Sunday, February 21, 2010

lilysnow

(interspersed lyrics: "More than Ashes," Tim Reimherr)

Winter is hard for me. I wish I associated the season with cozy fires and cocoa and so on, but to me cold is the breath of DEATH, and hell is not fiery but frozen, windy, and slushy. The whole world becomes a barren wasteland, and even the blueness of the sky is sucked up into white nothingness.

That's where I'm coming from. I guess it's weather depression, and the continual occurrence of really crappy things during winter doesn't help. Also, this is only my second true winter in... oh, since I was ten.

I'm more than what these ashes say
they will fade away
when he comes for me

But it feels more fundamental than that--in winter one must realize that the world is not always going to be covered in snow. Cold and death do not have the final word: there's hope!
For spring is already shifting the depths and will reclaim its own.

By grace through faith in Christ I'm saved
I am not the same
when he looks at me

I haven't learned that quite yet.

I am the rose
the joy for which you died
and this I know--I move you with delight

But tonight there was grace for it--
I went to a Furnace prayer meeting Sunday night and, courtesy of the widescreen-view of the World Prayer Center, watched the snow fall. From one angle I almost couldn't believe that it was snow: it looked EXACTLY like the fake snow (translation: soap flakes) used around Christmastime in Singapore! Big, frothy flakes.

and when my heart condemns on every side
I take refuge in the truth: I am the rose to you.


My life is more than meets the eye
I'm hidden now in Christ
and I'm one with him

As worship and intercession wafted through the room, I kept thinking of that passage in Isaiah (58 I think) about how as the rain and snow come down from the earth... so the word of the LORD will not return to Him void... It snowed harder.
my love is real before his eyes
He's ravished by the sight
of one glance from me

There was so much motion and energy in the sky--it mirrored the spirit of intercession: they reflected each other. The snow became the picture of spiritual blessings and prayers--falling steadily, even furiously, filling up the sky and transforming the world.

Like the fullness of God filling everything in every way. Like his immeasurably great power for those who believe.... that falls with such gentleness upon feeble us.

I am the rose, the joy for which you died
and this I know-- I move you with delight

the knowledge of the glory of God will cover the earth as waters cover the seas (Hab 2:14)--
I've always been drawn to nautical imagery and beaches and the SEA and miss it--terribly, sometimes. And can't imagine not ever having seen the vast ocean.

and when my heart condemns on every side
I take refuge in the truth

But snow has its place--creating pictures of what was happening in reality. what prayers were doing, what God is raining down.

I am the rose to you


I am the rose
I am the lily
I am yours
I'm your beauty

I am the rose
I am the lily
I am yours
I'm your beauty

As I was walking home I looked at the snow and even stood still for a few moments (precious few... my feet were cold). And realized that at least for me, this season requires more time to be enjoyed.

more time for the mundane, awful tasks of scraping ice and cautiously testing clumsier brakes.

But once you have thick socks and sweaters that don't make you feel too frumpy and a good coat and hot tea.... then you can start to appreciate this harsher, cleaner beauty.

I am the rose
I am the lily
I am yours
I'm your beauty

I am the rose
I am the lily
I am yours
I'm your beauty

The sprouting, flagrantly colorful JOY of summer (especially an eternal tropical summer) makes winter seem so subdued. You have to search. Everything is either dead or very well-hidden.

There's gonna be a wedding
It's the reason that I'm living
To marry the Lamb

I feel like that somewhat describes where I am spiritually... kind of. Yes and no. Because I'm in a garden but am also very hidden; well, a garden enclosed. Hidden with Christ in God, not doing anything big, not in any kind of leadership role, not going on a missions trip, staying, praying, storing up, being hidden.

And I really like it. Of course, I certainly have my moments... such as when I think of what my life is coming to and I'm already twenty-three, and I'm not where I thought I would be.
There's gonna be a wedding
It's the reason that I'm living
To marry the Lamb

But I feel like I'm where I should be. And it's comforting to be storing up in certain ways... realizing that this will not last forever, but that every minute is precious.

I'm more than what these ashes say
They will fade away
When he comes for me

I've been in leadership since I was pretty little, and honestly that has made for some stressful and hard circumstances. It's so nice to not have that kind of public influence right now. I know that the millisecond a position presents itself, pride tries its best to slither in. And knowledge of your influence increases pressure on everything... not necessarily in a bad way, but it's like turning up the volume on a stereo.
It's easier when you're flying under the radar, so to speak.

