"What's this? Why do we have these?" TK asked flipping around a yellow piece of cloth. Everyone in the theater had one, including the band onstage.
I smiled. I've been hanging around this block long enough to know what was in store for us: blindfold worship.
The yellow pieces of cloth were blindfolds to be wrapped around our heads for the next hour as we worshipped the Lord corporately yet individually.
The idea with blindfold worship is that you are free to worship the Lord however you desire. Dancing, standing, kneeling, lying on your face, sitting, spinning in circles... No one would judge you because no one would see you.
I came in late and through the side door, so I didn't get a blindfold. I didn't fret about it because I usually worship with my eyes closed anyway. I did notice with everyone else's eyes closed too, I worshipped more freely.
I signed larger, I danced openly (and awkwardly), I sang in Spanish (ok, blindfolds didn't hide that). By the end of the night, I was on my knees with both hands stretched into the air as I offered myself to the Lord.
It made me wonder what other aspects of worship would look like if we did them while wearing blindfolds.
I don't mean how much soup would we spill if we tried to serve in a soup kitchen while wearing a blindfold.
Rather, what if we served and no one saw? What if we invested in someone without expecting anything in return? What if we encouraged people privately? What if we gave food to a homeless person without telling anyone?
What would the world look like if we worshipped with blindfolds?
What if we worshipped God in an uncontainable, uncontrollable, unseen way?
How would you sing praises to God if no one was listening?
How would you worship if no one was watching?
It doesn't matter if they are or not because worship is for the Lord not the people around you.
I realized the more I danced before the Lord, the more I wanted to dance. It started out as gentle swaying and ended up with me jumping, swinging my arms through the air, and goodness I'm glad no one but the Lord saw me embarrass myself like that.
But it wasn't embarrassing. It was worship. It was private God-Katie time.
And even if they had seen, their opinion shouldn't matter. When you've been accepted, been called a daughter (or son) by the Creator of the universe, why do you need the acceptance of man?
Spend some time with your Father today. Worship Him as if every around you was blindfolded, like no one is watching. Sing loudly and off key. Do not be ashamed of your joyful noise because it's beautiful to the Lord. Let your passion for Him radiate.
If you can do it when everyone else is blindfolded, you'll learn to genuinely, shamelessly worship when people are watching.
It starts with me.
<>< Katie
Showing posts with label worship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label worship. Show all posts
Friday, April 20, 2012
Friday, February 24, 2012
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
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
Friday, September 30, 2011
Listen
I woke up with a sore throat. I had hoped it would get better as the day progressed. It didn't. By the middle of the afternoon I sounded like Kermit the frog.
Wonderful.
I thought about not going to small group. It was a 45 minute drive there at the end of rush hour and a 45 minute drive back at 11pm. I was already exhausted from making that same trek once that morning. And I was sick.
Do I go and risk infecting other people with this sudden illness? Do I stay home and try to fight it?
I'm not a "stay home because I have a cold" person. I get colds a lot, so I'd miss out on a lot of life if I stayed home every time.
So over to the mansion I drove. When I got there, I learned half of the other people had colds, too. Last week we were all healthy; this week we had a germ-sharing party.
A sniffler. A sneezer. Kermit. What a choir!
Out came the guitar to sing some praise and worship songs.
Sometimes my speaking voice "frogs" before my singing voice or vice versa. It's rare they're both nasty at the same time. But, then again, I don't usually go from fine to Kermit in one day.
I apologized to the girl sitting next to me and tried to sing. Yup, nothing.
Time to move my lips and life a joyful noise from my heart...
Time to listen. Losing your normal voice is like being put in time out. Sometimes it's just not physically possible to speak. Other times it hurts. Or you just don't want to hear yourself.
"I'm worshipping YOU, God," I said in my traditional frog-voice campaign.
Listen, God spoke to my heart.
Is this like Guatemala but without the orange paint? I want to sing.
Listen. You sang on Sunday.
Thank You that I had a voice to participate in such a wonderful, Spirit-filled praise and worship service on Sunday. I'm sorry it took losing my voice today to be grateful for something I took for granted yesterday. Lesson learned. [pause] Can I have it back now?
<>< Kermit
Wonderful.
I thought about not going to small group. It was a 45 minute drive there at the end of rush hour and a 45 minute drive back at 11pm. I was already exhausted from making that same trek once that morning. And I was sick.
Do I go and risk infecting other people with this sudden illness? Do I stay home and try to fight it?
I'm not a "stay home because I have a cold" person. I get colds a lot, so I'd miss out on a lot of life if I stayed home every time.
So over to the mansion I drove. When I got there, I learned half of the other people had colds, too. Last week we were all healthy; this week we had a germ-sharing party.
A sniffler. A sneezer. Kermit. What a choir!
Out came the guitar to sing some praise and worship songs.
Sometimes my speaking voice "frogs" before my singing voice or vice versa. It's rare they're both nasty at the same time. But, then again, I don't usually go from fine to Kermit in one day.
I apologized to the girl sitting next to me and tried to sing. Yup, nothing.
Time to move my lips and life a joyful noise from my heart...
Time to listen. Losing your normal voice is like being put in time out. Sometimes it's just not physically possible to speak. Other times it hurts. Or you just don't want to hear yourself.
"I'm worshipping YOU, God," I said in my traditional frog-voice campaign.
Listen, God spoke to my heart.
Is this like Guatemala but without the orange paint? I want to sing.
Listen. You sang on Sunday.
Thank You that I had a voice to participate in such a wonderful, Spirit-filled praise and worship service on Sunday. I'm sorry it took losing my voice today to be grateful for something I took for granted yesterday. Lesson learned. [pause] Can I have it back now?
<>< Kermit
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Koolaid
I had my choice between going to church with Nikki or going to church with Melia.
Really, I was just happy to get to worship with my friends on a Wednesday night.
It was decided I'd go with Nikki so we could spend some extra time together before I had to leave.
The Bible study was good. I learned. I saw the congregation's hunger for the Lord, even though they make my grandparents look young. I enjoyed time with my friend and listening to her pastor teach. It was good.
When we got home, Melia was in awe of what happened at her church. The more she spoke, the more I realized I made the wrong decision. The scripture, the truths, the presentation seemed like God had hand-crafted that sermon for me... and I wasn't there.
I didn't ask why. Rather, I was upset.
God, why wasn't I there? You had the power to put me there. I was torn on which church to attend. It would have been very easy for the conclusion to have been the opposite, and I would have clearly seen Your hand.
I don't know why I wasn't there. Maybe because Nikki and I needed some bonding time. Maybe I needed to be encouraged by the old people eager to hear the Word. Maybe the they needed to be encouraged by us youngin's. Maybe "Uncle Bill" needed a new listener for his "the dog ate my hearing aid" story. Maybe Melia needed to summarize the sermon for me.
Maybe it was selfish for me to have wished the evening had gone differently.
Do you ever do that? Tell God He's the focus of your night but then get upset when He doesn't do what you wanted Him to do?
Guilty,
<>< Katie
PS: This post has nothing to do with Koolaid. But it happens to be what I am drinking right now, and I could not come up with a better title.
Really, I was just happy to get to worship with my friends on a Wednesday night.
It was decided I'd go with Nikki so we could spend some extra time together before I had to leave.
The Bible study was good. I learned. I saw the congregation's hunger for the Lord, even though they make my grandparents look young. I enjoyed time with my friend and listening to her pastor teach. It was good.
