He's Always Been Faithful

The story of God's faithfulness in my life is a long one with many facets. 

From grandparents who prayed for me and modeled loving, compassionate Christian lives, to parents who walked with me through all my bratty stages and talked me through all my teenage drama and questions about God and the world, to the love and laughter of my beautiful sisters.

From sitting in wooden pews soaked in Scripture-filled liturgy and steeped in God's word and grace, to the love of sweet family and friends at Parkway, to finding community and Christ's body in the Rivergate skate center at Well House. 

From growing up a "smart kid" with beloved teachers at Parrottsville, to band and best friends and teachers who still inspire me at CCHS, to the winding oak leaf pathways of Vanderbilt and the passion of Peabody, and finally to the halls I love the most, the halls of Shafer Middle School, where I couldn't be happier to be Mrs. Coleman, surrounded by awkwardness and braces and puberty-induced bewilderment and insanity, doing a job that I love with people I love. 

From crushes and prom dates with sweet high school boys, to life lessons learned with my first boyfriend at the age of 18, to the unbelievable and undeserved love of the incredible boy who would become my amazing husband. 

From being uncertain about church and God as a confused little 11-year-old, to Confirmation and realizing I needed God's grace and that He extended it to me!, to high school well-meaning piety and passion, to college growing pains and dorm room small groups, to the next big crisis or two or three, to deeper and deeper levels of love and certainty and gratitude. 

He's always been faithful. When I've been confused, when I've been sinful, when I've rebelled, when I've doubted, when I've been happy, when I've been sad, when I've made idols of everything from my husband to my achievements to my job, when I've been angry, when I've been distracted, when I've kept Him on a back burner, when I've needed Him most– in all things, in all places, in all ways, He has always been faithful. 

Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me

Morning by morning I wake up to find
The power and comfort of God's hand in mine
Season by season I watch Him, amazed
In awe of the mystery of His perfect ways
All I have need of, His hand will provide
He's always been faithful to me

I can't remember a trial or a pain
He did not recycle to bring me gain
I can't remember one single regret
In serving God only, and trusting His hand
All I have need of, His hand will provide
He's always been faithful to me

This is my anthem, this is my song
The theme of the stories I've heard for so long
God has been faithful, He will be again
His loving compassion, it knows no end
All I have need of, His hand will provide
He's always been faithful, He's always been faithful
He's always been faithful to me

Sara Groves and Soren Kierkegaard... Prayer, Silence, and the Kingdom of God

As these things often go, one thing has led to another all morning... well, afternoon, since my day started at about 12:30 today. 

First, some meandering attempts at prayer in my prayer journal, set to Sara Groves music in the background. Starting, of course, with "How Is It Between Us" because that is, after all, the constant story of my life. 

Then, an impulse to try to blog. A desire to blog through Sara Groves songs because she says everything for me. 

Consequently, then it's on to YouTube to look for links to songs... then watching Sara Groves videos, and then a click on what I thought was a video of a song  but was really an hour-long documentary about Sara Groves, her music, and two trips– one to deliver supplies in Louisiana in the wake of Katrina and one to Rwanda to learn more about its horrific genocide. There are so many beautiful parts to the documentary, so many convictions and questions and inspirations to discuss, but I'll start with one. 

In one segment, Sara paraphrases from Kierkegaard, a passage where he talks about seeking first the kingdom of God, a topic I've often pondered.  (One example: His Kingdom, not this world.)

I wanted to read Kierkegaard's exact comments, and I found this translation, thanks to the wonder of the Internet: 

"Seek first his kingdom and his righteousness."

But what does this mean? What am I to do? What kind of striving is it of which it can be said that it seeks or desires the kingdom of God? Ought I to get a position corresponding to my abilities and powers in order to bring this about? No, you are first to seek the kingdom of God. Ought I, then, to give all my fortune to the poor? No, you are first to seek the kingdom of God. But does this, then, mean that, in a sense, there is nothing for me to do? Quite right—there is, in a sense, nothing. In the very deepest sense, you are to make yourself nothing, to become nothing before God, and learn to keep silent—and it is in this silence that you begin to seek what must come first: the kingdom of God.

Thus, in a godly way, one goes in a certain sense backward, toward the beginning …. The beginning is this art of becoming silent, for there is no art in being silent in the way that nature is silent. And to be thus, in the deepest sense, silent, silent before God, is how one begins to learn the fear of God. For just as the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom, silence is the beginning of the fear of God. And just as the fear of God is more than the beginning of wisdom, since it is "wisdom" itself, so, too, is silence more than the beginning of the fear of God—it is "the fear of God." In this silence, in the fear of God, wishing, desire, and their many thoughts fall silent. In this silence, in the fear of God, the verbosity of thanksgiving falls silent.

