Leaning on God

It's been my tendency, when under the pressure of sin (sexual temptation, thoughts/words of pride and anger, and words that, in general, lack the thesis of Christianity [love]) to stray away from God. "I'm too impure to think about Him or to listen to Him right now." And since I don't want my ugly sin to mix with Him--I lean away. 

These are, in fact, the times to lean on God the most. He already knows what's on your mind, regardless if you're acknowledging His presence or not. He's not like a parent that you have to try and please with happy thoughts and words ("don't say 'crap' in front of your mother," and the like). Despite my impurity, he still sticks around and moreover, cares for me. There is no pride in hiding impure thoughts from God--no pride and as I've discovered, no sensible rationale (for there is such a thing as insensible rationale, you know). Because of this, it's not only possible, but helpful to lean on God. 

He already knows.  

Instead of trying to take it away on my own before I can talk to God, I vent it to him. Or even just focusing on him can take my mind off the sin/hurt. 

I don't think prayer has to be with your hands folded and your eyes closed. It's not a "to do list" that you make during the day and that you run through before you go to bed. The mere fact that it was thought to be put on the list was a prayer in itself. Why not take the 20 seconds after you thought about it, and turn it into a quick prayer? Instead we try to figure out how we'll remember to do it later, before bed. But after you've brushed your teeth, washed your face, and flossed. And read. And had a midnight snack because you're jet lagged. And brushed again. And flossed again. 

Sending my thoughts to God in this way (in a frequent and somewhat unritualistic and informal manner) has been helpful for me. Leaning on him on a daily basis admittedly, sounds a bit cliche, but it's helpful imagery for me. Not being ashamed of my worst (not to be confused with accepting my worst as 'okay'), and knowing that it's part of being human is nice. Taking my worst to God and realizing that he can help, is refreshing. 

When else can we lean on God? 

During the good, of course. But we don't feel like we need his support then. Because things are good, and we can run around fine on our own two feet. But when we've "sprang our dignity" (to quote Madeleine L'Engle), we come desperately hobbling. I have to remind myself from time to time, that I wasn't put in these good situations by my own accord. I don't know why I was born into this life, but it's a good one, and I have God to thank for it. 

The China Journey

I've decided to back up the paper copies of my daily journal while I'm in China. Check back often as I debrief the daily workings of our trip in China, hopefully once a day!

Here's the link: http://thoughtsfromchina-summer09.blogspot.com/

Perspectives

This is cool: 

http://news.nationalgeographic.com/news/2009/04/090406-hand-pulsar-nebula-photo.html

Apparently, after a star explodes, it leaves behind a core. In this case, the remaining particles have a created a cosmic hand that is twelve miles wide, 1,700 years old and 17,000 light years away from Earth. Let your imagination run with that for a while. 

I've become interested in space pictures lately, they give me a sense of inconsequentiality.  The photos never give justice to the sheer magnitude of their images, which is why a running imagination is necessary. Compare that vastness to what we think is vast on Earth (the Grand Canyon, skyscrapers, thunder, etc.). Then compare it to things that get us all worked up. Then compare it to the small stuff that we unfortunately sweat all too often. Then to the bug on your ceiling. Then to the cells that make up the bug, the proteins that make up the cell, the amino acids that make up the proteins (that's the hierarchy I think...). Now back to our cosmic hand that's twelve miles wide and 17,000 light years away. And the universe that contains it! And what's beyond that?!

Cool. 

Spiritual IV--More Than a Pouch of Saline

In and after New Orleans I rode this wave of spiritual momentum; I felt closer to God, closer to myself, closer to humanity (family, peers, the suffering, etc.). The momentum lasted for a few weeks, and then it begin to dwindle, like I was afraid it would. No doubt I was different than pre-New Orleans, but I wasn't immersed in a religious community anymore "goin' 'bout the fatha's business" (to quote homeowner Ms. Barbara).

We need a spiritual IV every once in a while; a significant amount of time where we can forget about the world that has dehydrated us and focus on The Refresher. For me, that was coffee (much better than saline) with an amazing woman and pastor. While finding the gray is important, isolation can be just as important as integration. Taking time to let go of the pains of everyday societal burdens and being refreshed, re-energized is really helpful for me. To ride the color analogy, gray is great and necessary, but we need our large doses of white too. It's like a mini wave of momentum; one big wave was great, I'll hope for another one soon, but little waves more often are more helpful and fulfilling. Ah crud, it reminds of practicing (less time more often is more effective/efficient than big marathon practices less often). 

