This weekend past, we had the honor of hosting Chris Bowater and Matt Key from "the north of England" here with us in Azle. Chris spoke to our church (in a Sunday morning meeting that took place while freezing rain fell outside) and left a real deposit of truth, but it was not only that message, but the stream of conversation that flowed between all of us, that has left me fascinated. You see, Chris seems to be carrying a deep understanding of one of the most amazing and unexplored concepts in the Kingdom: the power of obscurity. Not only does he understand it from a Biblical perspective--as he speaks of God coming in thick darkness and cloud, and showing up in unnoticed places like Bethlehem, as well as the many times Jesus told someone, "Go and tell no one..."(we never understood that in our testimonial fervor, did we now?)...but, beyond that Chris lives it. Chris' words and worship have affected not only his own nation, but places and people reaching all around the globe. He has spoken encouragement to gifted but mystified musicians countless times in private. He has dared to enter into their particular darkness, bringing a flashlight to identify the ways that God might reveal himself there. Though he has produced more worship songs, teams, schools, events and CD's than anyone I know personally, there remains a Melchezidek factor to his life and ministry--a sense in which he is known more by his Kingdom impact than his human profile. But more imporantly than that, he carries with him the ability to make you want to take refuge in God's hiddenness, rather than fight it.
I desperately needed the pill. I have lived the life of an artist with its accompanying (and exhausting) need "to be heard". Though I have found the joy of doing all I do for that holy audience of One, my culture seems to scream at me that my worship and ministry is not complete until I have some respectable sales figures and the bells and whistles that accompany such! (And by culture I mean the American church scene...) The confusion in my psyche was justifiable: I believed in the process of simply being myself and catching and processing the winds of the Holy Spirit that came my way (and turning them into words...) while leaving the results to Kingdom processes already in motion. Yet, I had succumbed a bit to judging myself by different standards. I had began to wonder if God's hiddenness as displayed through my life and our church signaled a deficiency in me/us--a wonderment which I could not afford given the mid-life nature of my personal chronology! A distinctly painful feeling reminiscent of being the last one chosen for a sports team had begun to tug often at the edges of my soul!
I now know--because of Chris' life message--that what I was missing was NOT an outlet or a vindicating breakthrough in recognition (for myself or my church)!!!Revealing may come, but THAT is not my greatest need. My greatest need is probably shared by many, especially here in America: We have unknowingly limited God to only bright light and full manifestation! We have declared unidimensionally that God is on the scene only when his blinding glory is shining for all to see, touch and perceive. We have forgotten that he comes in seasons and waves and a series of hidings and revealings, rhythms of mercy that flow with our lives...We have underestimated the huge portion of the Bible that recognizes God equally in darkness as in light. Forgetting that he is Lord of it all, we used all our human effort to push and pull on things until something--anything--showed up!!! Desperate to compete with the "signs" and "wonders" of others, we have often missed completely the tiny, precious seedlike beginnings of "signs" and "wonders" that surrounded us in hiddenness.
God's darkness is nothing like the darkness of evil. Communing with God in a place that defies sensory explanation is nothing like the despair of being alone. Rather, the thick cloud of God is dense truth so holy and so compact that it is almost tangible. It is God's awesome wisdom--line upon line upon line--paradox, mystery, contrast, dynamic tensions--all held in perfect balance by the force of unquenchable love that finds perfection only in Him. When we are that close to God, rather than filling our minds with more knowledge, he fills our hearts with Himself.
So, I am only beginning to explore the thick cloud, and lay aside the frenzy for fulfillment that only understands bright light. I know that the light is a part of God's plan, too; God of course IS light, but there's something about John 1 that seems to ring true about the context and setting of that light..."The light shines on in the darkness and the darkness is not able to extinguish it..."
The English physicist Stephen Hawking, astrophysical genius, has theorized with his typical humor that perhaps "Black holes ain't so black". It seems that black holes--giant vacuums in the universe that hold matter so tightly that nothing escapes--may actually emit traces of light and energy! If so, even the place of thickest darkness in the cosmos is not devoid of light, giving physical expression (as the heavens always do) to the Scripture:
If I say, “Surely the darkness will overwhelm me, And the light around me will be night,” Even the darkness is not dark to You, And the night is as bright as the day. Darkness and light are alike to You. Psalm 139:11-12
God help me--and all of us--carry the Melchezidek factor when we need to, SO THAT when God does set us as a city on a hill or a light out from under that bushel, we won't be moved by the change!