Human beings' superiority over animals consists in being able to talk, but in relation to God this can bring about their ruin if, being able to talk, they want to talk. God is in heaven, and we are on earth, and therefore we cannot easily talk together. God is love, and human beings—as one says to a child and maybe even for its benefit—are little rascals, and therefore they cannot easily talk together. It is only with much fear and trembling that human beings can talk with God, in much fear and trembling. But to talk in much fear and trembling is also difficult for other reasons, for just as anxiety causes one to be physically unable to speak, so, too, does much fear and trembling make speech become dumb and fall silent.

The person who knows how to pray knows this, and those who don't know how to pray might perhaps learn this by praying …. Praying is not listening to oneself speak but is about becoming silent and, in becoming silent, waiting, until the one who prays hears God.

Source: Christianity Today

"In the very deepest sense, you are to make yourself nothing, to become nothing before God, and learn to keep silent—and it is in this silence that you begin to seek what must come first: the kingdom of God."

"The person who knows how to pray knows this, and those who don't know how to pray might perhaps learn this by praying …. Praying is not listening to oneself speak but is about becoming silent and, in becoming silent, waiting, until the one who prays hears God."

And, so, now, here I am reeling. I just want to know what God sounds like. I just want to be silent. I just want to hear Him. I just want to know it's Him I'm hearing.  I want to know His kingdom, to seek it, to live it. Desperately. 

The more I know of Jesus, the more I just want to tell everyone who He is and what He has done in my life. I'm at such a loss for how to start, how to be authentic, how not to scare people away... but I just want to shout it! I just want days gathered in circles with Bibles and coffee cups with everyone I love, everyone I know, so there's plenty of time to unravel all the pieces of all of our stories and see how Jesus reveals Himself in them... I just want to share the light that Jesus keeps shining bigger and brighter and warmer into my darkness every day. 

Thinking about that this morning, I've combed back through this old blog. I can hardly believe how long the path from 2010 to 2015 truly is. In some ways, it feels that God has brought me miles and miles up a mountain in a miraculously short amount of time. In other ways, it seems that I have spent more years in the same place of searching than I would have thought. To look at posts that speak so clearly of what I feel I'm still learning and speak thoughts it seems were new to me just the other day and see them dated 2011 or 2012 is staggering. How can I have been processing this for so long and just now be emerging with a little more clarity? Regardless of whether this has been fast or slow– God's timing is something entirely different anyway– I am grateful. Unspeakably grateful. Oh, how He loves. Oh, how He loves. 

And through it all, whatever questions, doubts, trials may come, it all comes down to this, each statement a link to a previous post, the present moment linked to a moment of the journey frozen in words:

I question the meaning of life, as much a skeptic as anyone, but again and again I find I just can't believe that life is pointless.

I can't help but believe that God exists and is evident in our world.

It just seems to me that all of humanity, all of our literature and dreams, hint at our groping for Him.

And the truth is, I need God. I need Jesus. Not religion. Not to be right. I need nothing less than salvation.

There's a jagged tale I feel I just have to tell, of how I was broken and how He makes me whole.

Thank you, Lord Jesus. 

A Good, Good Father

"Good Good Father" by Housefires

I wanted to post a status on Facebook about this song, a new favorite on my playlists and a regular at Well House North, the church I've been attending lately (more on that topic later too, maybe). But I think I have too much on my heart for a status, so I think I'll try to get it out right here. 

Let's go bit by bit...

Oh, I've heard a thousand stories

Of what they think You're like.

But I've heard the tender whisper

Of love in the dead of night.

And You tell me that You're pleased 

And that I'm never alone.

• I didn't think about it when I was singing this song this morning, but this first verse is a good complement to the book I started today, Experiencing God by Henry Blackaby, which, so far has said to me that there's head knowledge, and then there's heart knowledge, and knowing God has to include heart knowledge. Our world, our history, our libraries, and our Facebook feeds are filled to the brim with the thousands of stories of what people think God is like and what they think He wants from us. Sometimes it's still unsettling to me that there are so many ways to think about God, so many ways to choose to live life, believing or not believing in a creator of any kind. There's always that whisper, "How do you know what you believe is true?" There's always that old John Mayer refrain this blog and I know so well, "Am I living it right?" Lately, though, God keeps giving me more and more freedom from these questions. His tender whisper of love keeps getting louder, keeps getting more persistent, and is drowning the rest of it out. It's amazing to look back upon the past 16-18 years and think that the first time I remember really hearing those whispers was as a young pre-teen nightmare, back when I spent most of my time filling my parents and grandparents with fear of what was going on with me and filling my pillowcase with tears. Back then, it really was probably in the dead of the night, crumpled over gel-penned diary pages and that dear, old Teen Study Bible, that I heard Him whispering. As kids at school and my own fearful and introverted perceptions of myself told me I was an ugly and undesirable nerd, the whispers were telling me that I was fearfully and wonderfully made.  My Papaw wrote in a card that I resented at the time and see as a foundational moment in my faith now, "God doesn't make junk." In that card was just one of God's whispers, and even when I was fighting them, they started telling me then and keep telling me now that I am loved, not just by my wonderful worldly family but my heavenly Father too. The whispers say even today, this morning at Well House, that I am made in His image.* There are stories of theories and theology, and then there are stories of what God has really done in my life, stories that echo His whispers and tell me that I  am truly never alone, whispers that assure me that He Is, that He Is good, and that I am His, in short– 

