Karaoke Dive-By

The Inn of the Prancing Pony is even more innocent in Lego form.

On Friday night, I let loose with a few friends for some karaoke fun at our friendly, neighborhood pub.  Now when I think of “pub,” imagery of The Inn of the Prancing Pony from the Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Rings comes to mind.  (If you’re not a LOTR nerd, I know I just lost you.  Come back to me! If you are a LOTR nerd, then you’ll probably love the Prancing Pony scenes fully reconstructed in Legos here)  Or maybe an old-fashioned pub like The Eagle and Child where C.S. Lewis, Tolkien ( those LOTR references just keep coming), and the rest of the Inklings met to talk about their literary works.  Yes, a classy joint, sort of like an artistic Applebee’s (which I just learned also has karaoke) or a coffeehouse where people drink beer.

A pub, at least the one down the street, is nothing like that.

There were no writers discussing their works (though I did try literary analysis on some of the song lyrics.)  Or rough and tumble guys playing poker.  There were flashing strobe lights, a cheesy stage area, and a random sampling of people–most of whom were drinking.  I know, I know, it’s a bar, what did I expect?  Well, I thought it was a pub and everyone would be drinking butter beer!  Besides, we were there to karaoke, not get sloshed.

And karaoke we did!  While one of my friends, who is apparently a karaoke superstar, sang love ballads, I relied on classics such as “Bad Moon Risin’” by CCR and “Dancin’ Queen” by ABBA.  I mean, who doesn’t want to sing “Dancin’ Queen”?  It may be cliche, but at least I can cross “Sing ‘Dancin’ Queen’ at karaoke bar” off my bucket list.

In between our performances, we paged through the song catalog placed at each table and laughed at the names of bands and song titles, commenting on some of the more, uh, at “classy” song choices, and trying to yell over the noisy room.  One of us began to look for songs by Christian artists, and that’s when three of us decided we needed to sing one of these songs.  I joked that we needed to be light in the darkness.  We were going to be missionary karaokeers.  We chuckled about it, but I think there could be something to it. I think Jesus would karaoke.

We chose “Dive” by Steve Curtis Chapman.  It wasn’t as in-your-face as Chris Tomlin’s “How Great Is Our God” or as sugary sweet as Point of Grace. I claimed to know it, though I hadn’t heard the song in a few years.  My friends said they’d follow my lead.  After all, I am on the Sunday morning praise team, right?

I wrote our song choice on a slip and handed it to the  D.J.  After listening to a few other patrons, the D.J. called our names.  I was a little shaken by the song before us, which talked about bodies hitting the floor and had some screaming parts.  Still, we smiled sweetly at the crowd and exchanged nervous glaces as the song started.  We were ready to show the pubsters how we Christian chicks karaoke.  As soon as the lyrics began scrolling across the small screen, I realized I didn’t know “Dive”  as well as I thought I did.  Neither did my friends who were counting on me.  So we did our best and half-laughed our way through the verses as we tried to produce some semblance of a tune.  Fortunately, we did know the chorus, which we totally rocked. The nice thing about being among so many people who don’t listen to Christian music is that they didn’t know the song so they didn’t know that we didn’t know it either.  Or they were too drunk to care.  I realized later that lighht in the darkness doesn’t have to be brilliant to be seen; it just has to shine.

So, what’s the point of this post?  Am I trying to get Steven Curtis Chapman to hire my friends and me as back-up singers for his next tour?  (Maybe.  SCC, we’re available.  Call us!) Is there some deep, spiritual platitude I’m trying to get across?  Not really.  I’m just sharing a story about 30-something ladies having a good [sober] time on a Friday night.  We weren’t at the pub to be salt and light.  We didn’t sing “Dive” to be a witness.   We just were because when you allow yourself to be God’s light, you can’t help but shine.

I don’t think we saved any souls with our singing.  I’m not even sure we planted any seeds (Though strangely enough, “The 700 Club” was being show on one of the TV’s in the main bar area, so perhaps Pat Roberston took care of the souls we missed.)  But I think we did bring glory to God by praising His name in a neighborhood pub on Friday night.