Wednesday, January 17, 2007
Friday, October 27, 2006
Poetry in motion...
This poem represents my response to "where is my life going?" questions--you know, the ones you don't always share with your fellow sojourners, who are like you, "pursuing their destinies in God," and pretending to know where it is all headed! Though it hasn't received any rave reviews from my immediate acquaintances, I still feel it has something to say--enough so that I post it here bravely! It is a prayer with a celebration at the end...which is, now that I think about it, what all of our lives should be...
Collide-a-scopic
All I see is broken glass—
Tangled, mangled shards of broken dreams,
Each one destined for greatness,
But now each one
Lying mockingly at my feet,
Declaring loss.
The red bits cry the loudest:
They were proudly forged in the heat of ambition:
Days when teachers and professors said,
“You could really make it if you try…”
The blue bits echo back a lament of loftier imaginings:
Of arts and expressions of the “inner life.”
Like ocean waves they speak
Of a vast unknown that is reachable
Only by me…
The green fragments—they seem the sharpest—accuse me unashamed.
“Humility is the way,” they say,
“Be small, be quiet, content with obscurity
And stop wanting what you can’t have in life.
The best you can hope for is no trauma, no drama and no frills.”
(I really hate those bits.)
I do see gold sparkling pebbles strewn throughout the wreckage,
Moments of real transcendent glory, but not exactly my own;
Heaven kissed me then and I was alive.
But they aren’t even proper shapes.
No one could build with them.
No, I don’t see a pattern when I look around me.
I only see what once was and what I wanted it to be—sadly.
And you—you dare me to come “as I am”?
I want to shout, “WAIT A MINUTE!!!”
This glass, these shreds, these nothings that wanted to be something—
These are me!
How can I come without them?
So you’ll have to wait until I figure out how to pick them up and bring them:
It’s a slow process because I keep getting cut…
But you won’t wait—why are you like that—insistent and intense?
Do you know something that I don’t know, being above me as you are?
What’s that? It’s not the glass but the ground you are pointing to?
Could it be that I am standing, living, dancing on a stage
That in your hands and under light brighter than my own
On purpose turns yielding patterns that make the broken glass dance—
Mirrors reflecting images that make pieces whole and reinterpret the world—
Chaos producing order and this moment,
This arrangement,
This turn of the circle
Producing a vision never seen before?
Then I realize the joke is on me (but how many others still don’t see it).
All anyone gets is the bits—
No one gets whole vases or goblets or prisms;
No perfect globes or spherical wonders, no crystal figurines.
The pieces unite to amplify the light
And the vision formed is the whole point—
Not second best, not salvaged because it’s all that is left of a once-bright future.
I dance then on the broken glass stage and realize I don’t have to bring it to you—
You’re all around it.
When I heard you say, “Come,” and did my bloody effort-filled exercise in futility,
(That has gone on now for years)
All you really meant was, “Relax,”
And all you really wanted was to dance.
--by Perrianne Brownback
Collide-a-scopic
All I see is broken glass—
Tangled, mangled shards of broken dreams,
Each one destined for greatness,
But now each one
Lying mockingly at my feet,
Declaring loss.
The red bits cry the loudest:
They were proudly forged in the heat of ambition:
Days when teachers and professors said,
“You could really make it if you try…”
The blue bits echo back a lament of loftier imaginings:
Of arts and expressions of the “inner life.”
Like ocean waves they speak
Of a vast unknown that is reachable
Only by me…
The green fragments—they seem the sharpest—accuse me unashamed.
“Humility is the way,” they say,
“Be small, be quiet, content with obscurity
And stop wanting what you can’t have in life.
The best you can hope for is no trauma, no drama and no frills.”
(I really hate those bits.)
I do see gold sparkling pebbles strewn throughout the wreckage,
Moments of real transcendent glory, but not exactly my own;
Heaven kissed me then and I was alive.
But they aren’t even proper shapes.
