Scriptural Tears

I've been raised on the Bible my whole life. Raised in a Christian home, my dad was (still is) a Preacher. I grew up in a Church of Christ environment, not that that is anything important but it may give you an idea on my upbringing and traditions I'm used to and things I grew up being told. Whether or not all the things I've come to believe, the traditions I observe, and many more nuances, are right/wrong, good/bad, what you believe or not, that's not what I'm here to talk about.

I said I was raised on the Bible. I was taught it in Sunday school, a 30-45 minute class period while the adults got preached to in the main auditorium. I sang songs and prayed about as much as anyone in that upbringing (though I'll be honest and say that much of what I did while young was play under the pew and doodle and even nap). The Bible,  at least the typical parts of it, were read to me, illustrated to me on felt board, described, explained in little songs that were kinda clever but more demeaning and boring than anything else. The Holy Spirit was talked about, just not very much, I do believe maybe we neglected it and it's great importance, but we didn't forget it.

Though I've never really had much of the Bible memorized, I do know the gist of most of the common things that were read to us and what I eventually read here and there. I didn't really fully read my Bible until college, meaning I didn't start reading from the beginning and continue on till the last book, and even in college I skipped through a few things, skimmed some of the longer prophets and psalms just to keep up with everything else I was trying to do. But that Freshman year I read more of the Bible than I had in my whole life up to that point. I'm sure for many people this is a very similar picture of what they experienced.

Understand that it wasn't that the Bible didn't interest me. It was chalk full of things that amazed me and made me smile, made me shake my head, made me scratch me head, and honestly nearly made me want to throw up (for many different reasons, all of them constantly changing as I matured in life and spirit). It was more that it was just long, and hard to read, complicated and sometimes yes, at least to me, incomprehensible. This was probably due to the translation and my very small brain and limited knowledge and sorely lacking education (I had good teachers, I went to decent schools, but let's just be honest and say that education isn't what it should be and I should be smarter, but not for a lack of trying on my educators part).

Having finally read about 80% of the Bible then in college I was opened up to a lot of things I just hadn't heard talked about before. Not inconsistencies, not hypocrisies or anything like that that many people seem to tout when they read the Bible with the closed mind of a person only trying to tear down what they don't even begin to want to understand. I was just opened up to new stories, new parts of stories I just hadn't heard before, completely new things that I don't think were ever really talked about or glossed over. It was refreshing. I learned more about God, about Jesus, about what being a Christian really is and means. My college life was full of little lights going on like that. A refreshing drink of the Holy Spirit here and there, and it started with reading Scripture.

It's several years later since that first little light and now here I am again and I'm reading the Bible not from beginning to end completely, just kind of hopping around. But now I'm reading this new translation The Voice. I'm not going to say this translation is better than any other, I think reading multiple translations is a good thing to get a new refreshed look at something that maybe you've become very used to. The Voice for me though has done more than just give me a refreshed look at Scripture. This translation is very excellent in my opinion, they restructure things a bit and add some clarifying text (letting you know of course that it is not scripture just their add on) as well as extra little notes and text, it's just great. I find myself reading it as if I've never read it before and that in and of itself is beautiful and great, but there's more.

I'm a pretty stubborn person, I taught myself a long time ago that crying was a weakness due to begin picked on and pushed around for being...well...just kinda nerdy and different from the standard they wanted me to meet. Among other things I thought about myself through those formative years, that's probably one of the most destructive. I don't cry very much, maybe a handful of times in the past dozen or more years over things that were just so emotional I couldn't hold them back no matter how hard I tried. That being said, reading this new translation is really pushing that wall. I've never really cried while reading the Bible, but now I'm getting close.

