking meaning, purpose,
direction, and she flees.She demands to
be enjoyed for herself, and herself alone.Gifts are gifts, free gifts, no strings attached, but cannot be expected
or demanded.Revel in joy for joy’s
sake.They say laughter is the best
medicine.But if you seek medicine
first, laughter is reticent to approach.
I have always wanted To Know and To Understand.I sought out wisdom with all
seriousness.I remember a time in junior
high on the school bus going home.Two
friends that I'd know since kindergarten, were trying to get me to be nonsensical.To say something without meaning, an absurdity.Even as simple as “the snow is green.”But I could not see the point, and I would
not.It almost went beyond volition—I’m
not sure that I even could.I held on to
the quest To Know with such a grip that no silliness could be allowed.
Somehow along the way, my hands were relaxed.My grip loosened. I let go of control. I was taught to release, relax, and to
trust.Grace is gentle and stubborn like
that.Gentle enough to not break the
fragile, earnest yearning.Yet stubborn
enough to persist through all defenses.