Sometimes light is subtle…and that’s OK.  We don’t always have to flood the world with our faith, which can make people feel like deer caught in headlights.  We can be a light in the darkness simply by being radiant and letting God’s light pour out through us into the world.

Maybe we all just need to step out of our comfort zones, take a leap of faith, and dive in.

The gift of anxiety

Today was a victory, just like yesterday and the day before and the day before.  Today’s accomplishment?  I went to Wal-Mart by myself—got myself out the door, drove to the store, and shopped for needed household items (and a couple of extras).  I purchased my items, walked to my car (almost got run over in the crosswalk by some lady in a van who had the nerve to beep at a pedestrian was in the middle of the road when she sped around the corner), and drove home with a triumphant smile on my face.  Victory!

Some of my mom friends are probably thinking, “Going to Wal-Mart alone?!  That would be a dream come true!” 

Others might think, “Seriously?!  What’s your deal?”

A few of you get it because you know me and a few of you understand because you live or have lived with this reality.  Sometimes getting out of bed is a win and making it out the door is a victory.  Such is life for a person who lives very real battles with anxiety and depression and related issues. 

Now that I live a more open life, my absence has been noted, both here on this blog and in my personal and church life.  It started as a sinus infection, then a huge stress attack, and then a second, much worse sinus infection that affected by TMJ.  The stress set my usual anxiety spiraling out of control.  Being home recovering from the second sinus infection has turned anxiety into a major emotional/psychological l battle.  Like all things, it impacts my whole being and becomes a spiritual battle as well.  The enemy always preys on our weakest spots.

Since I was unable to attend church this week, I decided to watch a series of talks by Andy Stanley called, “The Comparison Trap.”  In the first talk, Andy said something I immediately wrote down, “When we speak out of our weakness, we never run out of things to say.”   So, when I write about my weakness, I always have good material to which God gets all the glory, for His strength and light radiate from my cracked, weak spots.

However, talking about my current struggles can be hard because well-intentioned people like to throw misinterpretations of Bible verses at me and tell me that my anxiety is a sin.  Worse are those who think I can just snap out of it.  While I can ask God to remove mental illness from life, I cannot make it go away.  Simply put, my brain is sick.  Neurons are misfiring.  Neurotransmitters have run amuck.  But I’m learning how to deal with it and through it all, my faith is growing because I must cling to God in my struggles.  He never lets go of me.

I used to think the true measure of faith was the absence of fear, but I was set straight during an interview with musician whose music is a breath of life to my weary soul.  He told me clinging to God, reading Scripture, writing in my journal—those are the very acts of faith that seeks God first.  If that’s all I can do, I am doing well.  Everything else is an act of grace for us and grace, in and of itself, is a gift of God’s good pleasure.  My pastor often prays, “Even if Jesus was all You gave us that is still more than we deserve.” (paraphrased)

Sometimes we sing, “Your grace is enough, Your grace is enough, Your grace is enough for me.”  It’s a great song, but do we, do I really believe that?  I mean, if Jesus was truly all God gave me, would that be enough for me?

I don’t know, but if it was all I had left I hope it would be enough.  As it is, today I was given an extra measure of grace—a chance to go to Wal-Mart, shop for a few items, and go home.  This, too, is an act of God’s grace and it is not small thing; it is God-reliance.  If I didn’t have the gift of anxiety/depression, I would be able to rely on myself, but I am forced to rely on God and He has given me a wonderful support system that provides me tangible help.   Mental illness isn’t the kind of gift I would wrap up and give a friend as a birthday present, but I am thankful for the chance to know God more and more through it. 

Tomorrow I will get up and fight this monster again.  Will I be victorious?  I sure hope so.  I do know that God will be with me either way.

One Word: Petros

This is a talk I gave at my church’s One Word, One Day event.  I thought I’d share it with y’all as well.  Hope you like the written form!

