I’ve just gotten into using Pandora. I don’t know what the difference is between the things that I’ll jump on the bandwagon for and the things that I won’t. Some of them that I’ve just started – itunes (I’ve always liked actual CD’s – call me crazy), instagram (no idea yet), or even Words with Friends (the students have me playing it, but I’m absolutely terrible.) Maybe I wait and see if it will catch on (still waiting on Google+) or more than likely, I wait until I have some free time to try it out and it’s easy to access. I still haven’t figured out the “cool” Pandora play lists yet, but I have a couple that I love and regularly jam to. The thing that I’ve noticed more than anything is how long it takes me to realize that the music has stopped. You see, if you listen long enough, or if you like me listens while you work, eventually the music is going to stop and you’ll click on the box and you’ll see a message that inquires whether you’re still listening or not. There are some days when I immediately notice, whoa, whoa, whoa, the music has stopped. There are other days when I’m running a bit more on the ragged side or if I’m deep in thought or a project and I finally realize it but can’t remember where along the way it stopped.
Yesterday, for the first time in many, many years, Mike and I worshiped together at a local church. Neither of us responsible for any part of the service. No preaching, speaking, singing, playing the piano, announcements…nothing. Several things struck me all at once. One, I was tired. And it’s a lot easier to zone out and yawn really loudly and for a long time when you’re not the one leading worship. I noted that there’s something energizing or I would say more accurately – Holy Spirit infusing – about leading worship. Sometimes it’s hard to go from closing your eyes during the prayer to focus in on what’s being said. Then I began to wonder to myself about how the folks in the congregation feel? After a few moments I arrived at the conclusion, that a lot of it had to do with me. If you are an active participant in worship – singing, listening to the words of the prayers, paying attention to the children’s sermon – than you’ll get a heck of a lot more out of it.
When I calmed down in my own skin for a minute and actually tuned in to the word God was speaking, I was able to realize that somewhere along the way, the music had stopped and I indeed needed to click the “I’m Still Listening” button. As pastors or those that work in the church, how often are we tuned into the word God would have us share with our congregations, but we’re not quite as open, when we’re not the ones in charge, doing the feeding, and being open to the ways that word will be revealed to us?
I don’t know about you but I feel like there are times when we have been coasting and cruising and we’re doing the appropriate motions and the right spots, but our movements aren’t connecting with our brains. Things are going pretty okay, but if we tuned ourselves in just a bit more to the music flowing all around us, things would be going pretty fantastic…or at least more in tune. Once I got my head and my heart communicating and opening up, I heard a great, convicting, challenging, and well-thought out sermon that was a confirmation that I needed to wake up and do some listening. Isn’t it funny that God brings those things that we need to hear? We just need to clean out our ears sometimes and sort through distractions to get to the place where we can feel and know the presence of God clearly and actively.
What are ways that we stay in tune to God’s music?
What are the things that get in the way and distract us?
What are ways that we can practice listening or centering?
I haven’t blogged in ages. It’s not that I haven’t thought about blogs or haven’t wanted to, I just haven’t. I think it’s the same thing that I feel about resolutions and reading the Upper Room email devotional in the morning – things that I want to do and crave to do and would feel better after doing, but for some reason I let the other more pressing things get in the way.
There are all sorts of things that demand our attention and it often feels like the things that would re-charge us or center us whether that be writing or reading or taking a walk or exercising or what have you – these are the things that we feel like need to take a back burner when we’re busy burning the candle at both ends and trying to keep our head above water.
I’m not good at treading water. To be even more honest, I’m a terrible swimmer. By the time we started taking swimming lessons, I was already in late elementary school and a pretty tall kid. If you can stand up in the 5 ft. deep end, swimming just doesn’t take on the same urgency it might would. The rest of my family can swim and in thinking about this (because I am that weird), I think I could survive for a little while lost at sea. I’m pretty good at floating on my back or doing like a frog stroke of some sort. If I’m treading water – I’ve got maybe 3 minutes, and I think even then, I’m being pretty generous.
Am I terrible at swimming, because I’ve seen no use for it yet? I just never got into it? I don’t feel a sense of urgency to do it?
Am I terrible at self care because I see no urgency in it? Because it’s not something to mark off the to do list?
