Life's Bad Music

As soon as I walked into the coffee shop, I regretted it. I had forgotten one vital detail: it was Wednesday.

Wednesday means open mic night. My coffee shop desk had turned into a stage.

I'm all for live music. I love going to concerts. I enjoy writing to live music.

Photo from a Needtobreathe concert

Sure, I have my favorite artists, but I'm not very particular about music (you can't be when your sign choir performs "Joyful Noise" by Flame and "Come Thou Fount" in the same semester). I'm also not a musician which means it takes a lot in order to get me to cringe.

The band on the stage in my coffee shop office on Wednesday made me cringe.

I picked the quietest corner (as if such a thing exists), sat down, and got to work. I figured if I was working, I wouldn't notice the band as much.

Wrong.

I couldn't leave because I had a lot of work to do, but after a few minutes, I couldn't stand it anymore. I pulled out my headphones and turned on my own music. At first, I couldn't even hear my song over the band. I cupped my hands over my ears as if that would drown them out more.

The band got louder. I turned up my music. I wanted nothing more than to block out the exterior noise and focus only on the delightful, familiar song penetrating my heart once again. Something changed.

The noise around me didn't go away. It was just as awful as it had always been, but the gentle voice in my ears was so sweet.

That's life.

Maybe not constantly, but life definitely has some bad bands playing from time to time.

We call them unemployment. Cancer. Debt. Miscarriage. Tornado. Broken relationships. Death. Illness. Car crashes.

We can't stand their music, but we've got a front-row seat. We didn't intend to go to their show, but we can't unplug the soundboard.

That doesn't mean they need our undivided attention.

What if, instead of focusing on the bad right in front of you, commanding your attention, you chose to focus on the sweet voice of God in your ears?

It's not easy, but once you get a taste of the Lord's voice, once you hear Him above the noise of life, you're not going to want to stop listening.

Lord, teach us to focus our attention on Your sweet voice of love and encouragement rather than the awful noise all around us.

Katie

Life Without Music

Earlier this week I had coffee with a delightful woman whose family does not listen to much music. My understanding is that it's a sound issue where they can't handle the volume level. They went to a concert and had to leave because the sound stimulation was too much.

I tried to envision what my life would be like without music. I almost always have music playing. If it's not on, there's probably a song running through my head. Concerts are my family's bonding activity.

We've gone to the same multi-day Christian music festival for nine years. Our record is six Mark Schultz concerts in one calendar year. We sit around quoting "As Is" by Peder Eide as if "Samson was a long-haired, arrogant womanizer" is a perfectly logical thing to say in conversation.

If it weren't for music, we'd probably have to watch movies or take up karate like normal people.

When I talk about Lifest, I tell the silly stories: the standing ovation earned by a water bottle, the mud so bad our van had to be pushed into the parking lot, using my lawn chair as an umbrella, etc.

But I think about it, I think about worshipping with Phillips, Craig, and Dean as the rain gently fell on my face. I think about kneeling on fist-sized gravel to stretch my arms up to my Abba Father like a child wanting to be held. I remember Peter Furler (when he was in Newsboys) talking about God's perfect timing only to have a nearby train interrupt his sentence.

Can I worship without music?

I love how the Lord gets my attention through songs I've heard a million times. I get a taste of heaven when strangers unite as a family to sing praises to our Father. I didn't perform "My Savior, My God" in ASL in front of a crowded room of Nicaraguan believers; I worshipped my Savior, my God with my hands.

Through music may be one of my favorite ways to worship, but it's certainly not the only way.

To affirm or encourage someone, that's worship. To serve and love on someone, that's worship. To hug someone, to squeeze a shoulder as you pass, to look someone in the eye. Worship. To genuinely ask how someone's doing, to sit down and share life over a cup of coffee, to bring lunch to an under-employed freelance writer. Worship. To dance, to play ping pong, to sign, to make copies, etc. they can all be worship. (My thoughts on this have been heavily influenced by TASTE Worship--check it out).

