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Wednesday Worship: Everlasting God
Hello there my bloggy friends. It’s that time again, and I truly need today to collect my thoughts and focus even more on worship and how my heart has ached for my Lord this week. It has been a tumultuous and painful week for me, and I have needed to cling to God as my deliverer. I am realizing more and more how worship is a daily discipline. It is such an integral part of my life and my daily relationship with God.
I have been listening to Chris Tomlin sing “Everlasting God” over and over and over. Written by Benton Brown during a time when he and his wife had both been diagnosed with Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, it is simple lyrically but has a powerful promise to it. (There are three versions of this song out there. Lincoln Brewster, Benton Brown and Chris Tomlin all sing it, and all three do it differently. All three can also be found on iTunes or Amazon.com MP3 downloads.)
I am in a place of waiting. A place of weakness. A place of deficiency. God is my strong deliverer. He is my hope. My comforter. And as I wait upon the Lord, I will rise up with wings like eagles. I love how the truth of Scripture is interwoven in the simple lyrics of this song. It is a declaration of Who God is and how intensely I need Him in my life. And as I wait on my God, I know He will come. I know He will deliver.
Do you not know?
Have you not heard?
The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He will not grow tired or weary,
and his understanding no one can fathom.
He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the LORD
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.
(Isaiah 40:28-31)Friends, our God reigns forever. This song has led me to rejoice not only in His power, but in His gentleness. He is the everlasting God, yet He comes to me, delivers me, and meets me where I am. And where I am is in daily desperate dependence.
Everlasting God
Strength will rise as we wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the LordStrength will rise as we wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the Lord
We will wait upon the LordOur God, You reign forever
Our hope, our Strong DelivererYou are the everlasting God
The everlasting God
You do not faint
You won’t grow weary
You’re the defender of the weak
You comfort those in need
You lift us up on wings like eagles
(Benton Brown and Ken Riley – 2005 Thank You Music)Amen and amen!
What about you? What Scripture or song is God using to lead you to worship Him this week?
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“Oh My Stars” Moments
I had an “Oh my stars! I had cancer!” moment today, and there is a heaviness that lingers. It’s hard to even explain all the things that flit through my mind during these times. The memories of the fears wash over me, the joy of God’s strength in this trial, the overwhelming encouragement of our friends and family, the pain of change, the peace of trust.
It has been over a week since my last radiation treatment, and the burning continues to intensify. I am not sleeping well because I cannot find a comfortable position. Under my arm feels as if someone took a hot iron to my skin, and I can find no relief. The lethargy of inactivity has set into my body, and my muscles are weak and atrophied. My fingernails continue to wither from the chemo, and I have three nails that are pulling away and ready to come off. These, among other things, are the constant reminders that this trial is not over.
I become more convinced every day of my total inability and my need to surrender every part of my life and my being to God’s perfect control. He makes no mistakes. And the more I see my inability, the more I find myself leaning on Him. And the more I lean on Him, the more stable my life becomes. And the more I see His stability, the more I see His glory.
Martin Luther writes,
I have held many things in my hands and I have lost them all. But whatever I place in God’s hands, that I still possess.
My life is in His hands, and while it has been an “Oh my stars! I had cancer!” life for these past months, I still possess a life. Beyond that, I possess an eternal life in Him. I am clinging to that. To God ALONE be the glory!
(Please do continue to pray. Although the worst is over as far as treatment is concerned, there is a long road of healing left in front of me. In so many ways.)
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Passages
This little stinker turned 2 this week.
Complete with a purse cake and lots of presents, our baby passed another milestone. You can check out the par-tay pictures.
I spent the day before crying. The day of celebrating. Now I’m back to crying again. It’s not that I don’t want her to grow up, because I know that is how life is. It’s the mourning of missing 9 months of her growing and changing and vibrancy while I was fighting cancer. How can she be two already? Because it truly feels like she was just one a day ago. I have struggled through not being there for her. Missing her passages. Not being able to pick her up when she cries. Watching her tag along with her brothers and babysitters. Out the door. Off to new places and new things. Things I couldn’t participate in. I have had to let go of a lot with her, holding her with open hands.
