Friday, October 30, 2009

my ambition

I had a thought a while ago that I can remember wanting to write down, but I didn’t and now I can’t remember what triggered it. I just looked through my journal hoping for clues to remind me, but I can’t remember how long ago I had the thought. So here it is without any context.

I remember thinking that there is a lot of pain in the world. And I decided not to contribute to it. I remember searching in my mind for the right word, and thinking that what I wanted was to be a source of comfort and not a source of pain.

Monday, October 26, 2009

questions

I led worship for Grace’s Sunday worship yesterday I began the worship with a responsive reading of Psalm 34:1-8 that I ended with a time of reflection on verse 8 (“Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him”): What are the things that are threatening me and how can I take refuge in God? Two of the songs I chose were “Blessed be your name” and “Father let me dedicate”. The songs are well-crafted and have deeply meaningful texts such as, “Blessed be your name on the road marked with suffering” and “Not from sorrow, pain or care/ freedom dare I claim/ and whate’er the future brings/ glorify thy name”.

I spent the afternoon at a residence for people who are HIV positive. A few of us from Grace Community go there once a month to prepare dinner for them (the house doesn’t provide dinner on Sundays). They’re in varying states of health. I bring my guitar and spend the afternoon singing for them, praying for anyone who asks, and leading a Bible discussion if anyone’s interested.

I was pulling out my guitar and had been warming up and playing/singing bits of worship songs to myself. One of the residents who was confined to a wheelchair about a year ago had been sitting next to me and seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. But When I stopped he told me that he liked my spirit as I sang. So I started to sing especially for him. I was trying to think of songs to sing and the songs from the morning’s worship came to mind, including “Blessed be your name” and “Father let me dedicate”.

And as I sang, the songs started to take on a whole new level of meaning for me. Could I sing “Blessed be your name on the road marked with suffering” if I were in a wheelchair with no hope of walking again? Do I really believe that, just like my friend with HIV, I have no right to freedom from sorrow, pain or care, and could I say that I would glorify God’s name no matter the future brings? Is that what it means to take refuge in him?

Can a child presume to choose
where or how to live?
Can a Father's love refuse
All the best to give?