Attics and Temples

Rich Mullins was one of the most gifted, Godly men I had ever had the chance to know about.  I’d never met him, yet I feel when I see him at Home, we’ll just start chatting about everything.  I hold his music close to my heart and use the lyrics for prayers sometimes.  He wrote a column in a quarterly magazine for several years, and after his death in September 1997, the magazine published a book featuring all of his articles.  This is one of those that I felt as if you should know about.

 Attics and Temples

 My new apartment is in the attic of Jim and Megan's house. 

Its a big old one roomer with a mind of its own, a cacophony of lines that occur at 45 and 90 degree angles, with floors that redefine "level".  This  attic has its own idea of what "square" means, its studs have their own interpretation of the classic 24-inch center.

Right now, the whole thing is about two weeks away from being much more than a lot of potential, right now its resistant to change, openly hostile to  what my ideas of what it ought to be.  I am--with the help of some friends,  a hammer, a saw, some nails and a wrecking bar--enlightening it, changing its look, convincing it that it is not merely ugly, but is a space full of promise  and beauty and order and life.

I suspect that is wants to cooperate, but its hard and I must be patient.   Whoever it was that shaped the attic before me did so with some pretty  big nails, deep cuts, hard hammers and rough saws.  They considered  the attic to be wasted space, storage space, a distance between a roof and a ceiling, and nothing more.  They slopped over the walls with  cheap, nasty paneling, covering the floors with ugly carpet.

Sometimes in the heat of my toil labor, I give in to fits of selfish rage,  which is really frustration over my lack of skill than the progress of the apartment. But late at night, when I look over the piles of dust and dry wall and knee deep debris that remain during this reconstructive effort, I am strangely moved by the place, and I proclaim the Gospel to it softly.  I say, "Attic, I know how it hurts to be torn up.  I am often choked on the litter left by my own remodeling.  I know what its like to settle (by the act of strong will) into the despair of believing you are nothing more than wasted space. 

"I felt the blows of heavy hammers that nailed me to a sense of uselessness.  I have been shaped by some pretty careless workers who came to the task of making me and lacked any craftsmanship or artistry.  I know the pain of wanting to be changed, and yet being distrustful of changes, of wanting to be worked on, but being suspicious of the intentions of the Worker. 

“But here is some good news, my Attic friend... (and anyone out there who feels like this, including me : ) ....  He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.  However messy it may be now, however confusing and scary it appears, however endless the task may seem, we will some day be so glorious, beautiful, alive! 

“There is much tearing out to do, a lot to give up.  No thin coat of new paint, no shallow, petty cover up will do. Its not good enough to cover up imperfection, it must be corrected.   Art, beauty, function...  these things take time.  They may take 'til the day of Christ Jesus."

We are not wasted space.  We are temples of a being far greater than ourselves, temples being built to be inhabited and brought to life.  Though we may not understand the process, our Rebuilder does.  We are His workmanship and the place where He lives.  Little Attic, do not despair.  I'm being made by a Master Carpenter, and I'm learning a little about building too.  Essay written by Rich Mullins, Sept 1993

I read this just tonight, for the first time in a while.  Its amazing how God will direct you to certain things that you need to read/hear at exactly the point that you need to read/hear it.

The Summer of Blogging Day Forty Five

The Piano Lesson

Written on June 17th, 2000...

I am reading "When God Whispers Your Name" by Max Lucado, and I read some really encouraging stuff I wanted to pass along to you, if you didn't mind. Just for anyone new, I like to throw out cool stuff I have read or have heard recently, just to try to make my friends smile... hope it works.


Max was telling of his family's visit to an antique shop, when out of nowhere, he heard beautiful piano music. Straining to find the source of the incredible melody, he discovered it was none other than his little girl, Andrea... okay, I will let him tell you the story...

"..as I drew closer, I saw the real reason [the music was playing]. Andrea was 'playing' a player piano. She wasn't making the music, she was following it. She wasn't commanding the keyboard, she was trying to keep up with it... when a key would dip, her hands would dash to it.

Oh, but if you could have seen her little face, delighted with laughter!

“I could see why she was so happy. She sat down to attempt Chopsticks, but instead was playing Sound of Music!. What's more, she couldn't fail. One greater than she was dictating the sound. Andrea was free to play as much as she wanted, knowing the music would never suffer..."

Cute story, huh? Of course, being Max Lucado, you know the inspirational message is right around the corner... and here it is--it's awesome.

