Resting—with a purpose

*turns on some Orange County Supertones*

Pardon my west-side jamming—I think I was already sliding away from tonight's revelations. I needed a little musical lift via my old favorites. While I am struggling, I think I will look one of my issues in the face: I don't believe my Dad when he tells me nice things. I think he wants to maintain my attention and affection but his credibility was so damaged by lying to my mother that I cannot seem to find any encouragement from his words—even if some deep part of me knows that my Real Father wants me to see why I am special.

That leads me to the question of who my Real Father is—because as a Christian I officially believe that God Himself is my Father by adoption. Jesus signed the papers in blood, so to speak. Such sayings have been mostly just talk lately... up until a week ago today. My musings about Spiritual life are slowly deepening to the heart-level as I move slowly with God through time. Just now, though, I did seriously question if I was living like a Son of God. I don't mean in terms of sin and not-sin... I mean attitude. That's an unanswered question...

[Resting]

Because of my need for rest this very night, I will try to hit the highlights. The day actually began on a seeming 'low-light'. Last week, God awoke me ready to worship. Today, I woke-up in a seeming SNAFU... shutting my alarm off and sleeping an extra hour. Rather than putting in extra time at work I ran the course of my eight-hour day and returned to the domicile. While I was at work, though, God hint-dropped. I'm embarrassed to say that I follow Rick Warren's twitter-feed~ God did give him the gift of one-liners. He's also a symbol of the GOOD in people that I have for too long presumed to be a rot on the church (it's a complex thought with a long history—megachurches and pop-spirituality are things of which I am suspicious). But I will quit blathering: Rick said that resting in the Lord's presence was not a sign of laziness but a sign of faith. I considered that and found that I really struggled with the notion of such rest. Part of that might be because time became my idol.

Fast-forward. Literally; I decided the day was too beautiful to not go for a long run. I ran for almost forty minutes and nearly completed my route. The run itself had some redeeming emotional components but the significant part about the run was that it utterly wasted my body. I returned a piece of wreckage with no time to consume any food before worship. I cleaned-up and grabbed my trumpet, all the while worried about being late and having enough time to assimilate myself into the praise band that had not e-mailed me. Driving over, I muttered an apologetic prayer to God~ apologized for running for too long and possibly missing my chance to exercise the ONE gift I am sure about: worship.

God must have been shaking his/her head, wondering when I would get it. My prayers worked in my favor in spite of my conscious thoughts. I prayed that God would just shut-me-up and show me something new. "Just shut-me-up, God..." That is exactly what happened by the end of the night. As I hauled my heavy trumpet case inside, I crossed my fingers and remembered what God said to Paul: "My grace is sufficient for you; my strength is made perfect in your weakness". With no food and tired legs, I certainly felt weak.

Before the service, I had just enough time to say hello to someone I met the other weekend. Her name is Jenna. Jenna said she was pumped for worship. I said that I was too but I needed a moment to recover from my run; I felt silly for pointing-out my weakness. Then, the very words I needed came across her lips. "Just rest in God! You should just rest and soak-up worship. Lay on the floor if you need to—I give you permission." BOOM: I remembered what Rick Warren tweeted.

The Almighty Coach was asking me to sit on the bench and learn something new about worship.

Embracing that rest seemed too easy at first blush—like laziness. But the Holy Spirit had already dropped a hint and, frankly, obeying that inkling sounded like a really good idea. Mike got-up and said something about how God doesn't just bless us so we can bless others but also because he loves us and wants us to be blessed. That was it. I was sold: I took a position on the floor, legs crossed and hands palm-up. I'll confess, I sang some improvised harmony from the floor. At the same time, I reminded myself that worship was not about performance—a tough lesson for one who sees himself as a performer. Sitting on my butt and shutting-up turns out to be a vital part of developing my gift of worship. Why? Because my actions are usually dependent on pre-conceived expectations, not on obedience in the present. Honestly, I still have doubts about the human ability to have such an obedience... but I gave it a good shot tonight. I even took my sandals off. Freedom.

Obeying that command meant acting in ways that I would normally label irreverent and wondering if other people thought I was being disrespectful. I SO wanted to whisper in James's ear "hey, bro, I'm not trying to thumb my nose at your message—God told me to lay-out and just trust Him, so..." Interestingly, there was a point in the service when everyone came forward and stood in front of the stage. I continued sitting. When the songs ended, they returned to their seats—I laid-down. Then, James asked us to come forward to the alter. I stood... but no one else did. I closed my eyes and prayed. I don't know how long I was standing there and no one said anything. It was a valuable lesson: the world didn't come crashing down. No one screamed "hey, why are you standing there?" –best of all, I wasn't sitting in a chair wondering "Does God want me to stand?" I already knew the answer—"just don't worry about what other people see".