In Guatemala, there was a day I was "forbidden" to sing and sign. I worshipped that day. I removed flecks of orange paint from a brush and bucket, and it was worshipful.

Can I worship with music?

Last summer, I remember running through the park arguing with God about being twenty minutes late to a forty-minute show. He brought to my attention that I was not approaching the concert with the right heart.

It wasn't the first time.

How often do I attend a concert just to add another artist to my repertoire? How often do I absent-mindedly sing along without realizing what I'm saying?

These questions hurt because I am ashamed of their answers.

Even at Christian concerts, my heart is not always in the right place. I've sung along, I've waved my arms, I've screamed at the top of my lungs, and I hate to confess it has not always been for the Lord.

It happens under a rain-free sky. It happens in a crowded, dark auditorium. It happens in my church on Sunday mornings. It happens to me more often than I care to admit.

I voluntarily took a day this week and turned the music off. I washed dishes in silence. I drove across town in the quiet. I worked without any accompaniment.

It was weird and awkward at first but then it became peaceful.

That's worship.

Weird and awkward at first. Uncomfortable and strange. But then peaceful, wonderful, and necessary.

Whether you're a person who loves to literally feel the beat of the drums or just prefers white noise in the background, take some time this week to worship with the radio off.

Let me know how it works for you.

<>< Katie

Relational Obsession

Allyson, Amy, and I were sitting in the food court zoning when Allyson turned to me.

"The world is so obsessed with relationships!"

Her comment caught me off guard.

"You know," she continued, "like if you're single you're told you're not worth anything.  And if you're in a relationship it's the best thing that has ever happened to you.  I bet that's a way satan uses to distract us from God's love!"

Woah!  That was way too deep for my hazy brain.  As I regained full consciousness and began to process her words, I decided she is absolutely right!

I'm single.  But a disgusting amount of time is spent wondering and day dreaming about my future husband and family.  I spend a lot more time yearning for what I can't have rather than embracing the unfailing love that was graciously given to me.

Allyson wasn't done.  "And if that one relationship is the best thing that ever happened to you, what about all of your other relationships?  Don't they matter?"

Recently the loss of a close friendship has left me mourning and dejected.  But what about all of the other flourishing relationships in my life?  Don't they count for anything?

Sure they do.  But they aren't the one completing relationship.  The one we girls think a man can fill.  The one, truthfully, only God can fill.

Allyson's thoughts were spurred by a music video I wasn't watching.  I looked up at the end to see a mother and father playing with their two sons by splashing each other in the ocean and jumping on the bed.  It was really sweet.

I hope to one day have that.  But until then, can I embrace the love of God given to me?  When I do have my own family, will I still put my joy and hope in Christ?

Right now, I honestly don't know if I can answer yes to both of those questions.  Maybe that's why I'm single.  There are still a lot of things for me to learn before someone else can walk into my life.

<>< Katie

Debated Words

My suitemates and I have taken a stab at songwriting.  Most of us are either musically inclined or wordsmiths.  It's a great combination.

A few days ago, Jennifer had a beautiful concept for a song and ideas on what she wanted to proclaim in the verses, so we tried to write it.

We talked it out.  We free wrote.  We prayed.  We played with chords.  We were having a hard time.  Every word was deliberate and discussed.

Two hours later, we had a grand total of twenty-two words.

We were pleased yet simultaneously, I was little frustrated that it was taking so long.  Let's be honest: I'm a bit verbose.  Yes?  If I spent two-solid hours writing I would hope to have at least 700 words.  But they would not be as planned as these twenty-two words were.  They would be much less deliberate.  I would not debate them like we did those song lyrics.  They are not repeated as frequently as a song, even one only six of us know.

It got me thinking about the words that come out of my mouth.  Am I flippant in what I say or are they well-chosen?  Does each sentence run through a filter before it runs off my tongue?  Am I careful is what I say and how I say it?