"Its no wonder she rejoiced... she had every reason to... and so do we.

Hasn't God promised the same to us? We sit at the keyboard, willing to play the only song we know, only to discover a new song. And nobody is more surprised than we when our meager efforts are converted into melodious moments.

“You have one, you know... yes, even you has a song of your own, I mean. Each of us do. The only question is, will you play it?

“...as I watched Andrea play that day, I observed a couple of things. I noticed the piano got all the credit. The gathered crowd appreciated Andrea's efforts, but they knew the real source of the music.

“When God works, the same is true. We may applaud the disciple, but no one knows better than the disciple who really deserves the praise.

But that doesn't keep the disciple from sitting at the bench. It sure didn't keep Andrea from sitting at the piano. Why? Because she knew she couldn't fail. Even though she didn't understand how it worked, she knew it did somehow.

So she sat at the keyboard and had the time of her life.

“Even though you may not understand how God works, you know he does. So go ahead. Pull up a bench, take your seat at the piano... Play."

Whew. Its awesome to hear, but pulling up the bench isn't as easy as it sounds, we all know. I'm learning...

The Summer of Blogging Day Twenty Nine

Jars and Jewel

This week's entry from the random emails of encouragement archives... I get inspirations for stuff in the weirdest places and at the weirdest times.  I guess that is what appears to be the randomness of God in my eyes, but is actually the plan of God coming to fruition.  How he can use a song on the radio and the desire to hear that song to eventually lead to the writing of a piece of encouragement is beyond me, but hey, He’s God and He can do that. 

This was written on June 22nd, 2001, ten years ago to the day, back when Jewel was relevant, Jars of Clay was popular, and Coconuts was in business...

So, here is "Jars and Jewel"...

Yes, I did end up finding this CD.  Ten years later, I think
I've listened to it... once?  Maybe twice...

So, let me preface this story to tell you why I was looking for "Pieces of You", the cd by Jewel in the first place... a few days ago, before I started my new job, I was lying in bed about to get up for the morning. It was around nine or so, when on the radio comes "You Were Meant for Me," by Jewel. The song makes me sigh, and brings back memories. I like the song, can't help it, plus, its been stuck in my head for a week. So there. That's why.


Now, the real story...

So, I'm in Coconuts today at lunch. I go there every two weeks or so, and flip through their used cds. Let me just plug them and say they have the absolute best used cd prices in town, better than CD Warehouse, better than Replays... you can find new and old stuff there cheap! Okay, back to my cd flipping. My main goal is to find 2 cds--Goo Goo Dolls "Dizzy Up the Girl", and Jewel's "Pieces of You". Why the Goo Goo Dolls? I love "Black Balloon", one of the saddest songs I've ever heard, plus its a really good album. Why Jewel? Well, you should have read that by now. I find "Dizzy Up the Girl" pretty quickly, for 6.99 mind you, and I go on a hunt for Jewel. I have seen "Pieces of You" there for as cheap at 3.99, so when I find it, that's what I'm expecting to pay for it. Maybe less. I told you, Coconuts was cheap.

Anyway, as luck would have it, the one time I actually AM looking for a Jewel cd, they don’t have it. Unbelievable. So I flip through some more cds and come across a cd that makes me shriek. I shrieked, in fact, loud enough for a Coconut's worker to turn to me and say, "Did you find anything you like?"

Speechless, I nodded my head to affirm. I picked up the cause of my joy, and was holding, with a mere 7.99 price tag on it, a cd by the band Jars of Clay. The cd was The White Elephant Sessions.

Let me explain. Jars of Clay, first of all, is a great band. Yeah, I know, I know, their first cd was the best, and I agree, but because Free at Last was dcTalk's best, that didn’t make Jesus Freak and Supernatural inferior products... same thing with Jars of Clay.

If you are a Jars fan (like Death Cab for Cutie, real
fans call them just "Death Cab"... real Jars of Clay
fans call them just "Jars"), then you need this in
your collection

The White Elephant Sessions is a cd they put out for promotion when they released "If I Left The Zoo", their latest album, back last year. On this cd is a few raw demo cuts of stuff that have appeared on their last two cds, Zoo and "Much Afraid". It's got some stuff they did in college, some early studio works they have done, and songs you wont find on anything anywhere else. Maybe Napster.