I'm reading things and it feels like the first time and as I read I feel tears fighting to fall, I feel like I want to curl into a ball and cry. Not because I'm so convicted about Jesus, already good there. Not because it's necessarily beautiful, it is no question there. But because as I read it I feel so completely like a failure but so uplifted at the same time. Mostly I've been reading Paul's letters at the moment and he speaks so eloquently and in this version I understand it even better (let's face it, Paul was like a physicist talking to a farmer most of the time), and as I read I'm cut, as the people that Peter preached to on Pentecost. My heart is cut because Paul speaks the truth and all I can think is, "Paul...I'm nothing like that. I don't love people very well, I hate them so easily. I'm not slow to my anger, I'm quicker than a viper to want to sink my fangs into someone that I'm merely annoyed with. You speak of wisdom, but I'm so foolish and prideful! How can you say these things about being a Christian, a believer in Christ our Savior and Redeemer, Our Judge and Jury and Ultimate Defense against the outer darkness, and yet here I sit reading and believing I'm a Christian but struggling so much to do those things, to be a reflection of Christ. Paul, I'm a failure."

But even as I feel that I feel uplifted because he never stops there. He speaks so eagerly of grace, so beautifully of mercy and Christ's forgiveness that's a free gift and as a free gift when you respond you follow the commands of the Lord, you jump at the chance. He preaches of no one doing it perfectly and always of people failing and faltering (otherwise he wouldn't have written the letters at all). I'm cut because I know I fail, I'm cut because I know I'm forgiven, and I'm cut because I want so very much to do what God wants, to please my Father in Heaven and do as he would have me do, but I get so lost and I forget.

I want to cry as I read the Bible, and I believe that's something that many of us have built up a stubborn resistance to. We think it's just a book, a gathering of letters, poetry, prophecy, history and it's meant for our education. It most certainly is, but it's so much more! It's supposed to cut us, to convict us, to move us. This book is supposed to make us cry! We should cry for the failure of our ancestors, we should cry for the failures of just a few minutes ago. We should weep in joy for the things God has done in the past and what He still does today. We should shed so many tears that all the world would drown in our worship and love of the Creator and in doing so wash away all the dirt and horror that covers it now.

In Ecclesiastes 3:4 it says "A time to cry, a time to laugh; a time to mourn, a time to dance;" I believe this is true of Scripture. There is a time when we read it we should weep, I think maybe that this is the time for me to weep as I read Scripture (or get close to it, old habits die hard).

What's Our Battle Cry?

I'm going to try an experiment here, so try to follow along as I try to express something I'm truly beginning to realize and want to communicate. I hope it comes across OK.



It's moments before I take the stage and I'm much too nervous. Why in the world did I even agree to do this stupid debate?

In my head I go over all the proof texts I've memorized. In moments I review the three different versions of the Bible I have memorized, King James, New International, English Standard. I'm working on the New Living but only maybe 30% done.

Grabbing a bottle of water from a table I quickly open it and chug. I'm sweating and I'm not even under the lights yet. There are at least 300 people out in the small auditorium, I can hear them milling about. Speakers squeak and reverberate as the sound techs do their last minute checks. I can see on the other side of the stage the well dressed man I'll be arguing with. He's extremely well known, a scientist and author of great renown in all circles for his unbelief.

It strikes me that someone would be admired and respected for their un-belief. Their complete and utter lack of respect and care for the God I believe in. People sing his praise, rush to shake his hand and get his autograph on his latest book that supposedly disproves God. I can just make out his calm smile as he chats with an assistant. He seems to confident. Confident in his belief that there is nothing to believe in.

Shamefully I have to admit that the man intimidates me.

I walk away from the stage and lean against a wall in a corner as far away as I can get from all the hustle and bustle of stage hands and managers making sure everything is ready.

I wish I could say that I were confident, but I'm not. Even now when I'm supposed to be debating and upholding my faith I find that I'm doubting. I'm doubting my proof texts, I'm doubting the Bible translations I've memorized, even though I know how to read it in it's original language as well.

I'm doubting my God.

Closing my eyes I try to shrink into the corner in the shadows and I try desperately to regain my composure the only way I know how.

"God...I need you..." I whisper.

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Sitting in his tent he thought long and hard about what he'd heard that afternoon.

Jahaziel sat in a corner his head bowed hands clasped in his lap eyes closed. It would almost seem that he was asleep but there was no way that was true. He was praying, he was always praying it seemed.

