My 24th birthday is one for the books. It was just a chill day, and I was surrounded by a few people I love as well as random and really sweet Peruvians who I might never see again.
I got to hear my maid sing "Happy Birthday" in English, get hugs, be loved on, teach, hear more "Happy Birthday" from some really cute kids, get Peruvian "Feliz Cumpleanos, Miss," eat good food (including to-die-for ice cream cake thanks to Steve Christy), be encouraged, laugh a lot (til my stomach hurt), dance a ton and just forget about some troubles.
It was a good day. Thanks, God. Here's praying 24 will see me continue to grow and learn, glorify the Lord Jesus, adjust to new circumstances, heal, meet new friends, reconnect with old ones, love on people, and find out where I'm supposed to be for a time.
If you know me even a little, you know about my tiny obsession with Jon Foreman of Switchfoot. The man seems to express things I feel or have felt or will feel. (I'm pretty sure now that if you google Jon, my blog is going to appear, by the way.)
Anyway, he wrote this song (so I heard) when he turned 24. Enjoy.
Twenty four oceans
Twenty four skies
Twenty four failures
Twenty four tries
Twenty four finds me
In twenty-fourth place
Twenty four drop outs
At the end of the day
Life is not what I thought it was
Twenty four hours ago
Still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
And I'm not who I thought I was twenty four hours ago
Still I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
Twenty four reasons to admit that I'm wrong
With all my excuses still twenty four strong
See I'm not copping out not copping out not copping out
When You're raising the dead in me
Oh, oh I am the second man
Oh, oh I am the second man now
Oh, oh I am the second man now
And You're raising these twenty four voices
With twenty four hearts
With all of my symphonies
In twenty four parts
But I wanna to be one today
Centered and true
I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
You're raising the dead in me
Oh, oh I am the second man
Oh, oh I am the second man now
Oh, oh I am the second man now
And You're raising the dead in me
I want to see miracles, see the world change
Wrestled the angel, for more than a name
For more than a feeling
For more than a cause
I'm singing Spirit take me up in arms with You
And You're raising the dead in me
Twenty four voices
With twenty four hearts
With all of my symphonies
In twenty four parts.
I'm not copping out. Not copping out....
25.6.10
23.6.10
Hincha ("Crazy") del Futbol.
Caroline, Ryan, and Ginny celebrating the USA team while holding the only red, white and blue thing I have: A "Fourth of July" sign. :) Living in South America is always an adventure.
Living in South America during the World Cup is akin to millions of thirteen-year-old girls at a Justin Bieber concert. Insanity.
And to think, Peru isn't even IN the World Cup; furthermore, I'm sure it would be even crazier if I lived in Brazil or Argentina, where the Latinos are even more hincha for their respective teams.
Thus, I give you the Top Ten Awesome/Ridiculous/Crazy World Cup Facts:
1. Life stops here during matches. You think I'm kidding. People don't go to work, if they can help it. Forget about being serious about school. The streets literally empty out during important games and you just assume that everyone is in front of a television.
2. You can hear "GOOOOOOOOLLLLLLLLLL" as you walk down the streets. You can hear it from inside your own house coming from your neighbor's house four doors down. You can hear people screaming with the television announcer. Blaring televisions proclaim what is happening; if I can't get to a television, I just listen for the murmur of the vuvuzelas from houses and know I can get a score update.
3. Location is a moot point. People gather anywhere and everywhere to listen to or watch a match: Around cars, standing on sidewalks, Menu restaurants or gas stations. (The latter two of which I am guilty of frequenting while strange Peruano men watch with me and with whom I feel momentarily bonded to just because of futbol.)
4. "La fiebre mundialista." ("World Cup Fever.") This extends to women everywhere who proudly watch the matches just for the players. There is no shame. (FYI: While I might also be semi-guilty of this, I actually do care about the game regardless of the fact that on Day 1 I posted "Futbol players are hot" as my Facebook status.)
5. "Waka Waka" is everywhere, which is testament to the fact that whatever Shakira touches (or looks at or belly dances near) is embraced with open arms.
6. Language is not a barrier. Who cares that "Waka Waka" is sung half in African, we sing the lyrics anyway. A friend of mine can't understand the lyrics to "Wave Your Flag," so he just makes up his own. He now sings "Just like a married wife, a married wife, a married wife...."
7. Money is being moved around like crazy. There is some serious plata being bet in the "pollas" (the bet or pool of money).
