two reunions.

I attended a reunion today...the kind of reunion that only happens when a tragedy has occurred. People who haven't seen each other in 7 or 8 years gathered today to grieve the loss of one extraordinary guy.

There was another reunion on Monday night - of a very different nature. An event that caused us to grieve here on earth led to a reunion of perfect joy somewhere else.

How can that possibly make sense to us - really? How do we reconcile that? I have no idea.

Here's what I do know. Justin Cope was extremely gifted (as a musician, as a teacher, as an actor, as an...everything), he was consistent (everyone had the same opinion of him - energetic, thoughtful, kind to everyone - a joy to be around), and he loved the Lord. Loved Him.

Here is what else I know. Justin can now see the bigger picture. We can only see through a tiny little window where we're at, but now he can see with Heaven's eyes, and it all makes true and perfect sense. He has looked fully into the face of One Who loves him, and he has new eyes. They're still perfectly brown, but new nonetheless.

I very much wish I had been there to see this reunion. Can you imagine? I'll bet, for a second, it was like looking into a mirror...Cope always had his Father's smile.

And there he sits, playing the king of all acoustic guitars (something in the Heavenly Taylor series, I'm sure), looking at the bigger picture and finally understanding things. Billy Jones and I laughed as we thought about how much Jesus must be enjoying Justin's antics right about now. He's writing new and wonderful songs, goofing off with Gabriel, and rooting for Tennessee...

The time of Justin's life will know no end, nor grief, nor sorrow. But it will know many, many joyful reunions.



See you soon.

silence.

in the aching
i speak to myself what i think you would say.
but my voice sounds flat.
thin.
weakened by words that i do not understand
and hardly believe.
i would rather be mute than false.
but if i go silent, will you speak up?
or will silence once again take
hostage our conversation?
i wonder if it will be the silence of doubt -
what needs to be said? -
or the silence of peace -
it goes without saying-.

healing...?

20 years of walking on egg shells gets you used to pain. The sense of dread becoming ordinary is at once both tragic and comforting. Though your nerves are constantly on edge, you aren't aware of what it used to feel like to be relaxed, calm, unafraid. This is your life now. Why wish for anything else? Why hope for what cannot be?

Suddenly, the light, fragile egg shells become glass. It tears, cuts, makes you bleed. Your feet become calloused and unfeeling as you get used to this new ground. You've forgotten the feel of grass, and even if you were walking on it, you wouldn't recognize it. Your nerves are dead. In an effort to save what little softness of your heart remains, you put up an impenetrable armor that keeps the bad - and the good - out. You have to take care of yourself, right?

As He leads you into the green pastures, you see but cannot feel...How long will this part of the journey last? He sits beside still waters and invites you to join Him, but you remain standing, hesitant. Can you really rest here? You see the sun, but its warmth cannot get through your armor.

There is only one thing to do to resurrect this life. You must lose it.

So you shed your skin - your entire outer being - like Eustace's dragon, and come forth soft, pink, raw. You blink in the light and shiver from the sudden warmth of the sun. The cool grass underneath soothes your feet. Tears fall as you realize the darkness of the valley behind you. You look down at your new hands that were once cut and bleeding, and see that He has not allowed the rocks of the valley to scar you. In your mind's eye, you can still see deepness of the wound...but He has surely healed it. Or has He?

Sometimes just the remembrance of a wound is enough to make it bleed again.

etcetera.

I walked into a mailing establishment today to purchase a stamp and mail my car payment. This establishment shall remain nameless (it was not a post office). I walked up to the counter after being greeted by the apparent owner with a "What can I do for you, darlin'?"

"I need to buy a stamp, please."

"Alright, that'll be 55 cents."

I blinked at him. I was expecting him to laugh at his obvious and insipid joke, but I found only silence. Is it possible that he was serious? I guessed I'd better check.

"Why?"

"Because that's what I charge."

Crickets chirped.

"For a 39-cent stamp?"

"Well, I can't charge you what I pay for them!" His tone was becoming more insolent with every syllable.

Oh, right, naturally. One has to make a profit, so it's quite right that one should charge almost 50% more for a POSTAGE STAMP. What kind of profit is 16 cents?
And of course, I couldn't say any of this. Mere words of wit are no match for premeditated insanity.

hearts.

As the music continued to create an atmosphere of peace and freedom, I looked out over our congregation. On the left side, I saw a young man who recently lost his father in a tragic accident – the kind that you want to think doesn’t really happen to anyone. He was bent over, sobbing into his hands, and two ladies I work with but don’t know very well were with him, comforting him as they may. The first had her arms around him, and the second was standing over him, crying as well, with one hand on his shoulder and the other raised to God for help.
On the right, I saw another young man, recently married, being prayed for by one of my close coworkers. I had not seen my friend in direct ministry before, and to witness this exchange was changing and precious.
Incase you had any doubt as to whether there are any people in the church who are truly genuine…there are. These are the hearts I serve with. I am blessed to know them, to support them, to learn from them. May they be blessed in return.

eternity.

They put me in a chair that resembled a shabby desk a middle-schooler would be forced to sit in every day, and put a tourniquet on my arm. After sticking me and finding that my vein had magically disappeared, they spoke together of having to do it again. I found that I could not move my head and began to lose feeling in my body. And then...

It was brief, but I remember the clean, bright light illuminating the room in which I now stood. I was calm, serene, because I saw Him. Saw Him. He was there. Near me, in white, saying something to me. I think my heart could distinguish the words, because I felt peace and pleasure. I wanted to stay there, close and reconciled. Then, suddenly, I could hear myself speak, and my voice sounded frightened - an emotion that contradicted the way I felt in that room. Then the image of Him vanished and I began to see two very different figures, flashing in and out of darkness. My ears were immediately deafened by a ringing coming from somewhere within my head, and I was aware that I was crying out for help but could not move. "Oh Jesus, help me," I repeated, trying not to yell. Broken sobs escaped from my lungs as I realized the vision had been just that, and the reality was that I was stuck in a place I didn't want to be.

Did I die? Is that what death will be? A white room of peace, joy, and nearness to the One I love? The closeness to Him was enough for me to stay for eternity.

legacy.

I've been thinking about this a bit lately...about how important our actions and words are, how they affect the next generation, how they affect eternity. It's heavy stuff to think that I might be completely wasting the time I've been given on this earth by doing frivolous things, like centering an entire day on what TV show I'm currently addicted to, or spending hours at a time on MySpace, etc. When I take a minute to think of what I'm actually here for, I am ashamed of how much time I've wasted toward things that have absolutely no eternal value. I don't take enough of those moments.

I was encouraged this week, however, in being reminded that a lot of times, God takes the little things we do - passing moments of kindness, a word of encouragement, being faithful to just show up...you know, things we don't necessarily plan out - and turns them into powerful moments that can enact life change.

I am blessed to be a friend of a truly wonderful family. The Mitchums are some of the kindest, loving, and most compassionate people I've ever known. Plus, they're some of the funniest folk to be around, and that's always a bonus. If you're ever looking for some entertainment, get one of them to tell you a story. You couldn't write this stuff in a sitcom.

Anyway, recently they suffered the loss of Mr. Mitchum's father, Walter. I met Walter for the first time about two weeks before he passed away, and even those few moments make for a good story that I will always remember. I stopped by the hospital room, hoping to see one of the Mitchums, but instead found Walter alone, semi-conscious. I couldn't just leave, as I was sure he had heard me ask the nurse for his room. So I went in, introduced myself, and took his hand. I think my instinct was to try and shake it, but he grasped my hand, held it for a few minutes and said, "Well, you're a number one sweetheart!"

In the celebration of his life a few weeks later, I learned that Walter was a man of very few words. And I do mean a very few. I realized that I needed to cherish the moments I shared with this man, even though what he said may have been prompted by the amount of morphine coursing through his system.

The stories shared during the ceremony painted a picture of a very colorful man that I now regret I had not gotten to know earlier. When Fulton, Walter's only son and namesake, got up to speak, the first thing he said was, "I'd like to talk about one of Dad's finer qualities: his flexibility." I judged that this was not entirely true, as the crowd immediately erupted into laughter.

It was clear that Walter loved his wife. I saw a picture that Travis took about 4 years ago, and Walter looked so happy laughing with his wife that, for a second, I thought I was looking at a pair of 20-year-old newlyweds rather than people about to celebrate their 61st anniversary.

Even though Walter never said very much, it was clear from the stories of friends, children, and grandchildren that this man had made an eternal impact on many lives. As far as I could tell, each of the 3 kids and 6 grandkids were all children of God, and I think Walter had a lot to do with that. He taught them about hard work, honor, faithfulness, and loving God, and they all loved him in return...hey, even the cows loved Walter.

I see a man like that and the eternal effect of the way he chose to live his life, and I am blown away. I'll bet he had no clue how much he would change the lives of those around him...how much the little moments he shared with his grandkids and the words he spoke to his family would mean later, and how they would shape the character of so many.

Many, many people are reaping the benefits of the way Walter lived his life. He instilled a tradition of kindness and compassion in his family, and even now, just by being in relationship with the Mitchums, my life is being affected by Walter's influence.