Jehoshaphat stroked his beard staring at the man. His words still rang in his head and if he were honest with himself he doubted what the man had spoken. Would the Lord really tell them to not fight? How could they win against such an oppressive force? They were surrounded and the threat of destruction was very real.

"You will not need to fight in this battle..." Those words kept resounding in his ears.

He'd fought so much, how was it possible to win a battle without fighting? His faith was shaken and it was frightening to admit it. A God that would tell you not to fight, that the battle was His...it was so strange. It was so counter to what he believed of God, of all the god's he'd ever heard of. Didn't they all want them to fight? To win? To conquer in their name?

For the first time he was beginning to wonder who this God was that he was following. A God that fought his own battles? And all He was asking was for them to stand firm in their faith that he would be with them.

He kept eyeing the prophet trying to figure out if maybe he'd lied, maybe Jahaziel was a spy. A traitor sent by his enemies to confuse him, to thwart any kind of counter attack.

Though he tried to think it, to convince himself of it, somehow he didn't believe that the prophet was lying. As if hearing his thoughts Jahaziel looked up at him. "Do you have a plan for tomorrow?" He asked solemnly.

Jehoshaphat leaned back in his seat his hands clasped in his lap thinking hard twisting the sash around his waist. "You said the Lord wants us to go out before the enemy with confidence that he is with us..."

The prophet nodded.

"I'll admit I was inspired by your words, and frightened as well. My praise may have been true but also come from the momentary shock and excitement. I'm a man of battle, my instincts tell me that I should attack..."

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Standing before the great giant he began to briefly wish that he had brought some of the armor that his King had offered. Or at the very least a dagger.

The great man was at least two of him and then some put together. He was a bit thin but all muscle. His armor looked thick and his spear like a small tree with a wicked point. The weapon could skewer him at 10 feet away, or near enough.

He could feel the five stone's weight now in his pocket and the leather of the sling in his hand was rough and slick with his sweat. Standing before a giant was hard, especially one mocking an entire army. But he stood firm. He'd faced a lion, he'd faced a bear, all to protect the innocent sheep that were in his care. And now there was much more in his care. Not the army behind him, they could fight, they could defend themselves.

No he stood before this monster for something greater. His grip tightened on his sling as the giant mocked him, calling him a mere stick. He laughed and cursed him in the name of gods that he'd heard rumor of but never seen. His chest burned at hearing the man mock his God.

For a moment he thought he should defend his God, to proclaim him greater and higher than those that the giant invoked...no...his God didn't need defending. His God was able, his God was strong, his God was the true and almighty God. His actions would not be of defense but of attack.

"You come at me with mere weapons! I come in the name of the Lord! Of the God you have defied. Today giant is the day you die, the Lord will deliver you into this sticks hands! Today your whole army will fall to the might of the Lord and the world will know that it is not necessary to win a battle with weapons!"

The giant lunged.

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On his face he begged for it to change. If there was another way, let that be the way this went.

There was only silence.

"Not my will but yours." He prayed.

He could feel comfort, he could feel victory, he need only endure and have faith.

----------------

He ran to the side and slid in the dirt turning quickly towards his would be attacker.

A stone was in his hand, placed into the pocket of the sling.

It whirred over his head, his full focus on the giant that was turning slowly toward him, his spear coming to bear.

There was no more fear. Only confidence, only victory. His faith was true.

So was his aim.

The sling released and the stone flew. He'd only needed one.

Thunk!

It was such an innocuous sound with such a great impact. The look in the giants eyes said it all. Surprise, astonishment, fear...and then nothing. He fell, a great hole in his head.

David stood barely breathing hard. His whole body awash with heat, a heat and fire deep in his chest and in his heart. He could feel the word of the Lord flowing through him say, "Well done."

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"....but I believe in the God we follow. I don't know how we will win without fighting. I don't know that it's possible. However..." He leaned forward eyeing the prophet soberly. "If we are to die so that the Lord may have victory, then we will die with a song in our hearts and on our lips."

Slowly he stood feeling old though he still had many years to come.

The prophet watched him rise. "So what is your plan?"