I've been searching for a year for this cd... on eBay, I bid on it once, but when the price got to be over 25 dollars, I gave up. Its not a spectacularly good cd, but its just hard to find. You gotta work to get it. Anyone can walk up to Lifeway, Wal-Mart, even Coconuts (their first cd was 3.99, Much Afraid was 5.99) and get any of the other Jars of Clay stuff... but you gotta work to find The White Elephant Sessions.

Same thing with God. Wait, I know I just lost some of you, but here me out.

I don’t want to minimize the importance or the experience, but face it, it's not that hard to become a Christian. But, as I have often said, there is a difference in being a Christian and being Godly. Christianity requires a belief that Jesus died on that cross for the fact you and I are a couple of schmoe sinners. But to be godly, to be a true man or woman of God... well, that requires a Christian that is disciplined, obedient, evangelistic, grounded in Scripture, faithful and prayerful.

Anyone who believes that Jesus died for them can walk up and get the CD of Grace and Peace that God has for them. But you have to take the extra effort to receive the Box Set of blessings God has for the godly. Do you see the connection I'm trying to make? I'm not saying God loves the godly more than the lukewarm Christian... but the godly will have more blessings because God promised them to those who follow Him.

Don't just settle for the Jars of Clay cds that everyone has... or the blessings that come with being a Christ follower... hunt, search, seek, find that White Elephant cd... and the treasures God has for you in being not just a Christian, but a Man or Woman of God.

Besides, God is tells us in His Word...

Sing with me...

You were meant for Me... and I... was meant for you...

Sorry, couldn't help it.

He will save your soul

The Summer of Blogging Day Twenty One

Phase 10 With God

Another long day, another late night and I dip into the computer archives to pull up a Random Email of Encouragement (I've still got about 80 of these never posted, so I might use one per week just to fill in).  I was actually going to post something I found kinda funny (I have about 30 email ha-ha things that can be used... again, maybe once every few weeks...), and in fact did cut and paste it here, then started to type the intro by saying, "Its late, just got in from playing Phase 10 with the family..."
 
And then I remembered this little gem that actually takes place around a game of Phase 10, a delightful card game that lasts hours and hours, and I can thank Julie Haynes in Troy for introducing me too... and I myself am responsible for it sweeping through parts of Virginia, lower Alabama and much of other parts of the country...
 
It should be noted that this ever so slightly lifts a concept from Leonard Pitts in the Miami Herald, but his game of choice was basketball... everything else has been changed. 
 
From March 19th, 2001...
 
Phase 10 with God
 
The following story is not true. But it could be.

So, the other night, Justin Glenn, The Lovely Steph Leann, Jennifer Pritchett, Sarah Hasha and myself were sitting around at The Deuce. We were about to play Phase 10, when God called. He said He was coming over, so we figured we would wait on Him to get there.

Finally, about 8:30, He comes in. He doesn't knock, but then, who really does?

“About time, Abba,” Sarah says, getting the cards off the coffee table and heading for the dining room.

“Sorry,” God replied. “I was attending to the prayers of the sick in New Delhi. That and they are doing construction on 65 again… quite annoying.”  (fyi--just as a quick aside, when I re-read this, the first thing I thought of, now that its 2011, was "some stuff never changes")

We all sat down at the table, and I begin to deal. Now, its not widely known, but God is practically unstoppable at cards. Its easier when you know what’s coming, I guess.  Justin gets his cards and grunts about how crappy his hand is, while Jennifer seems happier with hers. The Lovely Steph Leann comes out of the kitchen with her glass of water, picking up her cards as she sits.

God seemed happy with His hand. Yeah, the hand of God seemed pretty strong, I think.  So, as we are playing, I ask God what He thinks about this Indian guy that is in the newspaper. God, while laying down His phase immediately, replies He hadn’t seen the paper today. Before New Delhi, it seems He was healing a cancer in Omaha. Busy man, He is.

I reach to the counter and hand Him today’s paper, showing Him the story.  It seems this fellow named T. John, an official in the Indian province of Karnataka, was forced to resign his position over remarks he made in a speech to some students. Apparently he told them the recent earthquake was an act of revenge by God for attacks by Hindus on the country’s Christian minorities. The quake claimed about 12,000 lives.

“Wow, God,” Stephanie asked, laying down her first phase. “Is this true?”