I think part of the grieving is being told we will have no more children. There is too much risk. I can wrap my head around that, but my heart hurts. I love babies. I love having them. I love feeding and diapering and snuggling and rocking and teaching. I even love the middle of the night feedings. There is something about having a baby in the home. I love their passages. Each step of learning.
Don’t get me wrong. I love every stage my children have gone through and are in. I love having sweet conversations with a six-year-old and learning to speak his language. I love traipsing through imaginary fields with Bear pretending to be the Dread Pirate Mama. I love each new word our daughter learns. What I know is inevitable, but what I hate to hear is “Bye, Mommy.” I just love having children in my home.
And I love watching them grow and learn. Hearing my little one go from “eeee-eee” to “night-night” overnight just makes my heart hurt a little bit. She says her name now and calling herself “baby” is becoming a thing of the past. She runs and jumps and spins and dances. She fills her purses with lip gloss and bracelets and loves shoes! She is becoming a little girl. But don’t worry. I don’t have the cart before the horse. I know she is still so young, and in our hearts she will always be our baby. I will celebrate each passing with her. She is just doing what every little one does. Growing up.
I pray every night for her as I rock her before bed. That she would run to Jesus when she hears mercy calling. That she would stay strong and healthy and be spared this blight of cancer. I pray for sweet dreams as she sleeps. I pray for the man that God may be preparing for her future. I pray that I would hold her out to God every day. I pray that she would be a girl who grows into a woman who lives the meaning of her name; noble strength. My gift. My two-year old treasure.
Happy birthday, sweet one. May you have many, many more.
A woman of noble character, who can find? Her worth is far above rubies. (Proverbs 31:10)
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Wednesday Worship: Just As I Am
It’s that time. Here is the next edition of Wednesday Worship. Just a refresher of what I’m doing. Last week I started a new weekly post called Wednesday Worship. It’s me sharing a song that God has been using to speak to me. I’ll write about the song, why it’s blessing me, and where you can find it. And I’d love to hear from y’all and see what God is using to speak to your hearts. Last week I was so blessed by your comments and reminded of His faithfulness in our healing, freedom, security and joy. Thank you!
I’ve spent mornings singing with my children as we learn new songs together, clapping hands, twirling through the kitchen together, little hands lifted to God. I must worship. I cannot be silent. As I’ve reflected on the cross over the last week, I continue to be overwhelmed at the unconditional love of Christ. How He loves me for who I am not for what I bring Him.
Andrew Peterson is one of my favorite songwriters. He weaves beauty into his lyrical tapestries in a way that is reminiscent of Rich Mullins (one of the world’s best lyricists if you ask me). Andrew makes me stop and think and then weep. His music is full of stories. Stories of Biblical characters, stories of family, stories of brokenness, stories of power, and mostly stories of grace. His acoustic folk sound creates a warmth that makes me want to come back again and again and again. Which I do.
“Just As I Am” is a song which I can never listen to dry-eyed. You can find it on his Love & Thunder CD and you can download the song through iTunes or Amazon.com mp3’s. AP sings what is in my heart. The brokenness. The fear. The disbelief. In the second verse, he sings of the fear that what we bring is not enough. He gets to the bottom of my struggles. “It’s the fear that His love is no better than mine.” Yet God asks me to come as just me. Open handed. Nothing to offer but brokenness. And He loves me with an overwhelming, amazing, all-encompassing, faithful, beautiful love.
Just As I Am
What’s that on the ground?