Maybe if I added things like: Take a walk, write a poem (for fun not for serious), read a book in silence without interruption (yeah right), turn the music up and blast it, learn the dance to Thriller (finally), write down three things that you’re thankful for each day…maybe if I added some of these things to the to do list, they would actually happen and not just sound good in my head or me wistfully saying them out loud as a cop out.
What should you add to your to do list? What do you need to make time for? As a parent, as a teacher, as a preacher, as a student, as a leader, as a learner, as a philosopher, as a pragmatist, as a advocate, as a dreamer – what does your soul need today?
I’m listening to a little Coldplay “Every Teardrop is a Waterfall.” I don’t want “Monday morning to feel another life,” but like the authentic, passionate, continuation of following where God leads – the challenging, the joys, the wake up calls, the turning points, the ah ha moments, all apart of the waterfall that is our lives. We keep going with the strength of God. We keep grooving in the Spirit of God. We continue sharing love and grace in the joy of Jesus. And we re-charge, re-energize, re-new, re-store, re-fresh in the midst – taking the time to let the movement of Spirit work inside and out.
There’s a song right now on some Christian music stations by Royal Tailor called “Hold Me Together.” I know some are not huge Christian music fans and I get that, but for me, it seems that if I’m open to it, I often hear exactly what I need to hear and music seems to speak to me in ways that can break through even when my guard is up to everything else.
This past weekend Winthrop Wesley took a trip to Florida for Disney’s Night of Joy concert series. It was a great trip and I think the students all had a good time….but it was exhausting. Like for real, seriously exhausting. After working all day Friday, driving to Gainesville to spend the night at Gator Wesley took a pretty big toll on my energy level. And then getting up at 6 this next morning to get ready to drive to Orlando was a lot. In the midst of the hustle and bustle of Disney and rides and getting people where they needed to go and answering questions, I was pretty empty.
That night at the Magic Kingdom, Christian music was playing everywhere. Even when the concerts weren’t playing, the music on the loud speakers everywhere you went was Christian music. It may not have been everyone’s cup of tea and for those that don’t particularly love Christian music, it may have been pretty annoying, but for me – I really, really needed to hear it. I was on the D for DONE side and it was nice to feel God’s presence even in the midst of walking through the youth-crowded park and pushing one of the students in a wheel chair.
On the way to and from the trip we didn’t listen to a ton of Christian music and it was very much top 40 kind of stuff, and I must admit that lately in my car, I haven’t listened to a ton of Christian music. Sometimes I just get burnt out listening to the same things or I’m just tired of noise at the end of a long day, but how refreshing is it to know that we can be replenished when we need it in some of the least likely of ways if we’re just open to it?
If we stick both fingers in our ears and scream la, la, la at the top of our lungs and don’t want to hear or see or feel the power of God, we may just succeed, but if we ask, we’ll receive. It may not come in the form we want and we may have those seasons of doubt or frustration or questions but it’s amazing to me how faithful God is when we let it happen. I also believe that even when we la, la, la our heads off, that God continues to seek to be in relationship with us. God continues to want to open our eyes to mercies anew each day. Even when we’re tired. And our energy is shot. God seeks to hold us together and let us know that grace covers it all. We don’t have to always live the picture perfect, black and white, cookie cutter image, but we just have to let it go, drop our pride at the door, and be fully open to the grace, power, and life-changing hope of Jesus.
That’s something I needed today and something I continue to long for.
I’ve been contemplating and playing over a blog post in my mind for a bit about two of the songs from The Book of Mormon Musical on Broadway. I know, I know…one day I will have run out of songs to talk about. The first song is called, “Sal Tlay Ka Siti” or in other words Salt Lake City. Nikki James sings a beautiful song that is endemic of the entire musical – it’s such a funny, both mocking and serious look at faith and harsh reality and the conflict that is of the somewhat prosperity gospel that is sometimes preached and how that is seen and viewed in the various lenses of most of the world.
