Holding Hands With Old People

I've come to the conclusion that we miss out on a lot of really incredible moments for stupid reasons. Call it ignorance wearing the mask of preference. I come from a background of upbringing in what many call the "emergent church". There are a lot of ideologies that are common among churches like these but the really crippling characteristic i've found i learned in places like this is in the presentation. Now i'm NOT saying there's anything wrong with it. What i am saying is i've let my inclination towards one way of doing things keep me from really experiencing God in other settings. 

I stood in a congregation full of suits and graying hair, Singing hymns and wishing that the drum kit wasn't electric or at least that it was audible. Extremely tired from an early morning service that almost seems to take place at an ungodly hour.... afternoon service please? Kidding. And as the service drew to an end, everyone stretched across the teal pews and held hands for the last song, "Be Thou My Vision". I had to stifle laughter. Holding hands? Really? Not in my comfort zone. But as the hymn drew to and end these words kicked me in the teeth...

"Heart of mine own heart, whatever befall. Be Thou my vision oh Lord God of all."

Be Thou my vision... WHATEVER befall. Man, as a servant of God that hurt to hear. Because i realized that my vision was not God's. 

ouch.

I began to sing those words throughout my day when i was alone. "Heart of mine own heart..." If we could sing those words and mean them with all of our hearts - sincerely pray them in a spirit of honesty and longing to see His vision made a reality - then details like style and and presentation wouldn't interfere in encounters with the living God. If my vision had been in line with His, then my standing there in there in the sanctuary holding hands with people three times my age and singing songs written in my Grandmother's youth would've been a part of it. Because when He is our vision, age, style, presentation and preference fall to the wayside and there aren't sub groups of believers. The body of Christ operates as a whole.

"Heart of mine own heart, whatever befall. Be Thou my vision oh Lord God of all." 

Something's ready to happens in this city and every bit of me is dying to be a part of it.

This City

Broken in the ally, kin to a rusty drain

With thimble full of heartache, and handbag to match the pain

I can hear her coming, in high heels, to wreck my day

This city is screaming and i can't seem to ease it's pain

This city screams

Bathsheba's in the shower, been in there for days and days

Can't seem to get clean now, but she's tried everything

And i can hear her crying 'cause everybody knows her name

More than a story, a brokenhearted legacy

This city screams

This city screams

There's a man in glasses reading America to hopeful few

Dylan is still singing lies that carry bitter truth

But the widow is still selling drink to a drunken youth

The Father's raising judges but his people still wonder who

And this city screams

This city screams

Beautiful Truth.

I'm not sure why we do the things we do. Why we keep things to ourselves that don't need to be kept. Why we pour ourselves into words that are backed by silly emotions. Why we fall apart at the thought of a future that isn't under our control entirely.... 

Why we bother.

I didn't really make any new year resolutions this year. By that, i mean, i didn't write them out ahead of time and if you asked me point blank i wouldn't be able to answer in one sentence. But i will say that something needs to change. I want to carry myself differently. With more certainty. And i feel like the only way to do that is to embrace the fact that i don't know jack. hmmmm. the only way to be certain is to embrace the questions that can't be answered and let them reveal themselves the way they have for the past... well, since minute one.

Man fell, but this gave him the chance to prove and validate His love by choice instead of default.

Hearts break, but find the beauty in the elegant and creative process of redemption and rebuilding.

Beauty rusts, life counts down, love hurts like hell, and life teaches fear, but for every valid tear there are ten thousand reason to fall in love with creation. Even more so the creator. 

I want to forever be reminded of why this world is beautiful. I want it to be reflected in my words, my songs, my interactions and in the continuation of the creative process that we've inherited. "I believe in the poetic genius of a creator", and i refuse to forget it. I'll question it, sure. I'll question it most definitely, but never doubtfully dispute it.. And i'm positive that my searching, and thirst will only be answered and reinforced by more beautiful truth.

We've found hope.