God sighed, drawing the 7 card Steph just laid down. “Does T. John know anything about these 12,000 people, you think?” He put the 7 on his cards in front of Him, an 8 on Stephanie’s cards and went out. “Do you guys know? Can you tell me which ones persecuted Christians and which ones were Christians themselves? Or Muslims or Jews? Can you describe the ones who stole from the poor or mistreated children? Or can you describe the ones who gave bread to the hungry or read to the blind?”

“Of course not, God,” Jennifer replied, shuffling the cards. She turned to me, “Oh, I had 60 points.”

God replied, “I wouldn't expect you to, Jennifer. But I can. Those people didn't die for revenge.”

“They why…” I caught myself, remembering how hacked off he got with Job pestering Him with questions.

God just smiled. It was kind of neat, because when he did, a slight spring breeze came through the open window.

“I know, d$. You want a world without pain. A world without suffering and loss.”

“That would seem like a good idea, Father,” Justin replied.

“Tis true, Justin. A nice world that would be, but that would also be a world without healing, without joy and redemption. Each one gives meaning to the other.”

Jennifer began to deal the cards, as I announced that God and Stephanie were on phase 2, Justin, Jennifer, Sarah and I were on phase 1.

“So, teaching lessons isn't why you allow chaos and calamity to happen?” I asked.

“Now, I didn't say that, d$,” God picked up his cards. “I mean, I thought Chicago needed a shot of humility, so I gave them the Cubs.” He laid down His phase, three cards with the number 4 on them, and cards 7 through 11. “Adam Sandler movies are my way of saying ‘Support your local library’. I’m not above sending messages.”

“Well, if that’s the case,” Justin asked, picking up the 2 God discarded, “then why does this guy bother you so much?”

“See, its simple,” He said. “People like him irk Me because they are always quoting Me when I haven’t said anything to them. Always asserting their own petty motives to My name. They are forever putting My name on some moronic thing that has nothing to do with Me.”

The Lovely Steph Leann discarded a 3. God drew from the pile, placed a 9 on the phase Justin had laid down, and then went out.  It's like He knew. 

He continued, “It’s not just him, though. It’s the people who declare war claiming I told them to do it. Its that TV preacher who says send him money or I’ll kill him. It’s the crowd that says I sent AIDS as a judgement upon some of my children. It’s the ones who hate in My name.

“And the worst thing about it, is that the things I DO say, no one seems to pay attention. I tell you to take care of one another. I tell you to honor your parents. I tell you to stop stealing, killing and coveting. I tell you I love you.”

“But you said those things a long time ago. Maybe you need to say them again,” Sarah replied, dealing the cards.

“I say them everyday,” God smiled back. “I remind you every day. In sunrises and silences, in breezes and in smiles, , in your encouragement mails, d$, and in Justin’s praise and worship, in love and even in tears.

“What about Marilyn Manson?” The Lovely Steph Leann smiled. “Should you just get rid of him?”

“You’d be surprised, Steph,” God said as he picked up a card. “Just between us, I've got some plans for him. Don’t be surprised to see him in Heaven. Trust me.” He winked at The Lovely Steph Leann, who blushed.

“You know what the problem is?” He laid down phase three, then went out. “You people make so much noise, you hardly ever hear Me. You talk so much I can’t get a word in edgewise. You need to listen.”

I wrote down my 75 points. “What, God?”

“My point exactly,” He smiled back.

God won that night. He had five points, but that’s because Justin skipped Him and went out. Justin had a stomachache later that night.

The Summer of Blogging Day Fifteen

Feelin' Funky

For Day Nine of The Summer of Blogging, because its late and I'm tired and I'm wiped out and I didn't want to miss a day of writing but I still wanted to post... here is a random email of encouragment I wrote on September 7th, 2001... its for anyone in a spiritual funk.  Myself included.  Just being honest. I keep forgetting prayer works. 

"Feeling Funky"

If you are on a spiritual high right now, on top of the world, feeling like you could take on Hell with God and a water pistol (its possible... remember, with Christ I can do ALL things...), then this Encouragement Mail is not necessarily for you... come back and read it when that high comes down a little. Or, just delete it, if you are one of the lucky few who stay on a mountain all the time...


For the rest of you, those of you in a spiritual funk, as I feel sometimes, more often than not, I'm speaking your language. Heard a song yesterday I was giving to someone as an encouragement, and God turned up the speakers on my heart so I could listen to it... so I wanted to share it with you.

Got a witness not too stable, wouldn't get me very far

Got one hand on the table, one in the cookie jar...