It’s what’s left of my heart
Somebody named Jesus
Broke it to pieces
And planted the shardsAnd they’re coming up green
They’re coming in bloom
I can hardly believe
This is all coming trueJust as I am and just as I was
Just as I will be He loves me, He does
He showed me the day that He shed His own blood
He loves me, oh, He loves me, He doesAll of my life
I’ve held on to this fear
Its thistles and vines
Ensnare and entwine
What flowers appearedIt’s the fear that I’ll fall
One too many times
It’s the fear that His love
Is no better than mine
(but He says that)Just as I am and just as I was
Just as I will be He loves me, He does
He showed me the day that He shed His own blood
He loves me, oh, He loves me, He does
He loves me, oh, He loves me, He doesIt’s time now to harvest
What little that grew
This man they call Jesus
Who planted the seeds
Has come for the fruitAnd the best that I’ve got
Isn’t nearly enough
He’s glad for the crop
But it’s me that He lovesJust as I am and just as I was
Just as I will be He loves me, He does
The same as the day that He shed His own blood
He loves me, oh, He loves me, He does
Just as I am and just as I was
Just as I will be He loves me, He does
The same as the day that He shed His own blood
He loves me, oh, He loves me, He does
He loves me, oh, He loves me,
He loves me, He does
He loves me, He does(© 2003 Andrew Peterson)
Amen and Amen.
Just sit for a minute. Think about who you are. Who you really are. He loves you, He does! I am worshipping that amazing love today!
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What’s Your Story? (By Guest Blogger Nat)
This past weekend, I received a surprise visit from my friend, Nat. We did youth ministry together and I led her in Bible study for a year before she moved away to go to Physical Therapy school. It is always such a treat to be with her and laugh and share and be authentic. I do love that girl! She has been such a faithful encourager to me these past months. And she’s Italian, so we share the same blood. Too bad she’s from Jersey or she’d be even cooler.
But I digress.
Nat has a penchant for writing and asked if she could share something she wrote on my blog. I enjoy my guest bloggers, because it’s an opportunity for all of you to somehow meet each other and all be connected through this beautiful blogosphere. And because it’s fun. Not to mention then I don’t have to write a post myself.
So, without further adieu, I give you, guest blogger, Natalie.
Many of us have been following Angie’s story. Her blog has reached from the Valley to California, to Japan to Philadelphia (that’s me!). We have shared in some of her hardest as well as some of her most joyful moments over the past 8 or 9 months. We have experienced her story. Even more importantly, her blog has allowed us to see how God has been faithful to her even through the suffering, pain and fear.
Angie’s battle with cancer is now part of her story, and it would not be complete if she simply pretended like this never happened. We have all been touched by it. I think it’s also important to step back and consider our own lives. I know for certain that Angie is not the only one who has a story to tell. I believe that each of us has a narrative that has shaped us into who we are today.
What is your story? Specifically, what don’t you want to forget? If we forget our stories, we cease being real and true to ourselves. Without the good AND the bad, our stories are incomplete. Just as Angie reminded us through her post Living The Moment, don’t forget your story!
I once listened to a sermon by Rob Bell, pastor of Mars Hill Church in Grand Rapids, MI. The sermon was entitled, “My Father is a Wandering Aramean.” The sermon was on Deuteronomy 26 and speaks about a time when the Israelites are freed from Egypt and have wandered through the desert and have finally reached the rich land that God promised them. In his sermon, Rob Bell commented that God knows man’s tendency to forget Him and to forget the way He had provided for them. For this reason, God told Moses and all his people, when you enter into the land of milk and honey declare, “My father was a wandering Aramean.” Essentially, he is reminding the Israelites that life wasn’t always easy. The road to the promised land was really really hard. There was a lot of pain and suffering in the Israelites’ story. Nevertheless, God did not abandon His people in the desert. He kept his promise and delivered them from hard times and troubles into a rich and prosperous land.
God makes the same promise to each one of us. God is a faithful God; He keeps his promises. One day there will be no pain or suffering. One day there will be no cancer, no addictions, no poverty. He is everything that we need. It would be so easy to just forget the pain and suffering in our stories. However, I don’t think we can ever be fully happy or fully ourselves if we separate ourselves from our pasts. Furthermore, it would be so easy to think that we made it through the desert by our own efforts. When life is good, when life is easy, we don’t think we need God as much. But, I believe that we will need God that much more. Like the saying goes, without suffering, we would know no joy.
So, I ask you again, what is your story? Why do you believe what you believe? What deserts have you wandered through before reaching the place where you are now? More importantly, how did God keep His promise and remain faithful to you? Maybe you’re still wandering. Or maybe you haven’t had to go through any deserts. Whatever the case, I truly believe we each have a story. How is your father a wandering Aramean? What event(s) have shaped you into who you are today?
