Beauty

With the closing of yet another year, I am reaching into my bag of memories - that collection of experiences God gave to me and began or continued working in me over this fleeting time period.

Today I was reading through my journal, (not my diary, mind you) reflecting on what ran through my brain at the time of my entries, and I decided to post a few of them this holiday season for whoever to gain whatever out of them.

The one I'm posting today is called Beauty and I'm sharing this one today because of how it spoke to me; dipping deep into my heart and touching something tender.


My dear Journal,

March 29, 2008

I have always been an admirer and student of beauty. Beauty captures, enlightens, fulfills and delights me. I find beauty everywhere; easy beauty, that is.

I find it in things as lavish as the ripe colors of a winter sunset and the deepness of a medieval painting portraying a tall knight in silver, glowing armour kneeling before a fair lady with golden hair, clad in the purest white.

I find this beauty in the simplest of things like painted daisies on my sister's toenails, wildflowers in an open field, or the bright, pure, smile of a child.

I find beauty in things as rare as a colorful, strutting peacock, who seems to look down, instead of up, at the entire universe. I find it in the incredible architecture built around the world and in the unusual opportunity of watching two people unconsciously fall in love.

And of course, I delight in the beauty of the common; those things that are all around us, every day, there to reach out and receive joy from. The eyes of a striking gentleman, an uncommonly pretty girl, beautiful gowns that ravish the heart, bouquets of roses, timeless musical pieces, the elegance of a quite, country dance, a field of tall, enveloping grass swaying to the tune of the wind, the smile shared between a husband and a wife, silver-haired, but still madly in love - these things that aren't so uncommon, after all.

But in my attempt to culture this taste for beauty, I fear I have become only more inclined towards easy beauty; the kind of beauty that is evident to everyone, the kind that is striking, no doubt. But is it satisfying? Do we ever get enough of this kind?

I am quick to spot the pretty girl over the plain; the graceful man over the clumsy. My taste for elegance (and my intense desire to see such surrounding me everywhere and always) often overcomes the good sense which I know should determine how I see the world. This "taste" is not really taste at all. It isn't talent. It's not being well-bred. It's being what everyone else can be - human.

Something is telling me that my eye for easy, obvious beauty fades away the many opportunities I have of seeing beauty in the most unobserved places - the rarest of kinds, only found after a strong desire and a deliberate quest for it. So my easy beauty had better be called, "lazy beauty".

Like beauty, everyone sees and observes rainstorms, but it takes true taste, true talent, true heart, true compassion to notice the raindrops. And it requires so much more in this extraordinary person to study, bring out, and highlight the tiny drops of water, of which all rainstorms are made. Perhaps, just maybe, these tiny drops of water can teach us far more than the most spectacular rainstorms.

Maybe they will remind us that, after all, some of life's greatest gifts are wrapped in the smallest, most obscure packages. And perhaps we'll begin to understand the many dimensions of beauty; discovering that the deepest ones are the hardest and most unusual to find.

And maybe we'll remember that we're not the Creator, that we do not think like Him, and that we should not be taking lessons from our own books of human wisdom to define what is truly beautiful.

Let me see and study the splendor of beauty forever, praising the great Creator of it, lest I grow dull and lifeless, without a heart of joy; without a heart of gratefulness. May I never grow unperceptive to any kind of beauty, because yes, it is everywhere.

Once I am blind to it, I am blind to all. ~

Silenced

Thirty-five home educated teenagers and their parents stand together in a side room of a Colorado sportsman's grill, their eyes glued to the large television screens on the wall.

Every word falls into their rapidly beating hearts, dropping and echoing deep into their souls. Warm hands cling to each other and the throats of many go dry.

The reporters on television relay the facts as emotionless as possible, despite their obvious excitement.

The smiling face of President-elect Barack Obama appears on-screen, alongside those of his wife and daughters.

My stomach weakens.

How can it be that the person so many of us never wanted in the highest office of our land could be standing on his victory stage tonight?

I feel myself pressed and surrounded by my friends, and I can almost feel the pain of each heartbeat they share.

The moments drop by like ages as we wait for the cheering to stop and for our new elected president to speak.

As he speaks, we group even closer and our thoughts synchronise. I feel submerged in the most terrifying of nightmares and unable to escape it. Only one question rings in my mind.

Why?

And suddenly my blame falls on the One who holds all things in His hands, and before I realize my heart's problem, I'm asking Him, "Jesus, why did You let this happen?"

He says nothing.

No, He doesn't cry from the clouds with an answer from heaven. He hasn't told me the answer, whispering it onto the pages of my heart.