No one could build with them.
No, I don’t see a pattern when I look around me.
I only see what once was and what I wanted it to be—sadly.
And you—you dare me to come “as I am”?
I want to shout, “WAIT A MINUTE!!!”
This glass, these shreds, these nothings that wanted to be something—
These are me!
How can I come without them?
So you’ll have to wait until I figure out how to pick them up and bring them:
It’s a slow process because I keep getting cut…
But you won’t wait—why are you like that—insistent and intense?
Do you know something that I don’t know, being above me as you are?
What’s that? It’s not the glass but the ground you are pointing to?
Could it be that I am standing, living, dancing on a stage
That in your hands and under light brighter than my own
On purpose turns yielding patterns that make the broken glass dance—
Mirrors reflecting images that make pieces whole and reinterpret the world—
Chaos producing order and this moment,
This arrangement,
This turn of the circle
Producing a vision never seen before?
Then I realize the joke is on me (but how many others still don’t see it).
All anyone gets is the bits—
No one gets whole vases or goblets or prisms;
No perfect globes or spherical wonders, no crystal figurines.
The pieces unite to amplify the light
And the vision formed is the whole point—
Not second best, not salvaged because it’s all that is left of a once-bright future.
I dance then on the broken glass stage and realize I don’t have to bring it to you—
You’re all around it.
When I heard you say, “Come,” and did my bloody effort-filled exercise in futility,
(That has gone on now for years)
All you really meant was, “Relax,”
And all you really wanted was to dance.
--by Perrianne Brownback
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Hands Across the Water
I'm thinking I could start to call this blog "Hands Across the Water". Believe me the "an American thinks about England" slant is purely unintentional on my part--at least in its frequency. And yet, a strange mix of circumstance has yet again converged upon me and pointed my heart towards the joy of seeing the Kingdom emerge in the U.K.
It has been an incredible ride the past several weeks. My mother passed away and even though she was ready, the mix of feelings and reflection that one processes after such an event is both sweet and strange. Then, on Monday of this week, suddenly a man of 58 in our church died of a heart attack and we are all walking through that one together. As of now, my husband is meeting with the extended family (who are not in our church) and I find myself with an hour or so to pull away and try to gain a bit of helpful perspective after much time with the family myself.
As I was moving things around my desk, I came across one of my "ocassional" CD cases (no, I don't have an iPod yet, just CD cases for various moods and seasons.) In this particular case was my copy of the greatest hits of Emerson, Lake and Palmer which I bought for the sake of the song, "From the Beginning." Longing to hear the clear guitar and reassuring words of that song (which have spoken to me before in times of struggle in a way that I'm sure neither Emerson, Lake nor Palmer would even understand), I popped it in the CD player and went about the task of dressing. The song finished, I teared up and sighed a prayer, and the second track began. It was ELP's version of "Jerusalem," the poem turned hymn by William Blake. I had heard it in the seventies when the CD had first come out, but discovered it anew from--you guessed it--the end of the movie Chariots of Fire.
Just as I was applying the hot flatiron to my hair in a somewhat doomed attempt to be stylish, from the CD player, I heard these words:
'Bring me my bow of burning gold,
Bring me my arrows of desire
Bring me my spear! O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.
I will not cease from mental fight
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
It was the first time I had realized that this song's connection to England was more than speculation about the legend that Jesus might have somehow visited the isle. ("And did those feet in ancient times walk upon England's mountains green?", the first line) Perhaps partly because I needed a big picture to refocus upon, but I think mostly because I glimpsed a view of God's heart, I broke. I knew it was true: God wants to establish not a physical Jerusalem, but its antitype in the earth--that is, an outpost for the Kingdom of God so real it takes on physical coordinates! God wants to "build Jerusalem" on earth through our worship and expression of Him and he wants to do it such a manner that people can touch, taste, sense and smell God's presence right where they live. He wants the Kingdom to come near people today! With all due respects and prayers for the historical Jerusalem, there are more pilgrimages to be made than the one to the middle east! God wants to raise up attractive sanctuaries in many places in the earth and demonstrate the complee transcendence of His holy purpose! And the U.K. is certainly mighty among those places.