When we got home, Melia was in awe of what happened at her church. The more she spoke, the more I realized I made the wrong decision. The scripture, the truths, the presentation seemed like God had hand-crafted that sermon for me... and I wasn't there.
I didn't ask why. Rather, I was upset.
God, why wasn't I there? You had the power to put me there. I was torn on which church to attend. It would have been very easy for the conclusion to have been the opposite, and I would have clearly seen Your hand.
I don't know why I wasn't there. Maybe because Nikki and I needed some bonding time. Maybe I needed to be encouraged by the old people eager to hear the Word. Maybe the they needed to be encouraged by us youngin's. Maybe "Uncle Bill" needed a new listener for his "the dog ate my hearing aid" story. Maybe Melia needed to summarize the sermon for me.
Maybe it was selfish for me to have wished the evening had gone differently.
Do you ever do that? Tell God He's the focus of your night but then get upset when He doesn't do what you wanted Him to do?
Guilty,
<>< Katie
PS: This post has nothing to do with Koolaid. But it happens to be what I am drinking right now, and I could not come up with a better title.
Monday, April 11, 2011
A Saved Catholic?
"I don't know if you can be Catholic and be saved... I'm still figuring that out," cried one of my Catholic friends during our team worship night in Nicaragua.
When she first made the statement, my defenses went up. I'm not Catholic, but I have a lot of friends and family who are Catholics. Of course you can be Catholic and be saved.
Throughout the rest of the week, God let me see the plight that literally brought her to tears before us in a moment of transparency.
We walked into Central American cathedrals and my heart broke due to the distorted Jesus so many people have been taught.
The man huddled in the corner fervently praying to the painting of a deceased bishop.
The woman filling the offering box with Cordobas as if she could buy forgiveness.
The crowds ritually progressing through the streets holding a crucifix high in the air.
Jesus still on the cross.
As we walked through those decorated cathedrals, I found myself praying for the lost within the sanctuary. I wanted to stay and minister there rather than be a tourist.
It wasn't the label "Catholic" that bothered me. It was the un-biblically based Jesus. The Jesus represented is not the Jesus I know. That's what broke my heart. The desire to earn forgiveness and eternal life doesn't take into account for grace and mercy. The lack of understanding that Jesus is accessible to each and everyone of us, made me sad.
I'm not bashing Catholicism, I promise. I'm bashing the missing of Jesus that we are all guilty of. We get caught up in talking about homosexuality, abortion, and divorce rather than showing and teaching the love Jesus was adamant about.
We can call ourselves Christians and not know Christ. Worship can be a weekly event we attend out of habit not a lifestyle we lead.
Yes, you can be Catholic and be saved. But going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than going to the race track makes you a race car driver... going to a ballet makes you a ballerina...
The Christ I know is more than a character in a big book. He's more than a man who did some really nice things.
He's God and man. He lived by example, practiced what He preached, and gave the ultimate sacrifice. And He calls us to do the same.
Do you agree?
Then show it. Not in my comments section but today on the road, in the classroom, in the cafeteria, and at the store. Let's redefine Christianity.
It starts with me.
<>< Katie
When she first made the statement, my defenses went up. I'm not Catholic, but I have a lot of friends and family who are Catholics. Of course you can be Catholic and be saved.
Throughout the rest of the week, God let me see the plight that literally brought her to tears before us in a moment of transparency.
We walked into Central American cathedrals and my heart broke due to the distorted Jesus so many people have been taught.
The man huddled in the corner fervently praying to the painting of a deceased bishop.
The woman filling the offering box with Cordobas as if she could buy forgiveness.
The crowds ritually progressing through the streets holding a crucifix high in the air.
Jesus still on the cross.
As we walked through those decorated cathedrals, I found myself praying for the lost within the sanctuary. I wanted to stay and minister there rather than be a tourist.
It wasn't the label "Catholic" that bothered me. It was the un-biblically based Jesus. The Jesus represented is not the Jesus I know. That's what broke my heart. The desire to earn forgiveness and eternal life doesn't take into account for grace and mercy. The lack of understanding that Jesus is accessible to each and everyone of us, made me sad.
I'm not bashing Catholicism, I promise. I'm bashing the missing of Jesus that we are all guilty of. We get caught up in talking about homosexuality, abortion, and divorce rather than showing and teaching the love Jesus was adamant about.
We can call ourselves Christians and not know Christ. Worship can be a weekly event we attend out of habit not a lifestyle we lead.
Yes, you can be Catholic and be saved. But going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than going to the race track makes you a race car driver... going to a ballet makes you a ballerina...
The Christ I know is more than a character in a big book. He's more than a man who did some really nice things.
He's God and man. He lived by example, practiced what He preached, and gave the ultimate sacrifice. And He calls us to do the same.
Do you agree?
Then show it. Not in my comments section but today on the road, in the classroom, in the cafeteria, and at the store. Let's redefine Christianity.
It starts with me.
<>< Katie
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Guilty Getting Gas
Sometimes I have a problem with the "You are now entering the mission field" signs on the edge of church parking lots. Can the church property not also be a mission field? Yet sometimes we need that reminder. Sometimes we forget worship does not conclude when we leave the parking lot.
I forgot that on Sunday.
After church and lunch, we said goodbye to the youth who had touched our lives for the last two days and prepared for our three-hour journey back to school.
First stop: gas station.
The university keeps a gas card in the twelve-passenger van was I driving. I plugged in the card and it said, "See attendant."
Trip into the gas station number one. She told me to try it again and if it didn't work I could pay inside after I filled up.
Back at the pump, it didn't work a second time. I filled up the van and went inside to pay.
Trip into the gas station number two. We ran the card and it was denied. We ran it again, still denied. We ran it as debit, but I didn't have a PIN.
Back at the van, I called Heather. No answer. We called Kevin. He said he didn't know the PIN and told us to call Neal. Neal was apologetic that we hadn't been given the PIN before we left campus.
Trip into the gas station number three. On the phone with Neal, I punched in the PIN he gave me. Still no luck.
That's when I started to get short with him. It was out of frustration but that didn't make it right. Had I learned nothing on our weekend of living to worship? I could have been worshipping at the gas station... thanking God that we had gas to fill up the van, that our only snafu was a misbehaving gas card, and the ability to reach someone who was willing to help us on a Sunday afternoon while he was spending time with his family. I could have been courteous to the attendant and the man on the phone.
Getting mad at Neal wasn't worship. In fact, it was the opposite. It was getting cranky with someone who was trying to help.
The chorus of the Casting Crowns's song "The Altar and the Door" saying, "I will not lose my follow through between the altar and the door." Not forgetting everything we learned in church between when we leave the sanctuary and when we, as the sign in the parking lot says, enter the mission field. Instead, we should take what we've learned home with us and implement it into our lives.
Well, fail, Katie.
I lost a fight with a gas card and I lost my worship mindset. A mile from the church and I had two apologies to make: one to Neal and one to God.
Thankful for forgiveness,
<>< Katie
PS: On the fourth trip into the gas station, I paid out of pocket and was reimbursed when we made it safely back to campus.
I forgot that on Sunday.
After church and lunch, we said goodbye to the youth who had touched our lives for the last two days and prepared for our three-hour journey back to school.
First stop: gas station.
The university keeps a gas card in the twelve-passenger van was I driving. I plugged in the card and it said, "See attendant."
Trip into the gas station number one. She told me to try it again and if it didn't work I could pay inside after I filled up.
Back at the pump, it didn't work a second time. I filled up the van and went inside to pay.
Trip into the gas station number two. We ran the card and it was denied. We ran it again, still denied. We ran it as debit, but I didn't have a PIN.