He has shouted it to me in perhaps the most profound way possible - with His silence. Why is it when I most want Him to speak He deafens me with stillness?

Perhaps because I need to hear that most.

Before the night has worn out like the sad, drooping eyes of a tired warrior, I have found myself once again in need of the greatest love of the universe.

Exhausted and worn, I find Him on my knees as I read the ancient words from the book of Job when God finally speaks out of a whirlwind to His questioning and confused servant:

"Who is this that darkeneth counsel without knowledge?

Gird up now thy loins like a man; for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me. "

Job 38:1 & 2

If God had spoken it straight out of the sky, it couldn't have shot into my heart more than this moment. This is...for me.

He has silenced my heart so He can now speak to it. And this is what He says:

"Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Declare, if thou hast understanding."

Of course I wasn't there.

"Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened? Or who hath stretched the line upon it? When the morning stars sang together and all the sons of God shouted for joy? Or who shut up the sea with doors when it brake forth, as it if had issued out of the womb?"

That'd be You, God.

"Hast thou entered the springs of the sea? Or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow of death?

Have the gates of death been opened unto thee? Or hast thou seen the doors of the shadow of death?

Hast thou perceived the breadth of the earth? Declare, if thou knowest it all."

My heart groans. No, God, I do not know everything. I know nothing. You know all.

But He doesn't stop there. He goes on to ask me who causes rain, who cares for the desolate and waste ground and the smallest herb to grow in the desert. I blink when He asks me who created the stars and the constellations they form, who provides baby birds with their food, who made the horse so glorious in his strength, and why the eagle flies.

And do I, He questions further, have an arm or a voice like God's? Do I dare to condemn his judgement, and in so doing pronounce myself, and not Him, righteous?

My heart is smitten. I am guilty of questioning the Almighty's holiness and I can say nothing.

He dares me to deck myself with majesty and with excellence, with glory and with beauty, almost as if it would be a laughing matter to Himself. And if I can abase every proud person and tread down the wicked, He tells me, then He will confess that by my own hand and in my own strength can I be saved.

I fall to my knees.

He pauses, observing my brokenness, but continues, wrapping up His stunning speech with an epic of grandeur - the description of His breathtaking creation, the dragon; the leviathan.

My Bible falls from my lap and onto the floor. The words spoken to me have been etched in my mind and echo profusely in my soul.

My heart weeps.

I am reminded what this is all about, anyway. You. You. You. You. God.

This isn't about me, my friends, our group, or whether the Republican party won or not.

I have learned what I knew long ago. God is sovereign.

Who am I to question Your decisions; Your hand?

My tongue is silenced by the God of eternity.

And my heart falls in love once again.

Redemption

“Love is what we were born with. Fear is what we learned here." - Marianne Williamson


Transparency.

Unfortunately it's a word that is rarely used in reference to human relationships.

Somehow it's strange. Somehow it's uncomfortable. For some reason, hardly anyone practices it.

Well...she's a bit different. She wears dark clothes and dark makeup, and her straightened hair falls over who knows what kind of eyes she has.

She slouches against the doorway of a room buzzing with life and activity, like a wallflower afraid to be one.

Her attitude speaks louder than her words.

But wait. She hasn't spoken yet. We haven't allowed her to.

Finally, someone chooses to single her out in the crowd. She extends a hand, and the long hair falls back from her face, revealing the bluest, deepest eyes.

Ten bracelets line her arm, but her grasp is the kindest we've ever felt. She speaks, and authenticity rings through her voice and says more than her words do.

She is a deep river, found beneath the rocky landscape of the world. But she's afraid and she's clinging to the image of someone she's not.


He's all put together on the outside; suit, tie, hair - straight from a magazine.


He steps into his office with firmness and presents business plans that are stamped with confidence.


His eyes laugh, dancing from the reflection of all and any light. But if we look closely, do we see fear lurking behind them?


He smiles at his colleagues, but underneath the suit, underneath the smile and underneath the confidence, he's kicking and screaming, finished with happiness and tired of life.


If we didn't read past his firm handshake and his measured pace, we'd never really know him. And he would never be able to change.



Why is that we go to church every Sunday and never really know our fellow church-goers - even the one sitting next to us?

Why are we bound by fear, afraid to be ourselves in an open, honest way? Why do we grab an image and cling to it, portraying it as the real revelation of ourselves when it is just a mask, a cover-up for the real person inside?

Why is it that an entire world is content with passing each other every day, living and working with each other and continually dwelling with each other on a level of superficiality?