"We will do as you have said, as the Lord has commanded. We will go out before the enemy. I'll put our warriors behind and I will put our singers at the front. If tomorrow is to be the day we meet our Lord then we will sing his praises as we fall." His confidence was unwavering. He wasn't sure if tomorrow would be the kind of victory that a general expected, a battle should always have a clear winner and loser and usually the loser was the one that died. But perhaps this God that he followed, defined winning differently.

Smiling the prophet stood. "I think that would be a great victory in and of itself my King. Instead of an army with weapons we will have an army with songs."

"Let it not be said that we didn't have faith, that we didn't follow through with our belief even when we faced death." The King said standing straight and tall. "I would have it be said that we sang even as we died, declaring our God."

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"I need you here, I need you now...I need security somehow..." I was singing...I was laughing.

I was chuckling as I sang a song by a band my son loved. They were a christian band, though that definition was completely ridiculous. They were just a band that happened to sing songs about God and Jesus, they expressed their faith through their passion.

The anxiety was gone. The nervousness, the panic, the shuttering of my faith. That song...why did I start singing it? And why do I suddenly feel so happy, so...confident?

I opened my eyes and stared towards the stage.

One minute and I would be called out to argue the existence of God, to uphold my belief system.

Shaking my head I reached into my pocket and pulled out some of the cards I'd made with verses, quotes, and so called evidence. I tossed them in a trash can.

I understood now. This whole thing shouldn't be happening, I never should have agreed to argue about God. God wasn't an argument, and he most certainly didn't need me to fight his battles for him. He could do that on his own quite well, much better than I ever could. It isn't Him who needs me but the other way around. I need him desperately.

But now I am here and I am faced with a challenge. There's a giant standing before me, mocking my God with a smile on his face. There's an army surrounding me and yes, my destruction is all but assured. My memorized Bible verses ran through my head like a Rolodex, I pushed them aside. They were useful and very important, true. But there were other things too, things that would be much more useful in a battle.

Another song came to my mind.

The announcers spoke introducing the two debaters and several people looked toward me to go out on the stage. I smiled as I passed them singing under my breath one of my favorite old hymns. "Come thou fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing they praise...."

I didn't need an argument, I didn't need a sword. All I needed was a song to show my faith.

Be Thou My Vision (Revision) - Thoughts On Singing and Songs

Let's take a look at some songs shall we? I wish I could claim the words that I hear in songs. So many songs, Religious and Secular, have such amazing lines in them. They are able to communicate things in a short stanza or even shorter verse. I've heard songs that with a single line cut to my heart in a way I just hadn't thought possible. Or they brought something to my attention within me that I didn't even know was there. And still some songs just cut right to my soul, speaking words I've always wanted to say but just couldn't put them in the right order.

I'm a writer, or at least I am aspiring to be (lots of stories in progress), but never in a million years could I put things in such short order and beauty as song writers do. Now I'm not putting myself down, at least not trying to. Authors and Lyricists are honestly two very different jobs. Similar but not the same. Songs I truly believe are a way for us to communicate with God, a very unique and special way. Singing and Songs are a special thing that is almost unexplainable in our world, and though today we really just see it as entertainment it's so much more.

Take a listen to this song. Originally titled Be Thou My Vision, one of my favorite Hymns. This version is slightly modified (language is a bit newer) and the melody they've put with it is much more upbeat than the song is usually sung but that's not a bad thing, in fact in this case it's pretty awesome.

Not sure how you felt about listening to this version of the song but I have to say, this song has always cut deep for me. Now when I was younger I didn't really notice the song, but when I was a child I thought as a child and being just a little bit more grown up I see things different and not only that but God opens your eyes when you seek him to notice what you may have missed along the way. This was a song and a depth that I missed while I was young and my vision was bad.