It started with a name change.  A holy name change.

Well, actually, it started before that, maybe we should start at the beginning, in Matthew 4:18-20.  It says, “As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen.  ‘Come, follow me,’ Jesus said, ‘and I will make you fishers of men.’ At once they left their nets and followed him.”

Simon called Peter?  Who called Simon, “Peter”?  Why does the gospel writer Matthew, the ex-tax collector, make this distinction about his fellow disciple?

Simon was also known as Peter.  In fact, he was probably only known by his nickname “Peter” or “Petros” to the Jewish audience in which the Gospel of Matthew is directed.  Matthew is saying, “You know Peter?  Well, he wasn’t always called, ‘Peter.’”  But we’ll get to that later…

After Jesus called Simon, Andrew and some other guys to His ragtag gang, He healed a multitude of sick people.  Jesus then preached what became known as the “Sermon on the Mount,” which includes the “Lord’s Prayer” that we say every week in church.  As Jesus spoke and taught and loved and healed, Simon watched.

Simon’s own mother-in-law was healed from a fever, two demon-possessed men’s minds and bodies were freed from their oppression.  When their tiny boat was tossed on an angry sea, Simon wondered, marveled really, at who Jesus was—that even the wind and waves obeyed Him.  I’m sure this particularly interested the Simon the former fisherman, who was used to the wiles of the sea.

The disciples traveled on a boat when another storm happened upon them.  Then they saw Jesus walking on the water!  Instead of staying in the boat, Simon jumped out walked on the water with Jesus.  His faith faltered and he started to drown.  This won’t be the first time we see Simon Peter’s disbelief, and it won’t be the last time we see Jesus’ great mercy in saving Simon.

On dry land, Simon witnessed Jesus raise a girl from the dead and helped hand out a few dry fish and loaves of bread to over 10,000 people.  Not just one, but twice.

He saw his rabbi–his teacher–questioned again and again by the Pharisees.  He saw followers come and go.  Along with the other disciples, Simon heard, saw, tasted, smelled, and experienced much.

So when we come to Matthew, chapter 16, and Jesus asked his disciples in verse 13, “Who do people say the Son of Man is?” we know the disciples should have a good answer.

“Some say John the Baptist,” answered one.  (By this time, John the Baptist had been beheaded by Herod Antipas because John made his girlfriend angry.)

“Elijah,” quipped another.

“I heard Jeremiah!” offered a third.

“Actually, any one of the prophets,” mused the fourth.

Here is where I imagine Jesus looked intently at each one of these twelve men.  He asked, “But, you, who do you say that I am?”

Simon said, “You are the Messiah, the Son of the Living God!”

I think Jesus smiled as he said this part, verse 18 in The Message translation, “Blessed are you, Simon! And now I’m going to tell you who you are, really are. You are Peter, a rock. This is the rock on which I will [build] my church, a church so expansive with energy that not even the gates of hell will be able to keep it out.”

Peter in Greek is “Petros” which means “detached rock” or “single rock,” while “petra” which you may also hear means “bed of rock.” (Petra is also the name of an 80’s/90’s Christian rock band.  I know some of you were thinking that!)

What happens to “The Rock” after this?

In the next section, Peter told Jesus the Messiah to stop teaching about His death and resurrection because it will never happen.  Peter was upset that the Messiah would die, which is not part of Peter’s plan.  He wanted the Messiah to redeem the Jews from Roman oppression, but we know that Jesus had a much bigger plan—to redeem all mankind.

Peter also saw more miracles, more healing, more wonders, and it all came to a climax with Jesus’ Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem, which we celebrate as “Palm Sunday.” We know what’s coming.

We know that Jesus washed Peter’s feet and we know that Peter cut off a soldier’s ear while attempting to protect Jesus from being arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane.  Much to Peter’s chagrin, Jesus healed the soldier’s ear and still, Jesus is taken away.