It's incredible to think what all God can do with a heart that is truly after His own...

So, the moral of this story is, don't watch 24. It will ruin your life.

joseph.

I've known the Nativity story all my life, but not until this year has it really seemed "real" to me. I think the movie helped, to be honest...if you haven't seen it yet, you really ought to. It's beautiful. I was extremely moved in seeing the relationship between Mary and Joseph fleshed out. It moves so quickly in Luke that it's very easy to forget that these were real people with real emotions and struggles. I've spent years thinking they were super-human or something, but now I think differently. While I know Joseph was not superhuman, I do believe now that he was an astounding man of God.

I mean, look at it - here's this guy who's in love with this girl, and then, though she's told him she would marry him, she's suddenly found to be pregnant. Bless his heart, he must have felt so betrayed. Crushed. His heart stomped on. And yet he does not lash out and accuse her to justify himself, like many other people would have done (and certainly would do today). He has in mind to "divorce her quietly"...that in itself is amazing, considering that we now live in a culture where gossip is prevalent in almost every conversation. How easy (and perhaps temporarily gratifying) would it have been for Joseph to spread rumors in an effort to make himself look better?

If Joseph had done that, he would have been directly standing in the way of God's plan to save the world.

The movie helped me understand exactly what Joseph had to give up when he accepted God's plan for his life. First off, this guy obviously truly loved God or else he wouldn't have done any of it. He gave up his reputation by taking Mary as his wife (making people think that he had slept with her after all). He didn't sleep with her at all until after Jesus was born, as a matter of fact. And it was clear that he really did love her, because he basically gave up his honor to protect hers...and to support her completely in what God had called her to do. He traveled a heck of a long way to his hometown and found a place for Mary to give birth once there. He was a protector, a provider, and a strong, faithful, obedient man of God.

I am now currently looking for Joseph's modern-day counterpart. I know a few of them, but they are already married. The fact that men like this exist at all today gives me great hope. :)

Merry Christmas to you.

eulogy.

Leslie Frank Molter, my grandfather, died on September 14, 2006. He lived for a full 89 years in Garden City, NY, and Chapel Hill, NC. A graduate of Colgate University, he met his first wife and had three children by the age of 40. Five years after his first wife died, he was set up on a blind date with Martha Irwin Gadol, my grandmother, who was also a widow of five years and a mother of three. The picture taken of that night has been on their nightstand for years…appropriately, their theme song has always been “Some Enchanted Evening”.

Martha and Les married within six months and had two more children. I don’t know that there has ever been a more blended family than this one. A real Brady Bunch, as it were, and it worked. Martha and Les showed no favoritism. Everyone was treated and loved equally, and that is still evident today. 8 kids, even more spouses (ex and current), 17 grandkids, and 6 great-grandchildren, and everyone genuinely likes each other. It is really a unique thing to see, and I pray that I am able to pass this legacy on down to my children as well…

My grandparents have always been wonderful, but I didn’t begin to pursue my own relationship with them until I was 18. It was then that I was going through my parents’ separation and was in need of some stable family relationships, so I began to visit Chapel Hill on my own frequently. The last time I remember talking to my grandmother was around New Years’ of 2001. We had a conversation about Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, and for the first time I felt like I was finally beginning to tap into the years of knowledge and wisdom that she had. I never got to this point with my mother’s mother before she died…I was always too distracted with playing with my cousins and just doing the kid-thing. Anyway, I remember my grandma telling me that she was going into the hospital the following month to have a routine procedure done regarding a lump they had discovered.

During this procedure (if I have the timing right), she got some sort of infection, went into a coma, and after a painfully drawn-out time of waiting, died in the hospital. I saw her for a few days while she was unconscious…my uncle Steven constantly went through the rosary beads with her. I read some excerpts from Canterbury Tales and sang to her. I spent a few days at the hospital and tried to help my aunts and uncles with the sadness and weariness they were experiencing. We were all helpless to do anything. The problem, whatever it was, couldn’t be fixed. She was surrounded by her eight kids when they finally removed the ventilator.

I still miss her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My grandpa (Papa, as everyone calls him) held up well for the following 4 ½ years. He was faithful to buy everyone Christmas presents, which was impressed for an 85+-year-old. He continued living by himself in the house, went bowling weekly, took a walking class after he fell down once, and made himself breakfast and dinner every day. I visited him once over a New Years’ and we did nothing for three days but play Gin Rummi and make a daily trip to Wendy’s over lunchtime for a Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger and a Frosty.

I always had to warn any friends I took to meet my family that, at some point, they would probably have to sit through a 30-minute interrogation with Papa. He was the most inquisitive man I ever met. The questions just kept coming, and he remembered every answer given him. It was an exhausting ritual, but he never forgot a face or a life story, and that meant a lot to everyone who met him.

Last Tuesday at 2pm, I received an email informing me that Papa was basically dying of liver disease. The doctor had given him 2-6 months. I was really surprised. I knew he had been declining over the last year and a half, and the previous week my aunt Leslie (the nurse) had moved him into her house so that no one would have to worry about him falling down again, but I had no idea his health was this bad. I planned a trip to see him within the week.

On Thursday at 1, my dad called to tell me they had taken Papa to the hospital at 4am that morning. I got in my car, quickly handed some things off at work (thanks to my fantastic, flexible and kind coworkers), and started driving to Chapel Hill, preparing myself for another situation like Nana’s.

He died an hour before I got there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How did this happen? How did he decline so fast? We were going to have a 90th birthday celebration in less than two months! Now we’re preparing for a funeral? Now I have to gear myself up to bury the last grandparent I had on this earth?

I spent the next four days in Chapel Hill while my extended family slowly trickled in. Each day I experienced a deep sadness that I did not expect. I wasn’t extremely close to Papa, but I guess when it’s someone who’s always been there your whole life and has always been kind and stable and suddenly he’s gone, a void is created. And now they’ll probably sell the house that I’ve always known as “Grandma’s House”, and my reasons for visiting one of the most beautiful cities in this country are starting to vanish. My heart breaks for my family. I experience trouble breathing. I grieve.

We all grieve in different ways. Aunt Michelle cuts and arranges flowers. Barbra cleans and cleans, happy that there are no objections to her finally going through the refrigerator and kitchen closets. I find myself desperate to write and process what’s happening before my eyes. Then there’s Steve…stoic, strong and steady. Left to steer the ship in his 3 brothers’ absence and take charge of all the arrangements that suddenly must be made. The pilot goes into auto-pilot until the busyness is over and reality sets in.

We all do.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The memorial service was beautiful. Done in the same place my grandma’s was…the Newman Center of the UNC campus. Tom, Steve, Dad and Michelle each gave brief, beautiful eulogies. We then went to my grandma’s gravesite, where my grandfather was also to be buried. They put the urn in the ground, and all 8 siblings, as well as many of the grandchildren, took turns gently shoveling dirt over the urn, the hat that my cousin Tara sent from Ireland, and the flowers that were placed in the hole.

Closure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I was 4 or 5 years old and my parents would take me to visit Chapel Hill, Nana and my parents would catch up with each other while Papa would make little peanut butter-and-Ritz sandwiches for the two of us to feed to the little inhabitants of the toy castle they’ve had since the 60’s…

A few months ago, I had a weekend off coming up and I thought I would use it to visit Papa. So I called him up and said that I would like to come up for a few days to visit within the next couple of weeks. “Where are you gonna stay?” he asked me. “Um...with you?” I hadn’t thought this would be a problem. “Oh no, you can’t stay here!” he said, and explained that he was set in a routine and having people in the house stressed him out. I was surprised and only a little offended…I mean, how many people get dissed by their own grandfather?

A few days later, Steve called me and said, “I heard from Papa…you poor thing.” Apparently Papa had left him a rather ornery message, which Steve saved for the next several months. I heard it two days ago.

“Yeah, Steven. Sarah just called me and invited herself to stay with me for a few weeks. I told her no. You’ll probably be hearing from her soon.”

If I had understood what the misunderstanding was, I would have gone to visit him…oh well. It’s still pretty funny.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Closure.

Sort of.

I still have trouble breathing. I still experience moments of deep, inescapable sadness, and I am still surprised by it.

I have seen the grace of God all around me in the past week. Phone calls, messages, endless support from friends and coworkers...I have been amazed. And I firmly believe the family will continue to love and like each other. The foundation has been established...can it be shaken now? I don't think so.

Peace is still needed, though. Comfort. Perhaps the passing of time will bring true closure. Or perhaps heaven alone can provide it, when we meet again and finally understand the whys and wherefores.

Either way, I am thankful to feel these sorrows. To have known such love and acceptance from someone, and to know the grief over their loss. I am thankful to feel. And I know I will look back on this time and raise yet another Ebenezer in thanks and reverence to the One Who brought me through it.

Thanks for reading.

Broadway Video...

Hey all...
I don't know if you've seen this yet (and if you have, you should watch it again). A while back, me and my brilliant friends Jim, Ryan, and Nate came up with a brilliant idea on how to brilliantly encourage people to continue giving toward the building of our brilliantly brilliant Possibilities Center (which opened on August 29--woot woot!).
So...here it is. Enjoy! Laugh! Revel! Marvel at the brilliance!

