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
Showing posts with label silence. Show all posts
Showing posts with label silence. Show all posts
Friday, February 24, 2012
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Listening in the Silence
I don't really know if this is blog-appropriate or not but I can't help but share God's sense of humor.
I am very bad at sitting and doing nothing. Ask my roommates. I'm always doing something, working on something, going somewhere, or refreshing some internet page. I don't sit still. I like to be busy. The minute I'm done eating, I'm out of the caf. As soon as there's a pause in the conversation, I excuse myself. Even when going to bed at night, I focus on praying rather than my constant to-do list or the fictional characters running around in my head. I like constant motion.
This whole unemployed thing brings constant motion to a screeching halt.
I am trying to use this opportunity to learn to sit in silence before the Lord. Sit and be still (although, I still wiggle my toes). Turn off the brain (harder than it sounds). Don't write, don't read, don't do anything but listen.
The first afternoon I tried, I fell asleep. I rarely nap during the day and I was sitting on the floor... Two hours later I woke up with a sore neck and no conversation with the Lord.
After dinner, I sat back down on my bedroom floor to try again. I turned off the music. Turned off the computer. Silenced the phone. Put away the notebook. And sat in silence, listening for the quiet whispered. This time I kept my eyes open.
Katie: Ok, God, I'm listening.
And what did I hear?
Someone farting in the bathroom on the other side of the wall. Not just one. My private, silent moment with the Lord was interrupted by someone elses' private, not-so-silent moment.
Katie: Wow, You're funny.
That's one of my favorite things to say to God. A sarcastic, "Wow, You're funny."
Two lessons learned here:
1. God does have a sense of humor.
2. No sitting in silence in the bedroom.
But I'm going to keep trying to sit in silence, as soon as I find a fart-free location where I'm not at risk of falling asleep.
Learning to listen,
<>< Katie
I am very bad at sitting and doing nothing. Ask my roommates. I'm always doing something, working on something, going somewhere, or refreshing some internet page. I don't sit still. I like to be busy. The minute I'm done eating, I'm out of the caf. As soon as there's a pause in the conversation, I excuse myself. Even when going to bed at night, I focus on praying rather than my constant to-do list or the fictional characters running around in my head. I like constant motion.
This whole unemployed thing brings constant motion to a screeching halt.
I am trying to use this opportunity to learn to sit in silence before the Lord. Sit and be still (although, I still wiggle my toes). Turn off the brain (harder than it sounds). Don't write, don't read, don't do anything but listen.
The first afternoon I tried, I fell asleep. I rarely nap during the day and I was sitting on the floor... Two hours later I woke up with a sore neck and no conversation with the Lord.
After dinner, I sat back down on my bedroom floor to try again. I turned off the music. Turned off the computer. Silenced the phone. Put away the notebook. And sat in silence, listening for the quiet whispered. This time I kept my eyes open.
Katie: Ok, God, I'm listening.
And what did I hear?
Someone farting in the bathroom on the other side of the wall. Not just one. My private, silent moment with the Lord was interrupted by someone elses' private, not-so-silent moment.
Katie: Wow, You're funny.
That's one of my favorite things to say to God. A sarcastic, "Wow, You're funny."
Two lessons learned here:
1. God does have a sense of humor.
2. No sitting in silence in the bedroom.
But I'm going to keep trying to sit in silence, as soon as I find a fart-free location where I'm not at risk of falling asleep.
Learning to listen,
<>< Katie
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
A Letter to You
Class prompt: Spend one hour right now responding to a letter you received from a friend who is struggling with the Christian faith. For the next hour, I cried, I prayed, I scribbled, and I erased. Ultimately, I didn't write this; God did. I am the pen; He is the writer. I tried to edit the grammar mistakes without recrafting sentences I don't like.
Feel free to put your name in when it says, "Friend."
In Christ,
<>< Katie
Dear Friend,
It saddens me to hear about your struggles regarding faith. First of all, I would like you to understand that I am praying for you as you go through this challenging time.
God adores you, Friend. Psalm 139 talks about how He knit you together before you were born. He's chosen you to be His creation, formed to be exactly who He wants you to be. Here's the kicker: He's not done yet. He's still working on you because you're a work in progress. He hasn't given up on you, so I'd encourage you not to give up on Him.