My mind works in a very unique way. I can and will go in depth more with what I'm about to say but for now I'm going to gloss over it. I have a great community in my mind, characters, broken out aspects of my personality, and yes even a version of myself. I'm sure that doesn't make a whole lot of sense but again I'll address the great host in my head later. For the longest time these parts of me were out of sync and somewhat volatile and disagreeable. I could never bring them to order and even still I have trouble sometimes. But as I began to embrace Christ more and more, to love him and not just that but to embrace the salvation I received when I repented and was baptized, to seek the Holy Spirit and allow it to work in me, the Host began to come to order. This was only the beginning. Something amazing happened as this change took place.

To put it simply. The Host began to sing as one.

I would find myself singing in church and as is usual the Host would stand silent and so would I among them, we were silent and stoic in a dark space. If you can just imagine a great gathering of the most diverse characters from fantasy and imagination standing in a blank black empty space you'd be close to seeing what is in my head. (Except there's a high cliff in my head...not really sure why). But as I was trying to seek God, the me in my head began to sing. It was as if this woke up the others, they'd become somewhat orderly but now as I began to sing within me they took took up the chorus.

The Host is honestly comprised of good characters and bad characters (all from stories and ideas I have) as well as myself and other broken off aspects of my personality. I wish I could explain how uncharacteristic it is to see an evil villain that does horrible things in stories singing praise and worship to the Lord. To see some parts of my personality raising their hands (which is something I don't do) and crying out to the Lord in worship. There's just nothing I can say to do it justice. It was that singing, of songs like the one I just had you listen to that brought my mind together. It's songs like those that expressed something I'd been longing to say but just didn't have the words to say it.

And it's not just them singing, but dancing and kneeling and jumping for joy and crying and shouting and raising their hands and calling out to God all as one mighty entity with a thousand different parts and characteristics and passions and places, but all they want and all I want is to sing and love the Lord.

I think a song is the soul calling out, because let's be honest, the soul is not some stale monotone transparent ghost that hovers around going "ooooo" (ya know...kinda like a ghost), it's this strange mysterious and glorious created image akin to the Creator. It's desire is for the one that created it and I think singing is it's own personal way of speaking to the creator.

J.R.R. Tolkien illustrated this in a very unique way in the Silmarillion where the universe was literally sung into existence. It's beautiful really, to think of things like that. That the whole of creation is a song being sung.

I don't know that I've made some specific point here or even tried to, but what I'm setting out to do with this blog is to pose thoughtful questions and views, to make us and me think about God, Jesus, the Holy Spirit, the world and what it is we are supposed to be doing and being as Christians.

If there's anything I want you to get from this, it's that singing and songs are important. It's the soul singing out in praise and yes even in just fun because this world was meant to be enjoyed by us, God made it for us to enjoy and praise him for, so we should do so in all it's forms.

Psalm 1 (A Reflection)

If the World Tree were real, with its mighty trunk, branches, and roots towering and reaching, it would be diseased. Full of mill worms and termites eating away at it, threatening to topple it.

I can see Him standing before it, as if he were small but somehow He towers above it. Reaching out He wraps his hand around the trunk and pull up the tree, it's roots clinging to earth but unable to hold on against His relentless pull.

He holds it out before him and now below it is a pit of pain and fire, cleansing and sorrowful.

He shakes the tree and the worms and mites and clinging earth tumble down towards the pit and as they do they change into bodies, wailing in misery as they fall.

"How?" I ask.

"Easily." He replies still shaking.

"Why?"

"Because."

"It's impossible!"

"Not with me."

More bodies fall. His face is sad.

"Do you delight in this?" I ask horrified.

"No." He replies sadly.

"Then stop!"

"No."

"Why?"

"To make it new."

"But what of the fallen?"

"Don't worry over them."

As He shakes the tree begins to live again. It's leaves blooming and becoming so green. He smiles as it rises again.

"How?" I ask.

"Because I bring life."

The last worms fall ad the pit is sealed. He sets the tree down and its roots shoot down deep, deep, into the very core of the world. It towers and grows and He somehow looks up as it soars higher but still down upon it with joy.

"Is this tree me?" I ask.

"It is...and it is not." He replies. "It is because you are always the same. It is not because a tree replanted is not the same tree but a new beginning."

"Is this tree the world?" I wonder.

"It will be." He replies.