Psalm 137.

Challenging week, this week. Seems like God has had a pretty big lesson for me to learn every day lately. Sometimes I respond correctly, humbly, with grace, and sometimes...I don't. Usually I tend to feel like I'm the worst person in the world and self-flagellate until I almost go crazy from the guilt. That's the hardest concept for me to grasp-that there is no condemnation, now that I am in Christ Jesus. That God is not about guilt, and that He is not standing over me with frown and pointed finger. This lesson, He has had to teach me over and over and over and over...

Over the past week, Psalm 139 has been a tremendous encouragement to me...especially verses 11 and 12. I have added my own interpretation of what I think these verses mean...hopefully they will encourage you, too.

1 O LORD, you have searched me
and you know me.
2 You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar.
3 You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
4 Before a word is on my tongue
you know it completely, O LORD.
5 You hem me in-behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
6 Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
too lofty for me to attain.

7 Where can I go from your Spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
8 If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
if I make my bed in the depths, [a] you are there.
9 If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
10 even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.


11 If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
(If I convince myself, "Okay, now I've really screwed up. Surely my sin is too overwhelming and God is fed up with me now...I've blown it and now I'm on my own,")
12 even the darkness will not be dark to you;
the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
(Even the darkest part of my heart is not dark to you. You have searched me and still you say, "All beautiful you are, my darling; there is no flaw in you" [Song of Solomon 4:7]. You are determined to bring light to every part of my soul. You will not give up on me.)

13 For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
16 your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to [b] me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake,
I am still with you.
19 If only you would slay the wicked, O God!
(if only you would just remove all sin within me right now! Just make me a pure reflection of you for all the days to come RIGHT NOW so I won't have to deal with this sin struggle anymore!)
Away from me, you bloodthirsty men!
20 They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.
21 Do I not hate those who hate you, O LORD,
and abhor those who rise up against you?
22 I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.
23 Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
24 See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting.

Please don't.

Listen here. If you're in a relationship that you would like to get out of, please do not use God as an excuse.

You know what I'm talking about. It's the line a lot of us have used, and it goes something like this:

"I just need to focus on God for the next six months or so...so maybe we should take a break."

Please. Guess what--God wants to be the center of your life ALL THE TIME. Not just for a six-month period. What happens when you get married?

Also, God is not in the business of breaking hearts. Consider it--the person on the receiving end of this suddenly has found out that God is against him/her. "God is telling this person that I'm really into not to date me anymore...so God wants me to be alone??" Don't use Him as an excuse because you have decided you don't want to be with the person you're with anymore. It's okay if you don't--really--but be a man (or woman) about it and be truthful.

For those of you wondering, yes, I have been on the receiving end of this line...but I've also been on the giving end of it, too. A somewhat recent and, thankfully, much less impactful experience has reminded me of how bogus and hurtful it really is to use God as an excuse for something you want to get out of. Think about what you're saying--really think about it. What impression is this going to give the other person about their Creator? What impact is this line going to have a few years down the road on that person's relationships--with others and with God?

Truth is, you have no idea.

Tell the truth in love. Don't skirt the issues, and don't make excuses. Yeah, it'll hurt, but that's inevitable. Sure, you want to avoid conflict and make the process as easy as possible for you...but what I'm asking you to do is choose the path that's better for the other person--not you. The path of unselfishness, of discomfort, of truth. Trust me, it will all work out and hopefully leave the other person with a whole lot less baggage.

That is all.

Are you serious?

Recently - five months ago, i think - a guy from Berkeley County was injured by a bomb that went off while he was serving our country in Iraq. They brought him back in critical condition to a hospital in Texas, where they ended up having to amputate both his legs and, I think, his arms as well in order to save his life. Meanwhile, he married his highschool sweetheart while still a patient in the burn unit...

He died a week ago.

Tomorrow, they will be having a memorial service for this guy...and there are people protesting the funeral. Protesting. Waving around signs that say, "Thank God for dead soldiers."

Are you serious?

I saw the video of the lady on Fox News a few months ago who thought she was on a mission from God when she was organizing these protests up north, and I mistakenly thought that was an isolated incident. I didn't think it was anywhere close to home. Yikes...

I am appalled, saddened, furious for the family of this soldier who literally sacrificed his body and gave up his life serving our country by trying to protect someone else's. And these people are protesting the fact that we recognize this???

It doesn't matter what the reasoning is behind the war or who's responsible or what. It's not this guy's fault. Don't stand in the way of those who are trying to honor his memory. What good does it do? Does it help end the war? Does it help anyone at all?

Besides, these soldiers are just people with families and histories and hobbies and passions and relationships to remember. Would you protest a civilian's funeral? The 67-year-old man who finally succumbed to cancer? How about the 21-year-old wife who died when she lost control of her car overcompensating for someone else veering into her lane? 500 people showed up to that funeral--would you protest that?

I realize this post is going to offend some people, but even that fact saddens me. It just doesn't make sense.

We won...?

So recently, Rob and Kristin of the Morning Show on His Radio went on summer tour and were planning on visiting good ol' Summerville. A few weeks ago, they announced a contest where the listeners were asked to vote for their favorite worship team or choir.

Seacoast Summerville won.

What did we win, you ask? Well, first off, as Kristin put it when she called me, "You've won a frisbee!"

YESSS!!!! We LOVE Frisbees!!!! Seriously, that is the only sport we as a band are remotely good at...and we're actually not very good at that at all. So an extra Frisbee is greatly appreciated to replace the ones we've lost in the woods.

Just kidding, we've never lost any in the woods. But we have broken one or two trying to do that bounce-the-Frisbee-off-the-pavement trick that Joe taught us...

Anyway, we also had the opportunity to appear with Rob and Kristin at the local Chik-Fil-A at 7AM on Wednesday morning. 7AM. Who is really up at 7AM? Actually, let me ask this question instead, since I know a lot of you will say you work at 7am...---who is SINGING at 7AM? Yeah, that's what I thought.

It actually wasn't too bad, though. My buddy Laura brought a miniature sound system (thanks to Fox Music for that...), Gale brought his snare and Justin brought his mandolin. Oh, and of course I got to play Dan's GORGEOUS Taylor 414. It was heaven. And I think you could actually hear us on the radio a bit!

Rob and Kristin couldn't get over how much I apparently look like a singer named Joy Williams...resemblance, anyone?


But the best part was the little kids who showed up at 8 to see us, with signs and all!



It was pretty cool, actually. We won because our congregation members (and some other people who just happen to like me) took the time to vote for us. I promise I had nothing to do with it! ;) So thanks to all who voted...You are welcome to come play Frisbee with us any time.

Gushing

I haven't written in many moons...my apologies to my avid readers. *ahem*

Allow me to gush for a moment. I am blessed to work with some of the most amazing people I have ever met---on a regular basis. And not only are they amazing people, but they are incredible musicians as well! These guys are pro, I tell you, and they give up about 8 hours of their time a week (at least) to rehearse, get up way early on Sunday mornings, and play for at least two services on the worship team at Seacoast Summerville for no more pay than some bananas and cheese. Sometimes they give up their Saturday afternoons for rehearsals...sometimes they give up an extra night to help with other meetings where worship music is needed. These people are selfless, they are dedicated, they work hard at volunteer jobs, and I am blessed to call them my friends. They answer the need whenever there is one, and they are willing to go the extra mile---on a regular basis.

Let me tell you who I'm talking about.

We've got Joe Hanna, who not only is one of the best guitarists (acoustic or electric) in the greater Charleston area, but can sing, harmonize, AND rap--if needed. And he's not too bad at the drums either. Then, of course, Gale Watson, who can learn any drum beat you want him too, handles all the technical stuff, and is creative to boot. Rick Krenmayer never ceases to amaze me with his skillz--he needs to be added to the list of greatest bass players in the southeast. Seriously, all you band people in Charleston looking for a bass prodigy--he's your man.

I know you people think I'm exaggerating, but really, I'm not. Ask Gil. Or anybody who knows.

Then there's Dr. Justin James, who can play everything--with gusto. I'm not even close to kidding. There's Krista Thurston, who sings like an opera angel, knows exactly where I'm going and can harmonize on the spot, and plays an impressive pad/piano combo...There's Maewin Van Something, who harmonizes fantastically and has the same level of energy as I do (well, almost), and that's an extremely underrated quality in background singers---girl power all the way! Josh Mitchum, my friend and brother, whose claim to fame (well, one of them anyway) will be his knack for re-inventing the familiar in worship music, has been a beautiful addition to our team in bass, guitar, and vocal ability.

This team, the regulars, have been such a blessing to me. They allow me to be completely dorky and at least pretend to laugh at my goofiness. They are patient with me when I am lazy, stressed, bossy or insane (or all of the above).

Then I've had a revolving door of people the last few months, all of whom have been phenomenally talented, patient, willing, and just plain incredible. People like Paul Goforth, Wayne Lee, Matt Podesla, Nancy Lowe, Carl Wine, Justin Renzulli, Josh Gragg and Tim Clemons...

