worship.
i bought matt redman’s new album called ’10,000 reasons’ about a month ago and can’t stop listening to it. along with all the tracks came an excerpt from his first book, ‘mirror ball’ that i thought was so well written, describing worship in a way i had never before considered.
[the life of worship] is a life of wandering and wondering – journeying from scene to scene and taking time to explore the magnificence of God. with the eyes of our hearts fixed upon Jesus we will always be amazed by the things we see. literally always. we will find His splendor, power and love inexhaustibly captivating.
being musically attuned, i had always defined worship as an expected piece of a church service that allows us to speak our gratitude and longing for Him. it would come and then go. but matt doesn’t see it that way:
in our worship of Him, ideally, we should not need warming up or any amount of coaxing. we should be there, ready and waiting, mindful of the many, many reasons there are to praise Him … healthy hearts of worship recognize that there will never be a moment in all eternity when God is not worthy of praise. He looks for a people who, even in the shadows of life, are ready and able to offer up worship.
so worship is not 20 minutes out of your week. it’s ongoing, it’s standing in the wings, ready at any time to be called upon by Jesus. i love that. think how different your worship will look if you approach it this way. heart always at the ready, soul perfectly tuned to heavenly things. what a beautiful way to poise ourselves!
so, in short, buy this album. http://itunes.apple.com/us/album/10-000-reasons/id441687303
also, buy the book (i will too). http://www.amazon.com/Mirror-Ball-Living-Shining-Brightly/dp/0781405785
a lost treasure.
in december 2009 i lost a valuable and special ring bryan gave me the christmas prior. or to be more accurate, i took this ring off and set it down in a public restroom to wash my hands, and walked away without it. of course upon discovering it was no longer on my finger, i returned to the restroom and begged the janitor for information. i begged lost and found for information. after heading home i continued to beg everyone and anyone for information. i posted a craig’s list ‘lost’ ad and couldn’t sleep that night in desperate hopes (and tears) that good news would come to me. but my phone never rang and i never received that email. it took about a week before i could admit to myself i’d never see that ring again.
for awhile i tried to just pray for that person, that woman who obviously had no qualms about walking off with someone else’s prized possession. that woman who could have so easily turned it in, and who should have. i tried to send up nice prayers, but really they ended up sounding more like, ‘i pray she suffers a long, miserable life suffocated by unhappiness,’ and ‘i hope her fingers are so fat it doesn’t even fit.’ i felt betrayed, by her, but also by our selfish culture.
my ring was not one-of-a-kind. it wasn’t passed down from a grandmother or found at a flea market in an exotic city. but it meant something to me. it represented over two years of our marriage, two years of grinding, gritty professional work bryan had unfailingly weathered to propel our lives forward. it was a sparkling, glittering reminder not only of this brief success but of hardship overcome, of difficult phases when it seemed our relationship didn’t or couldn’t come first. it was a marker of time past and a promise of more times of little and plenty to come. and so it felt very personal being ripped away like that – yes, because of its dollar value, but also because it was mine. i had too easily attached excessive emotional value to it.
it will sound strange to you (because things so shallow should pass by quickly), but i still struggle – a year and a half later – with stripping the meaning of that ring from its object like packaging tape. it’s never a clean rip. i let it get too big. i placed too much emphasis on the treasure and it took a hold of me and my heart followed. that’s when it became powerful and ugly, a force ready for a long, heart wrenching fight.
i didn’t give permission for my ring to go, but i also will no longer give it permission to hold onto me like this, where i feel guilty and ungrateful and like i failed where it mattered. come alongside me and release the grip on your past regrets. they can be tangible or not. either way, it’s another one of those lessons that hurts and heals at the same time.
i once was lost but now am found …
my birthday, eight thirteen eleven.
in less than a month, i will turn 26. for anyone who has known me over the past 5 years and has spent time with me between happy hour and bedtime, you know that i like wine. so much in fact, that i sip now as i type. normally, my typical birthday celebration would include wine for everyone. you know this well enough that you might show up to my party with a bottle to be shared (and if so, thank you).
but this year, my story is a little different. i’m not thinking about me so much these days, and i think that comes with age and a developing faith, and in my case, travel. today and often i’m thinking about the people i met in liberia, who struggle to find clean drinking water, much less a nice pinot noir from willamette valley.
instead of receiving gifts this year, in addition to donating my one day’s wages for a water cause, i’m asking you to to donate to my birthday campaign the same dollar amount you would normally spend on a bottle of wine for a celebratory occasion (don’t be shy if your go-to fave is three buck chuck!). and if you don’t drink wine, substitute it for a beverage you do enjoy. every dollar will go toward a water project overseen by one day’s wages and implemented in an area where clean water is greatly needed.
it doesn’t have to be a lot. i’ve seen enough of liberia to know that a small dollar amount goes a surprisingly long way. how much do you value your own life? giving even a few dollars will validate someone else’s value too, someone across the globe that without a doubt needs your help, and would thank you directly if he or she could.
