Well, I realize that I live in the conservative midwest... and yes, I grew up in churches that were not entirely sure they thought it wasn't against some sacred code somewhere to actually have a contemporary service... but I have still always thought of myself as fairly open when it comes to musical styles for worship.
Now... before I go on, let me just clarify, that I DO NOT in any way, shape, or form believe that "singing" can be equivocated to "worship". Worship is very definitely a state of the heart. I worship God sometimes by shouting prayers into the prairie winds or I worship in complete silence, on my knees or dancing sometimes (or as near to dancing as a fat white girl can come). But when it comes to worship... there really is nothing that gets to my heart like a good song. Praise, adoration, biblical truth, complete rest... all can be conveyed through song and I love that about the way that I am able to worship my God!
So that much being said, I have been challenged recently. My boyfriend really likes gospel music. Well, I've heard a gospel song or two in my day, and I thought, "Oh, that's cool." Yeeeeaaaahh... God really likes to challenge me on those kinds of responses. Now I know full well, that given the option I would listen to David Crowder, Third Day, or Hillsong over Tye Tribbet, Fred Hammond, or Kirk Franklin. But I didn't think they were so awful. I mean, really... its pretty much the same as the other guys except your repeat things over and over again and somebody yells promises of God over the top of the choir singing that same worn line. Sometimes its cool, honestly. Yes, people sometimes get carried away with it... (I mean seriously... if your body is gyrating more than it does for your daily exercise, you might be going a bit overboard!) Sometimes its a darn good thing everyone has their eyes closed! Cause ain't nobody wanna see Sister Thompson gettin' her praise on up there in the chior! She's using muscles she ain't used all week long, and every phrase outa the worship leaders mouth is gonna get followed with a "Praise Jesus" from hers! "Lord, we've sinned" "Praise Jesus!" "Lord, we pray for Sister Smith's family grieving" "Praise Jesus" "Lord, we need a better choir director" "Praise Jesus!" Just sayin... And just when you think the song is finally over because they've been winding it down for the last several minutes with gradually less "Hallelujah" interjecitons, they start back in again on the chorus! After a while, I honestly can't listen to it anymore. I mean its cool for a while... but then its just time to change to something else.
That much aside, his liking that style of music has really made me start reconsidering it. Not that I have to like everything that he does (I'm too self-differentiated for that). But it would also be good if we didn't have to have a fight every time we need to decide what to listen to in the car or something... So I've been listening to bits an pieces.
Somethings I have discovered. 1.) If its biblical... I love it! Of course I was thrilled to realize this one! If you can take that exact phrase from a song (especially if you are going to repeat it over and over again) and find it straight outa the Good Book, then I'll for sure sign off on it being a great song! 2.) A little spirit never hurt anyone. Granted, I'm not gonna be the next Sister Thompson... but a little healthy swing in your step and some good old-fashioned clapping with joy in the Lord... well, honestly... we have a lot to be joyful about, so why not!? Funny how I laugh now when people in my conservative midwestern churches try and start clapping. It usually works through the first chorus and then people start dropping off. Maybe we just aren't that coordinated and can't sing and clap at the same time, but I automatically think of my church in UG and how they never stop clapping from the fast to the slow songs. Its only the cadence that changes. 3.) Does it usher you into the heart of God? If the answer is yes, then I can't object. For my boyfriend its a resounding yes. Now, he knows better than to send me a link to a gospel song if his object was to encourage my heart... but when I look at the things that lift him up I can't discount his crazy gospel music because I see the huge impact that it can play in encouraging and uplifting him. At times that means going out of my way to find a youtube clip to send to him with a particularly lovely song that I know he's be blessed by. I'm not terribly good at that yet, because its hard to find anything I am impressed with at the moment, but I am getting better.
Somehow though... whenever I think about it, I think that we'll sing gospel music in heaven. Something about the spirit that is put into those songs... just doesn't compare to the Maranatha praise band stuff that I was raised on.