The truthful answer is no.  But I should be.

"May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, O LORD, my Rock and my Redeemer." Psalm 19:14

<>< Katie

Tear down the walls. Let everything fall

I don't like alarm clocks.  I still remember flying out of my skin the first night I shared a room with Amber when her alarm clock when off in the morning.  It seemed to take me forever to calm down and realize it was NOT the fire alarm.  Over the year it got better, but every morning she got up first, I got an unwelcome jolt.

My own alarm clock is music.  I plug my iPod in, put it on shuffle, and wait to see what God sends me in the morning when the alarm goes off.  Today the first song I heard was "Break Through" by Peder Eide.  As I was in bed trying to convince myself to pull my lazy head off of the pillow and sit up, the lyrics that I've heard a million times hit me in a new way.  I decided to make this my prayer for today.  Feel free to do the same.

"Break Through"
By Peder Eide

Sing all the songs
and read all about You.
I know right from wrong.
What does it amount to
if my life doesn't show
how much I love You?

I need You to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall.
'Cause I want to praise You.
Nothing between You and me.
I need you to break through.

I know there is more
I've yet to discover.
So many things
You want to uncover.
I've been scratching the surface;
I want to go deeper.

I need you to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall
'Cause I wanna praise You.
Nothing between You and me.
I need You to break through.

Break through the pride.
Break through the shame.
I've had enough of staying the same.
Break through the fear.
Open the gates,
I'm getting tired of playing it safe.

I need You to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall.
'Cause I wanna praise You.
Nothing between You and me.

I need you to break through.
Tear down the walls;
let everything fall.
'Cause I wanna praise You
Nothing between You and me.
I need You to break through.
Need You to break through.
Break through!

Las Chicas

I went out to dinner with Las Chicas the other day. These four girls left South America and Europe to come to Small Town, USA for a year to teach Spanish and French. They all speak English very well, but it is their second language. They are also new to the United States and not well-acquainted with the area, so some of my friends and I offered to go out to dinner with them. I was their chauffeur.

When I lived in Costa Rica, I remembered always being so annoyed with the Spanish radio. I didn't understand a word of it; it was just noise making it harder to hear. I didn't want Las Chicas to have the same problem in my car. I regretted leaving my Juanes CD at home and put in my Spanish worship CD instead.

While we were driving and talking, Las Chicas asked me all sort of questions. Is what I'm wearing ok for where we’re going? What kind of rag do I need to buy to use with my mop? I'm getting five hours of sleep a night; why am I so tired? Do they sell textbooks at Wal-mart? What do you call the little white thing you use to clean your ear? Do I have to be a United States citizen to get a driver's license here?

In a break between conversations, the music was heard through the silence.
Cynthia: Is this a Christian CD?
Katie: It is.
Cynthia: Oh. I am a Christian in Argentina.
Katie: You can be a Christian in the United States, too.
I was glad she laughed because it came out so fast that I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want her to think I was mocking her, but they all enjoyed it. This added a whole new dimension to the questions they asked me.

What is the name of the guy who, you know, how do you say? And you know the thing that he does, what is that part called? What is the difference between Baptist and Methodist? Most of the people here are Baptist, yes?

Let me be transparent for just a second. I can write, blog, and read about God all day without a problem. To talk about Him is more of a challenge. Even sometimes among my Christian friends I feel silly for saying, "God showed me this today." I rarely tell people I'll pray for them (but if I say it, I try to really do it). When Christ came up with Las Chicas, I knew I had a witnessing opportunity. I also knew my tendency to be turned down when I offer a ride to church.

That's why I was shocked when they accepted the invitation! Even after I told them we'd have to leave at 8:30am. Las Chicas began to talk about their home churches. One did mission work every Saturday where she worked in local neighborhoods helping people. Another's pastor and his wife sent her with all sorts of photos and wanted her return with photos of American churches. It was humbling to hear about what God is doing in other countries.