It’s an interesting tension. And for me it really is a tension. I’ve spent most of the day working going over the budget and expenditures for this year at Wesley and budgeting for the year ahead. As some of you know, this past year our Annual Conference stopped providing program or building support for our campus ministries, but is still covering our salaries and benefits (which we’re really thankful for). As scary as that was, people stepped up in huge ways this year. And we have tried to use that money wisely – from mission trips to educational and missional opportunities on campus to small groups to worship to training up leaders and people going into ministry and everything in between. It’s exciting to look at. We couldn’t have taken students to training events without you. We couldn’t be in ministry with the poor and hungry here in York County, in our state and around the world without you. So I’m thankful for that. Hugely. Especially as we start visioning for a new year.
This afternoon, actually right now, I’m on a conference call with some folks working on getting equipment for the Women’s Spinning Plant, a cooperative of the CDCA (Center for Development in Central America) to be working and functional. We have worked with these women making concrete blocks, pouring concrete in the floors of the building, and tying rubar. We’ve protested the company that mislead them. We look forward to visiting again in August and continuing to work alongside these faithful, resilient, strong and powerful women and men who have withstood and determinedly marched on in the midst of all sorts of adversity.
See that’s the rub. When I think about what so many around the world are facing in terms of World Refugee Day that we celebrated earlier this week, those in the midst of war zones, atrocities that we can’t imagine, it really puts things in perspective.
We are beyond so blessed here. And to me blessed isn’t even the right word in some ways because to me that implies that God has blessed us and not someone else just because they were born in a different place to a different family in a different set of circumstances.
It just seems like a lot of time we throw our own “stuff” around and we’re selling people this line that may not be ours to sell and sometimes it even seems cheap and cliched somehow. One of the last numbers in the musical is the two lovely white guy mormons singing, “I Am Africa.” It’s very a la “We are the World” or something along those lines. And I’m not trying to hate on we are the world or Live Aid or the other benefit concerts or celebrity commercials out there. I’m really not. That raises money. And if it raises money and the money gets to the right people who will put their money out there and not just fund overhead and all of the work getting into a country, that’s a great thing. There are so many good folks like the CDCA, UMCOR, Church World Service, International Justice Mission, Imagine No Malaria that are doing work on the ground with people in-country who speak the language of the people and are being as least patronizing and colonializing as possible. And these folks aren’t doing the bait and switch and they’re not peddling mink coats.
Don’t have any huge answers today, but I just wanted to name the tension between our problems (check out those tweets #firstworldproblems by the way) and the things that are facing much of the world.
Still a big believer in the tremendous groups working on the ground and who live it out every day. Still a big believer in hope and love and humanity. But wrestling with all that these songs evoke in my mind. Which is what I think the writers did in a beautifully comedic and amazing way. To take something so funny and sarcastic and ironic and put so much real life and struggle in it – powerful stuff.
When it all boils down – what is the Gospel? How do we speak that clearly to the person next door, down the street, in the next state over, on the other side of the world? How do we share our faith in real language in the face of real problems?
Check out the words for Sal Tlay Ka Siti below.
My mother once told me of a place with waterfalls and unicorns flying
Where there was no suffering, no pain, where there was laughter instead of dying
I always thought she’d made it up to comfort me in times of pain
But now I know that place is real, now I know its name
Sal Tlay Ka Siti: not just a story mama told
But a village in Ooh-tah, where the roofs are thatched with gold
If I could let myself believe, I know just where I’d be
Right on the next bus to paradise: Sal Tlay Ka Siti
I can imagine what it must be like…this perfect, happy place
I’ll bet the goat meat there is plentiful, and they have vitamin injections by the case
The warlords there are friendly, they help you cross the street
And there’s a Red Cross on every corner with all the flour you can eat!
Sal Tlay Ka Siti: the most perfect place on Earth
Where flies don’t bite your eyeballs and human life has worth
It isn’t a place of fairy tales, it’s as real as it can be
A land where evil doesn’t exist: Sal Tlay Ka Siti
And I’ll bet the people are open-minded and don’t care who you’ve been
And all I hope is that when I find it, I’m able to fit in
Will I fit in?
Sal Tlay Ka Siti: a land of hope and joy
And if I want to get there, I just have to follow that white boy
You were right, mama, you didn’t lie
The place is real, and I’m gonna fly!