In your letter you talked about how to know God is real. You're right, it's hard when you can't run in to Him at Wal-mart. Not in a physical way, at least. However, just because you can't see and touch Him doesn't mean He isn't there. Personally, I find that to be the cool part: He's always there, even when I can't hear and feel Him. Sometimes He likes to be silent. I like to imagine He's watching and observing and just enjoying being with you. He's not gone. He hasn't moved at all, actually.
You mentioned one of the hardest parts about God is the whole prayer thing. You're right, sometimes it is like you're talking to wall. You talk and pray and pour over your words unsure what to say. Don't give up before you say anything at all. It's just like talking. Nothing special. No fancy words needed. In fact, you can completely eliminate all of the "thees," "thous," and "shalls," if you want. I mean, if you really love those kinds of words go ahead and keep going with them. My suggestion is a simple prayer Bob Lenz taught us back in 2004. Remember? "God, help. Amen." Simple. Yet profound. I also love the Lord's Prayer and it can be found in Matthew 6.
On Friday I was reminded of something cool. Christianity is potentially the only religion that offers forgiveness. Sure, you messed up. So have I. God knows our mess-ups. That's terrifying, right? I know. But it's also cool. Cool because He knows everything we've done but He still loves us. He's still forgiven us, still accepted us, still died for us. That's the beauty of grace and mercy. Mercy is God not giving us what we deserve (death because we've messed up). Grace is God giving us what we don't deserve (life, namely eternal life). My friend Ron explained it to me once like this: say you're outside playing and you get all muddy before running through the house and making a huge mess. Mercy is your mom not getting mad and punishing you. Grace is when she hands you a plate of cookies even though you made a big mess. She still loves you. God loves you through your skrew-ups and your questions.
Questions are good, my friend. Questions help us know people are thinking. Never be afraid to ask questions. The challenge is that sometimes we ask questions and don't get answers we want or worse don't get any answers at all.
Silence stings.
I've been there. Sitting in the silence waiting, wondering. However, I am learning to enjoy the silence. Learning to realize I don't need answers to all of my questions. If I knew everything about God then there would no longer be the need for faith. "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1). We all memorized that verse in confirmation class way back in the day.
Back when we studied baptism, communion, the ten commandments, confirmation, etc. All of the things that you find challenging now. I suppose 8th grade as a long time ago. Have you been asking unanswered questions since then?
I will confess, I have. They're not all unanswered, of course, but a lot of them are still unanswered. Especially the "why" questions I don't anticipate those answers on this side of heaven. In fact, many of them I've written down and set aside as if to say, "I'm not dwelling on this anymore."
I've got to head to class and I want to get this in the mail before the post office closes. Can we get together to chat in person? I've love to hear more of your thoughts, questions, and uncertainties.
Until then, realize God loves you so much that He sent His Son to die for you. Have you ever had anyone die for you? What about Someone who died for you but didn't stay dead? Someone who knows your anxious thoughts and desires to soothe your fears? Someone who cares a lot about you.
Have you ever watched an engaged father play with his young child? Whether they play baseball or ride bikes or paint the house or just plain be together. The joy you see between the two of them sharing life together. That's the joy God wants in sharing life with you.
He loves you, Friend. With an immeasurable love that is beyond what we can fathom.
In the words of Max Lucado, "God thinks you're great."
And I do, too.
Love,
Katie
Feel free to put your name in when it says, "Friend."
In Christ,
<>< Katie
Dear Friend,
It saddens me to hear about your struggles regarding faith. First of all, I would like you to understand that I am praying for you as you go through this challenging time.
God adores you, Friend. Psalm 139 talks about how He knit you together before you were born. He's chosen you to be His creation, formed to be exactly who He wants you to be. Here's the kicker: He's not done yet. He's still working on you because you're a work in progress. He hasn't given up on you, so I'd encourage you not to give up on Him.
In your letter you talked about how to know God is real. You're right, it's hard when you can't run in to Him at Wal-mart. Not in a physical way, at least. However, just because you can't see and touch Him doesn't mean He isn't there. Personally, I find that to be the cool part: He's always there, even when I can't hear and feel Him. Sometimes He likes to be silent. I like to imagine He's watching and observing and just enjoying being with you. He's not gone. He hasn't moved at all, actually.
