There are precise moments in life where it is meant to be about you. Those 'fifteen minutes of fame' where one feels recognized, accomplished, celebrated, seen, perhaps even relieved. Going to a wedding we focus on the bride and groom, a graduation- the graduate, a funeral- the living, a recital- the musician, and this list could grow more expansive by the minute. These hallmarks of celebration symbolize a communal affirmation of belonging in our relationship toward God and our communities.
These moments might not pan out the way we had hoped- they have the capacity to enrich our lives, but also to cripple. And when the direction of the evening turns awry we can be reminded of past hurts and give life to new ones. The disappointment can pull us into fear and trembling, selfishness and self-lessness. Sometimes they counter-intuitively lead us into darkness, into temptation, into our own brokenness.
Graduating college I have experienced this sense of being adrift. Sure there are plans, hopes, aspirations (hopefully), but life is truly up in the air. As we eagerly await the moment we accept our diploma we unwittingly submit to our initiation into the so-called 'real world'. Some people are just itching to remind you of this- like a sucker-punch. This phrase can irk me because it assumes that the life that has preceded that moment was somehow second-rate living. As if watching people live and die and all those minute happenings that happen in between the two don't matter unless the scholastic right of passage of western academia is placed into my hand: a diploma. The message here is that life starts after I grab hold of a sheet of paper with fancy leather-bound edges and typed lettering that reads 'Ryan F. Birch'. Give me a break.
What is the 'real' suppose to be after all? Is it truly falling face-first into the hardships of economic sustenance the way it is implied? I don't buy that. Isn't 'real' suppose to be experiencing beauty and hardships, hearing laughter and pain, feeling tears slide down cheeks, attending the births, weddings, and funerals of our lives, sitting with brokenheartedness, grief, love, confusion, observing blessings, basking in nature, experiencing the moment? Sitting in the MOMENT- whatever it may behold. It doesn't take a diploma to do that- ask the hundreds of children neighboring Walk in the Light in Harniville.
A friend once said he was a firm believer that no matter the circumstances we always have a choice from moment to moment. Jon Foreman sings that "CHOICE" is the only thing we're given.
I feel pretty feint from any implied dislocation to the 'real world'. I've experienced degrees of both the numbing sense of disappointment and the vibrant enthusiasm of beauty and contentment. Four years accomplished from college, two weeks adrift since college, but twenty two years worth of wounds in my wake. I've realized that whatever that next ceremonial experience may be, there's no running from ourselves. And what I found out even more recently is that there's no running from that 'moment' that strikes you. Those moments that creep. The ones that are not easy or plain, the ones that define who you are, who you want to be, and how you're going to walk it.
Right now I'm walking through a challenging season of life- I'm not sure if it should ever be anything less than that, but still. It leaves me with questions, accusations, worry, uncertainty, fear, anger, restlessness, and hurt. Although it is not due to the post-20's adrift-like angst that many of my fellow peers have shared with me. The fact is that I've had one of those 'moments'- where life caves in- where as much as you look forward in life, to that path you wish to pave, there's that snag that makes you feel stuck and you can't help but turn back. A moment that makes it hard to believe it is simply another circumstance and will pass because the pain is so sharp and old. The pain is aging, wrinkled, senile, but still alive. And when it pays you a visit uninvited it carries grief alongside it. It inflicts pain or reopens the wounds. Yet, I still have a choice as to how I can respond.
Jesus loved us when we were entirely responsible of evil and entirely deserving to wither. When I was, am, and will be momentarily leading withered living- Christ refused to take Himself off of the cross and He did this for those I struggle to love on as well. There's risk involved when living a life that gives too much weight to the ghosts of the past. For me, it is a false message of worthlessness, and I become reminded of my own fragility and brokenness. I've been faced with the active challenge of claiming my own belovedness, to sit in the palm of my Heavenly Father, and one thing that has served as a therapeutic resuscitator is the side-project music from Jon Foreman. Granted, there are more practical things I'm pursuing to sort out the issues at hand, sit with God in the moment, and make steps towards wholeness, but what I want to share- which has the potential to be much more commonly appreciated- is a song that has centered me in the belovedness I speak of.
The fact is that my love, my integrity, my character is made strong through my willingness to be made weak, to allow myself to be honest and vulnerable. Have you ever looked at yourself in a mirror and given up the battle to deny your shortcomings, to stop running from your sorrow and allow it to seep into your expressions? Try it, sit there, stare, and say "Lord, I'm hurt. I'm struggling-". All the sudden the reflection in the mirror begins to unravel and that exterior image becomes a doorway into your heart. The curvature of the face, the brows, the wrinkles, the eyes, they all become extensions of the soul and we see a deeper side of ourselves.