Gush, gush, gush. I was just thinking about how honored I am to work with so many great hearts and talented people, and I wanted to let the public know as well. To these musicians, I say thank you. May God give back to you a hundred times what you have poured out for Him. May He increase your talents all the more as you have invested them in advancing His Kingdom.
And may His Kingdom advance as we continue to lead His people in worship--pressing on and pressing in.

Blessings,
Sarah

So excited I could spit...

a few things today...

first off, if you're in the charleston area and you haven't checked out every tuesday in a while, please do so. there's a fresh wind blowing through that place, and you don't want to miss it--seriously. God is on the move.

i was talking about some things with nate today and expressing some concerns regarding getting stale with the worship services i'm in charge of lately and how to inspire my team and congregation to move forward, and he said something really simple but really well-timed. "just try stuff, sarah. you'll never know what you're capable of until you try things. maybe some songs will work and maybe they won't, but you'll never know unless you try."

simple, right? but believe it or not, i've been sort of scared to try. i have been guilty of putting Almighty God in a box because i thought i had to conform to the status quo...i've been allowing my desire (and, I think, His desire) for a fresh wind to blow through my congregation to be hindered by my own complacency and fear of...what? failure? who knows. but i have stood in the way...until now.

a certain verse has been on my heart for the past two months, and i have recently discovered that it is also on the hearts of my friends gil and amy from mosaic church...

Isaiah 43:19 -
"For I am about to do a brand-new thing. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness for my people to come home. I will create rivers for them in the desert!" (NLT)

Same verse in the English Standard Version:
"Behold, I am doing a new thing; now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert."

behold: to see with attention. to be alert, aware, perceptive.

has this verse been on my heart for nothing? has God spoken it into my friends' hearts just by coincidence? no...God is about to do a new thing. behold! be alert! be proactive! and whatever you do, don't stand in the way.

Whew.

I tell you what, the past week has been a rough one. I've been exhausted physically and emotionally...I thought I had gotten better toward the end of last week, and then came yesterday.
Yesterday (Sunday) was one of the roughest days I've had in a while, as far as church is concerned. Lots of wrenches thrown into the process, and I didn't handle my stress very well. The frustration continued throughout the day and into this morning, and I started to feel like I just couldn't handle it another week. I HATE feeling like that! Discouraged, frustrated, starting to not like the very thing that I love.
Then my boss/mentor showed up at work and I ended up basically just collapsing into tears, and you know what? It was okay. She just hugged me. And then spent about twenty minutes calming me down. :) But really, it was so very encouraging to hear that, for one, I'm not alone in feeling this way sometimes, and two, I am not a failure. And also not being condemned for freaking out every once in a while was very nice as well.
And then, just when I didn't think I could possibly put together another song list for another weekend, my dear friend Josh said he was not only able to come co-lead with me this weekend but that he would put together a set list for the weekend as well. Praise the Lord--seriously. God knew I needed that...what a comfort to know He cares about the seemingly little things.

And then I had the best cup of coffee from Starbucks that man has ever seen, and that was a comfort as well. :)

Well anyway, I just wanted to say that God encouraged me in several ways today when I was just exhausted and sad and "downtrodden," as it were...He'll do it for you too. Read 1 Kings 19...

Buckle Your Seatbelts, Part 1

I’ve been going through The Sacred Romance with my small group lately, and the chapter we just studied hit me so hard, my mind is still reeling. Here is a 3-part blog that tries to encapsulate from what I’m learning…please read the whole thing and let me know what you think.

Have you ever wondered if God feels? Emotions, I mean. I’ve found myself sometimes thinking that God is not prone to emotions. I’ve inadvertently assumed over the years that He’s relatively even-keel and not given to extreme feelings of pain or pleasure. Almost like a big computer in the sky...I think, “He’s in control of things, He’s not affected or changed by people, and everything’s going to be okay because He’s not temperamental like me. And He loves me, too, and that’s awesome.”

But then I wonder…how can He love me without feeling extreme emotion? How does that work? What kind of love can that be?

Hold that thought.

Suppose I am a non-believer who has really never understood who God is or why in the world I should spend my life loving Him. How would you answer me?

Perhaps you would say that He is all-powerful, all-loving, the Creator of the Universe… that He died for my sins, offering me eternal life…and all of these things are fantastic, but I’m still not quite clear on what kind of person He is. Is He even a person? Does God have a personality, or is He just this Being that I’m supposed to revere and obey? ‘Cause that’s all well-and-good, but if I’m going to really love someone and enjoy spending my life with them, I want to actually like the person. So…do you like God?

Think of the people you like to hang out with. Why do you enjoy them? What is it about your true friends that makes you want to spend time with them? Well, they’re fun, right? And probably smart and funny and you have things in common…basically, you like their personalities. Now, if we are to be friends of God as it says in Matthew, there has to be a mutual liking. We know that God likes us (did you know that? that’s another blog…), but do you like God’s personality?

I personally think it would be hard to like someone who is completely emotionless. No excitement, no passion, no drive. It would be frustrating, because that person wouldn’t understand what I go through if they’re not prone to the same emotions I experience every day. So, is God really like that? Because if so, I might be in trouble…

How do we find out what God’s personality is really like? Take a minute and think of nature. Think of the creatures you see on the Animal Planet. Think of mountains, geysers, sunsets…God created these, yes? Looking at all of this, what are some things you can gather about God’s personality?

Obviously He has a sense of humor. And I know you want to say He’s creative, but look deeper. What is one of the greatest characteristics of creative people? They are passionate. Their art comes from places of deep feeling—be it joy, anger, pain, whatever. And I don’t know about you, but when I look at the natural world around us—and even at the people around us—I would say that we are living in the greatest work of art there ever was. So perhaps—PERHAPS—our über-creative God does, in fact, feel.

Let’s look at this logically. We are created in God’s image—man and woman. And that does not apply simply to physical features, but to our souls and, on a smaller scale, personalities as well. That’s right, kids, our inner beings were created in God’s image. That being said, where did all of our emotions come from? The dirt? Our sin nature? No! They are all part of the deal! Now, obviously the sin part associated with our emotions didn’t come from God, but the feeling-part totally did. So if we feel such extreme emotions as we do, what does that tell us about our Maker?

Continue to Part 2.

Buckle Up, Part 2

Another question: Is there any pain worse than a breakup?

Consider, if you will, a time in your life where you felt extreme rejection. Perhaps a breakup…and I know this will bring up some really unhappy memories for some of you, but go with me for a second. What are some of the worst feelings associated with a breakup? Well, rejection, of course. Betrayal. Disappointed hopes. Regret…feeling stupid that you invested so much when the other person was just going to throw it back in your face. You also probably felt pain that you thought would never go away… I don’t think there’s any worse pain than that associated with a breakup.

Let me tell you something. God has felt that pain. A lot. But there was one particular breakup He had to go through that I want to focus on.

Once upon a time, our Hero loved a human—two, actually. He gave them the world—literally. He was so delighted with their friendship, and looked forward to their evening walks. He let them name all the creatures He had created, telling them that whatever they wanted to name them would stick forever. He was so excited about the future they had together! A lifetime eternal in Paradise…love reciprocated. Perfect fellowship. He opened His heart to them…

And they threw it back in His face. For an apple.

They believed a lie—God was holding out on them, they were sure of it. God wanted to share all He had, including His heart, and they said, “Nah. Surely there’s something You haven’t told us—this is all too good to be true. We’d rather listen to this slimy thing on the ground than believe in Your promises for a future that we can’t see.”

And His beloveds spit in His face.

The Breakup…what did God feel? Did He wonder, “What did I do? I offered them everything…I gave them so much of Myself…I loved them with an everlasting love, and they didn’t want it. How could they not want it? Why wasn’t I good enough for them?”

You’ve felt the pain that you thought would never go away, right? So has He.

Continue to Part 3.

Buckle Up, Part 3

One final question: Is there anything greater than love reciprocated?

So here we are. We know God has felt the pain of rejection. We have felt the same thing, on a much lesser scale. But we know that God felt. He felt betrayed. He felt regret. He felt sorrow and bewilderment and all the effects of a broken heart. He felt it. And how did He respond?

After your breakup, did you immediately go out and start loving someone at the same capacity again? Did you go out just as vulnerable as you were before, or did you hide yourself in a shell for a while? Perhaps you’re still in that shell…unwilling to open your heart up to someone because of the fear of getting hurt to such an extent again. You’ve got to protect your heart, right?

God has no shell.

God didn’t hide Himself after Adam and Eve. Yes, He had to punish them, and there was definitely a separation, but the story of Perfect Love did not end there. God did not say, “This whole thing is too painful for Me, and I don’t think I’ll do it again. I’m done with these humans—they’re only going to destroy My heart.”

Thank GOD He didn’t say that! No, the story of Love continued on with Abraham, Moses, David, Solomon…Jesus continued the story in physical form (again, a whole other blog)…and it still goes on today. Not only that, but throughout history, God has loved us just as intensely as He loved Adam and Eve. He did not hide Himself away—He has opened His heart to us again and again. And how have we responded? Has He been rejected since the Garden? Oh yeah. Look at the people in Noah’s day. Look at Sodom and Gomorrah. Look at Jesus on the cross…the ultimate rejection.