You mentioned one of the hardest parts about God is the whole prayer thing. You're right, sometimes it is like you're talking to wall. You talk and pray and pour over your words unsure what to say. Don't give up before you say anything at all. It's just like talking. Nothing special. No fancy words needed. In fact, you can completely eliminate all of the "thees," "thous," and "shalls," if you want. I mean, if you really love those kinds of words go ahead and keep going with them. My suggestion is a simple prayer Bob Lenz taught us back in 2004. Remember? "God, help. Amen." Simple. Yet profound. I also love the Lord's Prayer and it can be found in Matthew 6.
On Friday I was reminded of something cool. Christianity is potentially the only religion that offers forgiveness. Sure, you messed up. So have I. God knows our mess-ups. That's terrifying, right? I know. But it's also cool. Cool because He knows everything we've done but He still loves us. He's still forgiven us, still accepted us, still died for us. That's the beauty of grace and mercy. Mercy is God not giving us what we deserve (death because we've messed up). Grace is God giving us what we don't deserve (life, namely eternal life). My friend Ron explained it to me once like this: say you're outside playing and you get all muddy before running through the house and making a huge mess. Mercy is your mom not getting mad and punishing you. Grace is when she hands you a plate of cookies even though you made a big mess. She still loves you. God loves you through your skrew-ups and your questions.
Questions are good, my friend. Questions help us know people are thinking. Never be afraid to ask questions. The challenge is that sometimes we ask questions and don't get answers we want or worse don't get any answers at all.
Silence stings.
I've been there. Sitting in the silence waiting, wondering. However, I am learning to enjoy the silence. Learning to realize I don't need answers to all of my questions. If I knew everything about God then there would no longer be the need for faith. "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1). We all memorized that verse in confirmation class way back in the day.
Back when we studied baptism, communion, the ten commandments, confirmation, etc. All of the things that you find challenging now. I suppose 8th grade as a long time ago. Have you been asking unanswered questions since then?
I will confess, I have. They're not all unanswered, of course, but a lot of them are still unanswered. Especially the "why" questions I don't anticipate those answers on this side of heaven. In fact, many of them I've written down and set aside as if to say, "I'm not dwelling on this anymore."
I've got to head to class and I want to get this in the mail before the post office closes. Can we get together to chat in person? I've love to hear more of your thoughts, questions, and uncertainties.
Until then, realize God loves you so much that He sent His Son to die for you. Have you ever had anyone die for you? What about Someone who died for you but didn't stay dead? Someone who knows your anxious thoughts and desires to soothe your fears? Someone who cares a lot about you.
Have you ever watched an engaged father play with his young child? Whether they play baseball or ride bikes or paint the house or just plain be together. The joy you see between the two of them sharing life together. That's the joy God wants in sharing life with you.
He loves you, Friend. With an immeasurable love that is beyond what we can fathom.
In the words of Max Lucado, "God thinks you're great."
And I do, too.
Love,
Katie
Monday, December 21, 2009
What is Worship
I'm scrapbooking my Guatemala trip right now, and I realized I never blogged much about it (see March and April for the few stories I shared). This is an excerpt of my journal from March regarding a lesson I learned again in July and again last week. I guess we could call this my theme for the year since apparently I haven't fully grasped it yet. This was our last night in Guatemala after we'd said good-bye to the children:
"In group devotion, we read Psalm 139. It was perfect for our saddened hearts after saying 'Good-bye.' We also sang a few songs (in English). I did sing for awhile* otherwise I didn't focus. I always feel weird not singing. I feel like I'm not focused/ unenthusiastic, etc. I think that's because I judge those who aren't singing. Another thing I've learned on this trip: it's ok to be silent and listen. That sounds like something I've been taught again and again, but it was reinforced today. Singing your heart out and praising God with your hands is not the only way to worship. It is just as much worship if you sit still and allow Him to move. It's worship by looking at His beautiful creation. Worship is painting a building. Worship is tediously cleaning a paint tray... twice. Worship is everything you do if you do it for God and to the best of your ability. Worship is sitting around a cement table with a few friends, freezing cold, looking at the starts, being amazed by the city/ mountain views, and reminiscing about the week."
