…my surroundings
That line from the most recent cyberPsalm at Lingamish has been rumbling through my head since I read it.
When I recently learned some extremely difficult information with complicated implications for people I love deeply, I kept thinking about that plea for my surroundings to be redeemed.
When I sit surrounded by more “I don’t knows” than I do confidence in any form, my heart surges with a hopeful trust that my surroundings can be redeemed.
This morning I was in church. I didn’t really even want to be there. I’m weary. I have too much work, and I can’t seem to keep a good momentum going on it. I went to church anyway. I crept in a few minutes late, just as they started singing an opening compilation of choruses. The church I attend doesn’t usually sing choruses. And as I saw the list of songs, I was thinking about some of the dialogue going on in the blog circles I read about the quality of worship music. And I was thinking how these particular choruses could probably be seen and judged by many as having passed their prime: He is Lord. His Name is Wonderful. Majesty. I’ve been singing them for what, twenty years? Maybe longer.
But I was standing there, singing, and my heart was being strengthened. I was crying out, “O God, redeem my surroundings.” But I was also crying out in song, declaring affirmation after affirmation of what I believe to be true about the nature and character of this God I’m banking everything on. He is Lord. Wonderful. All glory, honor and praise is His. The Great Shepherd. Almighty God. The Rock of all Ages.
I’m counting on all those things to be true of the one I’m clinging to. Do I know without a shadow of a doubt that He will redeem my surroundings? No. But I realized again as I stood there and raised my voice in song and reaffirmed what I believe, that this really is my choice–to trust that He will. To wait on God. To hope in Him, without demands of how his redemption has to look, but with a confidence that says I will wait for that redemption and I will count on it. Because I believe and affirm and choose to follow this God. This Lord. This Wonderful and Majestic One. The God who has made Himself known. With words.
The written word. The Living Word. Jesus Christ, the same, yesterday, today and forever. The one who redeems. Me. My surroundings. Far as the curse is found. The curse is found pretty far and wide. I see it all around. My surroundings are touched by it in ways that make me want to cringe and close my eyes. But, in every part of my surroundings where the curse and the fall touches, His redemption also reaches there. I can open my eyes, weep for what I see around me, but still rejoice in the One I believe in. He is and will redeem my surroundings. His redemption reaches even here. More than that, He reaches here. He is here. Immanuel. God with us.
Even when I say that, I admit that I still feel discouraged. I still feel overwhelmed. I don’t know exactly what that means for me in this moment when the “I don’t knows” are still so numerous. When I’m still weary and overwhelmed and have piles of work to do. Affirming what I believe to be true about God and affirming my trust in Him does not mean it is easy. Like the various writers of the Psalms, my heart continues to cry out in anguish. But the cries are rooted in the realities touched on in the songs I sang this morning. And, somehow, that makes a difference.
OH, Amen and Amen!
> But I was also crying out in song, declaring affirmation after affirmation of what I believe to be true about the nature and character of this God I’m banking everything on. He is Lord.
And Amen
> The God who has made Himself known. With words.
And Amen
> But, in every part of my surroundings where the curse and the fall touches, His redemption also reaches there. I can open my eyes, weep for what I see around me, but still rejoice in the One I believe in.
And Amen
> But the cries are rooted in the realities touched on in the songs I sang this morning. And, somehow, that makes a difference.
And Amen.
Nothing to add but tears. Thank you, sister.
E, for me, I think the transforming Word of God is destined to transform us and through that transform our surroundings. It is great to see that happening in your life and I believe that is the “preaching of the gospel” that you are called to.
I read a great quote about the Greek word for kindness in 1 Cor. 13:4: In the second century, the spectacle of Christian love was so stunning for pagans that they called Christians not christiani but chrestinai, “made up of mildness and kindness.”Theological Lexicon of the New Testament”
That quote is almost certainly apocryphal but the sentiment is right on.
And about those songs, I fear making comments publicly about beloved songs because there is the danger of poisoning someone else’s well, so to speak. The ones you mention are songs I love and sing with sincerity and even more so because they tap into “the good ol’ days” when my spiritual vision was clearer than it is now.
Codepoke, Thanks for the Amen and the tears. It helps to feel stood with. I was blessed by some of the similar things you said in your most recent post, so much more succinctly than I managed to spit out here.
David, In the middle of it all, it doesn’t seem so wonderful to have this process happening in my life. But I think you’re right. And I’m glad you pointed out more clearly than I did the role of the Word of God in that process. I felt that truth (which was the point of the original CyberPsalm) as I was writing, even though I was emphasizing more the end result/hope of the surroundings being redeemed by God, rather than the specific way He does that. When I’m writing from my feelings and not my head, I just let it all get mixed up in there–God, His Word, His ways, His love, His sovereignty, His sacrifice, etc.
I was thinking about Chrestina as a name (instead of Christina). And then I thought about telling people what it means. It jolted me a little to realize that “made up of mildness and kindness” would not strike many as a positive thing. It’s a little sad that mildness and kindness, valuable as they are, are often despised.
Ah yes, the good ole days when life and spirituality and loving God were simpler, and it was so easy with all my “clear spiritual vision” to argue with all my friends from other denominations
Suffering has kind of taken some of that stuffing out of me.
And weren’t you proud of me for such a long comment?!?
Oh, yes, I was very impressed. I thought it was part of this whole identify shift thing. Like maybe Lingamish has a blog where he writes a lot, but is tight lipped with comments, and David Ker has a blog that says nothing, so can use his quota of words in leaving comments on other blogs. (I’m really having to stretch my brain to try to make sense of all the identities and the blurring hippos and all!)
In any case, I felt honored that you granted so many words in response to my post.
i’m so sorry you’re going through this, eclexia. that you’re carrying so much around inside you these days. so many questions. so many feelings. so much grief. so much shock.
i have been in that place, too: coming to worship with heavy heart and hanging head, not having the strength to sing out, but then finding strength IN the singing out. it affirms faith, even in the midst of so many dangling questions.
Looking in the right direction = hope
May the God of all hope
give you a vision of hope
and encourage your heart
as you keep looking to Him
Christianne, That is a good picture, of finding strength in the singing out, and I find it to be true. My piano and hymnbooks are getting a good workout these days
Janliya, I do feel weak and like there is not much I have the strength to do. But looking–that, I can do! Thank you for that definition and especially, thanks so much for the blessing.
[...] and decided to lay in bed a while longer, listening to some music that strengthens me. Like Christianne said in a recent comment, not having the strength to sing out, but then finding strength IN the singing out. it [...]
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