God feels it again and again, and yet takes the risk…again and again.

Why does He take this risk? What is it about us that He wants so much? I don’t really know, to tell you the truth. But I know that He wants me. My Lover is mine, and His desire is for me…

What is it about romance that excites us so much? The general consensus among my small group girls is that it is the fact that someone thinks our ideas matter, thinks that we are attractive, thinks we have nice-sounding voices—basically, someone saw us and thought, “Hey, I like her. I want to know her…she is special.” Picked us out of the crowd and saw us…

I’ve been in love before…or, at least, supreme infatuation. And I was affected in ways that I did not expect. Everything he said was important to me. Every look in my direction, every touch from his hand was something I cherished. He would single me out in a crowd, and I knew he saw me. Saw me. Saw who I was and liked me…loved me, even. When he chose to spend time with me out of everything else he could be doing, I was elated. Overjoyed. His actions, words, movements affected me in a way I didn’t know was possible.

God feels. And if He has the same ability to feel the pain of rejection that we all have experienced, then you better believe He feels elation too. Consider this—if this one guy I was infatuated with had such an effect on me, imagine what the guy I LOVE will do! And if I already know the joy of just being recognized, imagine what God—in Whose image I was created—feels when the object of His affection turns their eyes toward Him and sees Him…sees Who He is and likes Him…loves Him, even!

And who is the object of His affection? Yeah, you.

There are times when we gather as a congregation and sing songs of praise and worship to God. Sometimes, honestly, there are times that I am singing almost by rote. I enjoy it and I know I am honoring God, but you know how it is when your heart’s not quite in it. But then, you also know what it’s like when it is. For a brief, passing moment, you hear the words of the song and you think, “Yes! I believe that! God, ‘You are the only One I need; I bow all of me at Your feet; I worship You alone’! Amen!!”

And at that moment, your eyes turn upward and you see Him. And He sees that you see Him. His beloved, the object of His affection and the passion of His heart, has looked up and seen Him…recognized what He’s been doing…appreciated Him…felt love toward Him. His love, for a moment, has been reciprocated.

You cannot imagine the elation that He feels....

I don’t think He ever says, “Well, it’s about time. You’ve been singing for fifteen minutes already—hello!! Thinking about yourself again, I see.”

No. Let me ask you to consider that maybe it’s more like this:

“Oh--you see Me! You see ME!!! I’ve been looking in your eyes for so long, and now you can see Me!!! Oh, My beloved! I have so much for you, so much I want to give you and teach you and provide for you—please, please let Me! There is nothing I would like better than to spend all My time with you, comforting you and caring for you. Do you feel My heart? Do you feel it pounding when you speak, sing, look at Me? Do you feel it now? Oh, My darling…”

Tonight at the annex, I stood onstage and listened as 200 people sang in unison without needing my help, and I imagined the face of the Father as He listened. We joined as one heart, looking up at our beloved Savior, and suddenly God was emotionally overwhelmed. The faces of so many of His beloved, singing praises to Him and seeing Him in His beauty, glory and grace. Recognizing His love for them and reciprocating…all at once.

This is what worship is, kids. Forget rules and regulations, routine prayers and preparation.

Look into the face of One Who loves you, and love Him in return.

You cannot imagine the elation He feels…for you.

Introducing...

My newest favorite rockband...PickleHeart.


Check this out. My friend and I went out to Jim and Nick's Barbeque a few weeks ago, and the waitress apparently really liked us. Not only did she give us free cheese biscuits and an extra chicken finger with our order, but she also gave me this pickle on my sandwich:

My friend and I, who both have an interest in coming up with rock band names, decided that this must be the start of something great. I have since designed PickleHeart's first album cover...

Photoshop, with a little extra time on your hands, is a beautiful thing.

I am not a college student anymore...

Haven't posted in a while, so I thought I'd let y'all know what I've been up to this week.

Let's start with the most recent thing. Last night, I went to see my friend Matt's band (Pawnshop Radio) play at the "Dark Room" downtown. It used to be called Bar 145, but they changed the name so it wouldn't sound so sketchy...I don't think it worked. Anyway, they didn't get done playing until 1:45am, which means I didn't get home until 2:30. I don't remember the last time I was even awake that late, let alone out driving...and I am paying for it now. It's noon, and I'm about to go back to bed. At one point, I told the people I was hanging out with that I was "living" because I was drinking a Coke at midnight. I am soooo not a college student anymore...it's kind of sad, really.

This week has been busier and a little more stressful than usual. I think it all started on Monday night, when I sang at a memorial service for Braedon McBride, the daughter of two good friends of mine. They went to the hospital on Thursday morning to deliver her, thinking everything was fine, and found out that during the previous night the umbilical cord got a knot in it and cut off Braedon's air supply. I cannot adequately describe this nightmare...but Monday night, Jim Miles and I rallied and did our first funeral together.

Now, I've sung at many funerals--probably more than weddings--but I have never had to do the whole service before. My boss, Jeanne, came and sang backup to support me--can you believe that? I have the greatest boss and mentor in the world. It was also really good that she was there because no one really knew how to do a funeral, so she ended up kind of directing the whole thing...anyway, it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in ministry. And I realized, this is my job now. This is what I signed up for, although I didn't know it at the time...this is part of the deal. I was honored to be a part of this precious baby's memorial, but man. Why did that have to happen?

So that started my week, and the rest kind of followed. And now there's a chance I may finally take the plunge and move out on my own--friends, I need some prayer here! I got some interesting confirmation of it last night (at least, that's what I think it was), and I just really need the wisdom and courage to "step out of the boat" and really trust God if this is what He's calling me to do. I think He's taking me into a new phase of growing in maturity and dependence on Him...

So, lots of things going on this week! How are you? Let's catch up sometime.

Pictures of worship

Check out picture #1:

This is my friend Demi's daughter Alana. I think she's about three years old...and worshipping for the first time at a Mosaic service. Can you believe this? This is so great and beautiful...this is how we are to be. Like children, dancing before the Father. What an inspirational picture!

This weekend, I got another picture of true worship. There's a man at my church named John who is involved in the Cleansing Stream ministry--a very intensive ministry that relies a lot on heavy intercession and prayer. In the past 6 months, John has lost both his youngest daughter and his wife (these tragedies occurred less than 5 months apart). One was unexpected, the other resulted from a longtime illness, and both were obviously major blows to this man and the rest of his family. I cannot imagine the grief John has had to endure in such a short period of time. I think I would hide from the world and forget my ministry for a while--whatever it may be.

But he didn't.

The week after his wife died, I saw him at church, worshipping God and serving as usual. It blew my mind. How could he do that? How could he show up, worship, and carry on with his ministry, let alone function at all? And yet, there he was, raising his hands to our faithful God, declaring that He is indeed faithful and merciful and just.

If that isn't a picture of true worship, I don't know what is...and from where I stood on the stage, I felt like maybe we needed to trade places.

So today was the last day of the Cleansing Stream Retreat. I went as a participant this time, and the last session was on the baptism of the Holy Spirit. As I went up to receive prayer for a fresh filling of the Spirit, it just so worked out that John, whom I had not formally met, was available to pray with me. And as he anointed me with oil, I felt honored--truly honored--to have this man, this true worshipper, pray for me to grow in my own worship.

God, let it be so! Let me have the same dedication, the same connectedness, the same soul-knitted bond that John shares with You. Thank You for this example, and please, please restore back to him a hundredfold what has been taken away. May he know peace, joy, and safety as he truly rests in You. Amen.

I think I love you, pt. 2

This is a post I started to write last month but never posted...until now.


"You will recall the post I wrote after I returned from Charlotte. I was so impressed with these young people who had turned away from what was familiar in order to be a light to unfamiliar people. And to be honest, I was a bit jealous. I longed for that passion--not only in my own life, but to see it in the people around me. I felt like I had gotten so bogged down with routine that I had forgotten what it was all about...and I thought others around me had forgotten, too. "Where are the warriors?" I wondered. For a second, I thought I needed to pick up and move to Charlotte, where the fire seemed to be blazing.

And then this weekend, God opened my eyes...How arrogant I was to think like that!

Two nights ago, my lead guitarist called me and asked if there was anything on my mind that he could pray for. He had apparently had an impression that something was burdening me for a few weeks and had just mustered up the courage to ask me about it. I think he got that sense right when I got back from Charlotte...

Then, last night, I went to a Summerville leadership meeting where we said goodbye to two very instrumental people in our church. And as we sang "Holy is the Lord" together as a family, I looked around and suddenly I saw them. Warriors. People I've been working with for over a year...faithful followers of Jesus. How could I have not seen? I don't need to go to Charlotte to be surrounded by giants of the faith--I have the privelege of working with a ton of them in Summerville!
Take my guitar player Joe--a prayer warrior on my own worship team! And not only him, but my whole team--Gale, Justin, Rick (my big brothers), Krista, Maewin, Bo and Glenda, Wayno...not only my band, but my family.
Phil and Sherry--my 2nd parents. They truly "love others intensely" (1. Peter 1:22), including myself. They gave up what was comfortable and are living every day on faith that God has called them to lead this church.
Dan and Mariann--Who could be more fun to work with? These two support Phil and Sherry in absolutely everything, and they provide an example for the rest of the church to follow.
Neil, Connie, Molly, Wilt, Skip, Mark, Dad, and the rest of the prayer team--talk about "forcefully advancing the Kingdom"! They constantly allow themselves to be used by God to cover the whole place, including me and the band, in prayer. They are ready in season and out to pray for whatever the need, and they are always able to share the truth with me when I am bombarded by confusion.
So many others on the Children's Ministry team, the Tech team (where would we be without them??), Student Ministry...and many more.