There is only one love, one character, one being, one essence that is strong- Jesus. It is this strength that is founded upon His love and this love that is evident in His weakness that we require to be strong- to be upheld in the face of people and circumstances that break our hearts...moment to moment, day after day, year after year. It is what makes our reflections both bearable and beautiful.
Foreman writes in "Your Love is Strong" from the EP album 'Spring':
Heavenly Father, you always amaze me
Let your kingdom come in my world and in my life
You give me the food I need to live through the day
And forgive me as I forgive the people that wronged me
Lead me far from temptation
Deliver me from the evil one
I LOOK OUT THE WINDOW THE BIRDS ARE COMPOSING
NOT A NOTE IS OUT OF TUNE OR OUT OF PLACE
I look at the meadow and stare at the flowers
Better dressed than any girl on her wedding day
So why do I worry?
Why do I freak out?
God knows what I need
You know what I need
Your love is strong
Listening to this song (which I'm obviously suggesting you go buy it on itunes or something) one part I gravitate towards is about looking out the window and listening to the birds. It sounds like something so small and irrelevant, but to do it requires deliberate intentionality. The interactive behavior with nature that is implied in the song seems to mend the heavenly to the mundane- God in creation. To say that there is some sort of perfect harmony going on around us, if we can stand patiently, looking, and listening- there is not a note out of tune or misplaced, it is not random and it is not purposeless. It takes me from this place of hurt, from deep awareness of pain, and provides me with hindsight. It gives me that slight bit of perspective I so painstakingly lack in the moments where it counts. In the midst of struggle, of a life that can feel as if it is collapsing, there is this opportunity to look OUTWARD. To be self-aware, hurt, and guarded, but to be focused on God, on beauty, and on hope. To make the connection that simultaneously God is intimately calling me in, individually, with a unique voice, but equally calling me 'out' as well- a reminder that it is not 'ME' that these moments are entirely about. If we respond to our 'moments' with a purpose to be driven by self-satisfaction or relief and if we forget to filter our desires with the heart of God and His heart for everyone... we can slowly enter into death. Our lives are not meant to be centered on painlessness, power & influence, self-righteousness and intelligence, the whimsical belief that the reflection in the mirror is meant to satisfy how we would like to see ourselves. We find our lives when we are willing to lose them- lose them to ourselves, to the unloveable, to the difficult circumstances that are unavoidable.
This is the lesson we can grab from the sacrifice of Jesus Christ on our cross. He died for the most unloveable person we know... ourselves... For me, Myself. That's one testament as to why His love is stronger than I'll ever know.
In our imitation of Christ, we must be practicing this sacrifice, this selflessness, this love, and we must participate in claiming an identity of belonging and belovedness. We're not worthy, but to God, we are. So God made a CHOICE...to defy logic. His defiance was in our favor and it is this grace that makes Him all the more worthy of our following. This is so difficult to do when our circumstances are no longer breezes. This is why in the song we have to ask for the 'food we need to get through the day'. We have to take it one moment at a time- loving the people that are unloveable becomes the redeeming act, on our part, to pick up our crosses, and to own our parts in relationships despite the response of the other half.
I love Foreman's album art for "Limbs and Branches". Obviously, branches are more offshoots from primary limbs- but it shows the fruit of good living. It may begin with something small, the fruit dangles from something weak like a feeble branch, but if you trace backwards, it takes you all the way to the core, to the strength of the tree that is at the center of its life and purpose. We are branches, but we are all part of something greater than ourselves.
Foreman ends "Your Love is Strong" with a well-worded version of the Lord's prayer:
Our God in Heaven
Hallowed be Thy name
Above all names
Your kingdom come
Your will be done
On earth as it is in Heaven
Give us, today, our daily bread
Forgive us weary sinners
Keep us far from our vices
And deliver us from these prisons
My hope is that this prayer is answered- day by day. I pray we may experience freedom from the things that bind us no matter what the circumstance is. I'm a firm believer that God's love is strong and that it liberates us, no matter what happens, no matter how bad it hurts, no matter who it is- we have a center that our lives branch out from and it is a love that gives us strength- we're like limbs and branches. If we look outside of our circumstances we can hear the Lord calling us to follow Him, composing beautifully, perfectly, and effortlessly. It is a love that calls us to live higher WHILE life is up in the air, WHILE pain is deeply felt, WHILE the moment creeps. It is the orchestrated silence of a love that draws us "in" and calls us "out".
Not a note that's out of tune...
or out of place.
Lord, Your Love is Strong
