push redemption through me

the miracle of redemption is that the God of the universe promises to keep redeeming you even when every single one of your inadequacies show up in full effect. i bear witness to this redemption, and it is the only thing that gets me through weekends like this.

nothing really went wrong. it was just that by the time we hit the second verse of the first song, when i'm supposed to be 'ushering people into the presence of god' by leading worship (sarcasm noted), all i wanted to do was run. i wanted to drive as fast as possible in the most opposite direction of my church and all the people in it. and the best part? it was only saturday. so after i got through singing the other four songs, i still had to wake up on sunday morning and do it two more times.

i went home and spent the remainder of the evening feeling some variation of this, and then felt ashamed for feeling this way. i was dismembered by my own inadequacies and then horrified for being so dismembered. because who am i to complain? i get to play music with some of the most incredible people i've ever known who love Jesus, and i get to lead people in singing songs about the God of the universe. what i get to do is a blessed gift. but on saturday night i kept digging in my pockets, hoping to wrap my fingers around the gift receipt so i could return it...

here's what i believe today... it is a blessed thing to be reminded of our inadequacies when it comes to leading worship. because when that happens, you can't walk off the stage and chest pump each other for how awesome 'worship' was. you can't take credit for people meeting God or not, because you didn't deliver what you promised yourself you would. you didn't hold it all together, you didn't play all the sweet licks, you didn't say all the right words and sing all the right notes. so many hallelujah's well up inside of me when i realize that God moves despite our inadequacies, to bring His kingdom here and now. the movement of the kingdom of God is not dependent on how i sing or play the piano. i have to believe that God is bigger than that.

i'm human and by definition inadequate. but the God of my redemption is more than adequate. when i want to run, God pushes redemption through me and bids me come and stay. He calls the weak in me out of hiding to come and lead the strong. the God of the universe is bigger than my inadequacies. this is the amazing grace i know.

falling through the sand

i've stood on this rock for so long. and it has turned out to be nothing more than compressed sand. so i shift my weight with trembling knees and watch the sand crumble beneathe me. i put my hands to the earth and my heart to the ground about who i am becoming and who i've let go of trying to be.

what makes this formation slightly less painful is the people who love me not because they have to (read: family), but because they have chosen to... my beautiful friends, the most glorious creations God ever made. these are the people who see something in me that's worth loving and fighting for. they see in me what i've never been able to see in myself. they convince me that if i believe hard enough, i just might become the kind of person they all think i am.

they remind me that when i love, i love hard. they remind me that when i laugh, i laugh through the wall. they remind me that when we fall through the sand and land on sprained ankles, we get up and fight for each other again. they remind me that together, we are the broken and bruised kingdom of God.

jesus, can i get you a drink?

one of my favorite authors, anne lamott, has a fabulous phrase in her book 'traveling mercies'. it goes something like this... as anne recalls some of the dark hidden places in her heart (the thoughts you try to keep really secret, the motives you wish you didn't have, the hatred you wish you didn't harbor, the bitterness, ugliness, etc) she says that they are so terribly hideous that it would make jesus drink gin straight out of the catdish.

and today, i thought jesus might need a drink.

you know that thing most people have that keeps them from saying every little thing that pops into their brain? yeah, that's called a filter. i don't have one of those. now, the good thing about this is, you'll always know where you stand with me. and, the bad thing about this is, you'll always know where you stand with me. so i offered up a few too many of my opinions to the general public today and said some things that weren't very kind about someone who wasn't in the room. i think i was trying to get a laugh, or at least a kindred 'uh huh, i totally get what you mean about her!'... but instead i got wide-eyed stares and some uncomfortable silence.

this happens to me a lot.

poor sweet baby jesus, lying in his ghost manger, being forced to drink gin out of the catdish every time i open my mouth.

sometimes i look like christ, and, well, sometimes i just look like me. this is the beautiful process of formation that we spend our lives in. and that's just it. it's a process. i'm not there yet. i fail miserably every morning, before my feet even leave the bed. but there is such grace and patience for me. because i'm not who i once was, and i'm not yet who i will be. so maybe next time i find myself wanting to open my mouth and let fly whatever random thought comes into my head, i'll have the character and formation in me to not have to say it out loud.

but until then, i just have one question: does this 'formation currrently in process' certificate have an expiration date?

drink away baby jesus. drink away. maybe there'll be milk in the catdish tomorrow

trespass within

call it our irresponsible use of aquanet in the 80's. but whatever has brought on this excessive heat, you can almost hear the earth pleading for a reprieve. and that reprieve came today in the form of rain. now, i don't run in the rain. i'm just not that hardcore about running. but i wanted to celebrate with the pangs of creation, so i laced up my tennies and hit the road, donned in my running attire and rain jacket... because let's just be honest - the only running shirts i have are white. and no one wants to see that.

thirty consecrated minutes lay before me. to breathe. to remember. to get drenched in the tears of rebirth and renewal. to play. to care less about how frizzy my increasingly wet hair is getting and care more about just being here.

and somewhere in-between the sounds of pelting rain on my skin and the incantations of muse, Something translucent pushed through. something Holy trespassed within me. and soaked through and through, i shed the tears of baptism.