8. The guys at Marta's university have pulled televisions into the cafeteria. They camp out and stare at the TV and don't go to class; if they can bring themselves to move, they watch the matches on little TV's or on their phones. This includes professors.
9. I've learned that if I want to converse with certain people (mainly guys), it must be about futbol. It's all they know about, think about, and care about. A benefit of this is that I can now call offsides on my own. :)
10. Advertising is ridiculously funny and/or inspiring, even more so than in the States. I cry at commercials with little boys running around on dirt canchas displaying their hopes to become the next Kaka or Messi. (Notice I mention these players due to the fact that every South American team in each group is on top.) We're already talking about Brazil 2014, of which Peru has high hopes to attend. I'm already planning on camping out on a Brazilian beach near one of the stadiums. Vamos.
An example of the advertising we receive. Dominos paying homage to the World Cup with a full length, very involved, menu, a magnet, and a Chilean jersey photo with another oferta.
21.6.10
jars of clay.
I promise one day I'll have some 'happier' words to say on this blog. (Said lightly, though very sincerely at the same time.)
But for now, it's this: Honesty. (Thanks LC for reminding me of the importance of that.)
The book of Romans says "We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation (ch 5:3-4).
Thus, I share this time with you (which I realized today is truly "light and momentary," though it seems to be more) and proclaim also that God is behind it (even though it just absolutely stinks). He is working, and it's all to His glory.
Here's a song I found that I'd forgotten about; it's by Jars of Clay, titled simply "The Valley Song."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvHMjILrSJ0
You have led me to the sadness
I have carried this pain
On a back bruised, nearly broken
I'm crying out to you
I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy
When death like a Gypsy
Comes to steal what I love
I will still look to the heavens
I will still seek your face
But I fear you aren't listening
Because there are no words
Just the stillness and the hunger
For a faith that assures
Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia
While we wait for rescue
With our eyes tightly shut
Face to the ground using our hands
To cover the fatal cut
And though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters
Higher mountains have come down
But for now, it's this: Honesty. (Thanks LC for reminding me of the importance of that.)
The book of Romans says "We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation (ch 5:3-4).
Thus, I share this time with you (which I realized today is truly "light and momentary," though it seems to be more) and proclaim also that God is behind it (even though it just absolutely stinks). He is working, and it's all to His glory.
Here's a song I found that I'd forgotten about; it's by Jars of Clay, titled simply "The Valley Song."
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CvHMjILrSJ0
You have led me to the sadness
I have carried this pain
On a back bruised, nearly broken
I'm crying out to you
I will sing of Your mercy
That leads me through valleys of sorrow
To rivers of joy
When death like a Gypsy
Comes to steal what I love
I will still look to the heavens
I will still seek your face
But I fear you aren't listening
Because there are no words
Just the stillness and the hunger
For a faith that assures
Alleluia, alleluia
Alleluia, alleluia
While we wait for rescue
With our eyes tightly shut
Face to the ground using our hands
To cover the fatal cut
And though the pain is an ocean
Tossing us around, around, around
You have calmed greater waters
Higher mountains have come down
19.6.10
sabbatical.
I broke down in April.
Well, it began earlier than that. I can't pinpoint the exact day that it happened. It wasn't even one day; it was a series of days, of moments, that all eventually collided to make me realize something: I needed help.
Here's a semi-brief rundown of the events that transpired in 2010:
In January, I returned from Lima from Christmas/New Year's vacation. Marta lived with me for about a month, before we both went to Cusco in February (her for school, me for work-related purposes). I returned to life in Arequipa, lived it fairly mundanely in February and March (the highlights were a weekend beach trip and my sister's visit).
Notice I don't say much about classes/Bible studies/ministry. I was staring at the edge of a pit, about to fall in. My attitude was not where it needed to be, and concerning ministerial things, life was seemingly absolutely and utterly falling apart (code word for failing) around me.
The opportunities that I'd encountered to minister had diminished as far as teaching goes (a very long story, one I won't go into--just know it wasn't positive). I was tired of being canceled on by my friends, tired of doing things alone, and honestly, tired of making the effort for what I felt had just become a huge waste of time.
I felt so alone. More than I ever had in my life.
April came. I was able to translate on two back-to-back trips to villages in Peru. They were both incredible blessings. I have no words for those times. People surrounded me and loved on me. I learned so much and thought I was "getting on the right track." I felt busy during this time. Needed. I hadn't felt that in a long time.