There were two mock trials, and then there was Peter’s bitter betrayal—his refusal to be counted as one of Jesus’ followers, even though he spoke like a country boy with his Galilean accent and even though he was seen with Jesus.  “No, I don’t know the man,” he yelled and then the rooster crowed.  Scripture says Jesus looked right at Peter.  I believe Jesus looked right through him.

Some “rock”!  Then again you can’t exactly be the rock of the New Testament church with a dead messiah…that is, unless Jesus’ teaching about dying and coming back in three days was true.

We all know what happens, don’t we?  Jesus’ resurrection and Peter’s later restoration.

Then in Acts 2, we see a new man—an emboldened Peter talked in front of thousands on the day of Pentecost, after Jesus’ ascension into Heaven.  The Holy Spirit had just come upon the disciples and they preached in various language.

Peter calmed the crowd and then delivered this stunning testimony, in verses 22-24, “Fellow Israelites, listen carefully to these words: Jesus the Nazarene, a man thoroughly accredited by God to you—the miracles and wonders and signs that God did through him are common knowledge—this Jesus, following the deliberate and well-thought-out plan of God, was betrayed by men who took the law into their own hands, and was handed over to you. And you pinned him to a cross and killed him. But God untied the death ropes and raised him up. Death was no match for him.”

In verse 41 we learn the results of Peter’s bold teaching, “Those who accepted his [Peter’s] message were baptized, and about three thousand were added to their number that day.”

Simon. Petros.  The Rock.

The name says it all.  Jesus saw Simon’s potential, his calling and with ONE WORD—Petros—Jesus told Simon Peter who he could be, what he would become—the rock on which New Testament church was founded.  A single rock testifying about Jesus, the Solid Rock.

From simple fisherman to bold preacher, it started with one word—a name given to Simon from the mouth of God.

Misplaced Joy

The actual “Joy Mug” placed oddly in the cabinet. The mug was a Christmas present from the Larimer’s. Thanks, guys!

Why, hello Joy!  What are you doing here stuck between mismatched stacks of dishes?

You seem misplaced. 

You’re not where you’re supposed to be—with the other encouragement mugs.

You’re not where I expected you at all.

I thought you’d be at church, in worship songs, in Scripture, in the smile of a friend… If you were there (and you probably were), I failed to notice you…

I was losing hope in you. I was losing hope period.

My faith is being testing.  My rough places are being made smooth by a holy refining fire.  I didn’t know you were lost to me, but I felt your absence.  I ached for you.  Yet you were hiding in plain sight.  My eyes were blinded by self-pity; I could not see.

I heard you first—in a song on the radio as I drove home from a particularly emotional counseling session.  My throat hurt from a mix of dry air and phlegmy crying.  I sang along anyway.  You started to shine through as the winter sun dried the tears on my cheeks.  My spirit was lifted from its scared, anxious, and pitiful prison.

It wasn’t until I opened the cabinet and saw you there—in front of me in black on white that I knew you had been with me all along in the messy, disorganized cabinet of my life (and tangibly in a very real mug in my kitchen cabinet).

Thank you, Joy, for never leaving me, for being present in sorrow, hardships, trials, and tears.  You call my attention back to God’s promises.  You remind me that there is redemption.  Even as the world continues to groan, there is hope that all will be made new.

You are an inescapable work of the Spirit, a manifestation of His presence.  You are in all things, for I cannot flee from Your Presence.

Father, thank you for surrounding me with Your Joy and for using a simple mug to show me profound spiritual truths.

Photo Essay: Marvelous Migration

The snow geese have hit the Lehigh Valley.  After hanging out with a friend and filling up my gas tank, I spot the whirls of white along Lower Macungie Road right across from the middle school.  I only have my point-and-shoot, but I wasn’t going to miss an opportunity to capture this wonder.  Well, at least try to capture it–how can a lens capture the majesty of thousand of white birds with gray bills and the sound of their honking?  Needless to say, I’m going back tomorrow armed with my DSLR.  Hopefully, they’ll still be in the area.