Advice: don't wait until you're dehydrated to start drinking. I got that from Fitness Tip #12 on an Arrowhead bottle, but I think it works. 

Thoughts on Easter Eve--Listening

In a recent bible study, a friend of mine made this statement (paraphrased, of course):

"If you're listening just to the violins the whole time, or just the drums, you'll miss the beauty of the entire piece; you'll miss the aesthetic experience the piece can offer if you just listen." 

To an extent, I agree. Especially as a musician,  it's very easy to concentrate on a specific instrument, or a specific person--whether for their technical mastery, musicianship, showmanship, attractiveness, etc. Often, we can be absorbed by a specific element of a piece of music, but is this a bad thing?

Music is layered so that certain aspects are more important than others. For example, the woodwinds may present a melody that is more poignant than the underlying accompaniment in the strings. Naturally, you focus on the woodwinds. Within this macro style of listening (for the aesthetic experience), you are using--consciously or unconsciously--a micro style of listening. As the music shifts its focus via instrumentation, you shift yours as well. This still falls under the macro umbrella--you go where the music takes you.

When you listen in a micro fashion, you may be focusing on the timpanist for the entirety of the piece, or listening to the viola section during their accompaniment, then the melody in the flute, back to the viola and off to the quality of the percussionist's snare drum roll. While you have been skipping through this symphonic meadow like an A.D.D. kid trying to catch butterflies, you've been missing it.

Time to counter:

When you listen to Tchaikovsky's  Fourth Symphony for the twelfth time, it's time to start listening in a micro fashion. You've already experienced the initial "Wow!" of the piece, it's time to go further up and farther in. You'll find that listening this carefully enhances your appreciation for the performers and more importantly the music and more importantly still, the Creator of the music. 

Ah, now we've come to it.

How does this macro/micro style of listening apply to faith? Well here I am again, trying to use a dualistic analogy from real life experiences to defog my understanding of faith, God and the rest. The answer of course, isn't one or the other. How un-gray of me. 

I've been lucky enough to experience the beauty of God, naturally (without looking for it, macro)--through other people, nature, etc. His beauty never gets old like some pieces of music though, because the melody keeps changing, the instrumentation is recycled and my ears mature (it can be hard to hear though...). However, it's important too, to listen for something (micro). Trumpets won't always fanfare God's in work in my life; it's the soft, elusive melodies that can carry the strongest messages, which can also be the easiest to miss. 

It's becoming increasingly difficult to find the time and place where I can try and hear this melody. We're so loud. If I could stop trying to catch the butterflies for one minute and just listen, I might find a new favorite song. 

Barcodes, Zebras and Pianos

Let's imagine a timeline of sorts, in which black represents the time I spend dedicated to my societal obligations (school work, a social life with family and friends, etc.); all the white areas will represent the time where I have been strictly devoted to God (some Sundays at church, a mission trip perhaps, reading the bible, prayer, etc.). My timeline would look very sectionalized, with definitive black lines and soft, fuzzy white ones. For the most part (pre- New Orleans), my barcode looked like a black box, my zebra, an italian stallion and my piano, very, very dirty.  How can I create areas of gray in this dualistic timeline (to make a spectrum)? How can I include God in my societal obligations?

 1) Through my interaction with others on a daily basis, trying to love the people that irritate me. (You know the ones, that you can't stand listening to--whose voice burns little holes of annoyance into your skull.) Loving is a rather large leap for my little legs, maybe we can start with non-judgmental respect and appreciation. 

2) Taking time throughout my day, specifically for God. Which brings me to my next point...

A completely gray timeline is undesirable. I should have some time dedicated solely to God--so perhaps a gray and white visualization is more ideal. In retrospect, I realize that the times I thought to be black, were actually some form of gray. God was always with me, whether I realized it or not. Perhaps this is where the dualism and linearity of such an analogy fail its purpose. The visualization is helpful though for a young follower and a novice theologizer.  How else can we create gray in our lives?