I could be wrong, and I'm no expert... but it just makes me think...
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
In the Aftermath
I went to a Hillsong United concert with my sister in Tulsa, Oklahoma on Friday. I was completely blown away by this song. The singers gave a really beautiful devo about how we don't have to live in the aftermath of all the terrible stuff in our lives, or even in the aftermath of our own sinful choices and actions, but that we are found in the aftermath of Christ's action on the cross. Namely that we are completely covered for all the debt of purity that this life stains us with. And we are completely covered for all the debt of purity that our own stupid shortcomings bring us to. Instead our debt has been wiped away and we simply stand. Empty, but having everything... in the aftermath of the cross. That is the best kind of devastation ever. The kind that lands you at the feet of the Savior again.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
My Dear Beautiful Friend
Yesterday I had to say goodbye to what has been my very best friend for the last 4 years. We've been with each other through lots of laughter and not a few tears.
We first met actually in speech class. Apparently I was the least scary looking person in my class... so my soon to be best friend decided to sit beside me. (in her defense though, there were a lot of scary people in our class). We got to talking after class and met a mutual friend of ours, then were pleasantly surprised to find out that the other was a Christian and were doing classes for nursing school. I invited her for lunch one day. We went to what turned out later to be a gay bar by night... I swear I didn't know! I introduced her to the lovely "Roy Rogers" which is just grenadine and Pepsi (lovely!). A few VERY scary rides in her dilapidated Geo, lots of lunch dates, and a few nights of bowling later... by the end of the semester we were fast friends! (Apparently when I give speeches I use my hands weirdly curled into a "claw" to express myself, while she turns completely blotchy all over her neck! lol) I met her bros and argued with her boyfriend over the phone. Went sledding behind a truck on a car hood, caught a couple movies, and discovered that we both love shopping!
We decided to take a class together in the spring (micobiology, yay!). She got a Nissan 240 (which is essentially the sportier version of my Nissan 200SX) to replace that awful Geo I remember lots of racing our cars between Ogden and our night class in JC. Many more days making study guides for tests and meeting for supper before or after class.
Then something awful happened. One morning I woke to a message on my phone from her brother. There had been an accident. I thought it had happened the night before on the way home from class and I kicked myself repeatedly for losing her on the interstate and not making sure she turned off okay. When I got the hospital, I found out it had happened that morning as she was on her way to work. She had been adjusting her radio, talking on the phone and veered off the road, when she swung back to compensate, her car hit gravel and spun out of control, flipping off the other side of the road, rolling, knocking her out the sunroof and then rolling over the top of her before coming to a stop in the median.
She was in a neck and full back brace, not very lucid, and to add insult to injury got a ticket for not wearing her seat belt served by the PD to her lying flat on her back in the ER. I didn't even know all of her family then and I sat on the other side of the waiting room listening for news of her from the group of people from her church. I was shocked and a little honored that she asked for me.
She broke her back in a couple places, but nothing was damaged to her spinal cord amazingly. Really it was a miracle. I saw the car later and not wearing a seat belt probably saved her life. I stayed with her those first few frightening nights in the hospital and I remember being so scared and feeling so helpless. Being a nurse, but unable to do anything to ease her pain. Even the best pain killers couldn't ease it enough for her to be able to sleep comfortably. I lay awake on the skinny sliver of a couch for the longest time praying that she would be able to sleep; that God would ease her pain enough for at least that. We fell asleep holding hands. Or rather I fell asleep and she slipped into her medicated haze.
I'll never forget that late night conversation after everyone else had gone home, crying cause she didn't know if she would ever be able to walk right or bear children. I told her I would carry her children if she found out she couldn't. It was a bizarre thing to offer at a time like that and possibly slightly creepy, but I truly meant it. I would.
Finally she was well enough to go home. She could sit up for only a little while at first, and even that was painful. I think I was out at her house almost every day helping out, bringing her food, or trying to entertain her. I considered skipping my plans to go to Africa that summer.