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2012 in review

The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.

Here’s an excerpt:

19,000 people fit into the new Barclays Center to see Jay-Z perform. This blog was viewed about 72,000 times in 2012. If it were a concert at the Barclays Center, it would take about 4 sold-out performances for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Sometimes Hope Comes in Cardboard

Today I’m a mess of tears and self-pity.  I miss my dog and my mom.  (Note: my dog, Cassie, died.  My mom didn’t die, but she did get married and move an hour away.)  My foot aches so I’m “resting” it.  There are boxes scattered all over the living room–stuff to get rid of, sell, store, or just throw away.  These boxes have followed me for years–toys from my childhood for the kids I hoped to one day, a box of shells–all that I have left from my dad’s deceased father’s “estate,” the remnants of a bead business and art projects that didn’t work out, and boxes of things I hold on to for no apparent reason.  I just can’t let go.

And I so need to let go.

Of what?  What is there possibly left to lose?  I feel like I lost a lot this year, and yet I know God is calling me to lose more—to lose my inhibitions for the sake of the Gospel, to boldly follow Him no matter the cross I bear, to throw away my “church” masks for authentic Christian life.

The raw life is hard.  I think a “raw life” is to be real in a world full of mask-wearing phonies (said without condemnation).  I’m the woman that bravely smiles when I sing before a Holy God and cries my heart out in the Narthex when I’m done–I’m one in the same.  

I’m struggling with the desire to be a mask-wearing phony and be a real woman who loves God and feels deeply.  It’s easier (and harder) to wear a mask. Well, maybe not easier, just safer.  That’s what I learned leading a study using Emily P. Freeman’s book Grace For the Good Girl. A mask is more like a shield, and if I just “fine” my way through life, I won’t have to hear unwelcome advice and Christian catch phrases.  Most people mean well.  They truly want to help, but their “advice” twists in my gut as if I ate razor blades for breakfast.

Just focus on God.  (My inner thought life screams, “Why aren’t you focus on God, you pitiful Christian?  If you focused on God, you’d be just fine.”)

Trust God. (“You’re not trusting God.  If you did, you wouldn’t feel this way!”)

Pray. (“Pray harder.  Pray better.  Pray more.”)

If God brings you to it, He’ll bring you through it. (“But what if He doesn’t?  What if I just fall apart?  Does that mean He didn’t bring me through it?”)

When God closes a door, He opens a window. (“To jump out of?!”)

You get the idea.  Well-meaning advice given to a woman whose thoughts run wild.  Pray for me, love me, and hug me.  When in doubt, just ask what I need to hear, know, or what you can do.  I’ll tell you. Just don’t let me wear my iron mask.  It’s been a lot of work to pry it off of my face.

So I sit ruminating in my thoughts checking in on Twitter and Facebook for signs of life outside my apartment.  In this place, a Tweet from one of my fave photogs, Jeremy Cowart, comes to light.  He mentions an inspiring video—the most inspiring video of 2012, he says.  Maybe, maybe not.  But I check it out anyway.

Here’s the video:

 

Caine’s Arcade.  It has me in tears and not the delicate, pretty kind. It’s a full-on snot fest following by a salty flood of tears.  Yet this is the good kind of soul-cleansing crying.  I’m touched by Caine’s story and inspired by his creativity, and yes, I’m happy for his happy ending.  Hope is reborn in my heart—all because of a boy with some cardboard, tape, and an abundance of hope.

When you’re filled with Caine’s spirit—the faith and hope of a child—you don’t have time to ruminate or worry or bemoan the circumstances you’re in.  Perhaps I could use some of my energy to engage in creativity and dream God-given dreams, maybe my bittersweet  present is a future blessing in disguise.  Time will tell and hope will keep the dream alive.

As In a Mirror

I was looking for something on Backseat Writer and was SHOCKED to discover that I haven’t posted anything since August 29!  Now that Light for the Lost Boy album review was worth coming out of hiding to write.  It’s not that I’ve been hiding; actually, I’ve been living.

