Tag Archives: Worship

she did what she could

I cannot leave the gospel. My fingers flip pages and my eyes scan words and stories and always I am drawn back. I am searching for the heart of the One I love and He keeps bringing me back to the beginning. This is my journey. My story. Good news hammering against the rocks.

“Leave her alone,” said Jesus, and the hammer came down, making my breath catch.

“While He was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of a man known as Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on His head.

Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, “Why this waste of perfume? It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor.” And they rebuked her harshly.

“Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me.  She did what she could.“ (Mark 14:3-8)

She did what she could. And against the harshness of men, He rose up protective.

This is for you. For me. For all the ones who do what they can. For the ones who hear the harshness of

not enough

too much

you should have

you shouldn’t have

The ones who long to bring what they have and just pour it out over Him because we can do nothing else.

For those of us who will never feed five thousand, but spend the last five minutes of our weary day feeding on Him.

For those who will never lead thousands into the Kingdom, but will live face to the ground praying for the one.

For all the ones who will never do great and mighty things, but who choose to put one foot in front of the other to follow Him in a harsh world.

Broken hearts broken open, poured out

Broken prayers flowing like perfume

Fleeting, weary moments given to Him

Songs we refuse to let fear silence

He will protect it all. He will honor every bit of it.

This is the Heart I found today.

2:00 a.m. and my heart is full

My little office/prayer room. Couch, cozy blanket. Candles burning, filling the room with the smell of cinnamon. Bibles, books and journals spilled out onto the couch.

(All Sons and Daughters are singing Called Me Higher. Makes me close my eyes and sway to the sound.)

My bible is next to me, a worn but comfortable friend. I begin to randomly turn pages, feeling His breath rising up from the words.  I breathe it in deep and my thoughts respond.

“And God said ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.”   Profound power. This “Let there be” that is obeyed every time…it makes me crave Your voice over my life.

“He raises the poor from the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap; He seats them with princes and has them inherit a throne of honor”  You don’t push down, You raise up. I want to be like You.

“…You are the ruler of all things. In Your hands are strength and power…”  All things. All. Things. And the hands that hold me and mine and all things, they are strong, powerful hands.

(And now Jason Upton is singing You Are Holy and I have to stop.)

“This is what the Lord says—Israel’s King and Redeemer, the Lord Almighty: I am the first and I am the last;  apart from me there is no God. Who then is like Me? Let him proclaim it.”  The silence is deafening. You stand alone in Your God-ness. You came first, You will be last, with none in-between. I bow right here, in the silence of no other god.

“The Lord said to me, “Go, show your love to your wife again, though she is loved by another and is an adulteress. Love her as the Lord loves the Israelites, though they turn to other gods and love the sacred raisin cakes.”  Such a scandalous love, and You don’t hide it.  It is overwhelming. Unearthly. Heavenly.

“Come to Me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.”  The invitation to rest. I’m so glad that You know that the world I live in continually calls me to “do more, go farther, be better”. You know the weight of the yoke I am prone to come under; the one that has “Not enough” written all over it. I love that You know. And You invite me to You. To rest. If I will just come.

“In Him we have redemption through His blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s grace that He lavished on us with all wisdom and understanding.”  Rich grace. Poured out, not measured. I am over my head deep in this grace. I want to live it, give it to others, let it be the lens that I look through. I don’t want to keep looking at the world through squinty, judging eyes behind the closed door of my life. I want to open them all wide.  Teach me grace.

It’s 2:00 a.m. and I am finally tired.

(Fittingly, Jason Upton sang one final song…)

..to end my time of breathing in His breath, surrounded by the warmth of candles, Presence, and the scent of cinnamon. My heart is full, having discovered again that His heart is good.

Genesis 1:3    1Samuel 2:8   1Chronicles 29:12   Isaiah 44:6-7   Hosea 3:1   Matthew 11:28   1Corinthians 1:8-9

after the car wreck

Yesterday was the worst day so far, since the accident. My husband and I went out to run an errand. I held his hand. In a death grip. With the other hand I held the arm of the door with that same death grip. Throughout the ride I gasped and cringed, even though my husband was driving very carefully, and even describing everything he was doing the whole time, letting me know he saw every car and was very aware of his surroundings. Still, my heart raced.