Back at the van, I called Heather. No answer. We called Kevin. He said he didn't know the PIN and told us to call Neal. Neal was apologetic that we hadn't been given the PIN before we left campus.
Trip into the gas station number three. On the phone with Neal, I punched in the PIN he gave me. Still no luck.
That's when I started to get short with him. It was out of frustration but that didn't make it right. Had I learned nothing on our weekend of living to worship? I could have been worshipping at the gas station... thanking God that we had gas to fill up the van, that our only snafu was a misbehaving gas card, and the ability to reach someone who was willing to help us on a Sunday afternoon while he was spending time with his family. I could have been courteous to the attendant and the man on the phone.
Getting mad at Neal wasn't worship. In fact, it was the opposite. It was getting cranky with someone who was trying to help.
The chorus of the Casting Crowns's song "The Altar and the Door" saying, "I will not lose my follow through between the altar and the door." Not forgetting everything we learned in church between when we leave the sanctuary and when we, as the sign in the parking lot says, enter the mission field. Instead, we should take what we've learned home with us and implement it into our lives.
Well, fail, Katie.
I lost a fight with a gas card and I lost my worship mindset. A mile from the church and I had two apologies to make: one to Neal and one to God.
Thankful for forgiveness,
<>< Katie
PS: On the fourth trip into the gas station, I paid out of pocket and was reimbursed when we made it safely back to campus.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Live to Worship
We were told to expect thirty middle and high schoolers for our youth retreat. Most of the time there were five.
I think guys are pre-wired to play sports. It's an unfair advantage they have for a bonding activity. Our guys jumped right in with their guys and commence the weekend-long Knock-Out tournament. We ladies had a bit of a more difficult time.
I was God-placed in the right place at the right time. When two sisters walked in, I happened to be near the gym door.
The younger, a very thin middle school student with hair just past her ears, was less than thrilled about playing basketball. She picked up the volleyball and tossed it to herself. I asked if I could join. She nodded yes.
I'm not any better at volleyball than I am at basketball. But, it's easier to play one-on-one than eight-on-one. We bumped the ball back and forth. I was kind of impressed with myself for knowing how to hold my hands, to get under the ball, and for not getting hit in the face. There still might have been more running than bumping.
By dinner time, my arms were bright red. They hurt. Hers matched.
In that volleyball time, she became my buddy. For the next two days, she clinged to me.
We sat together at meals and played volleyball during free times. Since there were five youth and eight college students, I could focus my attention on her. And sometimes she needed all of my attention.
The lively girl I saw when we were playing ping pong and listening to the same two Skillet songs on repeat was not the same girl who slowly scooted her chair next to mine during Bible lessons.
The only time she actually opened her Bible all weekend was during the lesson I taught. She was not interested in playing group games and much preferred to organize the preschool Sunday School room all day Saturday rather than participate in our planned activities.
I prayed a lot for God to show me how to reach her. None of my tricks of the trade seemed successful, so I did the same thing I did with the Nicaraguan niños, I loved her. I made a point to always know where she was. I offered to help her organize and when she declined, it I sat with her while she worked. I put my arm around her when she rested my head on her shoulder. I told her I loved her with my words and my actions.
As seems typical, we had to leave before I could see what God was doing in that girl. But I saw Him work in me.
Our theme of the weekend was: Live to Worship.
One thing God taught me was that even though the middle schooler and I didn't have any deep conversations, my time spent with her was still worship.
I'll be honest, it felt a bit more like babysitting than it did a youth retreat. But it mattered. It was the ministry of presence.
On Saturday night she gave me a piece of construction paper with my name written on it and decorated with glitter. I hung it in my dorm room as a reminder of our weekend and to pray for her regularly. It's a reminder that sometimes even what feels different than we expected can be worship, can be a ministry, can make a difference.
How have you worshipped today?
<>< Katie
I think guys are pre-wired to play sports. It's an unfair advantage they have for a bonding activity. Our guys jumped right in with their guys and commence the weekend-long Knock-Out tournament. We ladies had a bit of a more difficult time.
I was God-placed in the right place at the right time. When two sisters walked in, I happened to be near the gym door.
The younger, a very thin middle school student with hair just past her ears, was less than thrilled about playing basketball. She picked up the volleyball and tossed it to herself. I asked if I could join. She nodded yes.
I'm not any better at volleyball than I am at basketball. But, it's easier to play one-on-one than eight-on-one. We bumped the ball back and forth. I was kind of impressed with myself for knowing how to hold my hands, to get under the ball, and for not getting hit in the face. There still might have been more running than bumping.
By dinner time, my arms were bright red. They hurt. Hers matched.
In that volleyball time, she became my buddy. For the next two days, she clinged to me.
We sat together at meals and played volleyball during free times. Since there were five youth and eight college students, I could focus my attention on her. And sometimes she needed all of my attention.
The lively girl I saw when we were playing ping pong and listening to the same two Skillet songs on repeat was not the same girl who slowly scooted her chair next to mine during Bible lessons.
The only time she actually opened her Bible all weekend was during the lesson I taught. She was not interested in playing group games and much preferred to organize the preschool Sunday School room all day Saturday rather than participate in our planned activities.
I prayed a lot for God to show me how to reach her. None of my tricks of the trade seemed successful, so I did the same thing I did with the Nicaraguan niños, I loved her. I made a point to always know where she was. I offered to help her organize and when she declined, it I sat with her while she worked. I put my arm around her when she rested my head on her shoulder. I told her I loved her with my words and my actions.
As seems typical, we had to leave before I could see what God was doing in that girl. But I saw Him work in me.
Our theme of the weekend was: Live to Worship.
One thing God taught me was that even though the middle schooler and I didn't have any deep conversations, my time spent with her was still worship.
I'll be honest, it felt a bit more like babysitting than it did a youth retreat. But it mattered. It was the ministry of presence.
On Saturday night she gave me a piece of construction paper with my name written on it and decorated with glitter. I hung it in my dorm room as a reminder of our weekend and to pray for her regularly. It's a reminder that sometimes even what feels different than we expected can be worship, can be a ministry, can make a difference.
How have you worshipped today?
<>< Katie
Friday, February 4, 2011
Hypocrite
Nikki asked me to write a very transparent short piece about on campus interactions with non-Christians. She wanted me to write those things that I'd never say out loud to anyone. A bunch of us had similar assignments that would be recorded as sound clips over videos of campus.
As I pondered this assignment, I was immediately drawn to the Great Divide that is the cafeteria salad bar. Our school has a long-standing joke that the salad bar divides the campus: Christian, non-athletes on one side; non-Christian, athletes on the other. Of course, there are exceptions, but this is the stereotype.
They sat an empty seat between each of them so that their legs in athletic shorts or sweatpants could be spread apart. They were so buff they could have swallowed me whole if they had wanted to.
The head of the man right in front of me blocked my view of the speaker. The speaker who looks like the stereotypical Jesus and has my same haircut. Instead of marveling at these things, I was stuck staring at this guy's backwards baseball cap with our mascot on it. Our mascot that looks like he's sharting.
He wasn't the only one. Someone near me, potentially one of the four athletes who could swallow me whole, let one rip. I didn't hear it. I just smelled it. Check your shorts, dude!
My dad's the king of SBDs. I grew up surrounded by rancid rear-end smells. If I have to breathe in through my mouth, it's bad! It was bad!