After my return to Arequipa around April 18, I was left alone. I should preface this "alone" emphasis with certain information: There is a family here I relate to on my team, but I haven't worked with them much; another family who is here with the IMB works as church planters; finally, other missionaries are around in language school, who I see every now and then; and of course, I had a few Peruanos leftover who would check up on me.
Tears came every day, usually in unexpected moments. I felt like I'd been abandoned. I felt like I had no purpose. I wanted to quit, but I didn't. I honestly didn't know what I needed. I felt very far from God.
I called some people with the IMB to get things moving in the direction of "resolution."
I had this grand idea to go to Lima. It was the only thing I knew to do: There was work going on there, I could support the ESL people, I would be around my team. I needed to talk to someone who understood where I come from and who understood what I was going through.
God gave me an idea: "Stay with Rebekah and Michael Constante." I barely knew these people at the time. For some reason, I just knew I needed to be with them. I ended up staying at their home in total for about a month. I became part of their family, for which I am forever thankful.
Rebekah became a confidant, a listener, and an advisor. Her husband Michael became someone with whom to laugh with until it hurt. Jenny and John McClamb laughed and cried and counseled me; they felt for me. Both family's children were little "happy pills" that ran around on two legs--I could instantly feel better just by hearing "Tia Sarah" or getting a hug. Ginny, Jess, and Julia listened and cried with me.
I spent my time in Lima trying to heal. I spent time with the Lord, talked to people, got to hang out with Peruvians and Americans, felt like I was contributing in some way.
I left Lima in tears on May 15. I remember two times thinking very negative thoughts that I had never really had in my life concerning my own life. I pleaded with God to take me. I set foot on Arequipa soil crying. I cried in the taxi home, and I cried as Ginny opened the gate to let me into my house.
I had no idea why I was crying. I couldn't express it to her. I hugged her and held onto her, and she said this:
"It's because this place holds so much pain for you."
This statement is so true, and it's been the catalyst for me to examine a lot of things in my life. I've taken the last few weeks to reflect on myself, my time here, my character, my walk with God, my calling. I've journaled, I've talked, I've kind-of prayed. I've realized how messed up I am. There is just a lot of junk in my life that I need to confess, turn away from, and remove. I feel like a failure, which is invalid because God doesn't see me as that; I've searched for so many things to "do" and people to "please" in hopes that I would gain favor with God. There is just so much I'm realizing about myself and it hurts my heart because I see how far removed grace has become in my life.
Coming back to Arequipa twice after "Lima time" made me realize that this sabbatical, this time of "healing" is going to take a lot longer than expected. Like the events that transpired to get me to the point of rock bottom, the process of healing is going to take time as well.
Pruning hurts so much. Being in the valley for almost two years makes your body ache. Regardless of short happy times, of learning things, of seeing small delights as you walk through your trial, whatever it may be, that trial takes it's toll.
I'm willing to continue moving through this time of "sorrowful valleys." I'm also trying to move in the direction God would have me to go, which is to Himself. I think He's abandoned me when the truth is, I've abandoned Him. How ridiculously sad.
My friend Caroline wrote my heart on her blog. I read it and the floodgates opened up (I cry a lot these days--call it my whacked-out emotions, call it depression, call it being cleaned-out). Here's something profound that I can relate to:
"for the past six months, i've been noticing a change in heart: i don't "feel" much anymore. it has taken me quite a while to figure out what that means, what might have caused the change, and more-so, am i okay with it. and the truth is, i'm not. i'm tired of experiencing things on my own...i'm so sick of building friendships with people that are not emotionally responsive. i want to be able to come home to someone with whom i can feel safe to share what is really on my heart. i want to be able to trust people again. i want to feel like it's okay to pick up the phone and call friends...instead i stop myself every time, thinking that too much time and space have passed, or that i need them more than they need me.
i know that all things come from the Father's hand, but i'm having trouble coping with the fact that He removed me from community for such a long time. yes, i have learned many lessons through relying on Him more, but i never thought i would be deadening my emotional receptivity. especially these past few months, it has been harder to fight away the reminders that i have become dead inside.
the redeeming part about all of this is the reminder the Lord gave me today, after reading in John 15. i have been wondering if the deadening in my heart is something that is irreversible, like many of the people i know who just go into emotional hiding and never come out of it. but today i realized that, though i have endured drought, i became negligent in "abiding" in Him. so my soul has begun to wither, and with it my ability to relate to and invest in others. the task now becomes "remaining" in God's love, and trusting that He can restore green, abundant life through my branches. yes, i believe my heart is still green, stemming from the True Vine.