I’m on way…soon life won’t be so shitty
Now salvation has a name: Sal Tlay Ka Siti
Video for Sal Tlay Ka Siti
We have this poster framed on one of our tables in Wesley. I’ve always liked it because a lot of what we do with CROP Walk or Stop Hunger Now or Imagine No Malaria focuses on not just spreading a message of faith to folks but also feeding the hungry and providing basic needs. But singing “We Are Africa” in my head over and over because it won’t get out, part of me think this can be patronizing in some ways as well, because the continent of Africa is not the only region that faces these concerns. Again, things to think about.
Annual Conference this year was both a whirlwind and a marathon. Busy-ness or business was everywhere and it was both challenging and inspiring, a call to action and a test of will as we waited/persevered to the end.
I’m starting to think I’ve become more and more emotional as I grow older. There were several times over this past week when I felt tears come to my eyes. Some of those times were times of happiness and thanksgiving – feeling the Spirit move as Telley preached at Annual Conference, Josh’s ordination, the prayerful and powerful way our South Carolina delegation laid hands on Dad and prayed over him after unanimously deciding he would be our episcopal nominee. There were so many great moments from the teaching to the preaching to the videos shared like this:
It was also a great time to camp out for Imagine No Malaria and to train some amazing Students In Mission (SIM) to commit their summers to being in mission = ministry with. Much to be joyful about!
Sometimes the tears were both thankful and a little bit of just overwhelming gratitude. It was surreal being back at Annual Conference this year. Last year, I came in for two days right before the brain surgery and although some probably thought I was insane for coming, for me, it was my church. The conference – both lay and clergy – are our people and that’s where we as a body share our joys and concerns. I didn’t realize going into this how much being back at conference would bring up for me in terms of last year’s struggle.
We sang the song, “In Christ Alone” during the opening worship and those words and all of us a large body singing together was such a powerful witness and testimony to the love and providence of God. (A video and lyrics are below.) I’m glad we also sang this song during the ordination. What a powerful song for our commissioned members and ordinands.
My mom’s birthday is June 11th and the brain surgery (left frontal craniotomy) was on her birthday last year. There’s a part of me that would love to forget that date and not have any mark or reminder of it. There’s another part of me that knows that it was everyone’s prayers and the grace of God that brought me through and it should be celebrated. Don’t know which one is winning yet. The jury is still out. I get teary just typing about it. Does that mean I haven’t fully dealt with it yet? Could be. Too soon? Maybe, but not entirely. Does that mean that was a mucho grande big deal and it’s still crazy to me that all of that happened a year ago and wasn’t just a bad dream? Yes. It’s hard to believe that that was me and if I didn’t have my lovely scar that I worry about getting sunburned, I might forget.
It’s hard to process things. There’s a certain grief and emotion that swells up when you least expect it sometimes. And it happens to all of us. I was sitting in the Memorial Service for ministers that have gone to be with God over the past year on Mom’s birthday on the anniversary of my brain surgery and I just couldn’t do it. I got through the sermon but the slide show of the pictures just did me in. It’s always been a powerful service to me since in my mind the South Carolina Annual Conference is my home/my church and I know that one day there will be a service for each of us. And there goes a Sandi Patti song and slides of the pastor that helped during my Gandaddy’s funeral and I have to head on out. Even in the midst of the thanksgiving for life, even in the midst of the joy of the swelling of the Spirit, even in the midst of realizing that nothing can pluck any of us from God’s hand – there’s still both the realization that something really scary and really serious happened and a something that’s even beyond the word thanksgiving that describes that depth of feeling behind all that could have been and is now.
As I think about those that have faced such devastation in the storms and floods this year, those that have lost loved ones, those that are facing moves and transitions, those that are searching for hope and a rock to lean on when it feels like the walls are closing in around you – I know that the great Comforter is at work in our world and is blowing, inspiring and surrounding us every step of the way. I am grateful that it is in Christ alone our hope is found and that we will never be turned away from it. It’s available to each of us.
What are you grieving today? What are your struggles? When’s the last time you felt that ground swell of emotion? How do we see the Spirit at work in our world? What are the fears and frustrations that we’ve held on to and not given over to God? What are those buttons of grief that can be turned in to sources of joy in our lives?