My love is real before his eyes
He's ravished by the sight
of one glance from me

So now it's time for a long winter's nap (this season also requires more SLEEP... or at least my schedule does). But I needed to write this to remind me that there was an evening when I enjoyed winter!

And this song is beautiful--to me, it fits this post. Listen to and buy it if you can.



There's gonna be a wedding
It's the reason that I'm living
To marry the Lamb


To marry the Lamb.

Monday, February 15, 2010

parades and make-believe

(this pic looks a little like the street of our apartment in Taiwan)


Wow, first blog of 2010. I've been busy and internet-less.

I've got to sleep soon, but quickly-- Taiwan memory that I had forgotten about.

I remember our Taipei apartment best, on the fifth floor with an unpredictable elevator (we would escort our guests down to the front door just in case it would get stuck). We had a tiny balcony with a few hardy plants that the monsoon season didn't drown. It overlooked a narrow street, and all was concrete and dark gray. But if you leaned out the balcony and look right, you could see lush mountains overrun with rainforest... on a clear day.

There my baby sister took her first steps, there my brother broke his leg, there we played elaborate make-believes and transformed our living room into houses and tepees and islands interspersed with lava. We had an amazing stash of make-believe clothes, from furry vests to bright scarves, and I would wrap Micala into a shawl and protect her from imminent lava-induced death, and Aaron would turn into a jaguar. And we would face-paint everyone and everything... my Mom woke up from a nap once to find black fingertips all over everything, and my friend and I marveling at our beautiful new black baby--none other than a COMPLETELY black Micala.

BUT what I wanted to write about was the view from the apartment looking down at the street. We'd see the garbage truck come along--hear it, actually. It was my childhood's version of the ice-cream man; the garbage truck had a cheerful, repetitive tune and would slowly thread its way through the streets, stopping as each tai tai (married woman) hurried out with her bags of garbage. It was a cool view--hundreds of multicolored bags, a strong metal lever flattening everything as need, and more being piled on as people would toss up their garbage to a man sitting on top of the tall heap.

And we'd see people walking...I would always try to see them without them seeing me, like a cat, because I loathed the extra attention caused by my ethnicity.

Every so often we'd hear distinctive bells jingling and loud opera music, and peered out to see a funeral procession passing by. Lots of bright yellow and orange flowers--chrysanthemums, I think--framing large pictures. This memory is blurred with another procession--what I was reminded of today--so I'm sure this isn't entirely accurate. Part of me wishes I had lived there when I was a bit older, so I could better articulate the many things that have affected me, but that I have forgotten.

Around ghost month (and maybe Chinese New Year or if something bad happened? maybe?), loud trucks with a massive dragon head and brightly uniformed men holding the body of the dragon, making it dance, would trail through the streets. The music was loud, and it sounded strident and scary to me, because I knew what they were doing. People had hired them to march down this particular street to appease a certain god. They were parading their gods down the street.

At theWall today we talked a little about how political Jesus' kingdom is--how it encompasses the political as well as everything else, and how so much of Paul's language had massive, dangerous political implications--'Jesus is Lord', 'gospel'--and that to the Roman world, the word 'evangelize'... its Greek equivalent... signified processions celebrating their gods/Caesar, parading them in the streets. (and this is my memory of the conversation... blame me if I am butchering the cultural context).

It still happens... in the West, there are lots of parades, and I guess you could say that they are parading their gods, such as Santa Claus. My Mom has a long and detailed vendetta against Santa Claus, mainly because everywhere in Taiwan people thought that he was the god Christians worshiped around Christmastime.
BUT that could be stretching it. I don't know. I do think that in the West it is incredibly easy to forget that we all are worshiping something.

We don't have the incense, the idol shelves, the food sacrificed to idols, the children prayed over and blessed by/dedicated to gods.

But we parade ourselves. And oh, so many other things.



ANYHOW here's the verse that we ended with this morning--it's awesome...and how amazing it is that it was culturally relevant in Paul's day and today:


But thanks be to God who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and who makes known through us the fragrance that consists of the knowledge of him in every place. (2 Corinthians 2:14 NET)