For the next hour I watched Mr. Swallow Me Whole. He had his Bible with him. After flipping to the scripture passage for the night, he handed it to his friend two seats over. Then he pulled out his "assorted electronic device" and read along with the Jesus-twin speaker. He removed his hat when we prayed. He pulled the "Statue of Liberty" and sang along. He even gave an "Amen!"
You hypocrite!
You talk about destroying the salad bar divide and you build a brick wall between you and the seat in front of you! All because you're scared. Scared that such a large man might have a heart for Christ. Scared that your brother might swallow you whole. Scared that God hears both of your prayers. Katie, that's ridiculous.
Mr. Swallow Me Whole, it was a joy to worship behind you last week. Thank you for not biting off my head when I realized I was a hypocrite. Let's do it again sometime. But maybe I'll bring some air freshener.
<>< Katie
As I pondered this assignment, I was immediately drawn to the Great Divide that is the cafeteria salad bar. Our school has a long-standing joke that the salad bar divides the campus: Christian, non-athletes on one side; non-Christian, athletes on the other. Of course, there are exceptions, but this is the stereotype.
Sometimes I forget there are non-Christians here, too. But then I walk on the wrong side of the salad bar to get some yogurt. Instantly I feel judged and unwelcome. Like I'm supposed to be perfect because I love Jesus. I'm supposed to always love, always care, and always be willing to help.
"I'm not perfect," I want to shout. Like that's an excuse. An excuse to exhibit un-Christ-like behavior. An excuse to be inconsiderate. An excuse to judge.The night the video played and my northern accent ran through the full auditorium I realized that we divide ourselves even there at worship. I had accidentally chosen a seat behind four boys who... well, aren't from my side of the salad bar.
It's not them, it's me who's doing the judging. I shoot evil glares when I see someone struggling in class. I avoid non-Christians like they have some kind of contagious disease I'm going to catch just from looking them in the eye.
Some of my close family members aren't Christians; they're not poisonous. I hug, love, and serve them. Why can't I do the same for my peers?
They sat an empty seat between each of them so that their legs in athletic shorts or sweatpants could be spread apart. They were so buff they could have swallowed me whole if they had wanted to.
The head of the man right in front of me blocked my view of the speaker. The speaker who looks like the stereotypical Jesus and has my same haircut. Instead of marveling at these things, I was stuck staring at this guy's backwards baseball cap with our mascot on it. Our mascot that looks like he's sharting.
He wasn't the only one. Someone near me, potentially one of the four athletes who could swallow me whole, let one rip. I didn't hear it. I just smelled it. Check your shorts, dude!
My dad's the king of SBDs. I grew up surrounded by rancid rear-end smells. If I have to breathe in through my mouth, it's bad! It was bad!
"Some of my family members are not Christians. I hug, love, and serve them. Why can't I do the same for my peers?"You hypocrite!
For the next hour I watched Mr. Swallow Me Whole. He had his Bible with him. After flipping to the scripture passage for the night, he handed it to his friend two seats over. Then he pulled out his "assorted electronic device" and read along with the Jesus-twin speaker. He removed his hat when we prayed. He pulled the "Statue of Liberty" and sang along. He even gave an "Amen!"
You hypocrite!
You talk about destroying the salad bar divide and you build a brick wall between you and the seat in front of you! All because you're scared. Scared that such a large man might have a heart for Christ. Scared that your brother might swallow you whole. Scared that God hears both of your prayers. Katie, that's ridiculous.
Mr. Swallow Me Whole, it was a joy to worship behind you last week. Thank you for not biting off my head when I realized I was a hypocrite. Let's do it again sometime. But maybe I'll bring some air freshener.
<>< Katie
Monday, September 20, 2010
Can't I just pray in peace?
The pastor had finished his sermon with a "Let's pray." I bowed my head and just as he started to pray, someone grabbed my knee. Not going to lie, I jumped a little. I looked up to see Queen Emily beckoning me towards her. She, Amber, and I had to leave church early, and the service was running long than we anticipated. Instead of staying for our arranged exit time, we snuck out during the prayer. A spontaneous change in plan that I was not informed of.
Not an hour later, Queen Emily, Amber, and were in our second church service for the day. We double-dipped on church because our sign choir had been asked to perform at the second service. Neal said, "Let's pray," I bowed my head, and Amber grabbed my knee. No praying allowed in church apparently. Instead, we had to progress on stage like an army preparing for battle.
The performance went better than expected. Not flawless but quite well considering the extremely limited amount of time we had to prepare. After the service, I was mingling and everyone seemed very impressed.
"You were my favorite one up there." You're biased.
"We always love it when you guys perform." Thanks, we love it, too.
It was Jennifer's words that stuck with me the most.
"You know, some people just sign with their hands. But you sign with your whole body. It's like you're telling a story." I like to tell stories.
When I joined this choir, I had no knowledge of American Sign Language. None. During practice, I would feverishly scribble what the signs looked like to me. For example, next to Queen Emily's "WHO" I wrote "inhaler." That's where I got my first sign name, a "K" on the chin, to remind everyone of my silly "WHO = inhaler" moment. When I started, the signs were just motions to me.
Now, almost four years later, I am conversant in ASL. The signs have moved on from being motions to being worship. It means I get to worship with all that I am. My hands, my body, my face, my heart, my mind, and sometimes even my voice. I use all that I am to praise God and tell His story.
It's worth all of those hours freshman year trying and trying to figure out what was going on. Every "WHO = inhaler" moment and the laughter that followed. Every trip to practice in the icy rain. Every sore shoulder/wrist from overuse and abuse. Every moved table and chair to create ample practice space. It's even worth every interrupted prayer to use all of my being to worship God as I tell His story.
<>< Katie
Not an hour later, Queen Emily, Amber, and were in our second church service for the day. We double-dipped on church because our sign choir had been asked to perform at the second service. Neal said, "Let's pray," I bowed my head, and Amber grabbed my knee. No praying allowed in church apparently. Instead, we had to progress on stage like an army preparing for battle.
The performance went better than expected. Not flawless but quite well considering the extremely limited amount of time we had to prepare. After the service, I was mingling and everyone seemed very impressed.
"You were my favorite one up there." You're biased.
"We always love it when you guys perform." Thanks, we love it, too.
It was Jennifer's words that stuck with me the most.
"You know, some people just sign with their hands. But you sign with your whole body. It's like you're telling a story." I like to tell stories.
When I joined this choir, I had no knowledge of American Sign Language. None. During practice, I would feverishly scribble what the signs looked like to me. For example, next to Queen Emily's "WHO" I wrote "inhaler." That's where I got my first sign name, a "K" on the chin, to remind everyone of my silly "WHO = inhaler" moment. When I started, the signs were just motions to me.
Now, almost four years later, I am conversant in ASL. The signs have moved on from being motions to being worship. It means I get to worship with all that I am. My hands, my body, my face, my heart, my mind, and sometimes even my voice. I use all that I am to praise God and tell His story.
It's worth all of those hours freshman year trying and trying to figure out what was going on. Every "WHO = inhaler" moment and the laughter that followed. Every trip to practice in the icy rain. Every sore shoulder/wrist from overuse and abuse. Every moved table and chair to create ample practice space. It's even worth every interrupted prayer to use all of my being to worship God as I tell His story.
<>< Katie
Monday, July 19, 2010
Dance for Joy
I think the thing I say to God most frequently is a sarcastic, "Wow, You're funny." He's got perfect timing and sometimes it just makes me shake my head.