On Sunday morning, they were ready early. One of them even made a joke about it. I have since realized why. This was their first opportunity to hear God's Word proclaimed since they've been in our country.

Shame on you, America. We're sending mission teams all over the world to spread the gospel. Yes, I went to Guatemala last year for that very purpose. But do you want to know what I found? Jesus is already there. He's in Guatemala. He's in Argentina. Yes, going and showing His love is important, but we also need to realize there are people in this country yearning to hear His name and they are not being filled. These girls are living on a Christian campus and no one had invited them to church. No one has stopped to ask if they need prayer. No one.

Shame on me. The thought never even crossed my mind until they said they had been looking for a church to attend. This is my twelfth year of Spanish, and I don’t even know the word for “prayer.” I feel ashamed to admit that, but it’s the truth.

When I took three of Las Chicas to church with me, I wondered how much they were getting out of the service. The sermon was less than engaging, the power-points with lyrics weren’t working, and the southern drawl was more pronounced than normal. Afterwards, Cynthia waved her notes in front of me.

“This is exactly what I needed! Thank you!”

Don’t thank me. Thank God. He coordinated it all.

If you could do me a favor, pray for these four girls and they are in a foreign country teaching their native languages. Pray that they can see God's love shown through those of us they encounter here. And, if you don't mind, pray that the Lord gives me the desire to speak boldly about Him. How can I pray for you?

Thanks,
<>< Katie

Exercise

Gosh, I love Mondays. Hear the sarcasm. My first class starts at 9am and my last class ends at 9:50pm. Yes, please pray fr me on Mondays especially. This is relational exercise in patience.

I knew it was going to be a weird day in my ASL class this morning. We were talking about different shapes and the professor signed, "KNOW MEDICAL DOCTOR SERVE HAMBURGER CIRCLE IN BOX." Huh? Must have zoned out because that didn't make sense. Yeah, it was "McDonalds" not "Doctor." Both signed "MD" with one on the back of the hand and the other on the inside of the wrist. Oops. Wrong me. Mental exercise.

This afternoon, I was sitting in my hammock reading about poetry. My favorite thing. More sarcasm. It's no wonder I couldn't focus. So, I looked across my room and noticed my bike. Let's go for a bike ride! Ladies and gentlemen, it is JANUARY and I went for a bike ride without my jacket. The terrain here is different than I'm used to and I'm completely out of shape, but even my short bike ride was enough to get some exercise, clear my brain, and enjoy the wonderful weather.

One of my suitemates is currently taking violin for the first time. Back in the day, I used to play viola. Not well, mind you, but I played never the less. Everyone took a turn trying to play her violin and everyone sounded awful. Sorry, girls. When it was my turn, I played an old simple song I remembered and jaws dropped. I remind you, I am not a good violist, but it was great to have a stringed instrument in my hands again. Excellent exercise for my fingers and my brain.

Part one of my Christmas present arrived in the mail today, our Wii. I call it the "you and your suitemates aren't good enough at killing time" gift. It was later followed by a Wii Fit, the "you need to lose weight" aspect of the gift. Huh? The Wii Fit isn't here yet but my shoulder hurts from bowling and tennis. More physical exercise.

However, the most challenging exercise happened in my night class. This is the first time we've met, but the professor has had all of us as his students previously. Prior to even handing out the syllabus, he stated a vague situation and gave us an hour to respond to it privately. This was an excellent writing exercise in my religion class, and I might post what I wrote tomorrow. Really, it was a masked-exercise in discovering Christology. However, it was hard! An emotional and spiritual battle. At the end of class, the professor apologized for "any tear and sweat this may have caused." It caused both. Spiritual and emotional exercise.

Are you in shape? Relationally? Emotionally? Physically? Mentally? Most importantly, spiritually?