Her brothers, and then boyfriend all took turns staying with her. We got in all kinds of trouble: wrestling and chasing each other around the house, smuggling her to the lake reclined in my car, all of us carrying her all over, eating too many fudge bars... I would leave to go in to work or school, and then rush back or text her to see what she wanted me to bring her the next day.
Her and I talked so much at the start of that summer, we became practically inseparable. She was I think the only person that let me be really excited about Africa, and put up with my moods when I would come back all messed up and with my culture shock.
I went with her boyfriend and his best friend to pick out the ring when he proposed. And I was so honored and proud to stand by the two of them as they exchanged vows atop a hill over the lake where we had spent so many beautiful afternoons swimming, nevermind the fact that I boiled my shoulders in my strapless dress and could not move for the next 2 days without intense blistering pain. :)
She was there for me every time I got my heart broke, and she was there when I finally found a love that was true. My only regret is that I couldn't always be there exactly when she needed me. She stayed with me after Kala died. I can't count how many times we prayed for each other. Best memories will always include her teaching me "how to hug a boyfriend"... Pizzanos and our pasta comfort food... that one incident that we don't talk about... crying together... yelling at each other for not having enough self esteem to believe that we are each beautiful... fighting over which one of us was the "man" in our relationship... "we're biters!"... sledding, swimming, and horseback riding... drinks and movies... her getting me hooked on tanning... that moment that I realized how much she had been through, and what a lovely woman she was to have lived through that and to still love with such veracity... sharing shopping, big words, and mountain dew...
When she went to visit her husband's family over Christmas, I just knew. She didn't have to tell me. They were moving there when her husband was done with school. It was hard to take. We both knew that our relationship wouldn't keep on going the way it was. I was supposed to be running off to Africa. Now she was leaving before me.
I can't tell you how a little part of my heart feels like its missing. We both knew the goodbye was coming and we avoided talking about it that last evening together. Neither of us cried, but the pain still showed in both of our eyes. She kept looking at me with that look that said she was wanting some assurance that I would be okay, and I couldn't let her down, so I bravely smiled and waved. Alone in my car, the tears didn't stop all the 30 min drive home. I even wrote a country western ballad singing loud with the wind from the interstate whipping away my tears.
She will never be replaced in my heart. I have trouble believing anyone could ever understand me the way that she does.
Somehow along the last 4 years we became sisters instead of friends.
We first met actually in speech class. Apparently I was the least scary looking person in my class... so my soon to be best friend decided to sit beside me. (in her defense though, there were a lot of scary people in our class). We got to talking after class and met a mutual friend of ours, then were pleasantly surprised to find out that the other was a Christian and were doing classes for nursing school. I invited her for lunch one day. We went to what turned out later to be a gay bar by night... I swear I didn't know! I introduced her to the lovely "Roy Rogers" which is just grenadine and Pepsi (lovely!). A few VERY scary rides in her dilapidated Geo, lots of lunch dates, and a few nights of bowling later... by the end of the semester we were fast friends! (Apparently when I give speeches I use my hands weirdly curled into a "claw" to express myself, while she turns completely blotchy all over her neck! lol) I met her bros and argued with her boyfriend over the phone. Went sledding behind a truck on a car hood, caught a couple movies, and discovered that we both love shopping!
We decided to take a class together in the spring (micobiology, yay!). She got a Nissan 240 (which is essentially the sportier version of my Nissan 200SX) to replace that awful Geo I remember lots of racing our cars between Ogden and our night class in JC. Many more days making study guides for tests and meeting for supper before or after class.
Then something awful happened. One morning I woke to a message on my phone from her brother. There had been an accident. I thought it had happened the night before on the way home from class and I kicked myself repeatedly for losing her on the interstate and not making sure she turned off okay. When I got the hospital, I found out it had happened that morning as she was on her way to work. She had been adjusting her radio, talking on the phone and veered off the road, when she swung back to compensate, her car hit gravel and spun out of control, flipping off the other side of the road, rolling, knocking her out the sunroof and then rolling over the top of her before coming to a stop in the median.