Who know choosing “live” as my One Word for 2011 would spawn such an amazing new birth into a life with such meaning–meaning found in God alone.  Can humans derive a greater pleasure than living a life yielded to God?  I think not, for this is what we were created to do–to bring glory, praise, and honor to our Creator.

I know to those of you who don’t share my beliefs might thing that God is some sort of egomaniac–I mean, creating people to praise Him?  Really?  Really!  I mean, this is God we’re talking about–the One who is, who was, and who is to come.  He is so mind-blowingly awesome that I can’t think of a greater thing to do than to praise Him!  I mean, people are speaking the praises of the iPad3 and that’s only a tablet; I’m talking about the Creator of all that is!

Lately, I feel defined by my church, probably because building a women’s ministry has been my full-time focus since June. There’s a bit of a deflate since the Woman At Work conference has come and gone (and immediately following the conference, we were hit by Superstorm Sandy and went without power for four days.  It was a small thing compared to what people in New Jersey are still facing.)  Even though there’s still much to work on, I wonder, who am I now?

Women’s ministry isn’t my job.  I’m a writer and a non-blogging blogger.  If I don’t blog, am I still a blogger?  If my writing is internal dialogues with God, am I still a writer?  When I turn off the lights at night and lie in bed listening to the sounds of the dark, who am I?

Who, exactly, am I?

This question led to the discovery of my identity crisis a year ago.  I realized through Jason Gray’s “Remind Me Who I Am” I’d forgotten who I was created to be and how sick my soul had become.  I lost my “joy” place because joy can be found in God alone.  Now as I reflect on the past year, I can’t believe a one-day women’s conference was the unofficial celebration of my one-year anniversary at my church.  (Yeah, I know how to throw good parties.)  If you told me a year ago I would dedicate so much of my life to women’s ministry, I would have laughed and laughed and laughed.  I love how God, too, has a great sense of humor and how our calling gives us greater meaning that we thought possible.  I am more than I thought I could be because of God working in me.

I find it funny that I still wrestle with identity issues, though I am convinced this is a life-long battle.  Maybe it’s every human’s battle because we so easily forget who we are.  It’s like the man who doesn’t heed God’s truth and forgets what his face looks like after just glance in the mirror. (James 1:22-24)

Remind me who I am in You, God, remind me who I am when I look in the mirror of identity.  Let my reflection say, “I am Yours.”

Music Review: Light for the Lost Boy by Andrew Peterson

Sometimes it’s a couple of days or even weeks before I dig through the pre-releases in my “to be reviewed” pile to find the right mood music.  However, in the case of Andrew Peterson’s latest, Light for the Lost Boy, I gave a giddy shout and popped the album in my vehicle’s CD player as soon as I ran out the door minutes after checking my mail.  As the strings of the first song on the album flirted with my ears, I let out a gentle sigh and tried to relax.  But Andrew Peterson is one of the few artists whose musical proficiency and stunning use of lyric touch me on a level too deep to explain.  It’s hard to relax when my soul is so thirsty for the refreshing touch that Peterson’s music can provide it.

Counting Stars, Peterson’s previous album, was my introduction to this artist’s body of work, which not only includes an impressive line of music, but books and a website called The Rabbit Room as well.  Truly a visionary, Peterson is one of those creative I’d love to sit down with for a chai latte to talk music, literature, writing, and theology.  I’m sure the conversation would be nothing short of fascinating.

Therefore, my expectations for Light for the Lost Boy were very high, and I feared I would be let down.  Lost Boy certainly rises to the occasion with 10 beautiful tracks, each one as delectable as the next, though I have my favorites.  I purposely didn’t read the press release accompanying the pre-release, any early reviews, or even Peterson’s thoughts on the album because I wanted to present pure and personal thoughts on this my review of Lost Boy.