"The redeeming part about all of this." I like that part. We are God's redeemed. I am His daughter. I have to remind myself of those statements.
I will get better. Caroline and I talked, and we both agreed: God will heal us in time. I'm really trying to work through things regarding my person, my emotional state, and my spiritual state. I've realized that I need to see a counselor when I return to the States in August. It took me awhile to not be ashamed of that fact.
I need your help. My story is longer, and I wish I could tell you all of it. But for now, I ask for your prayers. I ask that God would break me and I would be on my face in search of Him, the ultimate Counselor.
Thanks for keeping up with me. I do hope that as you walk through life, I can somehow pray for you, help you in anything, or just give you a hug when you need it. I appreciate you all and love you very much.
Trying to learn to love more, get joy back, and become alive again....
Sarah
Well, it began earlier than that. I can't pinpoint the exact day that it happened. It wasn't even one day; it was a series of days, of moments, that all eventually collided to make me realize something: I needed help.
Here's a semi-brief rundown of the events that transpired in 2010:
In January, I returned from Lima from Christmas/New Year's vacation. Marta lived with me for about a month, before we both went to Cusco in February (her for school, me for work-related purposes). I returned to life in Arequipa, lived it fairly mundanely in February and March (the highlights were a weekend beach trip and my sister's visit).
Notice I don't say much about classes/Bible studies/ministry. I was staring at the edge of a pit, about to fall in. My attitude was not where it needed to be, and concerning ministerial things, life was seemingly absolutely and utterly falling apart (code word for failing) around me.
The opportunities that I'd encountered to minister had diminished as far as teaching goes (a very long story, one I won't go into--just know it wasn't positive). I was tired of being canceled on by my friends, tired of doing things alone, and honestly, tired of making the effort for what I felt had just become a huge waste of time.
I felt so alone. More than I ever had in my life.
April came. I was able to translate on two back-to-back trips to villages in Peru. They were both incredible blessings. I have no words for those times. People surrounded me and loved on me. I learned so much and thought I was "getting on the right track." I felt busy during this time. Needed. I hadn't felt that in a long time.
After my return to Arequipa around April 18, I was left alone. I should preface this "alone" emphasis with certain information: There is a family here I relate to on my team, but I haven't worked with them much; another family who is here with the IMB works as church planters; finally, other missionaries are around in language school, who I see every now and then; and of course, I had a few Peruanos leftover who would check up on me.
Tears came every day, usually in unexpected moments. I felt like I'd been abandoned. I felt like I had no purpose. I wanted to quit, but I didn't. I honestly didn't know what I needed. I felt very far from God.
I called some people with the IMB to get things moving in the direction of "resolution."
I had this grand idea to go to Lima. It was the only thing I knew to do: There was work going on there, I could support the ESL people, I would be around my team. I needed to talk to someone who understood where I come from and who understood what I was going through.
God gave me an idea: "Stay with Rebekah and Michael Constante." I barely knew these people at the time. For some reason, I just knew I needed to be with them. I ended up staying at their home in total for about a month. I became part of their family, for which I am forever thankful.
Rebekah became a confidant, a listener, and an advisor. Her husband Michael became someone with whom to laugh with until it hurt. Jenny and John McClamb laughed and cried and counseled me; they felt for me. Both family's children were little "happy pills" that ran around on two legs--I could instantly feel better just by hearing "Tia Sarah" or getting a hug. Ginny, Jess, and Julia listened and cried with me.
I spent my time in Lima trying to heal. I spent time with the Lord, talked to people, got to hang out with Peruvians and Americans, felt like I was contributing in some way.
I left Lima in tears on May 15. I remember two times thinking very negative thoughts that I had never really had in my life concerning my own life. I pleaded with God to take me. I set foot on Arequipa soil crying. I cried in the taxi home, and I cried as Ginny opened the gate to let me into my house.
I had no idea why I was crying. I couldn't express it to her. I hugged her and held onto her, and she said this:
"It's because this place holds so much pain for you."