You ever feel like this? Look at your life, and think "Geez, if I wasn't a Christian, and looked at someone who lived just like me, I wouldn't be very excited about becoming a Christian." One hand on the table, one hand in the cookie jar? One side of your life open to the public, on a perfect spiritual display... and the other hidden from view, where no one sees what you say, do, think... no one but God.

Got sins that need eviction, from a temple that’s a wreck

Got chains of contradiction hanging around my neck

Those sins that just won't stinkin' go away! You keep fighting them and fighting them, and when you think the battle is won, you lose again! A scene I can imagine in Hell's conference room, where they are assigning demons to people:

Demon 1: Boy, I hope I get that d$ assignment!
Demon 2: Really? I would think that a non-Christian would be easier... I mean, that Dave guy is like, big in church and stuff. Isn't that hard?
Demon 1: Naw, man, I had d$ last summer, cushiest job I ever had. You just sit back, he messes it up on his own!
Demon 2: Really?
Demon 1: Yeah, every now and then after that Bible Study I have to step in and try and cause problems, sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't, but most of the time, I don't even have to do anything! He just screws up bad enough on his own! (Pause) Crapola! They gave me Emmy Turnbow duty! I hate that shift! Now, I actually gotta do some work!!

Feel the bitter winds grow colder, they are dancing with my pride

Got a chip on my shoulder bigger than a mountainside

Pride. Sheesh. That feeling of presumption that everything is simply peachy in my spiritual walk. That feeling that says, "Aw, gee, you went to church! You read the Bible... just last week! You're in good shape!" That chip, be it pride, selfishness, lust, presumption, disrespect, disbelief... doesn't have to be bigger than a mountainside... it can be the size of a pretzel, and still do some major damage in your life. Are ya feeling me?

And these claws of human nature hold me tight within their grasp

I'm not worthy of forgiveness but I just had to ask...

I feel like this many times. I picture myself just bound by ropes, with little sins written all over them... not the sins we would consider big... just a bunch of little ones, that combined, are more powerful and hold tighter than any of the bigger fallacies I could do. And no, I'm not worthy of forgiveness... and sometimes I ask like that. "God... I'm a dork, I know it... but please forgive me." Sometimes, I almost expect him to say, "You know, Dave, we've been through this... and this time, I'm not going to forget about it." Even though you know he never would... you think, "If I were Him, I sure would." Good thing you aren't Him, huh?

When I've all but killed the fire, and my soul's in desperate need

But I wallow in the mire of complacency

Complacency... ooh, big one. Spelled out... You know you need the nourishment that God and His Word can give you... and yet you just roll around where you are, with no motivation to move.

I want to taste the fruit I'm missing, and yet I feast only the bread

My desire's alive and kickin', but my drive is dead

There is so much out there that God is waiting to give to you and me! But we don't take it! Instead of all the wonderful fruits of love, mercy, grace, power he has for use, we sit on the steps munching on stale WonderBread (not even the Iron Kids kind!), wondering why our meals don't taste better! And my desire to follow God, to know God, to want God is always alive and kicking... but my drive never does anything about it!

You bear the weight of condemnation cleansing with the blood of truth

But! There is always a big But! Jesus... took all of this. Put it on his shoulders, had it driven through his hands and feet, had it poked in his side, had it forced upon his head in the form of a crown of thorns...

So with my humble acclamation, I want to give myself to You

After reading all this... if you think to yourself, "You know, d$, I just don't know where you are coming from... I'm not feeling you here, man," then you can stop now. But if you are thinking, "You know, that’s my life in a nutshell, that’s where I feel like I am..." then there is something you can do about it.

I go down... I go down, down, down... I go down on my knees

Thats right, folks. It’s called prayer. "But, I've done that! It’s not working!" I look at it this way... out of all the people in the world, there are probably only 1/10 of them that pray to God, ever. And out of those, I'd guess only 1/10 of them actually do it on a regular basis... with 6 billion people on earth, and only 1/20th of them talking to Him, do you honestly think that God is going to ignore someone who is praying to Him? He loves that stuff! Maybe you should skip the official prayers of "Oh, holy God, forgive my transgressions, and I lift my soul to thee that thou will fill me with thy grace and..." Now, don't get me wrong, that’s fine and all... if you mean it... but sometimes, you gotta get a little more plain-languaged with God, and talk to him like you would talk to anyone else...