We are given songs or videos or movies or sermons or scriptures or friends or emails or a beautiful tree or the melody of the ocean or the stillness and quiet to claim as our promise from God. It’s there waiting for us. May we open ourselves to the Word God would speak to us this day. May we claim it and know it and feel it to the depths of our souls. May we know and trust.
In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand
In Christ alone, who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless Babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save
Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live, I live
There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sin?s curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ
No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From a life’s first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Could ever pluck me from His hand
Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I stand
I will stand, I will stand
All other ground is sinking sand
All other ground, all other ground
Is sinking sand, is sinking sand
So I stand
The United Methodist campus ministries went on our annual trip to New York this past week. It always a rich time with students getting to make new friends and see and learn so much from the city. It is also a blessing to be able to stay at Metropolitan Community UMC in Harlem. Their hospitality has always been a huge gift to us and a shining example of the United Methodist connection.
This year the United Methodist Seminar Program led by Jay Godfrey and Jennifer McCallum outdid themselves, scheduling 3 parts of our group in 3 different areas of the city for 3 days to learn about the communities, culture, and social action taking place. We were divided into groups going to the Bronx, Lower East Side and Harlem and had one day of service at a meals on wheels sort of thing where we actually walked to apartments and delivered meals to the elderly, one day of learning about cultures in our particular communities, and one day of seminar focusing on some of the issues in our communities and what organizations in those communities are doing to combat them.
I had spent some time doing seminars in Harlem and the Lower East Side so I was particularly interested in the Bronx. What a huge area and diverse group of people the Bronx includes. In all of the stops at museums, art collectives, a Yankees game, community action groups – each area of the Bronx was really different. They were all so proud to be “Bronxites” that their enthusiasm for their borough was infectious. We all felt like Bronxites to an extent at the end of our time. Did you know that the Bronx has more green space than any other burrough in New York? Me either.
What we heard from a lot of people and I would think the other groups would say this to, was people saying that they grew up dreaming of moving somewhere else and starting a new life, but that through whatever experience, education, epiphany moment, they decided to stay in their community and try to bring about change and keep fighting for chances and opportunities for the children growing up behind them. Many of the speakers we talked to were born and bred in these communities and the passion, devotion and pride that they felt for these places was evident in everything they said whether the good or even the challenging issues that they are still battling.
It was good for the students and me to see these people standing up for what they believe in using real, practical, and change-bringing principles to their every day, bringing voice to the voiceless.
The divide I feel when I’m talking about us going to a living wage rally or fighting on behalf of the poor versus some of the questioning looks I get from people back home, has a lot to do with people’s questions about justice and righteousness. We say we don’t believe all of the malarky about people who suffer having done something wrong or may not have lived right and have caused their suffering. We say that we need to support our mentally ill, veterans, the widows, the orphans, those that can’t help themselves. But then again, when it comes to our wallets and our own comfort, it seems easier to say and assume that if people were just working hard enough, if people just did what it takes to succeed, they would somehow pull themselves up out of these places of poverty.
We just witnessed a royal wedding where a commoner who descended from coal miners and criminals married a prince. As much as I like the fairytale and as hard as her family worked and as many names they have been called for “social climbing,” I think it paints a somewhat unfair picture of what the cycle of poverty really looks like. To say that it is hard to break that cycle is such a rough and belittling use of an adjective that it feels wrong to say. To stand up in the face of corruption, in the face of not just people but entire systems that abuse you, to demand the same rights that others enjoy when you’ve never gotten a fair shake – that is scary, it’s terrifying, it’s intimidating.
I am constantly amazed at the voices that do stand up though. I was glad to hear of a student from the Bronx talk about students in the Bronx organizing a walk out of thousands of students when the government was going to take away their right to a student metrocard to get to and from school. I was inspired listening to Intikana from Rebel Diaz Arts Collective talking about how they’re using art and music and film and all sorts of creative outlets to give people in the Bronx a way to express themselves in non-violent and constructive ways. It’s great to see young people working to bring about a new day. It’s good for all of us to see that we can make a difference, whether through our churches doing a soup kitchen, clothing closet, food pantry, or other social action. In the midst of the sometimes uphill climb and little defeats in the battle, it’s good to know that none of us are alone in this battle and that we have folks journeying with us all over the world.