<>< Katie
*This was during the time when I was forbidden to sing and sign. Click here for the full story.
"In group devotion, we read Psalm 139. It was perfect for our saddened hearts after saying 'Good-bye.' We also sang a few songs (in English). I did sing for awhile* otherwise I didn't focus. I always feel weird not singing. I feel like I'm not focused/ unenthusiastic, etc. I think that's because I judge those who aren't singing. Another thing I've learned on this trip: it's ok to be silent and listen. That sounds like something I've been taught again and again, but it was reinforced today. Singing your heart out and praising God with your hands is not the only way to worship. It is just as much worship if you sit still and allow Him to move. It's worship by looking at His beautiful creation. Worship is painting a building. Worship is tediously cleaning a paint tray... twice. Worship is everything you do if you do it for God and to the best of your ability. Worship is sitting around a cement table with a few friends, freezing cold, looking at the starts, being amazed by the city/ mountain views, and reminiscing about the week."
<>< Katie
*This was during the time when I was forbidden to sing and sign. Click here for the full story.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Is it too late?
In high school, I remember a friend of mine sharing how she'd gotten a ride home from someone who had admitted a fear of dying. When my friend shared this, with our prayer circle, the adult leader was excited for her. "How perfect!" He exclaimed, "What an amazing opportunity to share the Gospel. How did you respond?" The truth is, my friend didn't respond. She fell silent and let the other person talk.
Well, today--probably 5 or 6 years later--I was talking to this friend again and this incident came up. She admitted it was something she had always regretted, so she stopped regretting and did something about it. She decided she would send the other girl a facebook message regarding their conversation in the car 6 years ago. Well, days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and she hadn't sent the message yet. It was as if God told her, "Stop putting this off! Stop putting Me off!" That very night (at 1 am) she wrote a facebook message explaining how we don't need to be fearful of dying because Jesus died for us. She said she doesn't remember what she said, meaning she didn't write it; God did.
I'd be taking creative liberties if I said the girl confessed her sins, accepted Jesus that second, and died the next day. No, instead my friend has heard nothing. And she doesn't expect to, but the funny thing is that she's ok with that.
It's only ok to accept silence after you've done what God has asked you to do. Don't be silent until then. Don't spend 5 or 6 years regretting being silent. Do something about it. Do it now.
<>< Katie
Well, today--probably 5 or 6 years later--I was talking to this friend again and this incident came up. She admitted it was something she had always regretted, so she stopped regretting and did something about it. She decided she would send the other girl a facebook message regarding their conversation in the car 6 years ago. Well, days turned to weeks and weeks turned to months and she hadn't sent the message yet. It was as if God told her, "Stop putting this off! Stop putting Me off!" That very night (at 1 am) she wrote a facebook message explaining how we don't need to be fearful of dying because Jesus died for us. She said she doesn't remember what she said, meaning she didn't write it; God did.
I'd be taking creative liberties if I said the girl confessed her sins, accepted Jesus that second, and died the next day. No, instead my friend has heard nothing. And she doesn't expect to, but the funny thing is that she's ok with that.
It's only ok to accept silence after you've done what God has asked you to do. Don't be silent until then. Don't spend 5 or 6 years regretting being silent. Do something about it. Do it now.
<>< Katie
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Cicada Prayers
On Friday night, six of my friends and I hiked to the top of the mountain around midnight. The walk up was strenuous, we were exhausted, but we made it to the top. To stand at this lookout point and admire God's beautiful creation lit up by the moon is worth every bead of sweat.
While we were up there, we snacked, talked, teased, took photos, prayed, and sat in silence. Sitting in silence, my friend Sarah and I had very similar thoughts, so instead of separating them, I'm just going to share them both.
Sitting at the top of the mountain, we could see other mountains carved by the hands of our Creator. We could see cars racing down the highway each containing God's precious children. We could see the moon to light up the night. We could smell the trees, taste the leaves we ate, and feel the cool breeze flowing across our sweaty bodies. Most of all, We could hear the countless cicadas singing their praises.