And I cried. I cried because I was afraid. I cried because this thing has such a grip on me. I cried because I need to get back to my life and that means being in the car, and I can’t. I just can’t.

We arrived back home and I felt utterly defeated. And then we had to turn right back around and go out again, to go to church (we were going to the evening service). It was almost too much for me, but I did it, determined not to cry this time.  Instead, I asked Jesus to help me with this fear, got into the car, and made it all the way to church without crying. And that’s where He met me with a revelation that, I think, has changed this game.

It was during worship (don’t EVER underestimate the importance of entering into worship, even when you don’t feel like it). During this song we sang these lyrics:

I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord
There is no one like You God
I will exalt You, Lord, I will exalt You, Lord
No other name be lifted high

And suddenly I knew.

I had exalted my fear. Granted it permission to take over my heart. Played the game like my fear was the biggest, baddest, strongest player on the field. I wrecked my car and now fear was wrecking me. Fear was winning the game. That made me mad.

And so I sang. And my song became a prayer. “I will exalt YOU. No other. YOU. Nothing else has the right to hold my heart above You. Nothing. I lift You high. Higher than the accident. Higher than pain. Higher than guilt. Higher than fear. I exalt You.

The drive home was easier, but I attributed it to the fact that it was dark out, and what I can’t see can’t scare me. (Silly, right? Because what we can’t see is EXACTLY what scares us!) I couldn’t imagine that a few moments in worship that birthed a revelation that birthed a prayer, could work that fast. (My rock hard faith amazes me sometimes.)

So I just have to ask. What about you? Is there something that is being exalted in your heart or in your mind that has no right to be lifted that high?

Is there a fear, anger, an illness, or a disappointment that has become higher than Jesus? How about a desire, a spouse, or a child? A gifting, a calling, even a ministry?

What grips your heart?

Let it be Jesus.

my heart in the song

I recently experienced a bit of a traumatic event, which I fully intend to blog about very soon. But it left me fearful and sent me into a seclusion of sorts, even from (especially from) God. So this morning I opened my bible and put on a worship song. And then I was on my knees.

“Here I am, down on my knees again, Surrendering all, Surrendering all…”
 I know. I’ve been here before. I thought “all” meant “all” the last time I surrendered all. So I want to apologize for this white flag, but I can’t. I’m too exhausted. Made weak by my own strength.  I tried to buck up, suck it up, just move forward and move on. I wanted to be a big girl. A grown up. A warrior. Instead, here I am, down on my knees surrendering all. Again.
 “Find me here, Lord as You draw me near, Desperate for You, Desperate for You”
 Are You surprised by my desperation? Shouldn’t I be out moving mountains and slaying darkness with confidence? Shouldn’t there be a bible study or sermon that took hold, preventing me from landing in this place, trying to bat away condemnation for being so desperate? For You. The One I have been avoiding, running from for days, maybe longer. Are You surprised, like me, that my desperation is for You?
 “Drench my soul, as mercy and grace unfold, I hunger and thirst, I hunger and thirst”
 Don’t be thrifty. Not today. I need all You have to give. Mercy. For things done and undone. Said and unsaid. For the second guessing, the what if’s and the why’s. Mercy for the bruises left by my self-loathing. Mix it with Grace. Water that washes it all away, leaving me back on my feet but not far from my knees.
 I know. I should be full by now, because You have poured and poured and poured. But this is me. Panting, hands cupped like a beggar. Begging for more. And in the air around me a question hovers – “Why are you here, begging, again?”, and the implication reeks of shame.

Because I hunger. Because I thirst. Because I know that if I come, He will give. Because what He has never runs out.

