When I was force-feeding my inheritance to a bunch of pigs,
You said, "Broken for you."
When I hid in the garden in a vain attempt to hide my shame,
You said, "Shed for remission."
While I was counting my paltry thirty silver coins,
While I believed I was strong enough to follow you to death,
I was sitting at your table; you taught me even then.
The came the blessed season
When I saw the holes in your hands;
You were alive and you were real,
And never would I betray you again.
When I thought myself unlovely,
You said, "Take, eat."
When I willingly strayed and hated myself for it,
You said, "Drink it all."
You called me to examine my heart for myself.
It didn't take a genius to know that I was lacking.
You called me to the table again; you taught me even then.
"My body, broken for you.
"My blood, shed for the remission of sins.
"Broken, spilled, for you, forever."
I come to the table again.
"This do in remembrance of Me."
Showing posts with label spiritual. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spiritual. Show all posts
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Thursday, May 6, 2010
v2, d58: Make me grateful
Lunch today is a Banquet meal. Not one of the "good" ones, either, one of the ones you left for last because you really aren't crazy about them and you were secretly hoping Jesus would come back before you had to get to that one. (Doesn't say much for the two that are left in the freezer, does it?) The chicken fingers taste kinda like sand sprinkled on dirty rubber, the brownie isn't very good, and the macaroni, this highlight of the dinner, is okay.
I'm mentally preparing for a department head meeting with the boss. These are usually some of the worst times in this place. Nobody leaves happy, ever. People have called in sick to miss these meetings.
So, I sit at my desk with my sandy-rubber chicken fingers about to go into my rather-be-yakking meeting. I place the cheap plastic-ish tray on my desk, and then I do something that instantly shames my entire line of thinking.
I bow my head to pray.
Lord, make me grateful for all that I have. Amen.
I'm mentally preparing for a department head meeting with the boss. These are usually some of the worst times in this place. Nobody leaves happy, ever. People have called in sick to miss these meetings.
So, I sit at my desk with my sandy-rubber chicken fingers about to go into my rather-be-yakking meeting. I place the cheap plastic-ish tray on my desk, and then I do something that instantly shames my entire line of thinking.
I bow my head to pray.
Lord, make me grateful for all that I have. Amen.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
v2, d47: Making the Mercy Seat
Today's text in Sunday school (yes, adults still do "Sunday School," though in my church they just call it "Bible study" because, let's face it, Sunday School is for kids) was taken from Exodus 25. Not generally the most mind-boggling or profoundly impacting scripture, but it sparked a bit of an idea in my head that I wanted to share, especially with any of my artistically-minded friends.
This is that riveting part in scripture where God is giving Moses specific dimensions for all the stuff the Israelites are to make for Him while they're in the desert: tabernacle, priestly garments down to the ephod, ark of the covenant, etc. It also outlines some really specific sacrifice laws. It's crawling with cubits and grain offerings and it lasts roughly a third of the book of Exodus, so you generally skip over this stuff.
Anyway, here's today's text. It's talking about building the ark of the covenant (which one day would become lost and would have raiders searching for it, natch). Specifically, it's talking about what is going to go on top of said ark of the covenant:
"17 “You shall make a mercy seat of pure gold; two and a half cubits shall be its length and a cubit and a half its width. 18 And you shall make two cherubim of gold; of hammered work you shall make them at the two ends of the mercy seat. 19 Make one cherub at one end, and the other cherub at the other end; you shall make the cherubim at the two ends of it of one piece with the mercy seat. 20 And the cherubim shall stretch out their wings above, covering the mercy seat with their wings, and they shall face one another; the faces of the cherubim shall be toward the mercy seat. 21 You shall put the mercy seat on top of the ark, and in the ark you shall put the Testimony that I will give you. 22 And there I will meet with you, and I will speak with you from above the mercy seat, from between the two cherubim which are on the ark of the Testimony, about everything which I will give you in commandment to the children of Israel."
(Side note: I always wondered why God spouted out numbers in the middle of conversations like that. Imagine if we all followed that example. "Yup, those Coyotes have really showed they belong with the NHL's elite. Nineteen! Winning a potential elimination game at the Joe? Not too many teams can accomplish that feat. Twenty! I'm hungry. I want pancakes.")