From a faith perspective, we are clearly called to the poor, to the wounded, to those that need to feel that love and wholeness and new life. This isn’t just the obvious poor among us, but it’s also the single mom trying to make ends meet, it’s also our cranky next door neighbor who’s as lonely as heck, it’s also our friends, our family, the people we see at the office or grocery store or school.
One of this past week’s lectionary texts was 1 Peter 2:19-25 and it talked about suffering and following in Christ’s footsteps. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t ask God for suffering. If you suffer, you suffer, but Christ suffers with you, I get that. But I’m not asking for it like the lovely Mr. Wesley in his new year’s service. There’s two things I like in particular about this text – one that Christ suffered for us and so God knows what suffering feels like – for real without a doubt not even his fault suffering. There’s a song in the new Broadway musical, The Book of Mormon that’s called “Man Up.” I am NOT endorsing or saying you should go out and watch Book of Mormon or get the soundtrack. The story is about two Mormon missionaries in Africa and needless to say, one of them is seeing that he has a challenge before him and he’s like, hey – Jesus had to man up, so I need to too. I’m not saying that we all have to man or woman up, but the song is right in that Christ did suffer and die and he’s been there. He knows what it’s like to feel alone, tired, hungry, beaten, ridiculed, and tortured.
The other thing is that he did the suffering for us, that “by his wounds you have been healed” and he is our Shepherd leading us home. To me, this calls us in two different directions – one to realize that we realize that this LOVE and sacrifice was for us. The other is to realize that we have to share this LOVE and sacrifice with the world. We can’t say, that’s not my problem, it’s a problem over “there” with “those” people in “that” place. Nope, it’s something that we all must wrestle with as we share the light and love of Christ. This cycle of poverty only ends as we all jump into the fight, pool our resources, and leave our pride, self-protection, and rationalizations at the door.
We learned a ton in New York. It was a great trip. The thing I like about these trips is that it’s not just something we leave in New York, in this far away place, but these are things we learn and do and bring home to make a difference where we are, not just in a nice, greeting card kind of way, but for real.
How do we break the cycle of poverty in our communities? How do we break the cycle of unbelief and fear and doubt? How do we break the cycle of people believing that Jesus would just look at them with contempt and say that they deserved it because of what they did? What are our churches saying about the cycle of poverty and suffering? Anything? What message are we telling? What inner soundtrack are our lives rocking along too?
A nice, tame song by JJ Heller, “What Love Really Means.”
Man Up from the Book of Mormon – (don’t forget this is a satirical musical written by the creators of South Park and Avenue Q so listen at your own risk…this is your disclaimer, seriously.)
If someone was going to write a satirical musical about our faith? our denomination? our churches? what would it say???
Just last week I was talking about the beautiful weather and now we’ve been in a week of rain. I was listening to Carole King’s “Beautiful” earlier and in it she talks about reflecting in how you look, how you feel on the inside. We know the research about how even when you’ve had a really cruddy day, there’s something about smiling, something about laughing, that can make a dark day seem a little brighter. Turn that frown upside down, if you will. If all of us reflect the love that we feel than what a world that would be. I don’t think that means we walk around like Stepford Wives or people smiling and fake all the time. Far from it. I hope that it means that in the midst of us being real, we realize how blessed we are and how thankful we should be, and that the joy inside that we feel will bubble out from us. If we are living as grace-filled people that have been given this new life, the very breath we breathe, than that should be reflected in the love and thanksgiving that we show the world. So on this very cloudy yucky day, may we be thankful for both the little things we sometimes take for granted (running water, flowers, food, clothing) and the big things (getting to go to school, opportunities to learn and grow, a gift of wisdom, thought, discourse, dialogue). Let’s rock it on from the inside to the outside and back again! Not fake it to make it, but let our guards down to let the laughter and smiles of our hearts flow.
Carole King’s, “Beautiful”
You’ve got to get up every morning with a smile on your face
Some beautiful smiling faces!
And show the world all the love in your heart
Then people gonna treat you better
You’re gonna find, yes, you will
That you’re beautiful as you feel
Waiting at the station with a workday wind a-blowing
I’ve got nothing to do but watch the passers-by
Mirrored in their faces I see frustration growing
And they don’t see it showing, why do I?