Sitting in silence, the cicadas hum rang through the air. It was like every single one of them was having a conversation. Conversations here. There. In the distance. In front of my face. Everywhere! It was so easy to get wrapped up in the cicada conversation and fail to notice the bright moon lighting up the world. Likewise, we get so caught up in the day to day hustle and bustle that it's easy to forget about our Eternal Moon. (Has God ever been called an Eternal Moon? Now He has).
Also, Lord, may we always be able to hear You as clearly as we could hear the cicadas that night. May daily life never drown You and hide You, the magnificent force lighting up the world.
<>< Katie
While we were up there, we snacked, talked, teased, took photos, prayed, and sat in silence. Sitting in silence, my friend Sarah and I had very similar thoughts, so instead of separating them, I'm just going to share them both.
Sitting at the top of the mountain, we could see other mountains carved by the hands of our Creator. We could see cars racing down the highway each containing God's precious children. We could see the moon to light up the night. We could smell the trees, taste the leaves we ate, and feel the cool breeze flowing across our sweaty bodies. Most of all, We could hear the countless cicadas singing their praises.
Sitting in silence, the cicadas hum rang through the air. It was like every single one of them was having a conversation. Conversations here. There. In the distance. In front of my face. Everywhere! It was so easy to get wrapped up in the cicada conversation and fail to notice the bright moon lighting up the world. Likewise, we get so caught up in the day to day hustle and bustle that it's easy to forget about our Eternal Moon. (Has God ever been called an Eternal Moon? Now He has).
Also, Lord, may we always be able to hear You as clearly as we could hear the cicadas that night. May daily life never drown You and hide You, the magnificent force lighting up the world.
<>< Katie
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Tuve un sueño
Whenever I'm cold at night, I have bizarre dreams. The first night on my trip to Guatemala was COLD! Of course, I had a strange dream that doesn't make much sense. My mission team was in a large two-story room with a staircase in the middle (mall? airport? I don't know). I was being chased, so I was running down the stairs to where most of the team had gathered. I don't know where Neal was, but he was shouting, telling me to stop running because whoever was chasing me couldn't chase me anymore if I stopped running. I heard him and agreed, but it's easier to run down stairs than it is to walk, so I kept running, and Neal kept yelling. He wasn't necessarily angry, but he wasn't happy either. Eventually I did stop and walk the rest of the way down the stairs. When I got to the bottom, he make me go talk to one of my professors I was arguing with. In reality, I've never had this professor muchless had a problem with her, but in my dream we were fueding, and I woke up before I could figure out why. (It's a dream... it doesn't make sense).
According to my hugenormous trip journal, this dream haunted me for days. To this day Neal gets after me for being mad at him for something he did in a dream. Eventually, I wrote, "I'm not mad at Neal for my dream anymore. I don't think. He was confronting me about an issue and making me take care of it. He was upset (but he wasn't livid) and he was holding me accountable for my actions. We all need people like that, even in our dreams, even when we don't have a clue what we did. I really hope I don't have any more weird dreams."
Fast forward to Thursday. We needed to paint the top corner of the exterior of a building except it was hard to reach with the ladder and there was a huge birds nest and thus an angry momma bird. We girls decided against painting it ourselves and sent a guy up there.
Neal was our lucky victim. He perched himself precariously on an incredibly unsafe ladder contraption (involving a brick, a peice of plywood, a rock, and a sloped sidewalk), and I held the ladder.
Three or four songs from my sign choir played on the radio (ok, iPod), but I couldn't sign them because Neal's life was in my hands.
"God's trying to teach you to listen," he told me.
Eventually, he handed me the paint buck and climbed off the ladder. I signed with my one free hand.
"Stop it, Katie," he told me again.
I didn't stop instantly because it was my favorite part of the song, but I did stop a few signs later. I was moderately annoyed, but I figured he was probably right. After all, I'm not very good at listening.
For the rest of the work day, I didn't sign and I didn't sing. Under any other circumstances, I probably wouldn't have even considered not singing/signing. Yet I'm so glad I did because while cleaning the bucket that day, I had one of the best conversations with God that I've had in a long time.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
According to my hugenormous trip journal, this dream haunted me for days. To this day Neal gets after me for being mad at him for something he did in a dream. Eventually, I wrote, "I'm not mad at Neal for my dream anymore. I don't think. He was confronting me about an issue and making me take care of it. He was upset (but he wasn't livid) and he was holding me accountable for my actions. We all need people like that, even in our dreams, even when we don't have a clue what we did. I really hope I don't have any more weird dreams."