Feed my hunger, slave my thirst for a spiritual rebirth

Light my darkness, move in me

"God... I'm messed up. I know of all these things I want to do, I know of all the ways I want to show you that I love you... but I just ain't doing it. It’s not a matter of not having time, cause I can make the time. It’s not a matter that I doubt you, because I fully believe in you. I just need you to come down here and get me moving, God." I'll have you know I prayed that prayer not more than two hours ago, before I even thought about writing this.

Make me more than what You see

And there's the tag line. "God... I know with you, I can be so much more than what I am now. Make it so. Please." And the scary part is... He will. That’s a promise.

As I go down on my knees...

Moral of the story... if you are feeling funky, like described above, the total spiritual overhaul begins with a word to God. If your car is broke, just leaving it in the driveway ain't gonna fix it... you gotta make the move to take somewhere and they'll take care of the rest, the hard part. Same thing with Him.

Oh, by the way... do you sometimes feel like this:

"I am told that God lives in me, and yet the reality of darkness... is so great that nothing touches my soul... Where I try to raise my thoughts to heaven, there is such convicting emptiness that those very thoughts return like knives... Love... it brings nothing. In my soul, I can't tell you how dark it is... I feel like refusing God."

Sounds harsh, doesn't it? Well, this is an excerpt from some letters written in the 50s and 60s, found in Kolkata (formerly Calcutta). The author? Mother Teresa. Yes, that one. See, you aren't the only one that feels funky from time to time.

Funk is a cool word, though, isn't it?

Funk lifting...
d$

Sex, Love, God & Gifts

I was skimming through my blogroll as I do many times when I check out my page to make sure things are running correctly, and I came across the latest post for a blog called "Happy Harper Stories".  Its written by Jamie, who is a chick who goes to my church, Valleydale Church (an sbc fellowship, natch) and who I... well, let's be honest, we barely know each other.  Ask Jamie, and I'm sure she's tell you the same thing.  That, however, doesn't mean I don't enjoy her writings.

Now, sometimes she discusses things that don't really curry my interest, some kid stories, some mommy stories, things I can't relate to (yet--give it another 10 months or a year, and I'll be lapping those stories up with a "yep!" and a "that's me!" and a "wow, there now!" attitude) but many times her writing is comforting, fun and always with a twinge, if not a full on display, of the power and love of Jesus Christ.

So, being a stupid boy, naturally when I saw her latest post was entitled "Biblical Submission and Worship in the Bedroom", I had to click over. 

Here is the first paragraph of her post...

Submit to one another out of reverence for Christ. Ephesians 5:21... I have these really great Christian women friends who I get to see once every 3 or 4 months. They are godly women who sharpen me in my spiritual walk. Every time I see them, they make me want to go home and have sex with my husband, so I am sure he loves them. Sound odd? Let me explain.

Her post is about being a Christ Follower and...

(looking around)

(looking around still)

(no one is listening)

...being a Christ Follower and having sex...

SHHH!!!!  Don't say that out loud!  Did you hear me?  No?  Okay, I said... being a Christ Follower and having sex.  I know, scandalous!  Don't you know that Song of Solomon doesn't really exist in the Bible according to some congregations!?

Actually... it does exist.  I would invite you to read the rest of her post, which you can go to here (but please, do come back, I'm not done with you yet), which discusses the joy of such marital fruit that He has given to us.

And it made think about something I wrote on October 31st, 2001 (I was married in 2004, so this predates that)... before you read, understand something--this is not a judgemental piece.  I mean to point no fingers, nor lay guilt on anyone, myself included, for toes that might be stepped on... its just a little slice of God's love and His purpose. 

Anyway, out of the vault of Dave's Encouragement...

"Sex, Love, God and Gifts"

In our Life Connection--Sunday school as it was called for 25 of my 26 years--class at Valleydale Baptist, we've been studying Song of Solomon. The first several weeks this summer were all about dating and courtship, something I will never master, to be honest with you. We took a break in August and September, and started back a few weeks ago in the midst of Solomon and his wife's marriage. We've looked at keeping marriage fresh, the "art" of dealing with conflicts and lately, the "art" of romance--or dating your wife. Okay, we've talked about sex.


Its so strange that we've grown up in a world that has taught us that sex is such an easy thing to do and a casual thing to take part in. Why? Because it’s treated so lightly... Ross and Rachel on Friends had "casual sex" months ago, and now they are having a baby... and though I think the show is hilarious--btw, I'm dealing with that--the whole situation is being treated as a punch line. Instead of seeing this as a degradation of God's gift, we laugh, because the world tells us, "Hey, if you are going to do it, then you might mess up a little."