As an artist and a Christian, I like to think that every work I touch is glorifying to God. I hope that everything I create is to some degree inspired by Him, either directly or through something He is teaching me in my life. And I CERTAINLY hope it's something that, at the VERY least, He likes. (Imagine walking around Heaven one day and some being, either an angel or a saint or one of those strange many-eyed creatures from Revelation pulls you aside and says, "You were in Miss Nelson is Missing!? I loved that show! I watched every performance!") Here, however, there's absolutely no question whatsoever. God says, "I want this to be done, and I want it this way." And there's still some room to play. He doesn't say, for example, "The cherubim on the left shall always wear a smile, while the cherubim on the right must always frown," nor, "One cherubim tells only the truth, the other tells only lies. Thou shalt ask them one question." He says cherubim, this far apart, facing this direction, wings up, aaaaand go. And yet, to the sculptor (or sculptors) who are given this task, He gives a very specific set of boundaries within which to create something beautiful that will, beyond the shadow of a doubt, be used directly in the service of the Most High.
I guess there'd be two ways you could take this. You could either really freak out, i.e. "Ohmigosh! This has to be PERFECT, because God's going to sit on it, more or less!" I think I'd gravitate more toward awe and respect, and I think it'd be a lot easier to view the use of my talent as an act of worship knowing with certainty that you were creating something commanded by God to His own specifications.
I'm not one of those who believes that the act of creation (in terms of the arts) is inherently holy or worshipful in the same way that I don't believe every time a choir belts out "I am a friend of God" they are necessarily worshiping or leading in worship. It can happen, totally, and it was probably written or designed in worship and for worship, but I don't think an act is worship when it is disconnected from a spirit of worship. (And I'm sure there are plenty of in-depth thesis papers you can find on that topic, and I'm afraid any diatribe of mine to that end would probably be really boring) There've been times in my career when I think my writing, directing, or performance have been worshipful acts, and there have been more times when they probably weren't. Similarly, there've probably been times when my prayers haven't really been worship and times where they have. Despite that, I still always hope that there will be something that is, at its core, God-honoring.
So, imagine being given a task that you know 100% has been handed down from the mouth of God that requires the attention of your specific gifts. Different from a commandment such as "Love your neighbors" or "Defend the alien, the fatherless, and the widow," but something that requires someone like you. A sculptor, or a musician, or a singer. Not having that nagging voice in the back of your head wondering if this is really something He'd take pleasure in, because He specifically asked for it.
I dunno, I think it'd be really cool.
This is that riveting part in scripture where God is giving Moses specific dimensions for all the stuff the Israelites are to make for Him while they're in the desert: tabernacle, priestly garments down to the ephod, ark of the covenant, etc. It also outlines some really specific sacrifice laws. It's crawling with cubits and grain offerings and it lasts roughly a third of the book of Exodus, so you generally skip over this stuff.
Anyway, here's today's text. It's talking about building the ark of the covenant (which one day would become lost and would have raiders searching for it, natch). Specifically, it's talking about what is going to go on top of said ark of the covenant:
"17 “You shall make a mercy seat of pure gold; two and a half cubits shall be its length and a cubit and a half its width. 18 And you shall make two cherubim of gold; of hammered work you shall make them at the two ends of the mercy seat. 19 Make one cherub at one end, and the other cherub at the other end; you shall make the cherubim at the two ends of it of one piece with the mercy seat. 20 And the cherubim shall stretch out their wings above, covering the mercy seat with their wings, and they shall face one another; the faces of the cherubim shall be toward the mercy seat. 21 You shall put the mercy seat on top of the ark, and in the ark you shall put the Testimony that I will give you. 22 And there I will meet with you, and I will speak with you from above the mercy seat, from between the two cherubim which are on the ark of the Testimony, about everything which I will give you in commandment to the children of Israel."
(Side note: I always wondered why God spouted out numbers in the middle of conversations like that. Imagine if we all followed that example. "Yup, those Coyotes have really showed they belong with the NHL's elite. Nineteen! Winning a potential elimination game at the Joe? Not too many teams can accomplish that feat. Twenty! I'm hungry. I want pancakes.")
As an artist and a Christian, I like to think that every work I touch is glorifying to God. I hope that everything I create is to some degree inspired by Him, either directly or through something He is teaching me in my life. And I CERTAINLY hope it's something that, at the VERY least, He likes. (Imagine walking around Heaven one day and some being, either an angel or a saint or one of those strange many-eyed creatures from Revelation pulls you aside and says, "You were in Miss Nelson is Missing!? I loved that show! I watched every performance!") Here, however, there's absolutely no question whatsoever. God says, "I want this to be done, and I want it this way." And there's still some room to play. He doesn't say, for example, "The cherubim on the left shall always wear a smile, while the cherubim on the right must always frown," nor, "One cherubim tells only the truth, the other tells only lies. Thou shalt ask them one question." He says cherubim, this far apart, facing this direction, wings up, aaaaand go. And yet, to the sculptor (or sculptors) who are given this task, He gives a very specific set of boundaries within which to create something beautiful that will, beyond the shadow of a doubt, be used directly in the service of the Most High.