What is your story?
You can follow Nat’s story at her blog. She’s pretty cool.
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Bear Prayers
Our recent times of family worship have brought some deep heart smiles as I listen to my boys pray and talk to God. Bear, especially, is no holds barred, and it is precious and endearing. Here’s a taste of some recent prayers by our sweet 4-year-old. I love how he doesn’t ask God for things, he just thanks God. Even more I love how real he is. He just is who he is. I have so much to learn from my son!
“Heavenly Father, thank you that you will watch over Daddy as he drives home tonight from D.C. Thank you that no other cars will crash into him in his new fast car, because I like his new fast car and I don’t want it to get scratched. That’s all I have to pray. Amen.”
“Dear Jesus, thank you for Nanny and Pappy (his great-grandparents). Thank you that Pappy’s heart will be fixed (he had triple bypass recently). Thank you that You will give them a good night’s sleep, and they won’t have any bad dreams. Thank you that they will only have good dreams and that Nanny will dream about a tyrannosaurus rex and she will be able to kill it. In Jesus name, Amen.”
I seriously just laughed out loud the whole time I was typing this in. As squeamish as she is about reptiles and rodents, I think my poor grandmother would have heart failure if she dreamed about a t-rex.
Oh my dear, dear Bear. May your night be filled with good dreams tonight–whatever good means for you.
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Living The Moment
This week was the end of my radiation treatments. True to my promise I popped on my pink fuzzy hat and exited the dressing room into the hallway where three techs awaited. We all clapped our hands and cheered. I can’t begin to describe how it felt. Exhilarating. Freeing. No more daily drudgery. I will miss the staff. They were there for me, encouraging, supporting, making me laugh. It was like leaving a job you hate but knowing you’ll miss your co-workers. They were there in ways that no one else was or could be. And they did their job well. I have been so blessed by the way God has provided for me time and again with the caregivers here in the Valley. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else for treatment, and I’m thankful I didn’t have to be.
A few details. My skin will continue to redden and burn for 2 more weeks while the radiations works from the inside. I have two patches on my skin that are becoming very painful, one in particular under my arm where the skin is black. What makes it hard is that anytime I use that arm it rubs the burn. I think that’s the toughest part. The constant pain. It will be about a month before I start to heal, so I am expecting the fatigue to remain through April. I am excitedly looking to May as the beginning of what I know will be a long recoup.
Yesterday morning I was reading the song Hannah sang to God after He granted her desire for a child. Her supreme source of joy wasn’t in that son. It was in God Who had blessed her. I am amazed every day at the ways God has blessed me. He has given me more than I could ever imagine. He has brought me through more trials that I thought I could endure. He has brought me into a place of daily dependence on Him. I need Him for every breath, every laugh, every tear, every task, every prayer, every hope.
It’s so easy for me to focus on the “things” I have in front of me–reclaiming my home, moving full-force into home-schooling Ash rather than the sporadic teaching he has received, spring cleaning parts of the house, organizing and decluttering a home over which I’ve had little control for 9 months, get the children back into Sunday School.
Oh wait! I forgot some things: pay bills, enrollment contract for school for Ash, Craigs List baby items, taxes.
Oh wait! I forgot some more: pray. breathe. worship. sit at Jesus’ feet. LIVE life.
Every Christian needs an half hour of prayer each day, except when he’s busy, then he needs an hour. (St. Francis de Sales, 1567-1622 Bishop of Geneva)
While I’m not a proponent of saying how much time we should be spending with God each day, I understand what point St. Francis was making. The longer my to-do list is, the more likely I am to get bogged down and forget God.
He has given me so much, yet like the Israelites in the wilderness, the freshness of my dependency can fade, and with that fading comes forgetfulness. A forgetfulness I do not want. A forgetfulness I fear. I don’t want to lose sight of my Hannah moment. My desperate need for God every day. Of knowing that there is no god like my God and spending time with Him is crucial to life. I want to live in His moment every day.