All of these people gave up the comfortable and the familiar--and continue to do so each day--for the sake of God's Kingdom. Sure, it's "home" to me, but we are constantly moving forward into new territory!
I am thankful, so thankful, to be surrounded by these giants of the faith...and I know that, for now, this is exactly where I belong."

Great song

This is a song by Sara Groves that I heard again recently, and I have a feeling many of you will identify with it...

I don’t want to leave here
I don’t want to stay
It feels like pinching to me either way
The places I long for the most
Are the places where I’ve been
They are calling after me like a long lost friend
It’s not about losing faith
It’s not about trust
It’s all about comfortable
When you move so much
The place I was wasn’t perfect
But I had found a way to live
It wasn’t milk or honey
But then neither is this

I’ve been painting pictures of Egypt
Leaving out what it lacked
The future seems so hard
And I want to go back
But the places that used to fit me
Cannot hold the things I've learned
And those roads closed off to me
While my back was turned

The past is so tangible I know it by heart
Familiar things are never easy to discard
I was dying for some freedom
But now I hesitate to go
Caught between the promise
And the things I know

If it comes too quick I may not recognize it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?
If it comes too quick I may not appreciate it
Is that the reason behind all this time and sand?

Favorite songs

My blogs have been very deep lately (at least, deep for me), so I decided it's time to lighten things up with a little get-to-know-Sarah info.

Here are some of my favorite songs, and at this point i will stop capitalizing letters because i type faster that way.

stevie wonder
ribbon in the sky
sir duke
i wish

billy joel
the stranger
don't ask me why (i want this as my ringtone--can someone help me figure this out?)
movin' out
the entertainer

jump (little children)
between the dim and the dark
opium
easter parade (forgive the curse word)
quiet
say goodnight
mother's eyes (ingenious--i think they change chords about 3,000 times)
pigeon
mexico

bon jovi
shot through the heart
everyday
livin' on a prayer (tommy and gina #1)
it's my life (tommy and gina #2)

fleming and john
i'm so small
i'm not afraid
letters in my head
comfortable
radiate

paul simon
you can call me al
diamonds on the soles
st. judy's comet
train in the distance
hearts and bones
me and julio

frank sinatra
i get a kick out of you
fly me to the moon
when i was 17
luck be a lady
same ol' saturday night

stevie nicks
edge of seventeen

jamiroquai
canned heat
cosmic girl

aretha franklin
you're no good, heartbreaker
chain of fools
think

van morrison
brown-eyed girl (gets me dancing every time)

david crowder
turkish delight
rescue is coming

caedmon's call
the only one
emptiest day
manner or the means
piece of glass
fall to pieces
faith my eyes
what you want
swing your robe

switchfoot
only hope--this is my life song
(and pretty much everything else)

randy newman
a bug's life suite

tchaikovsky
anything, really

chopin
romance larghetto for piano and strings--this narrates much of my life

well, those are just a sampling. i like lots of things...do any of these match your style?

Joining hands across America...

I realized something about myself yesterday. I have a passion for unity.

Does that sound hokey? Here's what I mean. One of my aspirations in life is to one day lead at a Passion (or something of the like) conference (and maybe to even speak at at breakout session, but that's besides the point). I've been to the Thirsty conference twice, and they were AMAZING because you're in a room of, I don't know, 2 thousand people who all have the same thing on their minds---worshipping the one true God. So you've got 2 thousand people unified in thought, worshipping in spirit and in truth at the same time. There's nothing like it. This is what heaven will be!

When I'm leading a usual service on a Sunday morning and I can hear all the voices in unison to the extent that I don't even need to be on the microphone leading them anymore, that is the utmost fulfillment of my job. These people, from so many different walks of life, have finally come together for one purpose...this doesn't happen every week, unfortunately, because people have distractions and mixed-up priorities and, well, people are just human...but I have a passion to see it happen every week.

So when we go out into the world like Jesus told us, what is it for? It's to bring others to a spirit of unity with the Body of Christ, right? We want them to know God and to worship Him. In that sense, beyond all denominations and factions and other trivial details, we MUST be unified. Because this is what it will be in heaven...complete unity.

You know, the more you say "unity", the weirder it sounds. Just a thought.

Oh, it works all right.

Lately I've been struggling a little bit with believing that prayer really works. To some of you, that will sound insane. Let me try to clarify...well, actually, I might not be able to. Just know that I was struggling, especially with the "Ask anything in My name and it will be given you"...

And then, tonight, God answered two prayers that I've prayed in the past two days within about an hour. It was amazing. And He answered them in the exact way I had prayed!

And here's something I realized. A lot of times, I don't have any idea what to pray. Some situations are just too huge for me to wrap my brain around. And that's when you let God lead your prayer. Jesus said, "Ask anything in My name..." This was the case with these two requests. And so in both instances I prayed that God would work His will, but then I prayed for specific things to happen if they were in His will...and they did! Exactly as I prayed them!

I know this isn't a very deep blog. I just left very encouraged about prayer and how great God is and that He's really listening and really speaking and you can really hear Him...you know what I mean.

Be encouraged. Pray, pray, pray--even if it's just an act of obedience. God calls us to pray, even when we don't understand how it works. So do it...be faithful--you know He certainly will be!

I'm going to bed now.

Scotland Yikes

I know, clever title, huh?? I amaze even myself sometimes.

Anyway, here's another one for the kids…

Before I get started, let me give you the cast of main characters to help you follow along with the story. They are:

Jeanne (my boss)
Martin (my other boss, Jeanne’s brother)
Peter—Jeanne and Martin’s cousin
Ruthie—Peter’s wife
Petey—Ruthie’s brother, Peter’s brother-in-law

So, my two bosses are from Scotland, and one day—the day before Thanksgiving, to be exact—Martin told me that he had the perfect guy for me, but he was only going to be in the country for one more day. “Oh, you’ll love Petey. He sings beautifully and writes songs…but he goes back to Scotland tomorrow, so we’ll have to move quickly.” And I said, “uh-huh,” laughing at the joke and thinking this was all very nice, but oh well, Petey’s leaving the country tomorrow.

Well, a few minutes later Martin brings the subject up again, saying to me, “Now, how can I get you two to meet?” Again, fairly sure he was joking, I said, “Well, I’ll be at Atlanta Bread Company at 12:15.” Well, Martin gets on the phone with his cousin Peter and says, “the lady in question will be at Atlanta Bread Company at 12:15…”

He’s kidding, right?

Peter and Ruthie end up coming to the office shortly before I leave, The meeting is pleasant but a wee bit awkward, because I wasn’t sure what they were thinking. Not hearing anything more about Martin getting his cousin’s brother-in-law to ABC, I left and felt relieved that maybe it really was a joke.

It wasn’t.

20 minutes later, I’m sitting at ABC with my mother, and in walks Jeanne’s best friend Jodi. As soon as I saw her, she waved at me as if she had expected to see me, and I knew I was in trouble. Soon, Jeanne arrived with her parents, who were also visiting. Then Martin, his wife Sarah and their three kids. Then Peter, Ruthie, and Ruthie’s other two siblings (excluding Petey).

Jeanne walked over to our table and, after making some quick, pleasant conversation with my mom, said to me, “Now, what you’re going to do is refill your soda and come plant yourself over there by me.”

Yes ma’am.

And I tell you, friends, all of Scotland was reuniting on the other side of Atlanta Bread Company. The Chalks took over a fourth of the restaurant. It was oh so awkward, and that’s before the man in question had even arrived!

Poor Petey soon walked in with Jeanne’s two daughters (which brought the number of folks attending this blind date to about 18), and Sarah waited about ten seconds before practically shouting, “PETEY! I’D LIKE YOU TO MEET SARAH!”

I didn’t even look up. It seriously could not have been more awkward, and I almost burst out laughing when we were finally forced to shake hands. As soon as we had done so,
I looked over at Martin who was giving me the thumbs-up, thumbs-down signal to see what I thought of him. There was no where for Petey to sit by me (Jeanne’s planning could only go so far, I guess), so he sat at the other end of the room and I chatted it up with 2-year-old Iona.

Another 20 minutes goes by, and someone says, “Where’s Petey?”

Petey was gone. I think he darted out during some of the routine confusion and went shopping or something. I felt really bad for the guy—how awkward! I mean, it was awkward for me, too, but these people weren’t my family. I wasn’t going to have to answer many embarrassing questions later on. I felt more like a spectator than a participant, anyway.

So, even though I didn't get a husband out of it, I was thoroughly entertained by the whole ordeal. Hope you were too. :)

Rescue

This song just popped in my head recently (I didn't write it--it's one we used to do a while back), and it expresses what I've been feeling lately. Kind of goes along with that picture I had recently as well.

