I'm not big on New Year's resolutions--I always feel like I'm setting myself up to fail. And before you think it...yes, I know that our greatest lessons are often learned from falling flat on our faces and that simply moving in the direction of a goal (even if we don't reach it) means that we're farther along than when we started. I don't dispute those things and it's not that I don't want to grow and change...I do!
Part of my aversion to resolutions and personal goals is that I have to admit to myself and to everyone else that I'm not perfect. Though this is blaringly obvious to anyone who knows me for more than 2 seconds, and was obvious to me before the count even started, I hate the fact that I make mistakes, that I don't get everything right the first time and that the whole growth and change thing involves pain. Another reason I avoid resolutions is because making them is kind of what everyone else is doing at this time of year and though I'm a rule-follower of the greatest magnitude, I am also contrary to the core.
So, rather than set goals, I make a playlist, choose Scriptures and find maybe a quote or two that focus on an area I want to grow in. (Sounds suspiciously like personal goals and resolutions, but I won't tell me if you won't.)
The idea of open hands has popped up again and again over the last year and a half in conversations, in books and in songs. I am very much like the young man described in the gospels who told Jesus, hey, I've kept all these commandments since I was young (I've always thought he was a bit self-deceived, by the way.)...what else do I need to do to follow you? When Jesus answered, telling him to go sell all he owned and give to the poor, his "face clouded over. This was the last thing he expected to hear, and he walked off with a heavy heart. He was holding on tight to a lot of things, and not about to let go."
When I think of open hands, words like trust, surrender, sacrifice and offering come to mind. The phrase "content to let God..." could be a caption beneath an image of open hands. I think how hard it is sometimes to hold whatever is dear to me, whether people or things, causes or talents--even fears and faults--in those open hands.
Being open-handed does not mean having a spirit of disregard or lack of care. In fact, it is quite the opposite. It is handling everything and everyone like a treasure entrusted to my care, a treasure that is mine on loan for an undetermined amount of time, a treasure that I am responsible for keeping in mint condition until the owner is ready to have it back. Throughout 2014, I will be asking myself what having open hands means in every relationship and area of my life. How does it change my marriage, my parenting, my friendships? What does it mean for my hopes and passions? What are the ties that bind my heart? What do I treasure most? What if I have everything I want, or nothing?
Looking from a different angle, I see the open hands not as my own, but as God's. All he offers, all he gives, the way he holds us and never lets go, the fact that we can never be stolen from his grip, yet he never forces us to stay. This is what I want to learn, or maybe already know to some extent, but lack the fortitude to live consistently...and that is to love like God loves--with open hands.
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I have a good start to my 2014 song list, but want to add a few more to the mix. I would love your suggestions and am open to any genre! Some of my favorite songs each year have been recommended by others. Any books or quotes or Scriptures you could point me toward related to the concept of open hands would be much appreciated as well.
Current 2014 Mix:
My One Comfort--Dustin Kensrue
Open Hands--Matt Papa
Let Go--The Neighbourhood
Hello My Old Heart--The Oh Hellos
Closer--Sanctus Real
Never Let Go--Seventh Day Slumber
Cast My Cares--Tim Timmons
In Your Hands--Unspoken
Where My Heart Goes--Colton Dixon
You Save Me--Kutless
Release the Panic--Red
I Surrender All--Clay Crosse
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
Welcome to the Old Apartment
Looking around my house the other night, I was struck by how many similarities there are between it and me.
From the outside, it’s not always obvious what’s going on inside.
Walking through the door, the first thing you might notice is the new coat of paint or the artfully arranged décor. As my guest, I would usher you to the space that has been recently refurbished or show off the flower garden out back that I worked so hard on.
If this was your first visit, you wouldn’t see the rooms that had been collecting dust as a result of neglect or disuse. You probably wouldn’t see the room upstairs or the closet in the basement that was storing a carefully hidden mess. You might not notice the stains on the carpet or the gouge in the wood floor that are oh-so-obvious and glaring to me. In fact, if I was prepared for your visit, I probably would’ve placed a chair over that rip in the carpet and turned on some music so that you wouldn’t hear that pesky, leaking faucet.