She was in a neck and full back brace, not very lucid, and to add insult to injury got a ticket for not wearing her seat belt served by the PD to her lying flat on her back in the ER. I didn't even know all of her family then and I sat on the other side of the waiting room listening for news of her from the group of people from her church. I was shocked and a little honored that she asked for me.
She broke her back in a couple places, but nothing was damaged to her spinal cord amazingly. Really it was a miracle. I saw the car later and not wearing a seat belt probably saved her life. I stayed with her those first few frightening nights in the hospital and I remember being so scared and feeling so helpless. Being a nurse, but unable to do anything to ease her pain. Even the best pain killers couldn't ease it enough for her to be able to sleep comfortably. I lay awake on the skinny sliver of a couch for the longest time praying that she would be able to sleep; that God would ease her pain enough for at least that. We fell asleep holding hands. Or rather I fell asleep and she slipped into her medicated haze.
I'll never forget that late night conversation after everyone else had gone home, crying cause she didn't know if she would ever be able to walk right or bear children. I told her I would carry her children if she found out she couldn't. It was a bizarre thing to offer at a time like that and possibly slightly creepy, but I truly meant it. I would.
Finally she was well enough to go home. She could sit up for only a little while at first, and even that was painful. I think I was out at her house almost every day helping out, bringing her food, or trying to entertain her. I considered skipping my plans to go to Africa that summer.
Her brothers, and then boyfriend all took turns staying with her. We got in all kinds of trouble: wrestling and chasing each other around the house, smuggling her to the lake reclined in my car, all of us carrying her all over, eating too many fudge bars... I would leave to go in to work or school, and then rush back or text her to see what she wanted me to bring her the next day.
Her and I talked so much at the start of that summer, we became practically inseparable. She was I think the only person that let me be really excited about Africa, and put up with my moods when I would come back all messed up and with my culture shock.
I went with her boyfriend and his best friend to pick out the ring when he proposed. And I was so honored and proud to stand by the two of them as they exchanged vows atop a hill over the lake where we had spent so many beautiful afternoons swimming, nevermind the fact that I boiled my shoulders in my strapless dress and could not move for the next 2 days without intense blistering pain. :)
She was there for me every time I got my heart broke, and she was there when I finally found a love that was true. My only regret is that I couldn't always be there exactly when she needed me. She stayed with me after Kala died. I can't count how many times we prayed for each other. Best memories will always include her teaching me "how to hug a boyfriend"... Pizzanos and our pasta comfort food... that one incident that we don't talk about... crying together... yelling at each other for not having enough self esteem to believe that we are each beautiful... fighting over which one of us was the "man" in our relationship... "we're biters!"... sledding, swimming, and horseback riding... drinks and movies... her getting me hooked on tanning... that moment that I realized how much she had been through, and what a lovely woman she was to have lived through that and to still love with such veracity... sharing shopping, big words, and mountain dew...
When she went to visit her husband's family over Christmas, I just knew. She didn't have to tell me. They were moving there when her husband was done with school. It was hard to take. We both knew that our relationship wouldn't keep on going the way it was. I was supposed to be running off to Africa. Now she was leaving before me.
I can't tell you how a little part of my heart feels like its missing. We both knew the goodbye was coming and we avoided talking about it that last evening together. Neither of us cried, but the pain still showed in both of our eyes. She kept looking at me with that look that said she was wanting some assurance that I would be okay, and I couldn't let her down, so I bravely smiled and waved. Alone in my car, the tears didn't stop all the 30 min drive home. I even wrote a country western ballad singing loud with the wind from the interstate whipping away my tears.
She will never be replaced in my heart. I have trouble believing anyone could ever understand me the way that she does.
Somehow along the last 4 years we became sisters instead of friends.
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