You’ve got to get up every morning with a smile on your face
And show the world all the love in your heart
Then people gonna treat you better
Some smiling, silly faces!
You’re gonna find, yes, you will
That you’re beautiful as you feel
I have often asked myself the reason for THE sadness
In a world where tears are just a lullaby
If there’s any answer, maybe love can end the madness
Maybe not, oh, but we can only try
You’ve got to get up every morning with a smile on your face
And show the world all the love in your heart
Then people gonna treat you better
You’re gonna find, yes, you will
That you’re beautiful as you feel
On the Wesley trip to Washington, DC for spring break, I finally got a chance to listen to the new Taylor Swift CD all the way through. I know there’s some Taylor haters out there, but I’ve always really liked her and I love this CD. And all of us – ranging in musical loves – enjoyed listening to it, which is always a good thing. Who knew you could bond over Taylor Swift singing at the top of your lungs together?
The song that keeps replaying over in my mind is her song, “Mean.” The lyrics are below. In talking with students or youth or friends for that matter, there are so many people that have been wounded by “that mean guy” or “that mean girl.” There’s that person or people that get under our skin and say words that go straight to the heart in amazingly hurtful ways that we can sometimes remember for years.
It’s crazy how much these things can hurt. And it’s amazing to me how many people are affected by this and they never get a chance to speak up for themselves. I think about the movie “Mean Girls” and all the hate and power trips and nastiness. I know, I know, that many a time these mean folks are covering for their own insecurity, but that still doesn’t justify their uber mean behavior.
Here’s the thing. We’ve got to let go of the mean. We’ve got to let go of the rude things people have said. We’ve got to let go of the hurtful things that we remember at our lowest points or times when things feel like they’re falling apart. We’ve got to step out of the round and round cycle of drama and situations that just hurt us, and say enough! There are so many students that I see that are in friendships/relationships that are just plain stressful. Nobody needs the added stress and emotional energy that it takes to deal with unhealthy relationships that just bring you down – especially during the end of semester crunch. Maybe this Lenten season, letting go of some of those wounds and hurts is something we should think about. As we look at this season of repentance and renewal, maybe it’s time we open our hearts to the Spirit of Truth and let go of the hurtful crud.
I think about the ending of The Help where Aibeleen tells Mae Mobley, “You kind. You smart. You important.” That’s the part that broke my heart because so many don’t realize this, and it was so evident that Aibeleen wanted badly for Mae Mobley to get and feel this. I know about the “me” generations and I get that, but I also feel like often my students are reflecting their questions about themselves back to me through their questions, their hurts, their eyes. The heck with the mean ones that just want to tear you down. The heck with those that haven’t walked in your shoes and who are just hurling darts because they’re scared themselves. You are kind. You are smart. You are important.
Let’s let go of the mean…and grab hold of the good that God has spoken over our lives.
Taylor Swift – “Mean”
You, with your words like knives
And swords and weapons that you use against me,
You, have knocked me off my feet again,
Got me feeling like I’m nothing.
You, with your voice like nails on a chalkboard
Calling me out when I’m wounded.
You, pickin’ on the weaker man.
Well you can take me down,
With just one single blow.
But you don’t know, what you don’t know,
Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city,
And all you’re ever gonna be is mean.
Someday, I’ll be big enough so you can’t hit me,
And all you’re ever gonna be is mean.
Why you gotta be so mean?
You, with your switching sides,
And your walk by lies and your humiliation
You, have pointed out my flaws again,
As if I don’t already see them.
I walk with my head down,
Trying to block you out cause I’ll never impress you
I just wanna feel okay again.
I bet you got pushed around,
Somebody made you cold,
But the cycle ends right now,
You can’t lead me down that road,
You don’t know, what you don’t know
Kathy Bostrom, wise woman that she is posted to her facebook status, “I never have given up something for Lent. Instead, I try to add one more prayer, one more act of kindness, one more word of grace, one more way of being the Love of God for God’s children. Join me?”