To me, Light for the Lost Boy, is a double entendre.  The light is not only for the lost “boy,” who is Peterson himself (or perhaps his children), but it is also light for a lost world.  The album repeats the message, “Yes, this word is cursed and it hurts, but God is with you.  Hope is ever near you, beside you.  And there is a reality that is so much stronger than all that you see and think you know.”  The album continually echoes the thought of one of my most beloved Bible verses found in Revelation 21:5, “He who was seated on the throne said, ‘I am making everything new!’”

So I wasn’t too far off…

My early favorite on this album was “Rest Easy,” which Andrew Peterson promoted through a contest, in which fans were invited to make a music video for this song (see winner). Spoken from the voice of Jesus (like a music version of the devotional Jesus Calling), the song starts out with the lyrics, “You are not alone/I will always be with you.” I was immediately drawn in.  All humanity feels alone, and this song speaks from God’s heart directly to that persistent aloneness, that ever-present separation from God that won’t be eradicated until see finally see Him face to face.

Yesterday, I listened to this song over and over again, letting the words soak into my trembling, sweaty body, for I needed the lyrics to speak to my heart, “You don’t have to prove yourself/You’re already mine/ You don’t have to have to hide your heart/I hold it in Mine/You can rest easy.”  How I long to rest easy!  I appreciate the ability of a song to help me settle down so I can open myself to God’s peace that surpasses all understanding.

Energy flows through another one of my early and consistent favorites, “Day By Day.”  From the first beat, the listener is propelled into an adventure of searching with child-like faith and a reminder that we are truly “children of eternity” who are fighting the curse of death. (Lyric: “Children of eternity, on the run from entropy.” Ahh!  Peterson’s use of language gives me chills!)  This song gives a nod to fleeting youth, but reminds listeners of the promise of eternity.  Referencing 2 Corinthians 4:16, Peterson sings, “Don’t lose heart, though your body’s wasting away/ Your soul is not, it’s being remade/Day by day by day.”  It’s so hard to explain how much this soul touches me.  It gives me hope as I watch a dear friend’s earthly body revolt against her, yet her faith is strong and her soul is ageless.  This song is for her, for all of us.

“Shine Your Light On Me” seems to be a biographical song about how God’s light shown into Peterson’s life when he was devastated, sick, and in the sloe of despair.  He talks about how he “drove into darkness” and “could hear the flapping wings of every devil” he has known.  This is a place I’ve been many times, and the same light that invaded Peterson’s car, floods me as well.  Again, this is another song which I have difficulty describing, yet I know the place from which Peterson writes.  It’s dark, scary, lonely, and almost hopeless.  The light of God’s grace shines into that darkness time and again, each time more beautiful than the last.  It’s these little glimpses of eternity that keep us going in our struggles.

A Facebook friend mentioned that “Cornerstone” was one of her favorite songs on Lost Boy.  The first few times I heard this song I liked the message pulled from John 6.  I found the music “hard”—more electric guitar and less easy acoustic.  That’s why albums must have multiple listens because this song has drawn me in.  With lyrics like, “You look me in the eyes and fix me with a permanent stare,” how can this song not be amazing?  This is one of the most profoundly Scriptural songs on the album, like it was ripped directly from the Gospels.

Wow!  Andrew explains these songs so beautifully.  Maybe I should’ve watched these earlier.

Then there’s “Carry the Fire,” which offers promises of what is to come in a place “where joy writes the songs and the innocent sing them” as well as the first track on the album, “Come Back Soon.”  To be perfectly honest, this song is an enigma to me, though the mystery becomes clearer with every listen.  I will most certainly read Peterson’s thoughts on the song, though it seems like a good summation of the album echoing, “We groan in this great darkness for deliverance/Deliver us, O Lord.”