Somehow, we keep forgetting that God says, "Hey, if your gonna do it, be married."

God created sex. It’s not something that Cinemax created for their late night episodes of Passion Cove, or something Hollywood came up with so they could make Showgirls. God made it. God made it for love. God made a him and a her, and instilled in said him and her a passion and love for each other so deep that they would consummate--sex--and make him and her a "them". Make sense?

Of course, we know sex shouldn't be a byproduct of a date or a night of wanderlust, but a result of marriage and love. Which is the plot line of the latter chapters of Song of Solomon. The entire book is merely a dozen pages or so long, but it far outweighs the world's idea that love is dead, that love is weak, that love is something we generate. We are weak. We are spiritually dead until we meet the source of Love... God. God is Love.

If we say that I am part Hispanic, then it stands to reason that I look it. If we say that Jennifer Pritchett is petite, then by common sense, she should look the part. So, if we say that God is Love, God would look as such... do you follow me?

So what does Love... or God... look like?

As we read Song of Solomon on Sunday, something came to my mind that I read from Rich Mullins. Every word of the Bible is God-breathed, which means He loved us enough to include the poem of Solomon and the details of what God intends in a relationship. But does God just give us the gift of sex in a marriage and then sit back, turning his eyes when we enjoy it?   Laura DeGarmo can sing her head off, so when she lifts praises in song, I picture God smiling. Rebecca Glassco glorifies God on stage, Drew Morris with a guitar, Meredith Quintana with her writings... when Becca acts, Drew plays or Merdi writes, I picture God smiling. What about when two godly people are consummating a marriage? Does God smile? Feeling a little edgy reading this? Ha!

Could it be that God "feels"? Maybe God is capable of the same sort of passion. Could God be excited or must He be that reverent picture of a large bearded man on a huge throne? Are we comfortable with the image of God as Father and nervous about God as a Lover?  Personally, I think of God as a Parent, which is less personality and more role playing than anything. Are we happy to have God as our Creator, but get a little weirded out as being Creative? God is a great Engineer, but what about an Artist? Being Sovereign comforts us, but I think sometimes being a Poet makes us tense. Do we enjoy the glow of God's light but hide ourselves from the heat of His flames?

Does the idea that Jesus tolerated the sinful woman's anointing of His feet, but enjoyed John resting his head on Jesus' chest make us squirm? Rich Mullins laughingly said "How is it we can accept that Moses saw a bush on fire and was not consumed, but we doubt that God can love in a rage and never cool?"

For those of you out of the Song of Solomon class, read the book when you can. For those of you in the class, pay more attention to the love that God has provided Solomon and his lover to share with each other. Either way, try to take a look at God as a Lover of our souls, not just a provider of our needs.

Enjoying the Lover of My Soul...

Forgiving Dad

Many readers of this blog know me really well, because they are close to me, and I "let them in", so to say, to that inner circle of myself that many people don't see--The Lovely Steph Leann, natch, but also a few people like MZ, Mikey, The Good Rever'n Ty, and a few select others.  Many more know me from Valleydale Church (an sbc fellowship), and just know my name or my face, or read the blog and keep up with me there.  And still more just know the name, and that I have a blog.  (to all of you, thanks for reading)...

Anyway, the ones that know me really well know that I'm dealing with the probability that I will lose my mom in a few weeks... months... who knows.  She's not doing well, and every time the phone rings, in those seconds it takes me to pick it up and see who is calling, my mind goes through an entire scenario of my sister calling, tell me the worst.  And so far, it hasn't been like that... its The Lovely Steph Leann asking about our upcoming Disney trip, or MZ asking me about picking up some white mocha, or Mikey calling me about a movie at the ghetto theater, or MZ asking me to pick up some grande cups, or... you get the point.  Its never my sister.  But one day, it will be.

And with the loss of my mom, the inevitable, I will have lost both of my parents.  I'm sure that will be a blog for another day. 

This past August marks 10 years since my father passed.  As the years rolls by, I remember him, but maybe a little less and less... not to say I'll forget John H. Dollar, but its like, your life keeps going.  You keep a little piece of him tucked away, your favorite parts, like when we used to do the "Question of the Day" (as a kid, I would write down a question like "Who painted the Mona Lisa?" or "How do airplanes stay in the air?", and he would write down a response later), or when he would take me to get my haircuts as a small kid.  I mostly forget the bad stuff, though I'm sure if I thought about it hard, I could come up with something--so I try not to worry about that too much.