No one wants to open up. No one wants to be rejected. And that's understandable.

Everyone wants to be understood, but there seems to be a rarity of understanding people just now. That explains why there's a startling abundance of hurting ones.

There is something that our world needs more than televangelists, tracts, radio programs, and churches, believe it or not.

Transparent people. Understanding hearts.

Someone once said, "If you can teach a heart to trust you, you can teach it anything." So true. I suppose the opposite must also be true. If you can't teach a heart to trust you, you can't teach it anything.

Ouch.

I am guilty of doing this so many times. Trying to teach when I should be listening. Trying to keep my image together when I should be throwing it down, revealing exactly the kind of person I really am. Trying to get compassion when I should be giving it.

I worry about the salvation of the world and forget about the unsaved in my own family. I am concerned about the people in my city not having anyone to truly know them, and I never bother to really know my best friend. I am so often focused on the outward; that shallow image, and never think to dwell on the heart.

I am charged with hypocrisy by my own conscience and the whispering of a small voice deep inside me.

I tell the world its faults, and neglect to reveal my own. I do my best to cover my sinful tracks, and my utmost to discover others.

And just when I think I am deep, I am beyond all others the most shallow. I can hide my heart the best.

Change comes when we find in ourselves in need of a Saviour.

It shows itself to the world when we reveal our sinful hearts to the heart next to us, revealing ourselves as real people, with real problems and hurt, as well as real hearts.

Hope never whispers its arrival. When it speaks, it is loud and victorious. It opens up its gates and pours out blessings. It tells the world who is its Master and why they are loved. It gives purpose to souls, throwing open doors of opportunity for the kingdom of God.

Its reach is unfathomable. Its effect is utterly indescribable. And it's here, ready for the taking, prepared for a great experience - ready to redeem. Me. You. The world.

But it begins with us. It begins in my heart, when I choose everyday to leave my mask on the shelf and put on the love of Jesus Christ. It starts when I've decided to listen instead of be heard. When I turn to the person next to me and ask how they are. When they reply, "Fine. How are you?" it begins when I look into their eyes, beyond the disguise, past the hurt, and ask, "No - how are you really?"

A revelation hits me in the form of a word, and I think I know its name.

Sometimes we call it love. Sometimes we call it hope. But it has told me its name.

We call it redemption.

And it will change the world.

When I've Failed

He looks me straight in the eyes and down into my heart.

Somewhat like a lover.

He knows everything I'm thinking, and feels my hurt before I even say a word.

Somewhat like a best friend.

He wraps His mercy around my cold shoulders and puts comfort, like a bandage, upon the part of my heart that is most wounded.

Kind of like a physician.

He steps down from His pedestal of light and sits with me in the dark, holding my hand and speaking love without saying anything.

Sort of like a father.

He crowns me with righteousness and calls me His own.

Somewhat like a King.


My heart stands amazed at the greatness of a King that saw me in my sin, chose me as His own anyway, and forever will call me that. My spirit soars every time I experience His greatness in a new way.

I see the love of the Father God in the eyes of a child. It speaks in unearthly tones and reaches the coldest of hearts. Who can say that love like that is earthly? It is utterly inhuman and completely miraculous.

My soul shakes as I observe the power of the Most High in the wind that bends trees to the ground, lightning that sets the sky on fire, and the thunder that shakes the ground I'm standing upon.

At this moment I cannot imagine denying His presence. But why is it that tomorrow, when I'm faced with a simple choice - to choose God or myself - I deny His presence and live for my flesh?

Why is it that when I experience His love in another human being, I feel like I could love the entire world, but when faced with an unlovely person, I find a great, fleshly struggle is lying in the shadows, ready to conquer me if I let it?

My soul wonders why the embers of my soul are stirred up so swiftly when watching others witness about the great things God has performed in their lives - taking them places they'd never dreamed they'd be, transforming their lives, and bringing change through them to many people. I now wonder why I can't see past the end of my nose, past the footstep I'm standing in, and see the beauty, change and joy God is prepared to work in me...just beyond these times. Why are there times when my heart has no problem believing, and other times when it takes the greatest effort to?

The reason is one of those most quickly forgotten.

I'm human.

That's not profound, perhaps. I am a sinner. In itself that's not profound, either, but on a daily basis, I find this fact powerful:

I can do absolutely nothing on my own.

But seeing great things being done in the lives of so many other people reminds me of the source of those great things.

It's the same eyes that look right through me every time I stand before them with my hands open and repentance in my heart.

It's the same great mind that reads my thoughts and has had every solution formed since before the dawn of time.