This is the longest album review I’ve ever written in my 16 years of “music journalism” (hey, I could those clumsy days as a teenager with a ‘zine!)  Peterson’s music evokes one of my early faves, Rich Mullins, whose honest lyrics shaped my faith as a teenager (and in many ways, still do shape my faith).  Peterson, a great admirer of Mullins’ work, carries on his legacy.  Yet Andrew Peterson is very much his own artist, achieving a depth rarely seen but sorely needed.  While there are many catch lines I could insert telling you that you should buy Light for the Lost Boy, I won’t bow to cliché endings.  Andrew Peterson certainly wouldn’t. Give this album one listen, and you’ll see what I mean.  But, of course, you’ll want to buy it first because one listen simply won’t suffice.

Let’s chat!  Leave a comment below! What do you think of Andrew Peterson’s new album? What’s your fave song and why?  If you haven’t heard it, did I convince you that you NEED to listen to it?  Do you like how Andrew explains his songs?  Is this the longest music review you’ve ever read?

Really God

This morning I was checking out my women’s ministry’s private Facebook group and one prayer request stuck out.  After a long time of waiting, a friend’s family hit a snafu.  Just when it seemed like God had finally responded, that the trial was finally over, there came to a bump in the road.  Normally, it would be a minor-to-somewhat major inconvenience, but after what this family has endured, it seems like one more detour, one more thing to offer up to God’s throne with shaking hands.

And, yes, it will be OK.  God will work all this out in His timing.  Everyone knows this and finds great comfort in the all-embracing loving arms of God.

Yet there’s this part of me that just says, “But really, God?!  Are you kidding me with this?”  Because I’ve been there, done that, and know the frustration these “minor” things can bring.

Just when it seems like you’re leaving Egypt after generations of slavery, there’s a snag—oh, it’s the Red Sea!  I guess we Israelites, God’s chosen people, are going to be slaughtered right here by the Egyptian army, even though Pharoah pinky swore with Moses to let us go.

But really, God?!

Or you FINALLY get that son that God promised you, even though you’re 100 and your wife is 80!  It’s about time You made good on that promise God, because Sarah and I aren’t getting any younger.  Now You want me to sacrifice my only son?!  The one you blessed me with in my old age? 

Are you kidding me, God?

Maybe you’ve been bleeding for a dozen years, which is, well, embarrassing to say the least.  Thank goodness for those BOGO 50% off female product sales at CVS because you’ve spent all your money seeing one specialist after another.  Your family is tired of hearing about it, and frankly, you smell.  So you take a chance, just one chance, to touch the hem of Jesus’ garment because you’re desperate.  To be found “unclean” among this crowd of religious folks could mean death, but you need healing…and you get it.  You hear a voice rise above the others, “Who touched me?  I know someone touched me.  Who was it?”

Umm, it was me? (All the while giving yourself a mental beating; you’ve been found out and you will probably die.)

Jesus seemed like a safe choice, until now.  But then He looks at you with those eyes of compassion and He listens to your story, which you tell through sobs.  Jesus takes His own hand and wipes the tears from your eyes.  Then He does something you didn’t expect; He forgives your sins, too. 

Really God. 

You’re a little more quiet this time.  Your voice takes on a sense of awe.  Because the Red Sea has parted, so you cross on dry ground (you didn’t even have to muddy up your sandals).  There’s a ram in the bushes to offer as a sacrifice to the Lord, instead of your precious baby boy, for He always provides.  You feel silly, foolish, and relieved that this wasn’t the one thing that broke your faith.  He’s been good, very good, but sometimes you forget because it’s hard to remember what He’s done when you’re in the midst of chaos, or even at the tail end of a long trial.

This is a lesson for me today, for my heart, which is weary and trampled upon from a week of “Really, God’s?!”  I know in this, as in all things, I’ll have that jaw-dropping moment of realization when I see how He uses these bad circumstances for the greater good.   He’s really God and He is in control of all things, including the “little” moments that splinter my resolve.

He is fully, divinely, amazingly, always and forever really God.

What’s your “But really, God?!” moment?  How did you come to see God as really God?  How can I pray for you in the midst of these momentary troubles? (I am not making light of your plight, just trying to look at things with the view of eternity in mind.)