beauty over duty

to characterize my spiritual journey over the course of the past month would be difficult to say the least.  heck, crafting that first sentence took at least seven failed initial attempts.

my mind and heart and spirit have been hard at work, or at least, hard at work at avoiding it at just about all cost.  there has been a culture clash within, as i navigate the foundational truths of what i believe, of how i live out what i believe, and how we, as a church, a collective christian body, should live out what we claim ever-so-loudly to believe. 

my thoughts on faith and priorities of faith and social efforts of faith and all the baggage that accompanies each of those journeys have been evolving, evolving in an unsuspecting, introspective, slightly subconscious way.

i feel as if my heart is being slowly offended by cultural-Christian norms.  i'm not seeing the Biblical faith that we, that i, proselytize being lived our inherently in our Monday-thru-Saturday lives.  i'm mainly speaking about myself, lest ye feel condemned, but i feel as if a good portion of you could slightly relate.

the scriptures we tattoo on our forearms and feet hardly take root in our heart.  the verses quoted on our facebooks and twitters and instagram-screenshots seem cheap and ordinary and soon-forgotten as our attention-deficiet social-media-minds find the next shiny thing. 

i try to pray every morning during my 25-minute commute to work.  i am not a morning person.  i would go as far as to say that i abhor mornings.  probably definitely more than any other part of my day.  i'd rather exercise than be up before dawn.  i'd probably even choose water boarding, as long as it didn't commence until at least after 10 a.m.  i spend as little time getting ready in the morning as (socially-acceptably) possible.  there is no desire in my heart at 5:30 to do my make up, wash my hair, or put more thought to my outfit than minimally necessary. 

needless to say, my attitude about mornings in general makes my 25 minute commute-prayer a cacophony doomed from the first utterance.  tuesdays, like today, are the days i pray for Haiti.  i have, ever since returning in 2010, and of all the days of the week, its the one i've most faithfully pursued. 

but this morning, as i noticed i feigned interest in even praying for something so dear to my heart, i broke out in confession to God.  

revelation poured from my lips like prose, unknown to me until it rolled off my tongue and bounced between my ears.  the Lord has a funny way of putting words to unexpressed emotion when we speak them to Him with authentic repentance.  

i found myself going through the motions.  not necessarily as a response to apathy, but more as an obligation to my Christian faith.  i found myself pursuing duty over beauty. 

it was a difficult, broken, yet hope-giving revelation.  

in my efforts to keep up with the check-list of my Christian faith (believe, profess, pray, worship, have a positive attitude, be patient, not get angry at my kinders, find joy even when my feelings or circumstances dictate misery), i've got caught up in the duties, and completely lost sight of the beauty and the splendor of the Lord.  i pray because it's what i am supposed to do.  i sigh with the heavy weight of realizing that it's been days since i last read my bible; the heaviness not from the decreased time in the word, but rather by the loss of some invisible plaque that we're all racing for that says "I faithfully read my Bible every morning, first thing, even before dawn!"  it's funny how when we slowly drift from the captivating presence of the Lord, its the duties we get caught up on, and not the awe-inspiring, Holy presence of the Most High. 

i cried out for the realness of God that I had once encountered.  for the knee-trembling, fear of the Lord.  to walk as if I had been transformed by Him, not merely as an inactive member of some unimportant, yet prestigious-sounding club.  to know and see and feel that I have been loved by the Creator of our universe.  to be moved by the Word, and encounter Him in the text, rather than read about some distant Savior in a story that once sounded familiar. 

to be moved by the beauty, not just spurred on by the duty, of the Lord. 

that attitude changed my entire day.  where yesterday had me nearly in a fit of tears by two p.m., today had given me fresh hope, renewed patience, and an eager (even if needing prompting) spirit to get into the Word and to spend time in worship.

some days, i doubt that I hear God's voice.  it's funny; i could've heard it just yesterday, so loud and clear, and then the next day, i'm full of doubts dictated by my lack of emotional encounter with Christ, and i find myself in a full-on flail. 

but this afternoon, He's reminded me of more than just his sovereignty.  He's reminded me of His love for me, yes me, personally, as an individual heart and spirit and soul and life.  a friend of mine posted this quote by Francis Chan on Facebook this afternoon, and it totally resonated with my morning confessional: 