"Rescue"

You are the source of life

I can't be left behind

No one else will do
I will take hold of You

I need You, Jesus,

To come to my rescue

Where else can I go?

There's no other name by

Which I am saved

Capture me with grace

I will follow You

This world has nothing for me

I will follow You

I wish I had written that!

I was thinking about that passage of Scripture (it's in the Gospels somewhere) where Jesus asks His disciples if they are going to leave Him. And Peter says, "Lord, where else can we go?"

Think about that for a minute. Where else can you go? Can you just walk away from God? Can you even contemplate what that would mean? Think about it--there's really no where else to go! I can't live apart from Him. He is my breath, my source of life, my hope. And without hope, there is no life.

This may seem super-spiritual, and I am certainly not this way most of the time, but I've been feeling desperate lately. Desperate to get back to the roots of why I am doing this, why I am singing every week, why I am alive. I get so bogged down with the technicalities of service procedure, song flow, and business that I get very tired and forget my passion. It makes me weak, sad, feeling like maybe I'm losing it. And I don't want to lose it. I just have to remember why I'm doing this...why we're singing these songs. Why I have to attend rehearsals and go to meeting after meeting...I have to remember that the business side is not, and cannot ever be, the substance of my calling. I have to get back to my First Love.

Isn't it awful how easy it is to forget your First Love? But man, when you remember...

So, Jesus, I need You to come to my rescue. Remind me of why I am alive----You.

I think I love you...

This past weekend, I got a chance to visit my friends in Charlotte and be a part of the third Mosaic service ever. Charlotte’s a great city…I like it more and more each time I see it. But the main reason I’m growing so fond of it is because of a certain group of people…

Let me tell you something, kids. There is a revolution coming, and it’s being started by a group of twenty-somethings in a new city. These people have changed careers, left home and given up everything familiar in order to let the people of Charlotte know that they are loved. What more noble cause is there?

Sure, there are going to be nay-sayers. There already are. There will always be people who are offended with their approach and desire to be relevant. But honestly…who cares?

While I was visiting, I had the privilege of sitting in on a prayer meeting of the core team. I sat with them through fellowship, worship and prayer, and I was emotionally overcome at the hearts of these precious people. God has pulled together a group of beautiful, talented, passionate young people to reach a generation in a way that nobody has done before. And not only that, but He has burdened each of these hearts with a passion for the lost. That is what moved me beyond words—that each of these warriors, who gave up so much and moved beyond the comfortable, were in tears for those who currently walk in darkness.

In the midst of such faith, I also felt that passion stir within me…the passion that has long lay dormant. How could I have forgotten what it’s all about? I think I have become complacent with the big-church thing…satisfied with the large numbers, forgetting how we are supposed to grow. And why should we grow? So we’ll be in more magazines? So we’ll gain national attention? Aack!

We should grow because I finally get with the program and start spending more time with my friends who are lost—the people God has granted me favor with. We should grow because I get the courage to walk up to the guy at Starbucks that always fixes my coffee and see what he’s doing on Sunday morning or Tuesday night.

There are some members of the Mosaic team that look around and see not just random people in the mall but souls who are desperately searching for hope. And this is why they moved. This is why they show up every Sunday at 7am. This is why they meet and meet and meet…

This is why we’re here. This is why we do what we do.

God, let me not forget what I have seen and felt.
This is why.

take up your cross

I had a mental picture during Every Tuesday a while back, and I had forgotten about it until tonight when I was spending time with my good friends Gil and Amy. I love having friends that you can talk about this kind of stuff with, by the way. I highly recommend it...

Anyway, I think Nate was singing "Til I See You" at the time...and I had my eyes closed, and suddenly I had this picture:

I was standing in Jerusalem on the road to Calvary, and in front of me was Jesus, carrying His cross. And all around there were people mashed in, watching and jeering as the Savior carried His cross to the place of His death. And suddenly I realized that I had a cross on my back and I was following Him up to Calvary. From my viewpoint, it was just me and Jesus walking this road.

My cross was heavy and it hurt, and suddenly I thought, "I don't like this. I'm not comfortable. I don't want to carry this cross anymore."

And I veered off to the side of the road with all the jeering people and let the cross fall off my back.

Then I looked back at Jesus, and He hadn't stopped for me. He hadn't even really seen me leave the road, but I knew He knew. And He kept on going...

And then I looked down the road in the other direction and saw something that I hope I never forget. Following Jesus, as far as the eye could see, were all the true believers--millions and millions--and they all carried crosses on their backs. And as I stood at the side of the road, my back already feeling better because of the weight loss, my heart wrenched as I realized that all of my brothers and sisters were passing me by, following our Savior. And I was left standing on the side...all because I had been uncomfortable carrying my own cross.

And when it came to choosing between a bleeding back or being apart from Jesus, there was no other choice to make. I picked my cross back up, fell in line with the rest of the chosen priesthood, and fixed my eyes on the form of my Messiah trudging slowly up the hill, carrying a cross that would offer salvation to the mocking crowds all around Him. Such peace, such strength, such faithfulness and sacrifice were worth following, even in great pain...so I followed, and I never looked back.

Mark of the Lion

So I'm reading this trilogy by Francine Rivers called Mark of the Lion, and it is AMAZING. Seriously, check it out.

Here's the gist (or at least, the part that has to do with this blog): There's a Christian girl named Hadassah living around 40 A.D. in Rome, and she ends up getting thrown to the lions in the arena and severely marred, but she doesn't die. She has a scar from her hairline to her chin that's pretty deep, and she keeps it covered with a veil so she doesn't freak other people out. Now, this chick is incredible--her faith and love for people draw everyone to her, basically, and even though she's a fictional character, she's a model for me. Anyhoo, one character, when remarking on how different Hadassah is and why she wears a veil, says:

"She has the mark of the lion on her. People fail to see what it means."

That, of course, is a two-fold statement. Literally, she was physically attacked by lions, and it is obvious to anyone who really knows her that God spared her life. However, most people don't understand that when they first see her scars. Figuratively, she has the mark of Christ Jesus on her and that affects how she lives her life. She is a Christian. She was persecuted for it, and God allowed it to happen. Though she has scars, she lives to tell people about this miracle of God's mercy...

If you've ever read the Chronicles of Narnia, you may remember a scene toward the end of The Horse and His Boy where Aravis gets attacked by a lion, who turns out to be Aslan (the Christ figure) himself. Aslan had a reason for doing this (to humble Aravis, to teach her to treat others better, etc.) and when reading the story, his reasons are obviously merciful and just. But she will have scars on her back--basically, the mark of the Lion--for the rest of her life.

Application time!

God allows stuff to happen to us that hurts like the underworld. We have scars from divorce, unfaithfulness, abuse, disaster, mean people, whatever. Sometimes they are things God uses to teach us, discipline us, turn us around. Sometimes they are things God uses to show us His mercy and protection. And sometimes we never quite figure out the reason because it's part of a much bigger picture that we can't see yet. No matter what the cause or reason, we have scars.

The question is, what do you call your scars? Are they reminders that you were once a victim of unfortunate circumstances, or do you recognize these scars as the "mark of the Lion" and use them to tell others of God's mercy?

Let's pray.

Harold, the Dust Mite

Hi, my name is Sarah and I HATE change.

So, my dad got re-married about two weeks ago and is going to be selling his condo where I have lived off-and-on for about 4 years (so, I have a lot of stuff there). Let's consider the changes this entails, shall we? Well, actually, let's skip past the re-marriage stuff and move straight to the moving thing.

Here's the thing with moving. Even if you're leaving a place you weren't staying at all that much or that maybe you didn't even like, there's still something really sad about it. It's really depressing for me to take pictures off the wall, because those pictures provided comfort to me. Watching the wall go from a multi-colored mural back to a blank palette feels like a defeat. Removing trinkets and artifacts from a room that was once your own but will now belong to someone else just plain ol' sucks.

So, imagine all of that and multiply it by at least ten--because I hate change more than most. If I'm going to change something and smile about it, it's because I've thought long and hard over it and I've made sure it's something I want to do. However, when it's something that someone else decides, that forces me to make changes, I have an extremely hard time.

Some types of change I don't mind--like the occasional redecorating. This is one of the changes being "forced" on me because of the move. Today, I was considering with some degree of pleasure how I would reorganize the bedroom of the house I live in now. I was thinking of what things I would put on top of my dresser, realizing that some things would have to go. Then it occurred to me that I'd have to dust before rearranging anything. This is a simple observation, yes. But when you dust as often as I do (meaning...never), you think, "Ew. There will be a pretty thick layer by now..."

Please don't puke; I have a point.

Why don't I dust more often? Well, for one, because I'm plumb lazy. But the other reason is that I never think to, because I never change anything on my dresser. The same stuff has been up there for years. I never move things, I rarely add to it, and therefore, I never think of dusting it. But the dust, over time, can actually harm the wood, as well as getting into the air and aggravating my allergies. So, the effect of not changing things is negative.