I guess there'd be two ways you could take this. You could either really freak out, i.e. "Ohmigosh! This has to be PERFECT, because God's going to sit on it, more or less!" I think I'd gravitate more toward awe and respect, and I think it'd be a lot easier to view the use of my talent as an act of worship knowing with certainty that you were creating something commanded by God to His own specifications.
I'm not one of those who believes that the act of creation (in terms of the arts) is inherently holy or worshipful in the same way that I don't believe every time a choir belts out "I am a friend of God" they are necessarily worshiping or leading in worship. It can happen, totally, and it was probably written or designed in worship and for worship, but I don't think an act is worship when it is disconnected from a spirit of worship. (And I'm sure there are plenty of in-depth thesis papers you can find on that topic, and I'm afraid any diatribe of mine to that end would probably be really boring) There've been times in my career when I think my writing, directing, or performance have been worshipful acts, and there have been more times when they probably weren't. Similarly, there've probably been times when my prayers haven't really been worship and times where they have. Despite that, I still always hope that there will be something that is, at its core, God-honoring.
So, imagine being given a task that you know 100% has been handed down from the mouth of God that requires the attention of your specific gifts. Different from a commandment such as "Love your neighbors" or "Defend the alien, the fatherless, and the widow," but something that requires someone like you. A sculptor, or a musician, or a singer. Not having that nagging voice in the back of your head wondering if this is really something He'd take pleasure in, because He specifically asked for it.
I dunno, I think it'd be really cool.
Sunday, April 4, 2010
v2, d35: Comes the Bride
Every head turns to see her, every neck cranes to catch a glimpse.
Every eye in the cathedral is fixed fully on her.
(Hers are on him)
The ones who knew her past are there.
She glides by them like an angel.
They sit in the pews, remembering her the way she was,
When she wasn't even worth the dust she was formed from.
They never dreamed that one day she'd be beautiful.
(Her eyes are on him, each step brings them closer)
He cannot mask his joy (Not that he'd want to),
It escapes the corner of his eye and trickles (like blood) down the contours of his face.
He went through hell to get her here.
They said she wasn't worth it. Said it to his face.
Now they are silent. He has made her beautiful.
(Forever begins today)
Her hand trembles as he closes his (scarred) hands around it.
Now they are together. He will cherish her forever, and she will never be ugly again.
All their darkness forever in the past.
Here comes the bride.
Every eye in the cathedral is fixed fully on her.
(Hers are on him)
The ones who knew her past are there.
She glides by them like an angel.
They sit in the pews, remembering her the way she was,
When she wasn't even worth the dust she was formed from.
They never dreamed that one day she'd be beautiful.
(Her eyes are on him, each step brings them closer)
He cannot mask his joy (Not that he'd want to),
It escapes the corner of his eye and trickles (like blood) down the contours of his face.
He went through hell to get her here.
They said she wasn't worth it. Said it to his face.
Now they are silent. He has made her beautiful.
(Forever begins today)
Her hand trembles as he closes his (scarred) hands around it.
Now they are together. He will cherish her forever, and she will never be ugly again.
All their darkness forever in the past.
Here comes the bride.
Friday, April 2, 2010
v2, d33: "Oh, the wonderful blood of Jesus"
I know I already posted this on Facebook, but I really think it's a great Good Friday song.
Enjoy.
Enjoy.
Tuesday, March 30, 2010
v2, d30: Insomnia: Another Perspective?
I'm starting to think maybe I'm going about this all the wrong way.
For the past several years, I've been praying that God would help me get more sleep. Generally speaking, though, that doesn't happen, and I end up spending a lot of time tired. This is the case currently, though I'm not sure if it's lack of sleep or overabundance of activity during my days. Probably both.
Anyway, my thoughts often turn to "Why can't I sleep why can't I sleep why can't I sleep" or "How can I sleep more" or "I need more rest." And I fully think I ought to be figuring out a healthier way to live, and I know sleeping more is a part of that. If, however, as currently seems to be the case, I simply can't get more rest, maybe my prayers ought to be more along the lines of, "God, please show me how I can best use these extra hours I'm not sleeping." Because let's face it, unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep is not productive in any way, shape, or form. Instead of lamenting the unfortunate circumstances, maybe I ought to spend a bit more attention on doing the best I can with them.