 “With arms stretched wide, I know You hear my cry, Speak to me now, Speak to me now.”
 I just need Your voice to say something, anything. Is that ok? Is it ok that my heart is hiding right now, and the only thing that will bring it out is Your voice? Is it ok that all of my desperation, all of my hunger, all of my flag waving on my knees surrender it all again comes down to “speak to me God. Please.”?
 And so I heard, finally. Because He had been speaking all along, but my heart had hands over my ears and my eyes shut tight because I have been afraid. But here on my scratchy carpet with the song playing from the little speakers attached to my old computer, the hands came down,  and I discovered the real fear. The one I hadn’t named.

“I’m with you.”

Three words that spoke many more.

“I am here, not over there waiting for you to get over it. Peace is here, not around the corner waiting for you stop being afraid.  Mercy is here, not over there waiting for you to feel bad enough, sorry enough, or anything enough.  Grace is here, not waiting somewhere else for you to get stronger and braver. Love is still here. Right here.  I am not mad at you, disappointed in you or finished with you.  I am not waiting for you. I am with you.”

Thank You Jesus, for hearing my heart in the song. For knowing what to sing back to me.

“I Surrender” – Hillsong Live

 
 
 

motivation

Jesus. What would you say about Him? How would you describe the way He lived while He made His dwelling among men? What was He after? Why did He do what He did? Love would be a very good, and correct, answer…but not what I’m going for today.

Because I had an “aha” moment.

“And they sang a new song: “You are worthy to take the scroll and to open its seals, because You were slain, and with Your blood You purchased men for God from every tribe and language and people and nation.” (Revelation 5:9)

So I started thinking. Jesus didn’t die for me. He died because of me. I was purchased for God. His Father. Jesus died because God so loved the world. Jesus died for God, His Father. He lived for His Father, and He died for His Father.

And then I thought some more.

“Yet to all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, He gave the right to become children of God.” (John 1:12)

The Father that motivated everything Jesus said and did is also my Father. With me so far? Good. Because right about here I started hearing questions, and things took a hard turn.

Is God the motivation of my life, or am I?

(By the way, this is the part where drawing near to God’s heart begins to burn. Read The Heart That I Want to know what I mean by that.)

When I am offended, is it because God wasn’t glorified, or because I didn’t get a “me” fix? Is it because God wanted that position in the Church? Because God wanted to lead worship that day? Did God need the attention, validation or affirmation that I missed out on? Did God want that invitation that I didn’t get? Am I offended because God didn’t get something that I desperately needed?

I will be offended on a regular basis if I am my biggest motivation.

Do I obey God at all costs, or only when it doesn’t cost much at all? Do I claim “legalism” at true sacrificial living and giving, while I pat myself on the back for not drinking enough to be considered drunk? Is my obedience based on what will make me acceptable to others, or on what truly pleases God?

When my motivation is me, mine is a cheap obedience.

Do I enter into worship because I need to feel that “something” that worship provides? Or do I enter in because my Father is God, and God is to be worshiped? Even if I don’t feel like it. Even if I don’t like the songs being done or the way they’re being done. Even if I’m lonely. Even if I’m hurting. Even if I feel empty, scared, worthless, neglected, dry or just plain tired. God is still worthy of worship. Because worship is not about me. And it’s not about you, so I can just forget about whether or not you’re watching or listening and think I’m spiritual enough or gifted enough or anything enough.

If my worship is based on what I like, how I feel or what I need, then the one I am worshiping is me.

Why do I serve? Why do I love? Why do I forgive? Why do I give?

“The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.” 1Samuel 16:7

Motivation. It’s huge. Jesus had only one. His Father.

Can I really be…do I really want to be…that Christlike?

Something is burning.

holy moments

I spent some time in worship the other night, alone in my living room with my (current) favorite worship songs, and the book of Revelation. Holy moments with God. Here is what it looked like as I wrote in my journal – 

“Majestic. Holy. Fire. With eyes that burn, You pull the cry of “Holy!” from everyone near You. All of heaven worships You. They see what I cannot, and their cry at what they see is “Holy!”. How can my cry of worship be anything other?”