"The God of the universe- the creator of nitrogen and pine needles, galaxies and E-minor- loves us with a radical, unconditional, self-sacrificing love. And what is our typical response? We go to church, sing songs, and try not to cuss."

how true is this of us?  how often do we diminish the Love of our Lord to something that warrants just a few moments of our morning, an hour or so of our Sundays, and an unsuccessful attempt at controlling our tongues?

i intentionally came to The Well (my staple non-profit coffee shop; i may have a slight, unhealthy obsession) to write.  some people worship with music,  i worship with words.  God has gifted us all with unique talents and passions and ways to praise Him, and I feel I am most able to accurately worship Him by constructing paragraphs and pages that sing His praises.  

i forgot that Tuesday's are church night at The Well, but, God remembered and brought me anyway.  i closed my eyes at this corner table and sung praises to the Beautiful One, the One that reminds me I am in the palm of His holy hands. 

i opened up to Isaiah and read chapter 45.  and then went back and read 44.  the words came alive and burst with an intimate declaration of God's knowledge of and love for His children.

Thus says the Lord who made you, who formed you from the womb and will help you: ... For I will pour water on the thirsty land, and streams on the dry ground; I will pour my Spirit upon your offspring and my blessing on your descendants.  They shall spring up among the grass, like willows by flowing streams.  This one will say, "I am the Lord's," another will call on the name of Jacob, and another will write on His hand, "The Lord's"; and name himself by the name of Israel.

Thus says the Lord, the King of Israel and his Redeemer, the Lord of hosts, "I am the first and I am the last, besides me there is no god."   --Isaiah 44:2-6

(v. 21) Remember these things, O Jacob, and Israel, for you are my servant: I formed you; you are my servant; O Israel, you will not be forgotten by me.  I have blotted out your transgressions like a cloud and your sins like mist; return to me, for I have redeemed you. Sing, O heavens, for the Lord has done it; shout, O depths of the earth; break forth into singing, O mountains, O forest, and every tree in it! For the Lord has redeemed Jacob, and will be glorified in Israel.   Thus says the Lord, your Redeemer, who formed you from the womb; "I am the Lord, who made all things, who alone stretched out the heavens, who spread out the earth by myself, who frustrates the signs of liars and makes fools of diviners, who turns wise men back and makes their knowledge foolish, who confirms the word of his servant and fulfills the counsel of his messengers, who says of Jerusalem, "She shall be inhabited," and of the cities of Judah, "they shall be built, and I will raise up their ruins;" who says to the deep, "Be dry; I will dry up your rivers;" who says of Cyrus, 'He is my shepherd, and he shall fulfill all my purpose': saying of Jerusalem, "She shall be built," and of the temple, "Your foundation shall be laid."  --44:21-28

"I will go before you and level the mountains, I will break in pieces the doors of bronze and cut through the bars of iron, I will give you the treasures of the darkness and the hoards in secret places, that you may know that it is I, the Lord, the God of Israel, who call you by your name."  (45:2-3)

He will do these things, all so that we may know that it is the Lord, the God of Israel, that calls us by our name.  How precious are we to the Lord that He just wants us to know that He, the God that is responsible for all those aforementioned things, calls us by our names.  He formed us, we are His servants.  Yet, thankfully, He calls us by our names.  Intimately.  Personally.  Eternally.

"I call you by your name, I name you, though you do not know me.  I am the Lord, and there is no other, besides me there is no God; I equip you, though you do not know me, that people may know, from the rising of the sun and from the west, that there is none besides me; I am the Lord, and there is no other. I form light and create darkness, I make well-being and create calamity, I am the Lord, who does all these things ... I made the earth and created man on it; it was my hands that stretched out the heavens, and I commanded all their host."  (45:4-7, 12)

Our purpose is found in Him.  even when we did not know Him, we were known by Him; created by Him, to point to Him.

In a world, a culture, that true beauty has been manipulated and perverted beyond recognition, this beauty invokes a response of worship and devotion and gratitude in a way only an encounter with a true source of awe can.

so as you weigh your own personal pursuit of beauty-over-duty, reconsider the works of the Lord; all He is responsible for in this expansive universe.  ponder the minuscule piece you are to the vast puzzle. and then be comforted knowing that the very same God that created the universe, knows you, named you, and calls you, all to illuminate His glory.

that, friends, is something beautiful.