If you came again, or stayed long enough, you might notice that the furniture is worn around the edges or that the painting over the fireplace hangs a bit crooked. But, you might also notice that each room and space has it’s own vibe and personality, that there are rare treasures amongst the bric-a-brac and cob-webbed books.
Depending on when you visited, my house might be bright and clean, sun-warmed, with the curtains wide open and a fresh breeze flowing through. Or, it might be cold and uninviting with week-old trash in the kitchen, shutters closed tight, and strange, orange slime in the corners of the shower.
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Have you ever noticed that when you visit someone else’s house it’s generally not the furniture, the décor or even the flaws and limitations that stand out or matter most to you? It’s the spirit that’s within. It’s the warmth with which you’re welcomed and the level of kindness and generosity you’re shown that leaves a lasting impression.
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At this time of year, we traditionally have more people into our homes and find crowds everywhere we go. Ironically, it can also be the time of year that we feel especially guarded or lonely for reasons as varied as we are. The absence of a loved one leaves an aching void. Past emotional scars itch even as we put on the salve of new traditions and family memories. And more.
But…
“God is building a home. He’s using us all—irrespective of how we got here—in what he is building. He used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now he’s using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home… You realize, don’t you, that you are the temple of God, and God himself is present in you? No one will get by with vandalizing God’s temple, you can be sure of that. God’s temple is sacred—and you, remember, are the temple.” -Eph 2/I Co 3, the MSG
In the family of God, these words are true whether you’re currently in a state of disrepair or in show-home condition.
I've always enjoyed this song. It's sad or funny depending on my state of mind when I hear it.
From the outside, it’s not always obvious what’s going on inside.
Walking through the door, the first thing you might notice is the new coat of paint or the artfully arranged décor. As my guest, I would usher you to the space that has been recently refurbished or show off the flower garden out back that I worked so hard on.
If this was your first visit, you wouldn’t see the rooms that had been collecting dust as a result of neglect or disuse. You probably wouldn’t see the room upstairs or the closet in the basement that was storing a carefully hidden mess. You might not notice the stains on the carpet or the gouge in the wood floor that are oh-so-obvious and glaring to me. In fact, if I was prepared for your visit, I probably would’ve placed a chair over that rip in the carpet and turned on some music so that you wouldn’t hear that pesky, leaking faucet.
If you came again, or stayed long enough, you might notice that the furniture is worn around the edges or that the painting over the fireplace hangs a bit crooked. But, you might also notice that each room and space has it’s own vibe and personality, that there are rare treasures amongst the bric-a-brac and cob-webbed books.
Depending on when you visited, my house might be bright and clean, sun-warmed, with the curtains wide open and a fresh breeze flowing through. Or, it might be cold and uninviting with week-old trash in the kitchen, shutters closed tight, and strange, orange slime in the corners of the shower.
////
Have you ever noticed that when you visit someone else’s house it’s generally not the furniture, the décor or even the flaws and limitations that stand out or matter most to you? It’s the spirit that’s within. It’s the warmth with which you’re welcomed and the level of kindness and generosity you’re shown that leaves a lasting impression.
////
At this time of year, we traditionally have more people into our homes and find crowds everywhere we go. Ironically, it can also be the time of year that we feel especially guarded or lonely for reasons as varied as we are. The absence of a loved one leaves an aching void. Past emotional scars itch even as we put on the salve of new traditions and family memories. And more.
But…
“God is building a home. He’s using us all—irrespective of how we got here—in what he is building. He used the apostles and prophets for the foundation. Now he’s using you, fitting you in brick by brick, stone by stone, with Christ Jesus as the cornerstone that holds all the parts together. We see it taking shape day after day—a holy temple built by God, all of us built into it, a temple in which God is quite at home… You realize, don’t you, that you are the temple of God, and God himself is present in you? No one will get by with vandalizing God’s temple, you can be sure of that. God’s temple is sacred—and you, remember, are the temple.” -Eph 2/I Co 3, the MSG
In the family of God, these words are true whether you’re currently in a state of disrepair or in show-home condition.
I've always enjoyed this song. It's sad or funny depending on my state of mind when I hear it.
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