"And how can I stand here with You and not be moved by You?"

How can we respond to God with anything but praise and total worship.

It's interesting to me to watch people in a worship service. Sometimes I look around and wonder, "How is everyone standing so still right now?" In my heart, I want to jump and dance and move wildly about the room, but fear of how that would be received restrains me. I wish it didn't.

But I do wonder, how is it possible to sing these things about the awesome power of the living God, about His amazing love and grace, about the way He's SAVED us, and not be moved Him? Do we not hear the things we're saying? Where is the passion in our praise? Or have we not yet learned what it means to truly worship? Worship, as I understand it, is a state of being. We live worship, not sing it. Music is an expression. To worship means that we recognize the object of our worship as being so high above us and us as being completely and totally dependent. To worship God is to humble ourselves, to submit to Him, to recognize Him as being so high above us. There should be some sort of fiery passion on the inside. We should not be able to stand or sit, half-engaged, mumbling words from a screen. Even raising our hands and singing more loudly, is not an adequate response in my opinion. We're talking about a God who is perfect and holy and owes us NOTHING who decided to give us EVERYTHING while we were in the process of disobeying and hating Him (Romans 5:8). How can we respond with anything but an overflow of love and gratefulness? How can cries of thankfulness not spring forth with every action, every song, and every word? I think we don't understand.

I was in church Sunday and watched the people around me. I remarked to myself how dry it seemed. Some would say it's a cultural thing. But honestly, I don't really think that has a lot to do with it because there are some things that supersede culture. Like when someone you love tragically dies, we all cry the same. When our favorite team wins the championship, we all cheer the same. There are some things that are just human. I believe that if we truly understood what God has done for us, it wouldn't matter what culture or background we were from, passion and gratefulness would erupt from our hearts in a way that we can't control and wouldn't really want to.

Sometimes I believe I'm called to minister to the body of Christ. That seems to be where my passion lies- in mobilizing and encouraging the church to live as the Church. I see the ways we fall short and it really grates on me. I believe that God is GOD. That He is all powerful and that there is absolutely NOTHING to difficult for Him. That being said, I have to ask myself why the American church looks so shabby, why we don't see a lot of miracles or even a lot of visible activity on the spiritual level. I believe we've gotten away from some fundamentals. It seems we've become so overun with wealth and material goods, that it becomes harder to see our need for God and easier to stop relying on Him which I think draws our attention away from Him and limits our effectiveness in the world as we stop immersing ourselves in the Father. Sometimes I feel like I want to just leave the American church and go and be a Christian somewhere else in the world where life is not so easy and where I'd really have to learn to depend on Him. Sometimes I feel like that's what I want- to put myself in a situation where I don't have the comforts and ease of home but instead have to rely on God for everything. I already do, it's just harder to see when it feels like everything is in front of me.
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On a completely different note, it's been an interesting few weeks, filled with freedom, bondage, pain, conflict, joy, sadness, and more. It's come after spending a couple of months feeling really depressed and losing a positive outlook on life. It was so bad after awhile that it seemed I never felt good. Even when I was happy, I wasn't really happy. I recognized it as a happy face with a lot of pain and other ugliness on the inside. But God is faithful and He showed me some perspective a few weeks back. It's really helped a lot as it seems since then I've been on this upward trend of gaining wisdom and undestanding, of feeling close to my Father again, etc.

How long is it supposed to hurt?
How long will pictures of what could have been and thoughts of what was reveal and stir such deep deep pain?
How long will "going there" produce a fake smile that tries to hide the intensity of the cut?
How long?
How long should I wait before I decide it's okay, that all is forgiven?
How long will I continue to dole out blame?
How long will I harbor anger for broken trust?
How long will I fear becoming just like you?
How long will I question everything you ever say to me?
How many nights will I spend wishing it were easier for me to cry?

How long should I wait
before I decide that it's "okay"
that you've taken away
what was everything to me?
How long before the pain subsides
or at least starts coming in lesser tides
How long

"Well, I'm right here and you're right there and God knows we've got to start somewhere. 'Cause I'm messed up and you're broken and those shots we fired are still smokin'. If I need you and you need me, how could you turn your back and just leave me?"

I find myself really longing for male companionship recently. I wonder what area I'm lacking that's making that void seem deeper than normal.

Happy "Father's" Day

Man, who'd have thought buying greeting cards could be such an emotionally stirring experience. I feel like this is going to be a long day...

Love Lost

"The danger in loving is the endpoint of that love."

That's a quote from an entry I made several weeks ago. I was writing about losing people you care about to tragedy. Now, as I repost, I'm asking myself if that's accurate. Is there an endpoint to love? Even when the ones you love disappoint you, walk away, or even die, do you not continue to love them? Maybe it's better to say that the danger in loving is the intensity and duration with which it is returned. If I love someone and they die, I may continue to love them, but they're no longer there to receive or return it. If I love someone who leaves me, the same is true. The difference is the hope that someday the situation will change. After a person dies, this hope dies with them. But as long as they are alive, hope remains.

Sometimes it seems more expedient to not love a person. You can then, in many ways, avoid the pain of losing love which I think may often be worse than the pain of never having loved at all.

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Maybe I should stop asking God to take away the things that keep me from depending on Him completely. He really seems to listen to those prayers. But no, that's crazy talk. If it's not from Him, I don't want it. Doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like heck though.

it seems advantageous for me to avoid at most costs any circumstance of being alone for too long. my mind and heart are not my friends.