William Blake had an extreme spiritual fascination, but on this one he seems to have got it right. There is a call to stand up and contend for your land! There is a call to the church to again let arrows of desire fly from the bow, that is, from the spirits of "just men made perfect" as Hebrews says! There is a call to unashamedly declare the dreams of the God dwelling among his people and all the forms that might take--inroads into society, territory and culture. And there is a call to commitment that says, "I will not rest until the Kingdom is established..." (Knowing that God sends the most amazing of "rests" to those who have reached that place of total commitment.)
I wept aloud as I realized the call was as strong as ever to the British church. I wondered how many of my British friends (like myself) had a clamoring of life's voices of challenging banging around them: concerns about their church, their circumstances, their children, the future--many of them quite valid. As I cried, I called out to God as if by my voice I could pierce the veil that keeps us from seeing God's big purpose. I tried to lay hold of that for which Christ has laid hold of all of us--bringing the Kingdom to earth.
But I felt one misgiving about the poem's words that were moving me: "I will not cease from mental fight..." were the words that William Blake used to express commitment. Perhaps they were also the reason for much darkness and introspecition in his own soul. For anyone with any mental ambition to build Jerusalem on earth quickly learns that this is not a fight for the mind to take on. II Corinthians 10:4-5 "The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty..." The Kingdom is not established by minds rising against minds, but rather spirit overtaking minds! Though our minds must be engaged in the battle, they can never become field marshalls! We must always be led by the spirit, remembering that God, from His post in heaven, is the only one who really knows which sorties to send out (really waxing military here, but don't worry: I will quickly exhaust my military knowledge useful for metaphor... in fact, may have done so already!)
I wonder if the British church, like all churches, might profit from a re-evaluatory moment spent with this truth. Many of what we have called "spiritual failures" might actually be failures to acatually get into the spirit for the fight! Much of what has disappointed us probably has as its origin mental, rather than spiritual, stategizing and assumption. (In Bible language, we "leaned on our own understanding" rather than trusting "the Lord with all of our hearts"Proverbs 3:4-5). We do it becuase we want to avoid what we call super-spirituality, but we fail to realize that REAL spirituality does not neglect this realm, but rather envelopes it and finally makes sense of it. We really are in no danger of becoming ridiculous if we are truly spiritual. God is NOT ridiculous and Jesus defines him as "A SPIRIT" (John 4:24)
So, today, out of some very painful circumstances, I hear the call of God to recommit to the fight. I look across the land (both Britain and Azle, Texas) and see invisible things wanting to arise. I do not deny the pain around me at the moment, but I cannot deny the bigger picture that gives me a reason to go on. BUT, I lay aside more than ever the mental aspects of the fight and pick up the sword of the Spirit. God, I pray that you would unite us across the pond, not as great thinkers (and you know I love that--so I'm saying alot), BUT AS GREAT BUILDERS OF THE KINGDOM!!!!...Till we have built Jerusalem (the city of peace) in England's green and pleasant land...and in every land...
It has been an incredible ride the past several weeks. My mother passed away and even though she was ready, the mix of feelings and reflection that one processes after such an event is both sweet and strange. Then, on Monday of this week, suddenly a man of 58 in our church died of a heart attack and we are all walking through that one together. As of now, my husband is meeting with the extended family (who are not in our church) and I find myself with an hour or so to pull away and try to gain a bit of helpful perspective after much time with the family myself.
As I was moving things around my desk, I came across one of my "ocassional" CD cases (no, I don't have an iPod yet, just CD cases for various moods and seasons.) In this particular case was my copy of the greatest hits of Emerson, Lake and Palmer which I bought for the sake of the song, "From the Beginning." Longing to hear the clear guitar and reassuring words of that song (which have spoken to me before in times of struggle in a way that I'm sure neither Emerson, Lake nor Palmer would even understand), I popped it in the CD player and went about the task of dressing. The song finished, I teared up and sighed a prayer, and the second track began. It was ELP's version of "Jerusalem," the poem turned hymn by William Blake. I had heard it in the seventies when the CD had first come out, but discovered it anew from--you guessed it--the end of the movie Chariots of Fire.