Fast forward to Thursday. We needed to paint the top corner of the exterior of a building except it was hard to reach with the ladder and there was a huge birds nest and thus an angry momma bird. We girls decided against painting it ourselves and sent a guy up there.
Neal was our lucky victim. He perched himself precariously on an incredibly unsafe ladder contraption (involving a brick, a peice of plywood, a rock, and a sloped sidewalk), and I held the ladder.
Three or four songs from my sign choir played on the radio (ok, iPod), but I couldn't sign them because Neal's life was in my hands.
"God's trying to teach you to listen," he told me.
Eventually, he handed me the paint buck and climbed off the ladder. I signed with my one free hand.
"Stop it, Katie," he told me again.
I didn't stop instantly because it was my favorite part of the song, but I did stop a few signs later. I was moderately annoyed, but I figured he was probably right. After all, I'm not very good at listening.
For the rest of the work day, I didn't sign and I didn't sing. Under any other circumstances, I probably wouldn't have even considered not singing/signing. Yet I'm so glad I did because while cleaning the bucket that day, I had one of the best conversations with God that I've had in a long time.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you."
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
Thursday, July 31, 2008
So many memories, so many miles
Four blogs in three days. I must be sick. Actually, I am. :-)
My best friend Mary came over last night. I got home from work and had a splitting headache (remember, the sick part?) and wasn't thrilled about having to play hostess. I kind of vegged around the house and did nothing until about 8:30pm when my phone rang. Without looking at it or talking to her all day, I knew it was Mary, and I knew it was because of the construction. I answered the phone,
"The bridge is out. Sorry, I forgot to tell you."
When she got here, my headache kind of disappeared, and we played games all night long. Cribbage, Life, Scattergories, Stratego, Rack-O, etc. All classic Mary and Katie games. Surprisingly, this time we actually played by the rules and didn't make up our own rules. We've played Cribbage where if you don't want to throw into the crib you don't have to. If you don't like the letter rolled in Scattergories, you can roll again (ok, we did do that a few times, but, come on, how many pizza toppings, diseases, and Biblical women start with "K"?) Although, we still did some of our quirky traditions like naming our kids in Life as they came along...
I've known Mary since I was two. It's fun to hang out with someone like that who knows you soooooo well. We've teased that we aren't allowed to speak at each others' weddings because too many embarrassing stories will come out. Like the flair on facebook says, "We'd better stay friends forever because if we become enemies, we'll have too much blackmail." Even though Mary and I no longer have any common friends, experiences, or hobbies, we can still hold a multi-hour conversation. It's not one-sided. It's not "Oh, you weren't there for that." It's not "Do you know this person?". It's not awkward when the conversation finishes. A few minutes of silence is fine before the next conversation starts itself.
That's how things should be with Jesus. He shouldn't be awkward to talk to. He's always been there. He knows all of the same people. It should be an easy conversation. When the conversation ends, the silence of just being together should be nice before the next conversation begins.
When Mary got hungry while she was here, she didn't ask if I had any food. She'd help herself to the pantry and find food I didn't even know we had. If she wanted something to drink, she found a glass and filled it with ice. Let Jesus raid your pantry. Allow Him to fill your cup! "Have a Mary heart in a Martha world". Sorry, that was bad. See Luke 10. (Did that link really work? That'd make me uber happy if it did!)
After spending twenty-four hours with Mary, I would have expected myself to be sleep deprived. Shocking we were in bed, lights out, talking put on hold by 1 am. It's appalling because we normally try to stay up all night! Even though I got enough sleep, I have no voice. Too much talking (again, remember the sick part?). People here need to learn ASL because I hate not being able to communicate effectively. :-)
<>< Katie
"[Martha] had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. " Luke 10:39
My best friend Mary came over last night. I got home from work and had a splitting headache (remember, the sick part?) and wasn't thrilled about having to play hostess. I kind of vegged around the house and did nothing until about 8:30pm when my phone rang. Without looking at it or talking to her all day, I knew it was Mary, and I knew it was because of the construction. I answered the phone,
"The bridge is out. Sorry, I forgot to tell you."