It's the mercy that forgives me each time I try to win on my own, fight on my own; run, fly, change on my own.

It's the empathy that touches the hurting side of me when I'm sitting in the dark. I'm not in the dark alone.

It's the same great love and majesty that clothes me in purity and calls me its own.

He's my Lover, Best Friend, Physician, Father and King.

If I remember that He is always here with me and that He alone holds my existence, the passion will never die, the strength will never weaken, and I will always have the power to do right, to be right, and to obtain change in my heart and life.

Why do I ever think I can do anything on my own?

Before change can ever be attained in the world, it must be attained within ourselves. And before we try, try and try again to change without success, we must realize that all change comes from the great source of change - our mighty God and Him alone.

Otherwise our attempts will be futile. Quite, quite futile.

Now that I've thought about it, why do I ever want to do anything on my own?

All right, friends. Tell me about this when I've forgotten. Remind me of this when I've failed.

Season of Change

Part of me wishes summer could last forever.

There's something in the rays of sunshine baking warm bodies like cookies on a tray, something in the bare feet running down either gravel roads or sizzling sidewalks, something in the tingle of wiggling fingers dipped in an ice-cold, running creek. There's something in all of those things that's hard to duplicate.

Maybe that's because I'm a summer girl. I was born in the winter, but my heart always awakens with the first dawn of a June morning. Something about summertime makes me feel perfectly bliss, and I think I've defined what it is. Comfort.

Summer means no school for many of us, and for those of us who have school during the summer months, it generally means less school and more free time. Summer also gives the much-appreciated chance for extra summer jobs for those industrious spirits among us, and the chance to spend more time on projects with friends.

During summer, our good times (for the most part) aren't inhibited by icy roads and snowstorms; rainstorms and short days. For me, summer means a time to enjoy life. And that's what I do nearly every summer. Enjoy life.

But summer doesn't last forever, unfortunately. Maybe it's not that unfortunate, though. Think about it. If summer had the rare opportunity of lasting forever, consider the detriment it would be to society. Schoolbooks would gather dust - hence, no one would learn anything from them, parents would be overrun by the constant chaos of the season - providing no schedule and no rest for them, vacations would take precedence over lives instead of work, and that perfect state of bliss I defined as comfort would become old and worn-out- like a piece of stale bread dried out on the kitchen counter.

The point is: seasons must change in order to secure our happiness. In our silly human minds, we often define happiness as comfort, but only our wise God knows that happiness never is formed in that mold. Comfort is only our idea of happiness. Happiness defined is living by the fashion King Solomon, thousands of years ago, penned.

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to morn and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get and a time to lose; a time to keep and a time to cast away;
A time to red and a time to sew; a time to keep silence and a time to speak;
A time to love and a time to hate; a time of war and a time of peace.
What profit hath he that worketh in that wherin he laboureth?
I have seen the travail, which God hath given to the sons of men to be exercised in it.
He hath made everything beautiful in His time: also he hath set the world in their heart, so that no man can find out the work that God maketh from the beginning to the end.
I know that there is no good in them, but for man to rejoice and to do good in his life.
And also that every man should eat and drink, and enjoy the good of all his labour - it is the gift of God.
I know that whatsoever God doeth, it shall be forever: nothing can be put to it, nor anything taken from it: and God doeth it that man should fear before Him." Ecclesiastes 3:1-14

So apparently, God isn't happy about man's idea that one season is good enough for him. That's why He created change. He knew we'd never grow into the image of His Son without it.

I am standing on the threshold of change. My childhood bids me farewell just over my shoulder. The fears and reality of life are rising within my sight, just beyond this doorway. Behind me, and even where I stand, lies all of the comfort I've ever known and embraced. But somehow I've learned that I will never grow in grace within this comfort zone I love. Change stretches people in ways they feel keenly - but that's when they witness the power of growth and experience the grace of a loving God.

How can I ever change the world while insisting on dwelling in the lap of security? My eyes gaze out into the darkness of the unknown. How can I learn to rely upon the awesomeness of an almighty God without trusting Him for that which I cannot see? How can I expect Him to teach me to swim when I'm not willing to take the plunge? How can I run in the dark when I won't walk in it?

I can't. And in a way, all of life is like this. Unless my heart yearns for change with everything in me, my flesh won't be willing to let go of that ever-so-reassuring comfort, and change will be something I talk about often, yet never experience.

I am releasing the ties of my comfort inch-by-inch. It's throwing excuses at me, begging me to stay, reminding me of my failures and warning me of the unpredictable. I am afraid. But nothing ever said I wouldn't be.