This statement is so true, and it's been the catalyst for me to examine a lot of things in my life. I've taken the last few weeks to reflect on myself, my time here, my character, my walk with God, my calling. I've journaled, I've talked, I've kind-of prayed. I've realized how messed up I am. There is just a lot of junk in my life that I need to confess, turn away from, and remove. I feel like a failure, which is invalid because God doesn't see me as that; I've searched for so many things to "do" and people to "please" in hopes that I would gain favor with God. There is just so much I'm realizing about myself and it hurts my heart because I see how far removed grace has become in my life.
Coming back to Arequipa twice after "Lima time" made me realize that this sabbatical, this time of "healing" is going to take a lot longer than expected. Like the events that transpired to get me to the point of rock bottom, the process of healing is going to take time as well.
Pruning hurts so much. Being in the valley for almost two years makes your body ache. Regardless of short happy times, of learning things, of seeing small delights as you walk through your trial, whatever it may be, that trial takes it's toll.
I'm willing to continue moving through this time of "sorrowful valleys." I'm also trying to move in the direction God would have me to go, which is to Himself. I think He's abandoned me when the truth is, I've abandoned Him. How ridiculously sad.
My friend Caroline wrote my heart on her blog. I read it and the floodgates opened up (I cry a lot these days--call it my whacked-out emotions, call it depression, call it being cleaned-out). Here's something profound that I can relate to:
"for the past six months, i've been noticing a change in heart: i don't "feel" much anymore. it has taken me quite a while to figure out what that means, what might have caused the change, and more-so, am i okay with it. and the truth is, i'm not. i'm tired of experiencing things on my own...i'm so sick of building friendships with people that are not emotionally responsive. i want to be able to come home to someone with whom i can feel safe to share what is really on my heart. i want to be able to trust people again. i want to feel like it's okay to pick up the phone and call friends...instead i stop myself every time, thinking that too much time and space have passed, or that i need them more than they need me.
i know that all things come from the Father's hand, but i'm having trouble coping with the fact that He removed me from community for such a long time. yes, i have learned many lessons through relying on Him more, but i never thought i would be deadening my emotional receptivity. especially these past few months, it has been harder to fight away the reminders that i have become dead inside.
the redeeming part about all of this is the reminder the Lord gave me today, after reading in John 15. i have been wondering if the deadening in my heart is something that is irreversible, like many of the people i know who just go into emotional hiding and never come out of it. but today i realized that, though i have endured drought, i became negligent in "abiding" in Him. so my soul has begun to wither, and with it my ability to relate to and invest in others. the task now becomes "remaining" in God's love, and trusting that He can restore green, abundant life through my branches. yes, i believe my heart is still green, stemming from the True Vine.
"The redeeming part about all of this." I like that part. We are God's redeemed. I am His daughter. I have to remind myself of those statements.
I will get better. Caroline and I talked, and we both agreed: God will heal us in time. I'm really trying to work through things regarding my person, my emotional state, and my spiritual state. I've realized that I need to see a counselor when I return to the States in August. It took me awhile to not be ashamed of that fact.
I need your help. My story is longer, and I wish I could tell you all of it. But for now, I ask for your prayers. I ask that God would break me and I would be on my face in search of Him, the ultimate Counselor.
Thanks for keeping up with me. I do hope that as you walk through life, I can somehow pray for you, help you in anything, or just give you a hug when you need it. I appreciate you all and love you very much.
Trying to learn to love more, get joy back, and become alive again....
Sarah
10.6.10
to the wanderer.
Ernesto asked me why I don't want to live in the United States for the majority of my life (a sentiment that recently seems to come and go). I posed this question to Ginny, who made an interesting point, and I decided to journal about it. Here it is...
A broad assumption is that Americans travel as a means to an end: We look for self-fulfillment, we look to get something out of anything and anyone and we suck the life out of everything.
I would argue that travel is much more. Travel is diving into a culture. Exploring. Finding meaning. Learning. Contributing.
Europeans (and just about the rest of the world) know how to travel. They look at the world differently throughout the journey AND at the end of the journey. They have stories to tell because they not only soak up the experience, but they involve themselves in the experience itself. They soak in and pour out. They bring what they've seen back to their homeland: People's stories, heartache and joy they've shared in, customs, food, dance, life.
I believe liberation is found in this way of travel.
Hear this: I'm liberated in Christ. I don't need any more liberty. What I need is for people to see their need for liberation. If my life as a traveler, a wanderer, a nomad, could show this--if God could use me to point to His Son as the only Liberator--it would be to His glory.