Both during and after my time of worship, these words kept coming to me – “He is on His throne. Seated in the place of absolute sovereign power and authority.” And there are two sides to that coin.

God is the one enthroned in the place of power and authority. That means He determines beginnings and ends and in-betweens. Life and death are in His hands. Kings and rulers are lifted up and brought down by His hand. Times and seasons and all things uncontrollable…are controlled by Him, and Him alone. Like it or not, believe it or not, it is what it is. There is a God and He is on the absolute highest throne. There can be no coup. (It’s been tried. Didn’t end well.) It is His universe, created by Him, and for Him. There is none like Him. None before Him. He has always been, and will always be. He is surrounded by lightning and thunder, fire, and creatures not of this world, and all who are there are crying out “Holy, holy, holy”. Because He is God, and He is worthy of every holy moment of worship.

And yet…

He loved.
                     He came.
                                      He died.
So He could call me Beloved.

“What else is there to want? What more could I need? You are my God. All of my days I will live to seek Your face, to know Your heart. I want my whole life to cry out ‘Holy!'”

desperate encounters – the finale

She still can’t believe he’s gone. The ache in her heart compels her once again to go to the grave. She knows he isn’t really there, but she finds her only comfort in the place where his body lay. She just wants to be near him.

A Delivered Woman

She was among those who traveled with Him as He preached good news. (Luke 8:1-3)

She was with Him at the cross. (John 19:25)

She was at the tomb when He was buried. (Matthew 27:57-62)

And early in the morning, while it was still dark, she made her way back to His grave.

John 20:10-16

“Then the disciples went back to their homes, but Mary stood outside the tomb crying. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb and saw two angels in white, seated where Jesus’ body had been, one at the head and the other at the foot.  They asked her, ‘Woman, why are you crying?’  ‘They have taken my Lord away,’ she said, ‘and I don’t know where they have put him.'”

She had come to be near Him, only to find Him gone.

“At this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not realize that it was Jesus.  ‘Woman,’ he said, ‘why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?’ Thinking he was the gardener, she said, ‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.'” 

She saw Him, but in her grief and desperation, she did not “see” Him. She just wanted to know where He was, and was even willing to go get His body. Do you hear her desperation?

Her name was Mary Magdalene, and she followed Him with the devotion of one who knows what it is to be rescued from darkness. It is here, at the tomb, that we see the impact Jesus had on this woman. Once He had set her free, she no longer wanted to be without Him.

And with one word, one intimate word spoken by Jesus, her desperation was answered.

“Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.'” 

In the deep place, where desperation resides, Mary was desperate for His presence. And in that moment when her desperation collided with the One she couldn’t “see”, He revealed His presence through the intimacy of calling her by name.

I am very fond of Mary Magdalene. While I have not been delivered of seven demons, I have been rescued from darkness. And like Mary, I am utterly devoted to my Deliverer. But so often I find myself unable to “see” Him, and I feel that same desperation for the presence of the One my heart loves. And then…He calls my name. Water for a thirsty, desperate heart.

 We’ve stepped into the world of four desperate women who encountered Jesus. These women lived their desperation out loud. Many of us work so hard to keep ours silent.  Too often, we are women who are strong and self-sufficient…keeping our desperation at bay, but barely.  We are afraid to be desperate, believing it to be a sign of weakness. But in the Gospel, I make a wonderful discovery.

Jesus is drawn to weak, desperate people.

The world offers us many things to distract us from our desperation, and quiet that inner ache. And yet, desperate people are all around us, both outside and inside the Church.

Nothing the world can offer will satisfy our desperation. It may hide it, it may numb it…but only when Jesus encounters it, is our desperation satisfied.

Perhaps surprisingly, it is in the secret place that I have encountered Him most. Not at church. Not at a conference. Not in the right setting with the right lighting and the right worship song. I have encountered Him most when I have been alone with Him in His word, as the truth of His love and mercy washed my soul.  In those times of silent prayer, when my lips had no words and I just had to trust He could hear my desperate heart…this is when I’ve heard Him call my name.

Encounter Jesus.