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.