Shade Among Shades

Sitting in my room

in the middle of the afternoon. Watching a guy trying to teach his girl how to swing dance on the sidewalk outside. I feel mildly like a creeper, but I know them so I’m going with the theory that I only stalk the ones I love.

Oh swing dancing. Nostalgia.

Currently reading

What the New Testament Authors Really Cared About—Kenneth Berding, Matt Williams [for a class]

What Good is God?—Philip Yancey [for the same class]

Confessions—St. Augustine [Just because]

The Hidden Wound—Wendell Berry [because WB is pretty awesome]

The Two Towers—J.R.R. Tolkien [I took a LOTR hiatus, but now I am delving back in again. It feels good]

Crime and Punishment—Fyodor Dostoyevsky [I started this book two years ago, got half way through, then abruptly stopped reading. I am now finishing what I started]

The Valley of Vision [you should be reading this too]

The Complete English Poems of John Donne [never gets old]

So how about you lovely folks? 

I Could Be

Right now I could be bundled up, walking down Istiklal enjoying the brisk December air and the lights strung above my head between the buildings. Or I could be sitting on a vapur looking at the bridge change colours. Or I could be visiting with old IGA friends, enjoying our trademark nerdy silliness and trading stories about our new lives. I could be traipsing through pazars and seeing how many Starbucks I can hit within a certain amount of time.

And it hurts that I’m not doing just that.

But I guess Christ has a reason for placing me in a strange place this Christmas, hitting the skip button every time I hear “I’ll Be Home For Christmas.”

Let’s be shameless

Let’s dance around singing about how great our God is. Let’s paint our toenails and let our hair fall down in a wavy mess and revel in being female. Let’s drink tea and read poetry on a rainy day while wearing fuzzy socks. Let’s paint and draw and sing and write as well or as badly as we are able just for the sake of it. Let’s curl up in the glory of this life, because we are pursued, kept safe, and deeply loved by a Savior who holds the stars in his hand. That is what I want to do today…put on makeup and a pretty scarf even though no one will see me and blush in the presence of my only Hope. I want my life to be about seeking beauty, creating it where I can, and giving it away in bucket loads. I want to rest in His arms, and be the kind of person who exudes that rest and peace.

One step at a time. But today, let’s be bold and soft and show how we are loved.

When God calls you on your promises

OOF. 

It is one thing to tell God over and over that you are surrendering. It is one thing to inform him that you trust him no matter what else happens. It is one thing to say that he can take it away at a moment’s notice and you will be alright.

It is another thing entirely when he looks you in the eye and asks you to do just that.

Giving up expectations is easier said than done. There is the temptation to ask God whether everything that had come before had just been a trick; whether it is in his divine will to mess with my head. There is the temptation to try and fit the new status quo into my own narrow perception of the universe.

But in the end, all you can do is give up and sit at his feet. And admit that you don’t have a clue what is going on and you can’t make rhyme or reason of it, but that’s okay. And ask what he has to teach you. And strain your ears to hear his whispers. And as you sit there, little phrases start to come to you, as though they were wafting in the wind.

Be still and know that I am God…

You give and take away, my heart will choose to say ‘Lord blessed be your name’…

Behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her…

I am the LORD your God, I will not share my glory with another….

So you let those phrases pour over as you give up and lay your head down to sleep. And you wake up no longer torn and heartsick, but quieted and cherished,  singing words like,

I’ve found a sweet haven of sunshine at last

and Jesus abiding above

His dear arms around me are lovingly cast

And sweetly He tells His love.

He saw me endangered and lovingly came

To quiet my storm beaten soul

Sweet words He has spoken and bless His dear name

The billows no longer roll.

His love shall control me through life and in death

Completely I’ll trust to the end

I’ll praise Him forever and with my last breath

I’ll sing of my soul’s best friend.

The tempest is o’er

I’m safe evermore

What gladness what rapture is mine

The danger is past

I’m anchored at last

Anchored in Love Divine

(http://jennyandtylermusic.com/lyrics-content.php)

Finite

If only I understood—says I to myself—the mysteries of redemption. If only I really truly grasped the extravagance of love that leads to a bloody brow and striped back. If only I could see clearly in my mind’s eye what it looks like to have nails plunged through your hands and feet, to have your shame hoisted up for all the world to see. I think that maybe if I could feel some sensation of being that alone, and heavy, and broken, then I would be in love with the cross. Then I would understand how magnificent it was and go and sin no more.

But he takes my face in his hands and tells me tenderly, “I did this so you would never have to know what that feels like. I took YOUR torture, and endured YOUR shame. I took these wounds so that you would not have to die—so that you could have the luxury of having your breath taken away by crimson leaves and tea and the poetry of John Donne. I died to give you life in abundance and joy and freedom. Now be free! GO AND SIN NO MORE!”

What more do I need to understand?

Do Be Kind

It must be admitted, I am a closet poet. Who isn’t, really. But I have been writing snatches of poetry for years and showing a few of them to people whose love for me is not conditional on pleasing rhyme schemes. Now however, I am releasing my first bit of verse to the general public. It’s not particularly well-written, but it communicates better than anything else I have the stage I am in as I follow Christ. Feel free to critique, but do be gentle!

Song of the Broken Bride

These bones you have broken

Finally learn to sing your praise;

Here in the valley, I learned to say your name.

To the wilderness I run, there

All I have is you, there

Your whispers I hear

Clear and sweet.

The edges of this broken stone

Are being sanded by your grace,

And shaped into an instrument

For you, and you alone.

I run to your streams of rest

And once I’ve drunk my fill,

I wait to hear you say, “you are mine!”

Your voice is like the thunder

To those who hate your name,

And like the wind among the leaves

To those who yearn to see your face.

Sing of your delight

In me, for nothing else will satisfy.

Pulse your life through me—open up my eyes.

Take me into the desert—

There, woo my heart.

Remind me that your promises

Forever hem me in.

Remove my stained garments

And burn away my shame—

Show me the mysteries of love everlasting.