When she got here, my headache kind of disappeared, and we played games all night long. Cribbage, Life, Scattergories, Stratego, Rack-O, etc. All classic Mary and Katie games. Surprisingly, this time we actually played by the rules and didn't make up our own rules. We've played Cribbage where if you don't want to throw into the crib you don't have to. If you don't like the letter rolled in Scattergories, you can roll again (ok, we did do that a few times, but, come on, how many pizza toppings, diseases, and Biblical women start with "K"?) Although, we still did some of our quirky traditions like naming our kids in Life as they came along...
I've known Mary since I was two. It's fun to hang out with someone like that who knows you soooooo well. We've teased that we aren't allowed to speak at each others' weddings because too many embarrassing stories will come out. Like the flair on facebook says, "We'd better stay friends forever because if we become enemies, we'll have too much blackmail." Even though Mary and I no longer have any common friends, experiences, or hobbies, we can still hold a multi-hour conversation. It's not one-sided. It's not "Oh, you weren't there for that." It's not "Do you know this person?". It's not awkward when the conversation finishes. A few minutes of silence is fine before the next conversation starts itself.
That's how things should be with Jesus. He shouldn't be awkward to talk to. He's always been there. He knows all of the same people. It should be an easy conversation. When the conversation ends, the silence of just being together should be nice before the next conversation begins.
When Mary got hungry while she was here, she didn't ask if I had any food. She'd help herself to the pantry and find food I didn't even know we had. If she wanted something to drink, she found a glass and filled it with ice. Let Jesus raid your pantry. Allow Him to fill your cup! "Have a Mary heart in a Martha world". Sorry, that was bad. See Luke 10. (Did that link really work? That'd make me uber happy if it did!)
After spending twenty-four hours with Mary, I would have expected myself to be sleep deprived. Shocking we were in bed, lights out, talking put on hold by 1 am. It's appalling because we normally try to stay up all night! Even though I got enough sleep, I have no voice. Too much talking (again, remember the sick part?). People here need to learn ASL because I hate not being able to communicate effectively. :-)
<>< Katie
"[Martha] had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet listening to what he said. " Luke 10:39
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Purple Flowers
For some reason, every time I see purple flowers they make me think of my friend Chelsy. I don't know why, but they do. Every time I see them, they make me smile (because they're purple) and I say a quick prayer of Chelsy. That she's having a good day, that He helps her through whatever she's struggling with... whatever He puts on my heart. It's a nice pause from what I'm doing, too.
I still don't know why. Chelsy was in my small group freshman year, but we don't hang out all of the time. I've only talked to her once or twice since the summer has started, but purple flowers always make me think of her.
Do you have anything like that? I can't think of too many other inanimate objects that make me stop and pray for someone. I've started to stop and pray for Carrie when I see orange flowers, but I know that came from the purple flowers thing. Whenever I hear a Steven Curtis Chapman song, I stop and pray for his family since they're still struggling. That's a conscious decision, but the flowers were kind of spontaneous. I'm baffled as to why, but I know He knows and that's all that matters.
Those little reminders are nice and they give us a good break from the day. It's a good way to focus attention back on Him.
Have a great day. Stop and pray.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy" Philippians 1:4
I still don't know why. Chelsy was in my small group freshman year, but we don't hang out all of the time. I've only talked to her once or twice since the summer has started, but purple flowers always make me think of her.
Do you have anything like that? I can't think of too many other inanimate objects that make me stop and pray for someone. I've started to stop and pray for Carrie when I see orange flowers, but I know that came from the purple flowers thing. Whenever I hear a Steven Curtis Chapman song, I stop and pray for his family since they're still struggling. That's a conscious decision, but the flowers were kind of spontaneous. I'm baffled as to why, but I know He knows and that's all that matters.
Those little reminders are nice and they give us a good break from the day. It's a good way to focus attention back on Him.
Have a great day. Stop and pray.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"In all my prayers for all of you, I always pray with joy" Philippians 1:4
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