If you've ever seen Peder Eide in concert, you know that at some point he plays a "hymn on Mountain Dew" that is an upbeat arrangement of "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee." Towards the end of the song, the invisible band vamps while Peder talks about how if what we're singing is true and we really have the joy of the Lord we don't just uses our voices, we use everything we have. He tells the audience to put their arms around their sweaty neighbors, complete strangers that are now family. Then everyone jumps. Without letting go of each other.
Then, he tells us we can let go. He moves on to talk about how dance is worship. There's no right or wrong way to dance for joy. He says, "David danced before the Lord. He was almost naked, but we're going to skip that part."
I always play my iPod on shuffle. Always. I have over 3,300 songs on it; it's the only way I get to hear all of them. The other morning, I was getting dressed when "Joyful, Joyful" came on. Peder's version. I stopped and danced.
Then I doubled over in laughter. There I was, just like David, almost naked and dancing before the Lord.
Try it sometime. It's fun. Dance before the Lord. Get the rest of your family to join you, too!
Note: if you are in the presence of others and you are not married to said others, please put some clothes on. Thanks.
<>< Katie
If you've ever seen Peder Eide in concert, you know that at some point he plays a "hymn on Mountain Dew" that is an upbeat arrangement of "Joyful, Joyful We Adore Thee." Towards the end of the song, the invisible band vamps while Peder talks about how if what we're singing is true and we really have the joy of the Lord we don't just uses our voices, we use everything we have. He tells the audience to put their arms around their sweaty neighbors, complete strangers that are now family. Then everyone jumps. Without letting go of each other.
Then, he tells us we can let go. He moves on to talk about how dance is worship. There's no right or wrong way to dance for joy. He says, "David danced before the Lord. He was almost naked, but we're going to skip that part."
I always play my iPod on shuffle. Always. I have over 3,300 songs on it; it's the only way I get to hear all of them. The other morning, I was getting dressed when "Joyful, Joyful" came on. Peder's version. I stopped and danced.
Then I doubled over in laughter. There I was, just like David, almost naked and dancing before the Lord.
Try it sometime. It's fun. Dance before the Lord. Get the rest of your family to join you, too!
Note: if you are in the presence of others and you are not married to said others, please put some clothes on. Thanks.
<>< Katie
Sunday, April 25, 2010
What is Worship?
Saturday I woke up with a headache, cramps, and sore throat. Some expired Tylenol took care of the first two but the sore throat is here to stay. Sunday I woke up nauseous with a sore throat. This is a fun game. I managed to add another day to my no-puking stretch (2.5 years and counting; my record is 6 years) but by the time I made it to church I had a really good Scooby Doo voice. Wonderful. Normally when I get sick I can sing through loosing my voice. With a hopeful heart I began to sing, "Everyone needs compass-squoak. A love that's ----- let mercy fa-- on muheee."
God! I'm trying to praise You here. I'm worshipping YOU and You're taking away my ability to do that. Something just doesn't seem right with this picture. I'm giving You everything I've got.
The more I tried to sing, the worse my voice became (pity the people sitting next to me!) and the more frustrated I became.
Can't this wait until this afternoon? I just want to sing praises to You.
It was as if God responded, Katie, you don't need a voice to worship Me.
Huh?
You heard Me: you don't need a voice to worship Me.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Serve the least of these. There aren't any least-of-theses around right now. Yes, I'm listening to our sermon series on compassion. I know, but right now I'm praising You with what's left of my voice.
Look around you.
On my left was Emma, a first year nursing student who'd previously been sitting by herself.
I'm sitting with Emma instead of sitting in my normal spot!
Good start. Keep looking.
On my right was Kevin who'd dislocated his shoulder on Thursday.
Kevin can't drive for three to six weeks. How do you think He got here?
Keep thinking.
Last night after dinner Chris and I went to Dairy Queen to get blizzards buy one get one for a quarter. The line was literally to the door. The team manager was having a rough day. She made small blizzards instead of mediums, so she had to throw them away and start over. Based on the look on her face, this was one of many things that had gone wrong. A woman in front of us started chewing this employee out.
"You've thrown away $30 worth of stuff. I know you've had a bad day but you cannot let your customers see you like this. I've worked in retail a LONG TIME and you CANNOT let your customers see you like this. Did you notice? They're all standing in line patiently waiting why you throw a fit..."
She went on for a very long time. I don't understand how that was supposed to be beneficial for the employee. Both of the women were wrong. The woman behind us in line looked at the "angry woman" and said, "We all heard that." I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt thinking maybe she was saying "shut up"... until she got to the front of the line and whispered to her daughter, "Make sure that employee doesn't spit in our blizzards."
Chris and I both agreed this was "more awkward than 'The Office'" but neither one of us did anything about it. Why? We were scared the rest of the line was going to leap down our throats (maybe that would have healed my sore throat). Back up: we were scared. I wanted to give the employee a smile or wish her a good day but she never acknowledged my presence. I would have had to go out of my way to wish this woman a good day and I chickened out.
My intentions were good.
Good intentions don't get you anywhere. Picking up Kevin and sitting with Emma are good starts but neither one inconvenienced you. In fact, they both mean you don't have to sit in the pew alone.
I like sitting in the pew by myself!
It's my turn to talk. Put the towel on, Katie. Not just when you're at an inner-city church. Not just when you feel like it or it's convenient to you. Do it when it benefits My Kingdom. Clean the bathroom when it's not your turn and do it without complaining. Do the dishes even though you didn't dirty them. Give someone a ride to the caf because it's raining; don't see it as a waste of gas. Take up someone's dishes when you aren't headed that way. Give up a computer during your 10:00 blog-hour to let someone do homework. Put the towel on and serve the least of these. Touch the untouchables. Worship means so much more than singing.
We've talked about this before.
We have; you needed a reminder today.
Ok, got it. Can I have my voice back now?Nope. You know ASL; use those signs.
<>< Katie-Doo
Elizabeth: Between Katie and Adam someone is always sneezing today.
Adam: Nah, I'm always sneezing; it's not just today.
Elizabeth: Well, you're doing it excessively, and I'd like you to stop.
God! I'm trying to praise You here. I'm worshipping YOU and You're taking away my ability to do that. Something just doesn't seem right with this picture. I'm giving You everything I've got.
The more I tried to sing, the worse my voice became (pity the people sitting next to me!) and the more frustrated I became.
Can't this wait until this afternoon? I just want to sing praises to You.
It was as if God responded, Katie, you don't need a voice to worship Me.
Huh?
You heard Me: you don't need a voice to worship Me.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Serve the least of these. There aren't any least-of-theses around right now. Yes, I'm listening to our sermon series on compassion. I know, but right now I'm praising You with what's left of my voice.
Look around you.
On my left was Emma, a first year nursing student who'd previously been sitting by herself.
I'm sitting with Emma instead of sitting in my normal spot!
Good start. Keep looking.
On my right was Kevin who'd dislocated his shoulder on Thursday.
Kevin can't drive for three to six weeks. How do you think He got here?
Keep thinking.
Last night after dinner Chris and I went to Dairy Queen to get blizzards buy one get one for a quarter. The line was literally to the door. The team manager was having a rough day. She made small blizzards instead of mediums, so she had to throw them away and start over. Based on the look on her face, this was one of many things that had gone wrong. A woman in front of us started chewing this employee out.
"You've thrown away $30 worth of stuff. I know you've had a bad day but you cannot let your customers see you like this. I've worked in retail a LONG TIME and you CANNOT let your customers see you like this. Did you notice? They're all standing in line patiently waiting why you throw a fit..."
