Tuesday, July 14, 2009

What Do I Know of Holy?

Addison Road - What Do I Know of Holy?


I made You promises a thousand times
I tried to hear from Heaven
But I talked the whole time
I think I made You too small
I never feared You at all No
If You touched my face would I know You?
Looked into my eyes could I behold You?

What do I know of You
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury?
Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

I guess I thought that I had figured You out
I knew all the stories and I learned to talk about
How You were mighty to save
Those were only empty words on a page
Then I caught a glimpse of who You might be
The slightest hint of You brought me down to my knees

What do I know of You
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury?
Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of wounds that will heal my shame?
And a God who gave life "its" name?
What do I know of Holy?
Of the One who the angels praise?
All creation knows Your name
On earth and heaven above
What do I know of this love?

What do I know of You
Who spoke me into motion?
Where have I even stood
But the shore along Your ocean?
Are You fire? Are You fury?
Are You sacred? Are You beautiful?
What do I know? What do I know of Holy?

What do I know of Holy?
What do I know of Holy?

Every once in awhile, something catches me in just the right way. Knocks the wind right out of my lungs, and pulls my feet out from under me, leaving me laying on the ground staring straight up at the endless sky. As clouds meander overhead, my head is busy attempting to reconcile the events of the previous seconds.

What do we know of God? Who can accurately portray infinite? Who dare to say they have tamed a wild lion?

We put him into a little box, wrap a string around it, and declare it right, perfect, and pretty. And then we leave it to gather dust. Occassionally, that box taps us on the shoulder and pulls us out of our own prison back into the wide world. We talk about mighty, while we picture a quaint old man who cares for us.

From time to time, when we are least expecting it, the thunder rolls in, the lightning strikes, and we are jolted into a realization that we knew nothing. All that talk of power, might, wonder rushes through our bodies, and our only possible reaction is to fall to our knees, begging mercy.

My heart opens up, and my eyes flutter open. I'm staring at that same blue sky, with those same meandering clouds. Only now, I'm seeing them in colour for the first time, bursting forth with life. My only fear is that it will fade, and it will be far too long before I remember who it is that I worship.

Bring me to my knees.

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Priorities

"If you want to give it all you've got," Jesus replied, "go sell your possessions; give everything to the poor. All your wealth will then be in heaven. Then come follow me."

Fiction is such a powerful tool. It's exceptionally easy to tell someone exactly what they need to hear, straight on. It's a whole other to teach the principles behind what you are saying. Something about stories captures the imagination, and roots itself deeply in our memories. Be it that we should look deeper than a title (Aladdin), or that we should never get caught up in worshipping an object, rather than God (The Last Battle), they teach us lessons in ways that engrain themselves on our psyche.

It never ceases to amaze me, then, the unrecognized allegories that surround us everyday. I'm in the process of reading through The Lord of the Rings, and the company has just entered Moria. The fear that besets each of them before they enter through that gate is so... familiar. They've tried another path and were blocked by an unseen force, and so they have to pick a much more dangerous path, or give up.

As they travel through, there is an overarching sense of dread. Like holding your breathe after entering the water and not knowing when you're going to come up for air again. Each step is another towards their impending doom. Each step is a necessary one if they are to complete their mission, and thus makes the risks worthwhile.

Occasionally I pause in moments like these and wondering to myself, what sort of missions are guiding my footsteps. Is it the pursuit of money? Fame? Friends? More and more... stuff? I am so easily distracted from my original intent, so easily pulled back onto the path for the Wraiths to find me.

Lost.

I'm sure that's exactly how the rich young man felt after coming to Jesus showing a deep sign of devotion and being left wanting. Imagine what that must have been like. You step out in a crowd of people, positively shimmering with religious zeal to follow this God-man, and in an instant he unravels your entire being and leaves you naked and exposed before this crowed. Most embarrassingly, he just asked the pointed questions, the decision was in your hands the entire time.

This story stands out to me as a tree amidst the Serengeti because of how relevant it is. There is nothing disingenuous about either side here. The man truly wants to follow Jesus, and in turn Jesus tells him what it will cost. Everything. Nothing on earth, everything in heaven. "Put your trust entirely in me," Jesus says.

Miniscule. That's how big I feel when I ponder how much I'm asked to give up related to how much He did give up. Everything. Nothing in heaven, everything on earth. Not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

I wonder if I'd be willing to pass through the darkness of Moria. My desire is that I'd be willing to go to the ends of the earth, but when the rubber hits the road, would I? If He asked me to give up everything to follow Him, would I?

Priorities shining like a noonday sun.

Help me to put all of them on You. Help me to put all my treasures in heaven, nothing on earth.