My daughter lives in the moment. That’s one of my favorite things about her. She is excited about everything. She asks for juice, and I hand it to her. She claps her hands ands says, “Yay!” (That’s pronounced Yaaaay-ah for all you northerners.) She drops her doll where she can’t reach it and signs “please” while calling, “Mommeeee!” I reach it for her and she claps her hands and says, “Yay!” I put her in her booster seat for a meal, and she claps her hands and says, “Eat! Yay!” I tell her it’s time for her bath, or time to go outside and play, or time to read with Mommy and she… well, you get the picture. She loves life. She is excited about every part. She lives in the moment.
God has been with me every moment of my life, even when they haven’t been “yay” moments. He has lived the moments with me. He’s cried with me and rejoiced with me. He’s never let go. He longs for relationship with me. He gives me hope and direction. He gives me the reason to live every moment. And because of Him, I will remember and live.
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Gypped?
Our son’s first tooth finally fell out this week with little fanfare. One minute it was there, the next minute he was cradling it in his palm. After weighing your comments, factoring in inflation, the falling dollar, family income, the mortgage crisis, crude oil prices, and the economic “stimulus” package working it’s way through Congress, we decided we’d give Ash a buck a tooth, except for molars. (We’ll deal with that when it happens.)
Night fell. The tooth was gently placed under his pillow. Under cover of darkness, a dollar miraculously appeared. Ash was quite impressed with his discovery. The next morning we had this conversation:
Me: Did you put your dollar in your piggy bank?
A: No. I want to buy a knight from the Farmer’s Market with it.
Me: Well, a dollar is not quite enough to buy a knight. Remember how we’ve talked about saving your money?
A: (hesitates) Yeah… (this conversation clearly wasn’t going in his desired direction)
Me: You can put your dollar in your piggy bank, save up, and then buy the knight.
A: Oh. (quiet reflection) Mom? You’re the tooth fairy, right?
Me: (apparently he’s no fool) Yes.
A: Next time, can you leave me a $20? -
Wednesday Worship: Stricken, Smitten And Afflicted
So, I’ve decided to start doing a weekly Wednesday post, called… you guessed it! Wednesday Worship.
Each Wednesday I plan to share a song that God has been really using to speak to my heart that week. Sometimes it’ll be a new song that I’ve discovered, sometimes it will be a favorite hymn that has ministered to me for years. I’ll tell you who it’s by, where you can buy it, and how God has used it in my life.
AND I’d love to hear from you and hear what you’re listening to that encourages you and brings you closer to Jesus.
Seriously, y’all don’t know just how giddy I get when you comment on my blog. I get all warm and fuzzy and happy. I am self-absorbed like that. I love the lovin’! But let’s just go beyond me and my feelings here. I really would love to hear what music brings you to worship Him, and who knows? Maybe your song will be my next Wednesday Worship song and God will use you to bless others. I love how He does that!
Let’s begin.
This week I’ve been reading a lot about the glory of Christ in His suffering. I reread a description of just what He endured on that Friday before He rose again in victory. It literally sent shudders through my body. The whips slicing flesh from his body, the thorns shoved into his brow, the rusted nails pounded through His hands and feet, the suffocation as His body caved in on itself, but most of all, the wrath of God poured out on Him. Something He had no need to experience, but He chose to suffer for me. “But he was pierced for our transgressions, he was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was upon him, and by his wounds we are healed.” (Isaiah 53:5) I deserve everything He suffered. I deserve the wrath of God. But because of His wounds, I get my healing. That amazes me. Humbles me. Brings me to worship.
I grew up singing the hymn “Stricken, Smitten and Afflicted”. It was written in 1804 by Thomas Kelly. While I’ve never listened to much by Fernando Ortega, his version of this hymn (it is the original tune) is breathtaking. The harp, the harmonies, the cello all help communicate the mournfulness of how Christ suffered but also create the beauty of His suffering. It is on his “Beginnings” or “Night Of His Return” CD, and you can download the song through iTunes or Amazon.com mp3 downloads.
My favorite is the last line of this hymn. No one shall ever be ashamed when their hope is in our glorious Savior!
Stricken, smitten, and afflicted,
See Him dying on the tree!