She went on for a very long time. I don't understand how that was supposed to be beneficial for the employee. Both of the women were wrong. The woman behind us in line looked at the "angry woman" and said, "We all heard that." I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt thinking maybe she was saying "shut up"... until she got to the front of the line and whispered to her daughter, "Make sure that employee doesn't spit in our blizzards."
Chris and I both agreed this was "more awkward than 'The Office'" but neither one of us did anything about it. Why? We were scared the rest of the line was going to leap down our throats (maybe that would have healed my sore throat). Back up: we were scared. I wanted to give the employee a smile or wish her a good day but she never acknowledged my presence. I would have had to go out of my way to wish this woman a good day and I chickened out.
My intentions were good.
Good intentions don't get you anywhere. Picking up Kevin and sitting with Emma are good starts but neither one inconvenienced you. In fact, they both mean you don't have to sit in the pew alone.
I like sitting in the pew by myself!
It's my turn to talk. Put the towel on, Katie. Not just when you're at an inner-city church. Not just when you feel like it or it's convenient to you. Do it when it benefits My Kingdom. Clean the bathroom when it's not your turn and do it without complaining. Do the dishes even though you didn't dirty them. Give someone a ride to the caf because it's raining; don't see it as a waste of gas. Take up someone's dishes when you aren't headed that way. Give up a computer during your 10:00 blog-hour to let someone do homework. Put the towel on and serve the least of these. Touch the untouchables. Worship means so much more than singing.
We've talked about this before.
We have; you needed a reminder today.
Ok, got it. Can I have my voice back now?Nope. You know ASL; use those signs.
<>< Katie-Doo
Elizabeth: Between Katie and Adam someone is always sneezing today.
Adam: Nah, I'm always sneezing; it's not just today.
Elizabeth: Well, you're doing it excessively, and I'd like you to stop.
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Potter
Tuesday wasn't exactly a great day. There was nothing major that went wrong and a lot of good things happened but it was kind of one of those days. It wasn't until the fourth person asked me if I was ok that I realized I had let the "one of those days" mentality take over. Of course, then I was mad. At myself. After being out of bed for five minutes this morning I knew it was going to be one of those days. I had the opportunity to make it a good day with some bad events rather than a bad day with some good events. And I failed.
At our Tuesday night worship service my friend Brad spoke. Now Brad's a potter so his "speaking" was really giving us a visual of Jeremiah 18. He made a tall jug out of clay and then smashed it. I knew ahead of time he was going to do that, but it was still cool to see all of his hard work smashed. He reformed the exact same clay and made a bowl instead.
Brad: See, this bowl a whole lot better, more practical than the tall, long thing that I didn't really know what it was.
Andy: That’s what they called me in high school.
Katie: Tall, long thing no one really knows what it is?
Amy: Katie, did you get that, too?
Andy: And they called Amy a bowl thing.
Each one of us is different but each one of us is going to be used. Maybe right now I’m in a tall, long shape where I’m stuck in the old way rather than the new form. That doesn't mean I cannot be used or reformed. In fact, today is Wednesday and I am the same piece of clay I was on Tuesday, but I am willing to let the Potter shape me in a new way. Are you?
"Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?" Romans 9:21
<>< Katie
At our Tuesday night worship service my friend Brad spoke. Now Brad's a potter so his "speaking" was really giving us a visual of Jeremiah 18. He made a tall jug out of clay and then smashed it. I knew ahead of time he was going to do that, but it was still cool to see all of his hard work smashed. He reformed the exact same clay and made a bowl instead.
Brad: See, this bowl a whole lot better, more practical than the tall, long thing that I didn't really know what it was.
Andy: That’s what they called me in high school.
Katie: Tall, long thing no one really knows what it is?
Amy: Katie, did you get that, too?
Andy: And they called Amy a bowl thing.
Each one of us is different but each one of us is going to be used. Maybe right now I’m in a tall, long shape where I’m stuck in the old way rather than the new form. That doesn't mean I cannot be used or reformed. In fact, today is Wednesday and I am the same piece of clay I was on Tuesday, but I am willing to let the Potter shape me in a new way. Are you?
"Does not the potter have the right to make out of the same lump of clay some pottery for noble purposes and some for common use?" Romans 9:21
<>< Katie
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Snow Church
In my entire life, I have only missed church twice due to weather. Both of them were because it would not have been safe for us to drive to church, never because church was cancelled. My church has a motto, "Church does not have a snowday. If the service is schedule to happen, it will come to fruition. It's up to you to decide whether it is safe for you to come to church or not. We will be here." We've even had pastors spend the night at church to make sure the service would happen.
My church at school doesn't follow this same mantra. Yesterday I received an email,
What started out as a bizarre idea for our apartment and the guys' apartment to get together to share life turned into an epic worship service where over sixty people braved the ice-covered sidewalks and slid in to worship. There were no microphones, no sound system, no sermon... the only real plan was to be done in an hour.
An hour and a half later, we all dismissed and slid across campus to lunch. That unplanned, pure worship was phenomenal. An acoustic guitar started us off with a few worship songs and we ended the day with a piano-led hymn. In the middle, we opened up the floor for anyone led to share: sing, talk about God, pray, read scripture, share a testimony, etc. I was prepared to share about the falling snow but the opportunity never presented itself and I don't regret that. Instead, Snow Church embraced the latest push on campus to be transparent.
I love being in a community where we can be vulnerable and share our pasts and be open about challenges of sexual abuse, pornography additions, suicidal intentions, drug use, abortion... The list goes on. I love being in a community where we can put aside these histories and view each other with compassion and love. I love being in a community that even when we represent a plethora of different denominations we can be united as one body. I love being in a community where even snow and ice cannot keep us from gathering together and worshipping our God.
Coming off of Celebration Week, we would not let satan have our Sunday morning and sixty-some brothers and sisters in Christ united as one and praised our Abba Father.
I think it's safe to say Snow Church was epic!
<>< Katie
"For where two or three come together in My Name, there am I with them." -Matthew 18:20
My church at school doesn't follow this same mantra. Yesterday I received an email,
In the least surprising news of the day, church services have been cancelled for tomorrow. Be safe and please let me know if you have some special need that the deacons of the church might be able to help with (especially if someone finds themselves without power, heat, etc.).Huh? Most of my friends received similar messages from their churches. At dinner, we decided we needed to take matters into our own hands and made an executive decision to have our own church service. When there's no church, come to to Snow Church. (please read that sentence aloud)
What started out as a bizarre idea for our apartment and the guys' apartment to get together to share life turned into an epic worship service where over sixty people braved the ice-covered sidewalks and slid in to worship. There were no microphones, no sound system, no sermon... the only real plan was to be done in an hour.
An hour and a half later, we all dismissed and slid across campus to lunch. That unplanned, pure worship was phenomenal. An acoustic guitar started us off with a few worship songs and we ended the day with a piano-led hymn. In the middle, we opened up the floor for anyone led to share: sing, talk about God, pray, read scripture, share a testimony, etc. I was prepared to share about the falling snow but the opportunity never presented itself and I don't regret that. Instead, Snow Church embraced the latest push on campus to be transparent.
I love being in a community where we can be vulnerable and share our pasts and be open about challenges of sexual abuse, pornography additions, suicidal intentions, drug use, abortion... The list goes on. I love being in a community where we can put aside these histories and view each other with compassion and love. I love being in a community that even when we represent a plethora of different denominations we can be united as one body. I love being in a community where even snow and ice cannot keep us from gathering together and worshipping our God.
Coming off of Celebration Week, we would not let satan have our Sunday morning and sixty-some brothers and sisters in Christ united as one and praised our Abba Father.