$2,600 for 26 years! we can do it. i love you all and thank you for being passionate alongside me.
click here to donate: http://onedayswages.org/rebecca
the brink.
in most cases, i love being on the brink. like when a storm is nearly in your backyard, or a weekend or vacation creeps up. or what about those minutes before a first date, fresh with flowers and possibility? it is the excitement and unknowing of what is to come, that big moment of rain or snow, or a surreal, relaxing moment you’ve been waiting for all year. the reward is close, and the patience pays off.
but there is also a brink that is uncomfortable, like graduating from college with no real plan, or when a relationship has gone as far as it can without either ending or beginning with the question, “will you marry me?” a brink that breeds nervousness or fear, or even doubt.
bryan and i have been sitting on this second brink for awhile now. the kind of brink where you’re ready to jump, but not everything is lined up. or the timing is right in most areas, but not the crucial one. and i’m reminded of God’s timing being the only timing we can rely on, and the only timing that makes sense in our lives.
or as someone put it at bible study, and the way i prefer to think of it: God is not a God of explanation, but He is a God of promises. He may not spell out for us why and how we got here, but He will promise to see us through to the next uncertainty. and tonight, that’s all i need to know.
light on a hill.
aside from the people, it’s the noises of africa i miss the most. the buzzing of big bugs traipsing somewhere in the bright foliage. motorbike horns honking in friendly discussion. badly recorded music blasting through maxed speakers on the side of the red dusty road, the blurred bass like a neverending tribal chant. the clucking of stray chickens. the bang of sparking metal while the village blacksmith welds a new blade for slashing brush. and the children, with their precious giggles.
i can hear it all in the silence of my condo, these happy sounds that somehow put an ache in my heart. i can’t explain it, and i’ve been fighting against my sense that tells me to write about it (obviously – more than a month later). because no one can recreate africa on paper, and to be honest, most people who haven’t been there don’t care to hear about it. i know i didn’t. as it turns out, ignorance doesn’t serve any favors. instead, i have found that facing into honesty brings not a fearful truth, but a glowing, unmistakable worthwhile truth.
maybe my story, my experience, written in my words, can be unique. because i wasn’t there to accomplish a huge feat. i didn’t teach english or befriend orphans, or convert nonbelievers or solve AIDS or world hunger. i was there to watch and observe, and partake and digest. little was asked of me and little was expected. for those that travel to third world countries, i see now it’s much more about what you do upon returning home than how you live while there.
one of the first attempts i made at processing my eight days in liberia was by email. it was to brother joe, a servant of god and liberian man who spent the week with us. he was skinny with very black skin, the same color as the rubber being extracted from trees nearby. he had lost his wife and i believe daughter in the country’s last civil war ending in 2003. but it took time for him to volunteer that personal information, and when he did i couldn’t understand where his continued enthusiasm came from. in my mind he is quite literally a light on a hill. he had healed from ultimate, deep and emotional hardship, and it could only be attributed to God. he knew that. no one is restored to wholeness like that but through Him alone. it was a resurrection of sorts.
my email was in response to his, as he checked on bryan and me to ensure safe travels home. i don’t know that i’ve ever cried over an email for as long as i did, wanting to write forever about the injustices and the muddled confusion and gratitude i felt for being welcomed to such a desperate place that saw few travelers like me. an excerpt:
over the past couple of weeks i have been thinking a lot about you and the many people we met, especially before going to sleep at night. we’ve looked through our photos and watched our videos, and still it is not the same as being in your presence. the moments spent in your country were like nothing we had before known. we saw an overwhelming need nearly everywhere we looked, and yet we were greeted so warmly and taken in as though we are family.
in america, there is a strange conundrum we see almost every day – there is a great deal of wealth, yet a great deal of unhappiness. in comparison, the opposite is true for liberia. there may be little wealth, but there is great JOY and happiness, and strength. there are many people in our country that won’t ever have the privilege to meet such gracious, faithful, God-and-man-serving people as you – the liberian people. i am so grateful that God brought us together and continues to teach us after our paths crossed. i do believe I left a piece of my heart in liberia. my concern and prayers and laughter are all there with you.
february.
february (let’s face it, pretty much all of winter) is typically one of the hardest times of year for me. early on in college, i consciously decided i would despise every february. i thought i was so rebellious. i would complain about february as it approached, knowing it was coming, the awkward pest in between winter and spring. i would complain during february, as it rained, temperatures hovering just above freezing, the short days of dark continuing long after the holidays. and i would wish it a sarcastic good riddance as march arrived after its 28th or 29th day. you can’t even depend on february’s end.
but i must say, this year i have a special appreciation for february. it came at the perfect time and knew just when to arrive. after an impactful trip to liberia, africa in january (more about that later) i find myself walking down 3rd avenue at the crack of dawn with a pep in my step, a verve about my spirit and yes, misty eyes as i still sorrowfully pray for a better life for my new liberian friends. moreover, if february is truly the month of love as hallmark has it trademarked, with God’s help i have a husband i still manage to love and respect more every day as he goes about his business saving the world through business.
february is a good reminder that there was good in the recent past – magical snowfalls, holidays with family, sparklers and champagne to celebrate a new year – and there is good shortly to come – green growth all around us, natural light to gently wake us in the mornings, and a more carefree layering of cotton in place of fleece or down.
maybe february and i can start anew. this year, i will try patiently waiting in this limbo, appreciative of it for what it is, and mindful of the lessons God has for me in the wake of life-changing travel.
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