My prayer is that I get to see as much of this world as possible. To enjoy God and His creation while living adventurously, whether that means exploring secret corners of South America, Europe, and Asia, or getting to know my own homeland.
William Faulkner said, "If a story is in you, it has to come out."
Wherever I go, I hope to collect stories, soak up life and give it back. Write down what I see and hear, hug people because they need love (as do I), and speak Truth.
A broad assumption is that Americans travel as a means to an end: We look for self-fulfillment, we look to get something out of anything and anyone and we suck the life out of everything.
I would argue that travel is much more. Travel is diving into a culture. Exploring. Finding meaning. Learning. Contributing.
Europeans (and just about the rest of the world) know how to travel. They look at the world differently throughout the journey AND at the end of the journey. They have stories to tell because they not only soak up the experience, but they involve themselves in the experience itself. They soak in and pour out. They bring what they've seen back to their homeland: People's stories, heartache and joy they've shared in, customs, food, dance, life.
I believe liberation is found in this way of travel.
Hear this: I'm liberated in Christ. I don't need any more liberty. What I need is for people to see their need for liberation. If my life as a traveler, a wanderer, a nomad, could show this--if God could use me to point to His Son as the only Liberator--it would be to His glory.
My prayer is that I get to see as much of this world as possible. To enjoy God and His creation while living adventurously, whether that means exploring secret corners of South America, Europe, and Asia, or getting to know my own homeland.
William Faulkner said, "If a story is in you, it has to come out."
Wherever I go, I hope to collect stories, soak up life and give it back. Write down what I see and hear, hug people because they need love (as do I), and speak Truth.
1.6.10
fighting to lay it down.
This is an email I received from our mission board today, and I happened to actually read the whole thing. This is exactly how I feel. More to come.
---------------------------------------------------------------
Do you have a song in your heart today? You know what I’m talking about—the subliminal lyrics of a praise song you may have listened to a few days ago or a tune you find yourself humming that makes a routine task, driving to an appointment or even cleaning the house, a worship experience. It comes when you have just had a visionary planning meeting with your team, when you saw someone come to faith you had been cultivating for a long time, or when your children blurt out a comment that reveals maturing spiritual insight.
Unfortunately, there are days when the song is not there; in fact, we can lose it for extended periods of time when we are discouraged, fighting depression and counting the days, hoping to survive until stateside. I can remember losing the song in times of cultural shock and disillusionment. I thought that was unique to the second year on the field when the honeymoon was over, but found that it continued to come in cycles throughout our 23 years overseas.
You lose the song when family relations are strained, and harsh, unkind words are spoken out of anger and impatience. A misunderstanding with a colleague or seeing a disciple we have been nurturing revert to his old manner of life can rob us of the joy that is reflected in that spontaneous song reverberating in our mind.
In Ps 137 the Children of Isr*el had been carried into captivity in Babylon. There their tormentors demanded they sing the songs of Z*on, apparently for the entertainment of their captors. But they replied in verse 4, “How can we sing the L*rd’s song in a foreign land?” That’s how you may be feeling simply due to the heat and congested crowds. Or maybe you have lost the song due to struggling with a new structure and processes imposed by leaders that seem insensitive to the impact of changes being made.
How do you recover the song? How do you get back the joy, a sense of well-being, confidence that G*d is on His throne, and it’s all going to come out all right? There is an interesting verse in 2 Chron 29:27 that may offer an analogy that may be helpful. This is the occasion of restoring the temple worship. King Hezekiah gave the order to place the burnt offering on the altar. “And when the sacrifice began, the song to the L*rd also began.”
The call to an intimate relationship with the Father has always entailed sacrifice. It is a call to sacrifice our own will to be obedient to Him. J*sus makes it clear that no one is truly following Him until they take up their cross and die. Paul pleaded with us to present our bodies a living sacrifice—always putting our desires, our will, our comforts on the altar. It comes back to those prayers of relinquishment mentioned in an earlier memo.
We lose the song and the enemy robs us of joy that comes from confident faith in the Father when there is something we desire we don’t have—when our plans aren’t working out, the kids aren’t behaving or the team doesn’t respect our opinion. Maybe we aren’t receiving the recognition and affirmation we need, we are being inconvenienced or imposed on, or we are just working ourselves to the bone without seeing evident results.