Maybe not. Maybe, in this specific instance, that's only going to exacerbate the problem. But I'm going to give it a try and see what happens. Who knows? Maybe finding a more productive use of the wee hours of the morning will help me sleep deeper in the precious few hours I can manage.
Or, maybe I'll just crash in a month.
Bah. I'm probably headed for one of those sooner or later anyway ;-)
File your taxes, everybody!
For the past several years, I've been praying that God would help me get more sleep. Generally speaking, though, that doesn't happen, and I end up spending a lot of time tired. This is the case currently, though I'm not sure if it's lack of sleep or overabundance of activity during my days. Probably both.
Anyway, my thoughts often turn to "Why can't I sleep why can't I sleep why can't I sleep" or "How can I sleep more" or "I need more rest." And I fully think I ought to be figuring out a healthier way to live, and I know sleeping more is a part of that. If, however, as currently seems to be the case, I simply can't get more rest, maybe my prayers ought to be more along the lines of, "God, please show me how I can best use these extra hours I'm not sleeping." Because let's face it, unsuccessfully trying to fall asleep is not productive in any way, shape, or form. Instead of lamenting the unfortunate circumstances, maybe I ought to spend a bit more attention on doing the best I can with them.
Maybe not. Maybe, in this specific instance, that's only going to exacerbate the problem. But I'm going to give it a try and see what happens. Who knows? Maybe finding a more productive use of the wee hours of the morning will help me sleep deeper in the precious few hours I can manage.
Or, maybe I'll just crash in a month.
Bah. I'm probably headed for one of those sooner or later anyway ;-)
File your taxes, everybody!
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
v2, d9: A Tough Sum
It's difficult to say much about today, because it's hard to know exactly what happened today. Company meeting/Bible study took what I can only describe as a fairly shocking turn this morning, and it resulted in what was possibly one of the most intense times of fellowship and worship I've experienced since I've been here. I don't want to go into too many details on here, partially because this is a public blog and partially because you can't really go back and describe the events that lead to worship and fellowship. It's different for everybody present. I can't say for certain that everybody found our gathering to be fruitful, but I know a lot of people did. I know there was some crying, some laughing, some singing, and some good old a-preaching, and it was all very spontaneous.
And God used me as one of the catalysts. That's always a strange feeling, where you start talking and you start to see God moving. Every time it's happened to me, I've always felt really unworthy (which, of course, I am), and today was like that.
You know, it really is an honor to be included in God's work. In any capacity. An honor, and a privilege, and a responsibility.
Anyway. That was this morning. Whatever happened, I think it was good. I hope and pray it may be a beginning for something.
The rest of the day was busy, busy, busy. Production meeting, rehearsal for tomorrow's early booking, van loading, lunch finally (@ 3 p.m.), and then another production meeting. I think my favorite production meeting is always the one where the costumer brings detailed sketches of every character. I've got one of the best costume designers I've ever seen working on this show with me. I'm lucky. It was fun.
Very busy. Very productive. Fairly exhausting. Tomorrow's going to be long; early call for a booking, late call for the last(?) Little Foxes callbacks. Even after this morning's prayer time, I saw several small instances of God at work in friends' lives. Above all else, I hope I get to see more of that sort of thing tomorrow. Second on the priority list: hope for an awesome booking. Third: smooth callbacks. After that...hm...well, I hope my lunch is nice and tasty, too.
And that it comes before 3 p.m.
And God used me as one of the catalysts. That's always a strange feeling, where you start talking and you start to see God moving. Every time it's happened to me, I've always felt really unworthy (which, of course, I am), and today was like that.
You know, it really is an honor to be included in God's work. In any capacity. An honor, and a privilege, and a responsibility.
Anyway. That was this morning. Whatever happened, I think it was good. I hope and pray it may be a beginning for something.
The rest of the day was busy, busy, busy. Production meeting, rehearsal for tomorrow's early booking, van loading, lunch finally (@ 3 p.m.), and then another production meeting. I think my favorite production meeting is always the one where the costumer brings detailed sketches of every character. I've got one of the best costume designers I've ever seen working on this show with me. I'm lucky. It was fun.
Very busy. Very productive. Fairly exhausting. Tomorrow's going to be long; early call for a booking, late call for the last(?) Little Foxes callbacks. Even after this morning's prayer time, I saw several small instances of God at work in friends' lives. Above all else, I hope I get to see more of that sort of thing tomorrow. Second on the priority list: hope for an awesome booking. Third: smooth callbacks. After that...hm...well, I hope my lunch is nice and tasty, too.
And that it comes before 3 p.m.
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