<>< Katie

PS: Yes, I realize this was kind of a "I had peanut butter on my bagel instead of cream cheese" post and no one really cares, but it was just a very interesting day and I think you should hear about it. I tried to tie it together. Oh, and I don't really believe the Wii Fit joke aspect of the Christmas present, by the way.

Use Me

I think I over-estimated my number of readers... does anyone actually read these blogs?

Last week Monday, my friend Jessica was concerned about the lack volunteers for VBS. We all concurred that God would provide.

On Wednesday, I went out to lunch with a mutual friend Emily to discuss high school ministry and in the four parking stalls between her car and mine, she somehow convinced me to see if Jessica still needed help for VBS. I knew God would provide for Jessica, but I never expected that I would be the one He provided. In reality, God dropped people from the sky for her, and the fall didn't hurt. God and I had a good laugh all the way home.
"Use me," I said, "but obviously You don't need my permission to do that. Yet I still give it."

Well, a week later I have survived my first VBS ever! There are a plethora of children's songs running on shuffle in my head... where they have been for the last week. Yet the effects of VBS go a whole lot deeper than musical hallucinations.

Last night, I drove past a dead opossum on the road. I chuckled when I contemplated pulling over, putting my hand on it, and saying, "God gives up life!" (And I half expected a loud "Fear not!" to follow).

This afternoon, my VBS kids were running back towards church and I said, "Let's use our walking feet." Imagine my surprise when every single one of them slowed down and began to walk! I was still talking, and one of them turned around and said, "SHHH!!" to me! I forgot, walking feet go with quiet mouths and listening ears! It only took a week for them to learn and less time than that to forget, but it feels good to be shhh-ed by a four year old.

One of my VBS friends loved the firefly he made on Monday. Every day he asked if he could take it home, and everyday the answer was, "You may take it home on Friday." Everyday he told me, "This is my firefly. It reminds me that God is with us! FEAR NOT!" Some lessons do actually stick.

Max Lucado recommends taking a walk with a child every day to see life from their point of view. Well, every day this week I got to see God through the eyes of a four year old, and let me just tell you: He is good!

Learning to Listen,
<>< Katie

It's not about me

A few days ago I wrote about the song "How Great is Our God" and how whenever we sing it at church it makes my heart smile. Today we had an outdoor student-led worship event and (since it's a popular song) we sang "How Great is Our God." When I read the song list and saw it on there I had mixed feelings. It makes me happy to sing it but I feel like it's my "home church song" and shouldn't be sung elsewhere.

Eventually we got to "How Great is Our God" and the leader put it in a key right out of my range. Some songs I sing high, some songs I sing low. I prefer to sing high, but I can do both but I can't do the middle. Don't ask me to explain it any better than that because I can't. I know I have the approximate range of the treble clef, but somehow I seem to have this gray-area problem. I don't know but it's annoying.

Anyway, so I was really struggling through "How Great is Our God" and I felt so bad for the people sitting around me because of course I didn't think to sing quietly. Quiet? What's that? I'm singing for God, and He doesn't care.

CLICK! I light bulb in my brain went off as if God said,
"Katie, this isn't about you. It's about Me. I don't care how, where, or when you sing I just care what you're singing about. Why are you trying to please everyone else? Remember why you're singing."

We moved on to the next song and this one I could actually sing. I was sitting on the cement hugging my knees with my eyes closed. All of the sudden I heard this noise next to me and realized everyone in front of me and on my right was standing. Of course, as an instant reaction, I stood up as well. As soon as I hit full height I regreted it. God didn't need a real tree branch to whack me upside the head. There He was again,

"Why does it matter what they're doing? You said you didn't want to be influenced by others. Why are you standing? You're standing because they're standing. I thought you didn't care what others thought of you? Don't be shaped by this world; be your own person. Katie, I created you to be different. You aren't going to blend in with those around you no matter how hard you try. Stop trying and let Me do My work."

Ouch.

In Christ,
<>< Katie

"I cry out to God Most High, to God, who fulfills His purpose for me. " Psalm 57:2