In David’s confession of sin he recognized that G*d did not desire offerings and religious ritual, even hard work, as much as sacrifice. “The sacrifices of G*d are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O G*d, Thou wilt not despise.” That’s what brings us back to Him and restores the song.
If you are at the end of your rope, discouraged and disillusioned, you may be exactly where you need to be to find His grace and faithfulness. Bring that broken spirit and a contrite heart and lay it on the altar. Have you allowed self-centered concerns and personal desires to so dominate your attention that you have lost a broken heart for the lost that brought you to where you are in the first place?
We rationalize ourselves into thinking things would be fine and I would be happy if—only if—everyone would get along, we could handle finances and get our services provided more efficiently, if it weren’t so hot, if the people weren’t so obstinate, if we had a safer environment, more reliable electricity, etc. etc. Bemoaning the problems doesn’t solve them. Whatever is robbing you of the song, lay it on the altar. “When the sacrifice began, the song of the L*rd also began.”
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Do you have a song in your heart today? You know what I’m talking about—the subliminal lyrics of a praise song you may have listened to a few days ago or a tune you find yourself humming that makes a routine task, driving to an appointment or even cleaning the house, a worship experience. It comes when you have just had a visionary planning meeting with your team, when you saw someone come to faith you had been cultivating for a long time, or when your children blurt out a comment that reveals maturing spiritual insight.
Unfortunately, there are days when the song is not there; in fact, we can lose it for extended periods of time when we are discouraged, fighting depression and counting the days, hoping to survive until stateside. I can remember losing the song in times of cultural shock and disillusionment. I thought that was unique to the second year on the field when the honeymoon was over, but found that it continued to come in cycles throughout our 23 years overseas.
You lose the song when family relations are strained, and harsh, unkind words are spoken out of anger and impatience. A misunderstanding with a colleague or seeing a disciple we have been nurturing revert to his old manner of life can rob us of the joy that is reflected in that spontaneous song reverberating in our mind.
In Ps 137 the Children of Isr*el had been carried into captivity in Babylon. There their tormentors demanded they sing the songs of Z*on, apparently for the entertainment of their captors. But they replied in verse 4, “How can we sing the L*rd’s song in a foreign land?” That’s how you may be feeling simply due to the heat and congested crowds. Or maybe you have lost the song due to struggling with a new structure and processes imposed by leaders that seem insensitive to the impact of changes being made.
How do you recover the song? How do you get back the joy, a sense of well-being, confidence that G*d is on His throne, and it’s all going to come out all right? There is an interesting verse in 2 Chron 29:27 that may offer an analogy that may be helpful. This is the occasion of restoring the temple worship. King Hezekiah gave the order to place the burnt offering on the altar. “And when the sacrifice began, the song to the L*rd also began.”
The call to an intimate relationship with the Father has always entailed sacrifice. It is a call to sacrifice our own will to be obedient to Him. J*sus makes it clear that no one is truly following Him until they take up their cross and die. Paul pleaded with us to present our bodies a living sacrifice—always putting our desires, our will, our comforts on the altar. It comes back to those prayers of relinquishment mentioned in an earlier memo.
We lose the song and the enemy robs us of joy that comes from confident faith in the Father when there is something we desire we don’t have—when our plans aren’t working out, the kids aren’t behaving or the team doesn’t respect our opinion. Maybe we aren’t receiving the recognition and affirmation we need, we are being inconvenienced or imposed on, or we are just working ourselves to the bone without seeing evident results.
In David’s confession of sin he recognized that G*d did not desire offerings and religious ritual, even hard work, as much as sacrifice. “The sacrifices of G*d are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O G*d, Thou wilt not despise.” That’s what brings us back to Him and restores the song.
If you are at the end of your rope, discouraged and disillusioned, you may be exactly where you need to be to find His grace and faithfulness. Bring that broken spirit and a contrite heart and lay it on the altar. Have you allowed self-centered concerns and personal desires to so dominate your attention that you have lost a broken heart for the lost that brought you to where you are in the first place?
We rationalize ourselves into thinking things would be fine and I would be happy if—only if—everyone would get along, we could handle finances and get our services provided more efficiently, if it weren’t so hot, if the people weren’t so obstinate, if we had a safer environment, more reliable electricity, etc. etc. Bemoaning the problems doesn’t solve them. Whatever is robbing you of the song, lay it on the altar. “When the sacrifice began, the song of the L*rd also began.”
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