My Bags Aren't Packed, But I'm Ready To Go

Tomorrow morning, bright and early, I will make my way from my little apartment in Seattle and arrive a few hours later in my hometown of Huntington Beach, CA. I have been longing for some travels. A chance to escape from work and responsibility to spend my days with loved ones enjoying a good laugh or a hug that I have been craving.

The majority of my long weekend will be spent with my family. Celebrating my moms birthday, meeting my sister's new kittens, and laughing so hard that my side aches with the best kind of pain. My mom and I are even planning a trip to Disneyland to satisfy the little girl that still lives in each of us. My dad, unfortunately, will be working during most of my visit, but I will see him enough to get lots of hugs (he gives great hugs).

And there will be time for old friends too. Time to catch up, an activity that the distance between Seattle and Huntington Beach robs us of. Time to celebrate to milestones that have come up in the months since we were last together. Old memories will be visited and laughter will most definitely flow.

I feel thankful on the eve of my journey home. Thankful for a life that is so rich in love. Thankful for a family that means more to me than words can say. Thankful for the faithfullness of friends who have walked with me so many years. Ah, I am blessed indeed!

Wrestling with Worship

A few dats ago I have a good conversation with a dear friend that started stirring many thoughts and questions in my heart about "Worship". I have been involved on various levels with the worship ministries at the two churches I have been a part of over the past 14 years and yet I still wrestle with questions like...What is worship? How should I worship? What does authentic worship look like personally? What does it look like in the church?

As the questions started to swirl in my brain, rather than stew in my overwhelmed state, I pulled a book off of my shelf that I had read a couple of years ago as I wrestled with the same kinds of questions. The book is called Unceasing Worship by Harold Best. I skimmed through the chapters and read passages that I had underlined during my frist read. I was encouraged, not beacause I found all the answers neatly summerized, but because I found truths that gently nudged me to think deeper on the root of the problems I encounter when I wrestle with worship.

This is How Mr. Best begins his book...

Worship is at once about who we are, about who or what our god is and about how we choose to live. It is about something that is quite simple but wrapped in a mystery. It is about God himself, who has but one face and whose face has been clearly shown in the person and work of his only begotten Son. It is about a world in which worship takes on a thousand faces. It is also about Satan, dressed as an angel of light, disarmingly attractive yet inherently false, whose faces are cleverly multiplied and whose one desire is to undo what has already been done from the eternities.

The thousand faces of worship contain both deadened and lively countenances. They are the lost and the found, all of whom are continuous worshippers, for as the title of this chapter states, nobody does not worship. We begin with one fundemental fact about worship: at this very moment, and for as long as this world endures, everybody inhabiting it is bowing down and serving something or someone - an artifact, a person, an institution, an idea, a spirit, or God through Christ. Everyone is being shaped thereby and is growing up toward some measure of fullness, whether of righteousness or of evil. No one is exempt and no one can wish to be. We are, every one of us, unceasing worshipers and will remain so forever, for eternity is an infinite extrapolation of one of two conditions: a surrender to the sinfulness of sin
unto infinite loss or the commitment of personal righteousness unto infinite gain. This is the central fact of our existence, and it drives every other fact. Within it lies the story of creation, fall, redemption and new creation or final loss.

In reading this passage I see that my questions of when and where worship should happen are not the right questions to be asking, at least not at first. Because worship is taking place in every heart in every corner of all the world. Worship is not an exlusively Christian word. It seems that the really question is Who or What am I worshiping in this moment? And this is a question that we must ask ourselves in every moment.

Later this week I will be entering into a conversation with a small handful of people from my church to discuss the worship ministry at our church. It is my understanding that this time will be for sharing ideas and casting a new vision for moving in a new direction in our times of corperate worship. And as I think of the words above I feel a little conflicted in stepping into the conversation. This meeting seems a call to ask the how and when questions but I don't think we have yet truly visited the Who and Why questions.

I know that deep in my core I was made to be an unceasing worshipper and one who is whole heartedly wrapped up in Christ. But I also know that my vision often times gets cast to far and I overlook the need to answer the questions of who do I worship and why. I want to ask those questions fervently over the next few days and weeks. I want to center my heart back on the one for whom it was created.

Welcome, Dear Weekend! Welcome!

It is Friday afternoon and there is an anticipation building up for all the fun that lies ahead. This summer it feels like the weekends have been so full of the most glorious of fun. Sometimes planned and sometime spontanious. We must drink up these summer weekends while we can for fall will soon be upon us.

I have been wanting to post some pictures for my adventure last weekend to tiny Hat Island but just recently had the time to upload my photos. A small group of us made the journey from the Everett marine on the MV Holiday to join a most gracious and generous couple from our church at their island getaway. We walked the shrinking beach as the tide came in and enjoyed the scenery. We enjoyed conversation as we basked in the sun overlooking the Sound. We watched the Mukilteo/Clinton ferries pass each other like clockwork and would marvel at the sight when the two ferries momentarily became one ferry.

Heidi & Mel walking the beach

Tim, Audrey, Dan & Don explore on ahead

Me & Heidi (I decided to wear my hat in honor of our trip to Hat Island)

Mel & I carved our names in the sandy cliffs along the beach so others might know we were there.

A new friend I made on our walk back to the house.

The tide came in before we could make it back to the house so we had to do a little walking on water (the sandbar helped immensely).

And there was much to see on the boat ride to and from the island.

Now, cheers to another weekend filled with fun and adventures.

Remember How To Walk On Water?

Last night I finished off the last chapters of Madeleine L'Engle's Walking on Water, a beautiful collection of her thoughts on art and faith, and what it means to be a Christian Artist. This was the second time I have read this book. The first time was several years ago before I would have ever thought to call myself an artist. But reading these reflections again, this time as someone who is growing more and more to claim the title "artist" as her own, I was so challenged and encouraged to reclaim all the beautiful qualities that God so longs for me to live out. To be fully vulnerable, to believe in the impossible, to have faith beyond what I know, to trust unflinchingly that God is guiding and holding my life safely in His hands.

While there are words too numerous to count that I wish to quote here, I will settle for just one passage.

When Jesus called Peter to come to him across the water, Peter, for one brief, glorious moment, remembered how and strode with ease across the lake. This is how we are meant to be, and then we forget, and we sink.But if we cry out for help (as Peter did) we will be pulled out of the water; we won't drown. And if we listen, we will hear; and if we look, we will see.

The impossible still happens to us, often during the work, sometimes when we are so tired that inadvertently we let down all the barriers we have built up. We lose our adult skepticism and become once again children who can walk down their grandmother’s stairs without touching.

It is my hope that one day I will remember how to walk on water.

Happy Memories

It is a friday and things around the office are a little slow. I have iTunes playing to keep me company while I work (or try to work). Sufjan Stevens is playing now. And as the song Casimir Pulaski Day plays I find my mind drifting back to a happy memory. It's ironic really since the song itself is actually quite sad.

It was about a year ago. The birthday party was over and only a few of us remained to help clean up and enjoy each others company a little longer. Sufjan was singing to us on that summer night too. Something about the kitchen in that old house, so spacious and dimly light, and the music called to us to dance. We coupled off and taught each other dance moves we had learned along the way. We laughed and twirled. We played the song over and over again to perfect our moves.

It was such a simple act but there I was surrounded by friends I love so dearly and dancing without a care. It is a memory that I will cherish always. And anytime I hear Sufjan singing Casimir Pulaski Day I will dance a little, even if only in my heart.