I can't get no satisfaction

Something is not right. Something is broken and wanting. My mind is occupied with the noise of life, and only in moments when volume fades and solitude creeps does the sound of my own heart make its voice known. It is not a loud or even moderate cry but more like a subtle, sad whimper. It is the sound of squeaky doors in haunted houses, hidden most of the time by the din of shallow conversations and earthly obligations. I wonder if this is what the Holy Spirit interprets for the Father, the deep heart groans of lost children who, in moments at dusk, realize how lost we really are. Something is missing. Something is unfinished and incomplete inside of me. There is a hole, a deep echoing cavernous pit in my soul. Like I said most of the time I ignore it. I pretend to be happy, and feign meaning and purpose. It seems that no matter what I do I cannot chase this emptiness away.

I thought that if I could be the good at something, then I might find some kind of reprieve. Perhaps relationship, nakedness, sex and intimacy might fill up what I am missing. In every attempt I find myself still wanting. What Solomon reflects I have since embraced, “Vanity of vanities, All is emptiness.” Or as the Rolling Stones put it, "I can't get no satisfaction."

The Problem with the Church

Talk of the church has become my pastime. “Do you want to know what frustrates me about the church,” I begin. I qualify my statements and couch them in questions. After all I am not so arrogant to suppose I have all of the answers. “I am just looking for what honors God.” That sounds so thoughtful in a spiritual sort of way. “We need to get back to the early church...” I idealistically explain to others who thoughtfully stroke their chins and nod in approval. “The problem with the church is...” I rant I blog I talk about what I don’t like, what I do not prefer.

I have discovered that talk about the church is juicy, I can go on for hours. I have been deceived into believing that such talk is safe. I take freedom in my speculations and gossip because there is no face to my attack, just a ambiguous blob of misguided people. “If I could just help them see that things should not be this way,” I arrogantly presume to have a clue.

Perhaps the problem with the church is me. I can’t help but think that what ought to occupy my time and conversation is the Lord of the church not defining acceptable, relevant worship services and pretending to care more about the church than the One who refers to her as His Bride.

Graduation Day

Today is graduation day. I wonder if I will feel different tomorrow? My Dad and sister are coming all the way from California to see me dress up in funny clothes and be knighted by the appropriate academics. I read one time that the foolishness of God is wiser than the wisdom of men. Oh to be as foolish as God.

Dad says that he is proud of all that I have accomplished. It has been such a long time since I have thought of things in that way. I don’t feel as though I have done anything. It is more as if we a celebrating the end of a season than the accomplishment of some great feat. I remember the hold that wanting to please others had on me. The ghost of such thinking still visits from time to time. I have long been redeemed from the chains of expectation and the labor for favor. Grace has set my enslaved heart free. Grace has rescued my heart to Thee.

There will be a party to celebrate tomorrow. A lot of people will come by my house and say “congratulations.” I will smile and say, “thank you” a hundred times with the most sincerity that I can muster. I am thankful, thankful to be finished after only eleven years of study, and yet I don’t feel done. There is still so much to do and learn. There is still so much that I do not know, that I have not thought about. I suppose that this graduation day is more like a mile marker at the beginning of a long road trip. There will be others that come.

Rejoice

“Rejoice.” This seems like such shallow command. How can Paul command joy? It’s like that bumper sticker that reads, “Smile God loves you.” Thanks for that. Am I supposed to pretend that things are simply happy and wait for some kind of relational euphoria to overtake my soul? Am I supposed to choose to be ignorant to spare my heart the agony of understanding?

What is this, Sunday School? Am I seven years old, that the teacher wipes the tears from my eyes saying “Smile now, God loves you,” after an older kid has made it pretty clear that he does not “love me” by pushing off of the slide at the playground? Paul’s command has the air of Kleenex words and Band-Aids on scraped knees. It hardly seems like sage-like wisdom in light of serious disagreement in the church. Our playground scuffles have become real life pain that begs for a more serious solution than “smile God loves you.”

Maybe I am missing something. Is it possible that I have misunderstood what it means to have joy? Have I too closely related it to my emotions?

The word means to rejoice or to be merry. It means to be glad. How can I choose to be glad? It takes a thoughtful shift in my perspective. If this world and is sufferings and pain are all that there is then joy is at best momentary and improbable. But…if there is something more, say life after death, a creator, a savior, someone who will one day make right the injustice of this world, well then perhaps there is meaning and purpose and the possibility of gladness. Paul tells us that the place of our joy is in the Lord. Outside of him there is no hope, no reason to be glad.

Joy is the absence of fear that comes with embracing the fact that God is sovereignly in control of the details of my life. Sometimes it displays itself in singing, dancing, shouting but may also be shown in peace, rest and calm.

The Offering of Worship

I was thinking this morning as the offering was passed in church that I had nothing to put into the basket. No one made me feel bad about this. My initial thought was we give every other week as Tami writes a check. I think this morning that I missed something by not having something to give. I wonder if I should break up our giving to every week so that I can participate as the offering comes by. It would be the same amount of money but I wouldn’ t miss out on part of the worship service. Giving is part of the worship service. It is a good part. It is when I thoughtfully and prayerfully give to God what is valuable to me.