The most interesting and challenging part of the evening was when we raised-up the issue of abortion to God. I am pro-lifer with no reservations, yet I also have a history of being frustrated with pro-life movements. It is a crack in my spiritual armor, for sure—a place where dark feelings get in. I feel, almost beyond doubt, that abortions are not just a matter of preference and so I become conflicted about some of the anti-abortion rhetoric. Raising a child is a huge responsibility and I see the children of single-parent households all the time. Some turn-out alright, others mediocre and some delinquent. Choosing life is much bigger than taking care of a baby—it's starting someone's life prematurely just as much as ending it against their will. I would like to eliminate unwanted pregnancies outside of wedlock altogether... but all kinds of factors drive people into one another's beds. While I am thinking these thoughts, some of my more conservative brethren are passing the mic, saying their prayers.
A voice piped-up from inside: "Quit being critical; man-up, take the mic and pray for all those outside factors... the poverty, the addiction, the insecurity that drives us into each other's beds... quit being the skeptic on the side-lines and challenge the Church to take a broader approach—" So, I did as I felt was right—abortion is wrong and a deep hurt. I prayed that we would also be able to address the hurts that under-gird it. I hope we can take those into consideration, too. I think that the Church can create the family structure those kids need... if we can find them.

Anyway...

I said a prayer and then decided that it was finally time to grab the trumpet and worship in the way I believed I was intended to worship.

No mouth-piece. Something (Someone) had inspired me to take JUST my mouthpiece to the park yesterday for a nice, cleansing buzz. I left the mouthpiece in my book-bag, leaving me with three mouth-pieces that were not going to work-out so well (why do I have them? *ponders*). Instead, I laughed and shut the case, already getting dizzy from lack of food. I did some singing and resisted the temptation to leave prematurely. I was glad I took even more time to just worship—no watch, no shoes, no cares beyond my aching tummy.

Afterward, I ran into Jenna (and Mike). She said that it was kind of awesome to see me just resting in God's presence. God must have turned her attention to that—and that's okay. While I was taking time away from my own worshipping I was able to use my worship gift in reverse by appreciating the heart with which other people were worshipping. In the past, that kind of worship left me feeling a little awkward. Now, I think I might like to see more of other people worshipping... and feel more connected with their worship. Radical? I know... I haven't even worked all the way through it yet. Good thing we're doing this every week...

Spending some time on the bench is an experience I cannot say enough about because it flipped my script in some key ways. Usually, I want to be the main-actor in my own life yet trying to focus my energies on someone else so I can feel altruistic. God turned that on its head in the best way possible. It was as if God said "No no... we're going to focus on YOUR need..." –and at the same time, the experience of healing became more about what other people than my own gifts. I took a backseat and God was still using that—my obedience was a testimony, even in its unspectacular laziness. Plus, I could not have said anything about the social causes/consequences of abortion with a hunk of metal shoved against my lips (like I had envisioned). I am more than a trumpet—and I'm interested to see how God will show that by NOT allowing me to be Superman. Ironic.
Being benched was also significant because I did not give a 'starter' performance this past week. I came face to face with both my desire to be admired by a woman and, simultaneously, the degree to which I am capable of being superficial in those encounters. I hate saying that on the internet—someone fantastic might read that and know I'm not ready for a relationship. However... whether I am ready or not is God's province right now. No joke. The bottom-line is that I felt like I failed to be a Son of God to someone who had admired me (only to find-out I had some shallowness to deal with).

Nonetheless, I am actually brought back to the real moment this God-experience began, though I did not know it: when I was buzzing my mouthpiece by the Grand River last night. I got a phone call from the same young-lady who I... offended. What her motives for calling were, I can only guess. She pointed-out that there were some things in my apology e-mail that might indicate I was a bad person—but that she didn't want to say anything about them because it would mean she was a pretty bad person, too. She said something about how we're all bad people, really, and sinful.

--and I dared to protest. I said that maybe she was a good person and so was I—and that the sin was just on-top, spoiling the beautiful people that God made. Actually, I didn't say it so well in the moment... but I meant it. I don't think either of us has to keep being a bad person when Grace is available... nor should one of us treat the other like they are "toxic" or even "sinful". That's not a good way to be encouraging.

For now, though, I consider myself 'on the bench'—but not kicked-off the team at all.