Just as I was applying the hot flatiron to my hair in a somewhat doomed attempt to be stylish, from the CD player, I heard these words:
'Bring me my bow of burning gold,
Bring me my arrows of desire
Bring me my spear! O clouds unfold!
Bring me my chariot of fire.
I will not cease from mental fight
Nor shall my sword sleep in my hand
Till we have built Jerusalem
In England's green and pleasant land.
It was the first time I had realized that this song's connection to England was more than speculation about the legend that Jesus might have somehow visited the isle. ("And did those feet in ancient times walk upon England's mountains green?", the first line) Perhaps partly because I needed a big picture to refocus upon, but I think mostly because I glimpsed a view of God's heart, I broke. I knew it was true: God wants to establish not a physical Jerusalem, but its antitype in the earth--that is, an outpost for the Kingdom of God so real it takes on physical coordinates! God wants to "build Jerusalem" on earth through our worship and expression of Him and he wants to do it such a manner that people can touch, taste, sense and smell God's presence right where they live. He wants the Kingdom to come near people today! With all due respects and prayers for the historical Jerusalem, there are more pilgrimages to be made than the one to the middle east! God wants to raise up attractive sanctuaries in many places in the earth and demonstrate the complee transcendence of His holy purpose! And the U.K. is certainly mighty among those places.
William Blake had an extreme spiritual fascination, but on this one he seems to have got it right. There is a call to stand up and contend for your land! There is a call to the church to again let arrows of desire fly from the bow, that is, from the spirits of "just men made perfect" as Hebrews says! There is a call to unashamedly declare the dreams of the God dwelling among his people and all the forms that might take--inroads into society, territory and culture. And there is a call to commitment that says, "I will not rest until the Kingdom is established..." (Knowing that God sends the most amazing of "rests" to those who have reached that place of total commitment.)
I wept aloud as I realized the call was as strong as ever to the British church. I wondered how many of my British friends (like myself) had a clamoring of life's voices of challenging banging around them: concerns about their church, their circumstances, their children, the future--many of them quite valid. As I cried, I called out to God as if by my voice I could pierce the veil that keeps us from seeing God's big purpose. I tried to lay hold of that for which Christ has laid hold of all of us--bringing the Kingdom to earth.
But I felt one misgiving about the poem's words that were moving me: "I will not cease from mental fight..." were the words that William Blake used to express commitment. Perhaps they were also the reason for much darkness and introspecition in his own soul. For anyone with any mental ambition to build Jerusalem on earth quickly learns that this is not a fight for the mind to take on. II Corinthians 10:4-5 "The weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty..." The Kingdom is not established by minds rising against minds, but rather spirit overtaking minds! Though our minds must be engaged in the battle, they can never become field marshalls! We must always be led by the spirit, remembering that God, from His post in heaven, is the only one who really knows which sorties to send out (really waxing military here, but don't worry: I will quickly exhaust my military knowledge useful for metaphor... in fact, may have done so already!)
I wonder if the British church, like all churches, might profit from a re-evaluatory moment spent with this truth. Many of what we have called "spiritual failures" might actually be failures to acatually get into the spirit for the fight! Much of what has disappointed us probably has as its origin mental, rather than spiritual, stategizing and assumption. (In Bible language, we "leaned on our own understanding" rather than trusting "the Lord with all of our hearts"Proverbs 3:4-5). We do it becuase we want to avoid what we call super-spirituality, but we fail to realize that REAL spirituality does not neglect this realm, but rather envelopes it and finally makes sense of it. We really are in no danger of becoming ridiculous if we are truly spiritual. God is NOT ridiculous and Jesus defines him as "A SPIRIT" (John 4:24)
So, today, out of some very painful circumstances, I hear the call of God to recommit to the fight. I look across the land (both Britain and Azle, Texas) and see invisible things wanting to arise. I do not deny the pain around me at the moment, but I cannot deny the bigger picture that gives me a reason to go on. BUT, I lay aside more than ever the mental aspects of the fight and pick up the sword of the Spirit. God, I pray that you would unite us across the pond, not as great thinkers (and you know I love that--so I'm saying alot), BUT AS GREAT BUILDERS OF THE KINGDOM!!!!...Till we have built Jerusalem (the city of peace) in England's green and pleasant land...and in every land...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)