I think it's safe to say Snow Church was epic!
<>< Katie
"For where two or three come together in My Name, there am I with them." -Matthew 18:20
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Good Vibrations
Sitting in worship tonight I heard a phone vibrate. A quick arm on my bag told me it was my phone disturbing everyone. I pulled it out, glanced at the caller-id, and smiled to myself.
"DAD"
IGNORE
Let's be honest, we all wish we could ignore our parents from time to time. I had the chance to do so tonight! What a rare, unique, wonderful opportunity.
All too often, God calls and we hit IGNORE.
Katie, God has never called me on my cell phone.
He hasn't called me on my phone either, but sometimes He uses people to call on the phone. Sometimes He grabs your attention through (insert anything here; the more random the better). We're too fast to hit IGNORE instead of answering His call. It's not rare, unique, or wonderful. In fact, it's frequent, awful, and needs to stop.
Take a break from what you're doing and answer the call.
<>< Katie
PS: Five points to anyone who knows the artist who wrote the song namesake of this post. Ten points if you can tell me what song my phone would have played had it not been on silent when Dad called... Same artist, different song. Points are equally important to those in "Whose Line is it Anyway."
PPS: I'm pretty sure updated my blog three times today makes me the blog-war winner, right?
"DAD"
IGNORE
Let's be honest, we all wish we could ignore our parents from time to time. I had the chance to do so tonight! What a rare, unique, wonderful opportunity.
All too often, God calls and we hit IGNORE.
Katie, God has never called me on my cell phone.
He hasn't called me on my phone either, but sometimes He uses people to call on the phone. Sometimes He grabs your attention through (insert anything here; the more random the better). We're too fast to hit IGNORE instead of answering His call. It's not rare, unique, or wonderful. In fact, it's frequent, awful, and needs to stop.
Take a break from what you're doing and answer the call.
<>< Katie
PS: Five points to anyone who knows the artist who wrote the song namesake of this post. Ten points if you can tell me what song my phone would have played had it not been on silent when Dad called... Same artist, different song. Points are equally important to those in "Whose Line is it Anyway."
PPS: I'm pretty sure updated my blog three times today makes me the blog-war winner, right?
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.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Worship in Alternative Forms
On Wednesday, I didn’t really want to be at Lifest. There were a plethora of reasons; namely: very few of my favorite artists were going to be there, after seven years it had become mundane, and my “I’m bored; let’s go get lost in the mosh pit” mother was leaving me with the responsibility of chaperoning my sisters.
I thought about our past six years worth of Lifests, and the plethora of funny memories flooded my head. The time Michael W. Smith finally played “Never Been Unloved” live after years of begging. Having our minivan pushed into the muddy parking lot. Steven Curtis Chapman’s first return to the stage following Maria’s death. How Mark Schultz’s water bottle earned a standing ovation. Watching TobyMac in a downpour and using a lawn chair as an umbrella. Don’t get me wrong, those stories are hilarious, but they aren’t what Lifest is about.
When asked to summarize this past Friday in one sentence, I said, “Worship in alternative form.” That’s exactly what Lifest is all about. I feel like after seven years, I finally got it. Lifest isn’t about sticking plywood in your elbows for four hours to be in the front of the mosh pit that night. It isn’t about finally having the opportunity to meet your favorite band. It isn’t the perfect time to destroy your eating habits. It isn’t even a great excuse to stay up until one am every day. Rather, Lifest is an opportunity to see God in a new way. Worship in alternative form(s).
Sure, it’s pretty basic. If someone else had said it over the past six years, I definitely would have agreed. I have great God moments from previous Lifests. Kneeling on fist-sized rocks with my arms stretched towards the beautiful blue sky crying out to my Abba Father. Listening to Peter Fuller of Newsboys talk about how God’s timing is perfect only for his sentence to be interrupted by a nearby train (“and you laugh”). Something about this year was different. Agreeing that “church has left the building” and applying the concept are two different things.
Of course, I’ve got silly stories from this year, too. Matthew West writing a spontaneous song about brats. Skillet’s opinion on illegal music downloads and still loving the audience for free. Officially becoming part of BarlowGirl. Hitting Aaron Shust in the head with my cowboy hat. Getting chastised by Mark Schultz for singing along to one of his songs that hasn’t been released yet. Dancing, jumping, singing, and worshipping with my arms around complete strangers. Singing two commercials with several hundred of my new “family members.” Following Peder Eide around as he moved from stage to stage. Except I had to look through my journal to remember all of those silly things.
The things I remember off of the top of my head are memories about closing my eyes singing and signing praises to God as raindrops fell softly onto my face and Phillips, Craig, and Dean led us in worship. Singing “Open the Eyes of My Heart” and having Peder Eide cut off the audience telling us only to sing if we really believed it and were aware of what we were singing. Watching Bob Lenz on the jumbotron saying, “God is bigger than your pains” as the beautiful sun set behind him. Singing hymns on Mountain Dew and confessing "Yes, I believe." Finally understanding how worship is truly "tasting and seeing that the Lord is good."
To anyone else, my Lifest may look like a let-down. I only went to 3 events not at the Grandstand. I waited in line for 2 Meet and Greets. Yet to me, it was worth every $2.50 bottle of water to sit outside in a sea of lawn chairs and read 1 Samuel in a new light. I will repeat “We’re family, and I love you,” to more strangers if it also means I can also shout “God is good. All the time.” A misconception that’s been stuck in my head for the last six years has finally disappeared, and praying for no rain for five days will never be the same.
How easily do we lose focus on what Lifest is all about? On what life itself is all about?
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Abba, I Belong to You
In Aramaic, the word Abba is an intimate word that means Papa or Daddy. When I saw Peder Eide in concert last summer, I heard his song "Abba, I Belong to You" for the first time. He made the energetic audience sit down and take a pause while we sang to our Daddy.
Since I hear them on my iPod, on the radio, at church, and everywhere I go, worship songs so quickly become just another song. It's refreshing to know I'm singing to Jesus all of the time and cusses aren't slipping out if I'm not playing attention while I sing, but that's not enough. All too often I'm singing to God without paying any attention to the lyrics. I promised myself I'd not do that with "Abba, I Belong to You." Now, whenever I hear it, I stop what I'm doing and give those three minutes to God. If I'm driving, sometimes I even pull over. It's a pretty simple song but touching none the less. Read the lyrics.
"Abba, I Belong to You" by Peder Eide
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You,
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.
I kneel now,
and feel how I felt You before.
This pausing is causing my heart to explore
Why when I'm weary so often you seem far away
Still I will say:
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You,
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.
What I feel is less real than all that You say.
You told me, You'd hold me through all of my days.
So though my spirit is tossing and turning about
Still there's no doubt:
Abba, I belong to You
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You,
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You,
Yes, I belong to You.
My Abba, Father, God.
You're my Abba, Father, God."
Peder asked us to raise our hands to our Abba, Father. I'm not one to pull the "fork lift" or the "Statue of Liberty" very often, so outstretching my hands to the sky was a little out of my comfort zone, but I did it. I closed my eyes and half expected my Papa, Daddy to swoop down and scoop me up into His loving arms. I kind of felt like a four year old.
Last night, we sang it again. I put my arms up again, and I still felt like a four year old. Except this time, instead of closing my eyes, I looked up to the dusky sky. I looked at the pen mark on my left hand, like a four year old who is first learning to color with markers. I looked at the band aid on my right hand and thought of my trip to the First Aid tent, like the four year old who cries for the littlest scratch. (I scraped my hand on an old nail in a barn, ok, you would have gone to the First Aid tent, too). I looked up to the deep blue sky between my hands waiting for His smiling face to appear. Waiting to be held close and all of my tears wiped away.