John Dollar served in World War II, and in Korea as an airplane mechanic.  I've always had the utmost respect not just for veterans, especially in today's conflicts when war is unlike anything we've ever faced, but my feeling towards WWII guys (and gals) is quite simply, they saved the world.  Not everything was perfect, not everyone agreed, and our country then--like now--did some dumb stuff, but my father was part of a military that stopped an ever-growing movement of hatred and power, one that was taking country by country.   And I'm not even sure we'll ever be successful in such an endeavor again, not with today's culture and society.  Just sayin'.

They had a military funeral for my dad.  It was one of the most beautiful, powerful things I've ever seen--he was in the Air Force, and a group of Air Force soldiers performed the service, including one of the... well, I hate saying "coolest", but that's what it was... things I've ever seen, that being the flag folding.  Taps played.  A soldier got on one knee in front of my broken mom, and handed the flag to her, saying, "We present this flag to you on behalf of the Air Force, and the United States of America, and we thank him for his service to our country."   Then, a 21-gun salute.  Unbelievable. 

Today is Veteran's Day.  Usually, I save my patriotism for a July 4th post, and I always do something for 9/11, but I thought I would post something I wrote in 2000, discussing my father and myself. 

From September 1st, 2000....

My father and I have never had a perfect relationship. As a matter of fact, I've spent the last few years kind of harboring a slight grudge against the man. I know he loved me, he had to of to put up with me for 18 years but the problem was I never really heard it from him. I would always hear it from my mother "You know your dad loves you". Sure, he wasn't the kind of person who expressed it a whole lot in words, but in my mind, his actions never showed it either. He didn't come to my graduation or my Eagle Scout ceremony, along with a few other things that were really important to me, and for some reason, I used those as reasons to be a little bitter.

The last year or so, he's been from the nursing home to the hospital to the nursing home to the hospital, back and forth. Nothing specific, he was just getting older. And older and older. In the 18 months or so he's been away, I've probably seen him maybe five or six times. I think I subliminally used the distance from Birmingham to there as a reason not to go see him, when really it was I wasn't ready to forgive for anything. I've never had a problem with forgiveness, unless it had to do with my very own dad. Imagine that.

This past Monday, my sister calls me at work, and says those words I'd been expecting to hear for a while "You need to come home and see him. He's not doing so well." I had originally planned to take the Labor Day weekend and come see him, and thoughts of doing so still lingered, but I felt the Spirit prodding me "Go on. Its time."

Tuesday, I drove from Birmingham in my new-to-me Blazer and went straight to the nursing home. Once upon a time, my father stood 6'4, topped 220, big strong muscles, a beer in one hand, a remote in the other. Now, he lay curled up, looking about 130 or so, a blank look on his face. Not the man I remember growing up. Suddenly it occurred to me how wrong I had been to wait this long.

I think God had ordained my visit this particular day, because there was no one around. The distractions were gone. And my courage was there. I sat down beside the bed and began to speak. My first words were "Daddy... I forgive you." Not knowing, and still not knowing now, if he could even hear me, I began to tell him of the things I had harbored. The things I had held against him. Stuff that seemed probably stupid to the outside world, but stuff that was really important to me. He just stared at me. Not a sound, not a grumble. Just a slightly open mouth, and a gaze.

Then, I began to tell of the most important part. "Daddy... God loves you. More than you'll ever know, God loves you. And you can spend forever with him, all you have to do is be forgiven and you'll be saved." I used the same words over and over... "All you have to do is think it, not even say it. Forgive me, and save me." I said those words over and over, praying that he would hear me.

And, tonight, while I was at Bible Study, my father passed away. About 8:45 or so. I'm quite sad, actually, but I praise God that I talked to him. I can never say for sure... well, not until I reach Heaven myself... if he understood a word I was saying, but the main thing was that I said what needed to be said.

Now... here's your encouragement.... say it. Don’t hold grudges. Not to rehash the old Life is Short adage, but in a way, that’s right on the money. Don’t wait. Find those people you are angry with, find those people you have a misunderstanding with, and clear it up. The Bible commands us to not let the sun go down on our anger... and I waited many suns... almost too many.

Back to 2010, hope I didn't bring the mood down too much... thanks for reading...