I loved that sentiment. It reminded me of Jars of Clay’s song, “Small Rebellions.” If we spent our days doing these small rebellions what a world it would be. If we intentionally practiced this, not just for Lent, but for always – wowzers what could happen?
God of the break and shatter
Hearts in every form still matter
In our weakness help us see
That alone we’ll never be
Lifting any burdens off our shoulders
If our days could be filled with small rebellions
Senseless, brutal acts of kindness from us all
If we stand between the fear and firm foundation
Push against the current and the fall
The current and the fall
God of the warn and tattered
All of Your people matter
Give us more than words to speak
Cause we are hearts and arms that reach
And love climbs up and down the human ladder
Give us days to be filled with small rebellions
Senseless, brutal acts of kindness from us all
If we stand between the fear and firm foundation
Push against the current and the fall
The current and the fall
The fall
We will never walk alone again
No, we will never walk alone again
No, we will never walk alone again
Give us days to be filled with small rebellions
Senseless, brutal acts of kindness from us all
If we stand between the fear and firm foundation
Push against the current and the fall
Give us days to be filled with small rebellions
Senseless, brutal acts of kindness from us all
If we stand between the fear and firm foundation
Push against the current and the fall
The current and the fall
I bought some CD’s for Mike for Christmas that I thought would be good for worship. Some were definitely better than others and I was hugely and pleasantly surprised that Jars of Clay’s new album – “The Shelter” is chock full of great music. There hasn’t been a CD in a long time that I’ve listened to with such interest and have felt so moved by. One of the quotes on the album says, “It is in the shelter of each other that the people live.”
It is in the shelter of each other that the people live. Wow. I like those words.
It’s less than a week before students are back. That is a scary, scary thing with so much to be planned and prepared and geared up for. In thinking about this semester though, part of me just wants to claim those words. It is in the shelter of each other that the people live. What does it mean to be church? What does it mean to be in community with one another?
I think about students and the many walks of life they come from and all of the journeying they do during these young adult years and as much as it sounds all feel good and Oprah-y to talk in glowing terms about community all the time, I know it is hard. It’s hard to be in relationship with people that don’t look like you or think like you or vote like you or think the wrong things are funny or don’t want to laugh at your same jokes. But who wants a boring homogenous group? Well, deep down, a lot of people probably do. It’s a lot easier that way.
But how is that the kingdom of God? I hope I’m not surrounded by just a group of snarky white girls in heaven. Lord have mercy on all of us. When I think about campus ministry and the coming semester, I want to see us grow not just in size or number although that would be great. I’d like to see us grow in our love for one another. And not just for one another but for the people that don’t look, act, or sometimes even smell like us.
My prayer is that we get past the quick, hollow greetings and dig into the relationships. That in the midst of the busyness of college life that we can provide a shelter for one another. That’s one of those things I can’t do all by myself. That’s the cool thing about the Christian walk. You can’t do it all by yourself. At some point you have to enter into the chaos and the messyness that is relationship.
It is the shelter of each other that the people live.
Here Dan Haseltine introduces The Shelter…
Here’s them playing the song in the recording studio…
Here’s a version with the words…
I know that I need the shelter of each of you and I thank God for this community that walks with me each step of the way. May we each find and cling to our shelter.
I’ve just gotten into using Pandora. I don’t know what the difference is between the things that I’ll jump on the bandwagon for and the things that I won’t. Some of them that I’ve just started – itunes (I’ve always liked actual CD’s – call me crazy), instagram (no idea yet), or even Words with Friends (the students have me playing it, but I’m absolutely terrible.) Maybe I wait and see if it will catch on (still waiting on Google+) or more than likely, I wait until I have some free time to try it out and it’s easy to access. I still haven’t figured out the “cool” Pandora play lists yet, but I have a couple that I love and regularly jam to. The thing that I’ve noticed more than anything is how long it takes me to realize that the music has stopped. You see, if you listen long enough, or if you like me listens while you work, eventually the music is going to stop and you’ll click on the box and you’ll see a message that inquires whether you’re still listening or not. There are some days when I immediately notice, whoa, whoa, whoa, the music has stopped. There are other days when I’m running a bit more on the ragged side or if I’m deep in thought or a project and I finally realize it but can’t remember where along the way it stopped.
Blessings on the Journey 