‘Tis the Christ by man rejected;
Yes, my soul, ’tis He, ’tis He!
‘Tis the long-expected prophet,
David’s Son, yet David’s Lord;
By His Son, God now has spoken
Tis the true and faithful Word.Tell me, ye who hear him groaning,
Was there ever grief like his?
Friends thro’ fear his cause disowning,
Foes insulting his distress;
Many hands were raised to wound him,
None would interpose to save;
But the deepest stroke that pierced him
Was the stroke that Justice gave.Ye who think of sin but lightly,
Nor suppose the evil great
Here may view its nature rightly,
Here its guilt may estimate.
Mark the sacrifice appointed,
See who bears the awful load;
’tis the Word, the Lord’s Anointed,
Son of Man and Son of God.Here we have a firm foundation,
Here the refuge of the lost;
Christ’s the Rock of our salvation,
His the name of which we boast.
Lamb of God, for sinners wounded,
Sacrifice to cancel guilt!
None shall ever be confounded
Who on him their hope have built.Amen and amen!
How is God encouraging your heart through worship this week?
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Made To Worship
Worshipping with my children this morning, I fix breakfast while the music plays. It is hard to focus on bagels when the melodies course through our kitchen. “Hallelujah! Grace like rain pours down on me. Hallelujah! All my stains are washed away, they’re washed away!” My eyes close. I cannot keep my mind on the task at hand. My hands must raise, lifted in praise to my God. The task at hand is worship! My children sing with me, little voices floating through the kitchen. My eyes well with tears. Prayers lifted for their hearts to run when mercy calls, that they would bask in the grace that overflows into our lives. So much grace. So undeserving. There is no other response than praise.
I watch my children, and I am reminded of Watermark’s lyrics, “Oh, the tenderness of God is twirling around in our living room tonight.” We were made for worship. They were made for worship. There is a beauty and an innocence in their hearts that is convicting. They have no agendas. They don’t care if the music is too loud or too soft. They have no concerns about their pitch. They only know freedom to be who God created them to be. Worshippers.
God has been molding my heart into one of daily worship, constantly bringing His Word and His melody to mind. Last night, holding a tiny girl who is sick yet again, I gazed at her little face. Eyes closed. Steady breathing. Chubby cheeks. Glossy lips. “I worship You, Almighty God. There is none like You.” He created this little wonder. One of the many graces he has poured down like rain into my world. It is easy to grab hold of my life and my family and worship them, but I must open my arms and let them fall into God’s, and I must worship Him as their Creator.
Our loft filled with friends and instruments. Voices. Guitars. Keyboard. Djembe. We worshipped for an hour and a half last week. No inhibitions. No frustrations with song choice. No worrying about whether it was “done the way we wanted it to be”. No concerns about how loud it might be. We just sang our hearts out. At times I stopped playing just to listen and watch my friends. Heads bowed in confession. “God be merciful to me, on Thy grace I rest my plea.” At times I lowered my eyes, listened, and prayed the words He gave songwriters years ago would speak to me. I watched others, eyes closed, heads raised, hearts lifted up, hands beating drums, fingers strumming, and I didn’t want it to end. It was beautiful. And isn’t that what worship is? Seeing the beauty of Christ? I saw it in my friends, and I felt it in my heart. I was made to worship.
We can get so bogged down in the details. The opinions. The traditions. The distractions. We make ourselves the focus and then He isn’t worshipped. We are. We worship our opinions, our traditions, our preferences. Is God the heart of my worship? Or am I?
“Then sings my soul, my Savior God to Thee, how great Thou art!” God is great, and that doesn’t change. He is great no matter the style of worship. He is great no matter the sound of worship. He is great no matter the preference of worship. He is the God Who pours down grace like rain into our lives daily. And He must be worshipped. Daily. I was made to worship. What am I missing out on when I don’t? I watch my children and I realize I’m missing out on a lot. I’m missing out on the moment by moment gratitude for His grace in my life. I’m missing out on the joy of Who He is, because I’m more worried about the how. I’m missing out on the “tenderness of God twirling around my living room.”
Y’all, don’t miss out. We were made to worship.
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A Spring of Joy 