Maybe I wasn't literally scooped up, but God was there. He was indeed holding me in His loving arms. I will forever be a four year old, and that's ok. God calls us to come like a child, and come like a child I shall!
Abba, I belong to You.
<>< Katie
"Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'" Matthew 19:14
Since I hear them on my iPod, on the radio, at church, and everywhere I go, worship songs so quickly become just another song. It's refreshing to know I'm singing to Jesus all of the time and cusses aren't slipping out if I'm not playing attention while I sing, but that's not enough. All too often I'm singing to God without paying any attention to the lyrics. I promised myself I'd not do that with "Abba, I Belong to You." Now, whenever I hear it, I stop what I'm doing and give those three minutes to God. If I'm driving, sometimes I even pull over. It's a pretty simple song but touching none the less. Read the lyrics.
"Abba, I Belong to You" by Peder Eide
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You,
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.
I kneel now,
and feel how I felt You before.
This pausing is causing my heart to explore
Why when I'm weary so often you seem far away
Still I will say:
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You,
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.
What I feel is less real than all that You say.
You told me, You'd hold me through all of my days.
So though my spirit is tossing and turning about
Still there's no doubt:
Abba, I belong to You
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You,
I belong to You.
Abba, Father, God.
Abba, I belong to You.
I belong to You.
Abba, Father.
Abba, I belong to You,
Yes, I belong to You.
My Abba, Father, God.
You're my Abba, Father, God."
Peder asked us to raise our hands to our Abba, Father. I'm not one to pull the "fork lift" or the "Statue of Liberty" very often, so outstretching my hands to the sky was a little out of my comfort zone, but I did it. I closed my eyes and half expected my Papa, Daddy to swoop down and scoop me up into His loving arms. I kind of felt like a four year old.
Last night, we sang it again. I put my arms up again, and I still felt like a four year old. Except this time, instead of closing my eyes, I looked up to the dusky sky. I looked at the pen mark on my left hand, like a four year old who is first learning to color with markers. I looked at the band aid on my right hand and thought of my trip to the First Aid tent, like the four year old who cries for the littlest scratch. (I scraped my hand on an old nail in a barn, ok, you would have gone to the First Aid tent, too). I looked up to the deep blue sky between my hands waiting for His smiling face to appear. Waiting to be held close and all of my tears wiped away.
Maybe I wasn't literally scooped up, but God was there. He was indeed holding me in His loving arms. I will forever be a four year old, and that's ok. God calls us to come like a child, and come like a child I shall!
Abba, I belong to You.
<>< Katie
"Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.'" Matthew 19:14
Lord, I'm Amazed by You
Picture this:
It's July, so I'm eating ice cream.
Yet I'm standing outside wearing long pants and a hoodie because it's not even 60 degree outside.
What's wrong with this picture?
Nothing.
I am at a bonfire with 50 of my closest friends. (No, I'm not close enough to actually feel the fire therefore I am physically shaking).
We're being led in hymns like
"How Great Thou Art"
"O Come All Ye Faithful" (no, I'm not kidding... it's not the first nor second Christmas song I've sung this weekend either, haha)
"Lord, I'm Amazed by You".
A great night of worship praising our Abba Father!
Good night everyone,
<>< Katie
It's July, so I'm eating ice cream.
Yet I'm standing outside wearing long pants and a hoodie because it's not even 60 degree outside.
What's wrong with this picture?
Nothing.
I am at a bonfire with 50 of my closest friends. (No, I'm not close enough to actually feel the fire therefore I am physically shaking).
We're being led in hymns like
"How Great Thou Art"
"O Come All Ye Faithful" (no, I'm not kidding... it's not the first nor second Christmas song I've sung this weekend either, haha)
"Lord, I'm Amazed by You".
A great night of worship praising our Abba Father!
Good night everyone,
<>< Katie
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Amazing Love
Six consecutive days and the daily blogging has come to an end. I'm terribly sorry, but I was only home for a grand total of nine hours yesterday (8.5 of them being before 8:30 in the morning). It's ok; it was a fun day!
There's a worship song entitled "Amazing Love" that almost everyone has sung at some point in time. I grew up singing it and don't even know who wrote it. Part of the song goes, "I'm forgiven because You were forsaken. I'm accepted, You were condemned. I'm alive and well, Your spirit is within me because You died and rose again."
I'm forgiven. Check. You were forsaken. Check. I'm accepted. Uncheck.
It's a great song, and I hear it all the time, but sometimes I feel bad singing it. Sometimes I feel like I'm lying to God. Those words, "I am accepted" don't roll off this tongue very well. I always hesitate because there are many days when I don't feel accepted. Many days when I'm picked on, laughed at, and rejected. Singing "I'm accepted" seems untrue.
The next line always catches me, "You were condemned." Maybe I'm not every one's favorite person (Maybe that's for good reason), but I have no been condemned. I haven't had my life threatened. I haven't been forced to die on a wooden cross. Maybe I'm not accepted, but I'm definitely not condemned. Thank God for that. :-D Instead, "I'm alive and well". How so? "Your spirit is within me." Why? "You died and rose again."
"I'm forgiven
because You were forsaken.
I'm accepted.
You were condemned.
I'm alive and well
Your spirit lives with me
Because You died and rose again.
"Amazing love, how can it be?
That You, my King, should die for me?
Amazing love, I know it's true,
and it's my joy to honor You in all I do.
In all I do, I'll honor You.
You are my King.
Jesus, You are my King."
Accepted or Rejected by men, accepted by Him. He is my King.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"Whenever you are arrested and brought to trial, do not worry beforehand about what to say. Just say whatever is given you at the time, for it is not you speaking, but the Holy Spirit." Mark 13:11
There's a worship song entitled "Amazing Love" that almost everyone has sung at some point in time. I grew up singing it and don't even know who wrote it. Part of the song goes, "I'm forgiven because You were forsaken. I'm accepted, You were condemned. I'm alive and well, Your spirit is within me because You died and rose again."
I'm forgiven. Check. You were forsaken. Check. I'm accepted. Uncheck.
It's a great song, and I hear it all the time, but sometimes I feel bad singing it. Sometimes I feel like I'm lying to God. Those words, "I am accepted" don't roll off this tongue very well. I always hesitate because there are many days when I don't feel accepted. Many days when I'm picked on, laughed at, and rejected. Singing "I'm accepted" seems untrue.
The next line always catches me, "You were condemned." Maybe I'm not every one's favorite person (Maybe that's for good reason), but I have no been condemned. I haven't had my life threatened. I haven't been forced to die on a wooden cross. Maybe I'm not accepted, but I'm definitely not condemned. Thank God for that. :-D Instead, "I'm alive and well". How so? "Your spirit is within me." Why? "You died and rose again."
"I'm forgiven
because You were forsaken.
I'm accepted.
You were condemned.
I'm alive and well
Your spirit lives with me
Because You died and rose again.
"Amazing love, how can it be?
That You, my King, should die for me?
Amazing love, I know it's true,
and it's my joy to honor You in all I do.
In all I do, I'll honor You.
You are my King.
Jesus, You are my King."
Accepted or Rejected by men, accepted by Him. He is my King.
In Christ,
<>< Katie
"Whenever you are arrested and brought to trial, do not worry beforehand about what to say. Just say whatever is given you at the time, for it is not you speaking, but the Holy Spirit." Mark 13:11
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