You're a good, good Father.

It's who You are, it's who You are, it's who You are.

And I'm loved by You.

It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am.      

 Oh, and I've seen many searching 

For answers far and wide.

But I know we're all searching

For answers only You provide.

Because You know just what we need

Before we even say a word.

• The more I teach, the more the world just keeps having the same conflicts and imperfections and injustices over and over again, the more I watch the news in spite of avoiding it, and the more I read wars on Facebook, the more I see we're all broken and in need of salvation and the more I see that we all spend a whole lot of time struggling against what we think is wrong and justifying why we think we are right. The more I see of it, the more I'm convinced we're all searching for the same answers. One way to respond to that is to decide that all answers are valid since we're all just seekers. That's certainly the most popular these days. We're all about choosing our own truths. And certainly everyone can do that, and I'm for allowing that because I think freedom, in a worldly sense, requires that. But I personally am not satisfied with worldly freedom. I want freedom and peace beyond what this world can provide, and I am more convinced with every book of the Bible I read or reread, every interaction I have with true brothers and sisters in Christ, every whisper God continues to whisper, that He is the one and only answer to all of our questions and searching. Through all my revisions and re-revisions, through all of my quarter- and third- life crises of identity, this remains true–

You're a good, good Father.

It's who You are, it's who You are, it's who You are.

And I'm loved by You.

It's who I am, it's who I am, it's who I am.  

Because You are perfect in all of Your ways! 

You are perfect in all of Your ways!

You are perfect in all of Your ways to us!

•  I want so much to be perfect. In fact, it's pretty much a defining statement of who I am and always have been. Much of my pre-teen misery stemmed from wanting to be perfect, and some of my most important crises of faith have centered on my frustration that I am not made with the capability to be perfect. There was even a time when I thought that maybe I didn't want a God who would hold me accountable for perfection while not making it attainable to me. Except, praise God, I finally realized, that perfection is only unattainable to me in my own power. God is perfect. And Christ will work to perfect me through His Holy Spirit, just as He is perfect. I always knew this in head knowledge, I guess. But, when it finally became heart knowledge, it set me free of so much frustration, so much resentment against my God, whom I should only love, and so much false trust in my self. Again, in this, there is a popular worldly solution– believing that I'm perfect just the way I am and am in no need of change. But I know deep down that isn't true, and it just never satisfies. There is perfection, and it is God who is perfect. When I understand and when I don't, He is perfect. And there is so much joyful freedom in proclaiming it.    

Oh, it's love so undeniable, 

I can hardly speak. 

Peace so unexplainable

I can hardly think.

As You call me deeper still,

As You call me deeper still,

As You call me deeper still,

into love, love, love ...  

• Last Sunday, the prayers on my heart all had to do with water and depth– wanting the faith to get out of the boat and walk on the water to my Lord. This song connects here too. Deeper still. Deeper still. The wonder and love of God are so great, growing greater in my feeble eyes every year, and I just want to go, to be, to live deeper still in His love. 

* It's heart-stoppingly striking to think about the implications of all of this in the middle school world around which my universe revolves. One, these children who fill my days, thoughts, and conversations are made in the image of God. God is well pleased with them and loves them and is their Father.  Do I look at them as if they are bearers of the image of my Creator and Savior? Do I love them as if they are? Do I love them as Jesus does? Two, I was right around their age when I first began to hear His whispers telling me that about myself. Have I opened myself up, have I trusted God to use me as an instrument for those life-giving whispers in the lives of these precious little image-bearers? (Perhaps more on this later, too.) In the meantime, my constant prayer must be– Lord, help me! 

A Long Silence

I've never been a very consistent blogger, but I've been almost nonexistent on this page for way too long now. As the school year draws to a close, maybe I can start writing and posting again. There's certainly been a lot on my mind...