Same thing goes with staying in one physical position for too long--you can cut your circulation off. Blood doesn't get to all the parts of the body when the leg or arm is bent for too long, and the foot falls asleep, or the whole arm goes completely numb (if you've never awaken with this, be grateful). You have to change something frequently in order to keep all of your body alive and functioning properly.

Change stimulates, invigorates, sometimes angers us. Usually it points out a weakness that we must, in turn, hand over to God to change in our lives. What happens when we let things get stale or cease to move in a forward direction? Dust collects. Circulation gets cut off. We stop growing and we begin to die.

Consider the bowl of water for my cat downstairs. If left unchanged for a day or two, the water will become stagnant and eventually a layer will form over top of it. Disgusting, isn't it? That's why the bowl has to be rinsed and refreshed at least once a day. Stagnant water is undrinkable. It's unusable for the purpose it was intended and must be thrown out.

In order to stay alive--and not just alive but growing--I have to undergo change. It has proven to be very painful at times. But I would rather take up my cross and follow Jesus, futher on and further in, than give into my fear of pain and remain here on the road, useless, stagnant, dead.

What's a Christmas Gram? I want one! Pt. 2

I was reading the story of the Magi today in Matthew, and I read that the Magi were known for studying the stars.

Yeah, I know, that's nothing too deep. But picture this. Can you imagine three (or however many) guys who spend all their time studying the stars--they have a passion for it--and they know everything there is to know about stars...and then suddenly, a star that they have never seen before (after years and years of study) appears in the sky. And you gotta think that if this star indicates that Christ has been born, it's gotta be a pretty magnificent star. Think of how excited the Magi must have been. What a discovery! I imagine that their curiosity was beyond peaked, and the thrill of the unknown was reawakened in their very hearts. And because of their interest, their years of study, and their curiosity, they met Jesus and ended up protecting his very young life. Isn't that something?

I think it's cool how God used their interests to lead them to His Son. There are practical applications of this idea, but I'll leave that discovery up to you.

Merry Christmas.

What's a Christmas Gram? I want one! Pt. 1

Does holiday music make you feel just a teensy bit depressed? It does that to me. I refused to listen to any Christmas music on the radio until about 9:30pm on Christmas Eve night, as I was driving back from my church services in Summerville to my home in Mt. Pleasant. And even then, in the midst of the actual holiday bustle (not the preliminary stuff that seems to start in August these days), I felt a little bit of discontent.

Why? I think most of the songs written for Christmas (not including Christmas carols, of course) are geared toward romance of some sort. Even if the lyrics aren't romantic, the orchestration usually is. So if you're single like me, you may start thinking, "Hmmm. That sounds romantic. I hate it. Stupid, shmaltzy Christmas music." This holiday has NOTHING to do with romance! So why all the romantic music? The kind of music they play tries to make you pine for either someone or for a time that has ended or perhaps will never be. So let's boycott it!!!

That's depressing, huh? :) Sorry. I am actually in a pretty good mood. This has been a better holiday than most, and I'm thoroughly enjoying myself. So...stay tuned for part 2.

Things I really, REALLY don't like

Take heed...

-People coming up behind me and squeezing/rubbing my shoulders. I don't care who you are. If I can't see your face, please don't touch me.
-Beeping things--alarm clocks, cell phones with new voicemail, etc.
-Being one of the first people at a party.
-Things shifting around or falling over in my car while I'm driving.
-Meetings I am required to attend that have nothing to do with me or my job.
-Rush hour in the rain when I'm hungry.
-Sore throats.
-Local commercials.
-Sticky substances in inappropriate locations (i.e. honey between my fingers or some such nonsense).
-Purple clothing...on me.
-Sometimes, talking on telephones.
-Muzak.
-Most Southern Gospel music.
-Miscommunication
-Arrogance (in myself more than others)
-Change...

Now I run the risk of getting a little too serious with this blog. It's a lot more fun to dwell on what you like rather than what you don't, isn't it? Just a thought...

More poetry

One of my favorite poets is William Carlos Williams. He uses a very few words to create an incredibly vivid picture. Take "The Red Wheelbarrow":

~~~~~~~~~~~
so much depends
upon

a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.
~~~~~~~~~~~

And that's it! Isn't that something? He must have been trying something with the three-words-then-one technique.
You're probably thinking, "Uhhhh...right. I could write that. That's stupid. How is that poetry?"
Well, I have a question for you. How red is that wheelbarrow? Can't you just see it? A bright, shiny, fire-engine red wheelbarrow, just washed with rain, beside a bunch of stark-white clucking chickens. The moment is so vivid...and then, because I'm hungry, I think, "mmmmm...chicken....."

That's what poetry does. It creates a moment--just a moment. Sure, sometimes it takes several tries to understand it. But the poetry that is capable of making you feel like you've experienced something is worth taking the time and effort to understand.

Look at "This is Just to Say":

~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have eaten
the plums
that were in
the icebox

and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast

Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A poem written on a post-it note. Brilliant.

Something you may not have known...

I like poetry. Did you know that? I was driving back from Chapel Hill, NC, two days ago and I thought, "What can I put on my blog? It's been a while...Laura must be irked." So I thought, "Hmm, what about sharing some of my favorite poems? Surely people will find that interesting..." You see, I was an English minor in college (probably should have been a major--maybe it would have counted for more) and I actually LOVED reading and writing papers. That's part of me. So come, let me educate you in some fine literature.

This poem is called "Shine, Perishing Republic" by Robinson Jeffers. Published in 1963. It's a little morbid, but beautifully written. It's also one of the few I can quote.


~ While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening
to empire
And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the
mass hardens,
I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots
to make earth.
Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and decadence;
and home to the mother.

You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly
long or suddenly
A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains:
shine, perishing republic.
But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thickening
center; corruption
Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster's feet there
are left the mountains.
And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant,
insufferable master.
There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught – they say –
God, when he walked on earth. ~

Wow. What do you think?

Fine, I'll blog.

Not a whole lot to say here except that I have just returned from Nashville, TN, where I worked a medical trade show with my dad. While I was there, I went on a date. A real, live date. With a guy named Jason. A stellar guy named Jason. (That's right, I said "stellar"--and I meant it too. I'm not exactly sure what it means, but it sounds appropriate.) As far as dates go, I think he has perhaps spoiled me for life...or at least for a good long while.

If you would like the details, I would be certainly glad to share them with you. But they will not be posted on this blog.

The end.

Oh, and I learned to line dance.

The end.

Looky looky

Taken by Mahmood.

I love to sing...and that is all.

Pop Quiz

Whimsical title, huh?

I have been going along in life pretty steadily. Working hard, getting rundown every now and then, but things are pretty even keel. I sing songs about trusting God, and I mean them. "Sure! I trust You! How could I not? Things are great!"

And then...pop quiz.

It's cliche to say it's easy to trust God when everything's going well. I know this. But sometimes cliches have good reason for being popular sayings. It IS easy to trust God when all is quiet--or rather, it feels easy because we think we're in control. Things are going smoothly. I can plan my days and feel pretty confident that everything will work out the way I think they should. Is God in control in those times? Yes. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I think I kind of take over. "Oh okay, the water's pretty steady...I think I can steer now, God." It's when the storm suddenly comes and you realize you haven't the foggiest idea how to handle a boat in a storm that things get chaotic. But you've GOT to stay in control, or else you'll capsize! So you run around frantically, trying to keep the ship moving along while scooping the water out so you won't sink...that's a lot to do if you're just one person.

Maybe I shouldn't try to use metaphors regarding boats. I obviously know nothing about them. But I guess that's the point. We're surprised by the storm, and we realize that we can't control this thing that we actually know nothing about, but we worry and wear ourselves out trying to fix it. Fix the storm? That's pretty much impossible. But we try. Hold the boat together. Keep the water out. Steer the ship. And we get so tired that we let go of everything, the boat capsizes, and we start to drown. Too tired to swim. Too fed up with trying to save everything and everybody. What's the use? The storm's too strong.

We know that God's voice is over the waters (visit the Psalm 29 post for reference). So do we trust God to calm these waters? Do we trust Him to steer this boat, in still and rough waters? Can we trust Him enough to let go of the wheel and just work on staying afloat? Sometimes that's all you can do--stay afloat. Keep from drowning. Keep from sinking in the rough and dirty waters of unforgiveness, anxiety, fear. Stay afloat.

I received some news yesterday that is threatening to pull me back into those waters. I have spent too much time spluttering and floundering about in that mess over the last few years, and I don't want to jump back in. How do I stay afloat?

Also, how do I live out what I sing? Every week, I tell people to put ALL their trust in God; to surrender EVERY PART of themselves to the Creator Who is more than able to carry them through anything--am I living it out myself? When the pop quiz comes in my own life, will those same people find me a hypocrite? What will they see when the spotlight is turned off, when I'm just standing in line waiting for a salad, when I'm sitting at my desk? Will they be inspired or disappointed? How will I respond to the storms? Will I live out what I sing?

People just have to understand that everybody goes through stuff. Everybody grieves. Everybody reacts in one way or another to painful situations...worship leaders aren't any different.

Very dramatic. Not at all whimsical. And awful metaphors. But I'm staying afloat...no matter what it takes.