This house of comfort screams at me from its every room - my social room, where it tells me that I must cling to comfort in order to remain popular. It smiles at me from the room of my ministry, where it tries to make me believe that I have been effective for Christ there, and that it's much easier to serve Him there anyway. Just when I think my temptation is over, it grabs me by the arm and whirls me around.

"Look," it tells me, "at your spiritual life."

I'm listening with a painful heart. But this time what it's telling me is true. I have, indeed, deserted the cause of Christ many times in this house of comfort. I have succumbed to the temptations of the world time and time again, and I have been indifferent to the mediocre relationship status I have towards the God who loves me.

Why, after stepping out into the unknown, I will be under the microscope of my social world, the magnifying glass of my ministry world, and the condemnation of my spiritual world which pervades it all. If I can't fly when jumping off a thirty-foot cliff, why should I fly being dropped out of an airplane at thirty-thousand feet? If I can't swim in a calm pool, why should I be able to swim in an ocean, battling against the waves that will inevitably be there? Trying to make it outside of my comfort zone and not only making it, but excelling to the glory of God - seems like a nice idea, but highly impractical. The idea has a high possibility of seriously embarrassing myself in the view of all the worlds watching me.

That's scary.

But there's something in that whole scenario that my comfort, still talking in my ear, has forgotten. It's real. It's powerful. It's happening for others. And it can happen for me.

It's the trick of the trade, the heart of the movement, and the power of the greatest secret of all. That is when a person steps out, takes the plunge, jumps the cliff, and braves the unknown in this amazing puzzle called life, that person experiences the greatest power of the universe in a very real way - regardless of the fact that this person has never been able to experience success previously.

It's this act of lowering ourselves before the great Authority of the world, the simple idea of humility in recognizing ourselves unable of doing good without the source of good - God Himself.

It's powerful. It's real. And it's available for everyone. This is part of what they call grace.

I turn for one last look at my childhood, this nursery of my comfort. My heart hesitatingly says goodbye, and in the time frame of an eternal second, my step is outside the door, and I am running, head back, heart forward, into the unknown, farther from the zone of my comfort and closer to the power of God. My eyes are blinded to the temptation of this culture and the worlds watching me by the shining light of the wonder of God. I know that only by actually running from the comfort zones of life will I actually run into the change of me, which must happen before I can change the world in any way, shape, or form.

I like summer, but do I really want it to last forever? Not really. Not at all, as a matter of fact. I desire change in my physical and spiritual life so that change can be worked in the lives of others.
My soul embraces this change - because I know the One who holds all change in His hand, the same hand that holds me.

"When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things." 1 Corinthians 13:11
"Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended, but this one thing I do, forgetting those things that are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before. I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:13 & 14

Good night, Comfort, and good morning, Change. To tell you the truth, I'm not afraid. Not at all.

Every Sunrise

Someone recently asked me why I believe God exists. In fact, a lot of people have asked me that lately.

I always cringe at these kinds of questions, wondering why I feel like I need to defend a Lion when I know He is perfectly able to defend Himself. It's not my job to protect my God; it's my job to point Him out.

But how do I know that He's actually there?

I can prove the validity for reasoning there's a God. I prove it with science, history and logic. I can slam every point of every worldview that contradicts with Christianity, I can beat the person in front of me with key truths, and I can even convince my audiences that there is a God; even further than that - that He's my God: the God of the Bible.

And I can win. I can so win.

Yes, He's there. But what have I gained proclaiming that there is, in fact, a God? That He's the God I believe in? Just that. As soon as I gain my point, in a figurative way God becomes this little king sitting in a tall castle in the high heavens, laughing at His ridiculous creation - who is hopelessly out of touch with Him.

I've seen them before. The blank looks that stare at me across tables, shocked that I won a point regarding the case for a living God. But if I continue to rant on and on about the absoluteness of God and if I try to pound it into their strangely stubborn minds, I will suddenly see looks of carelessness. Because after all, who wants to be friends with a God who only exists to announce He exists?

I am a representative of the Almighty God. If I fail to communicate His greatest message to mankind, I have failed indeed.

I must tell them why it is that I have chosen to believe in Him.

I believe Him because He says He's there, I believe Him because I have found Him and Christianity to be objectionably true. But I also believe Him because I have experienced Him in a very real way. I have seen Him, first-hand, perform marvelous things in the lives of my family members and in my own life; things that are unexplainable in a reasonable, rational, human way. I know God. He is a part of my life because He loves me, and because He loved me first, I love Him. That's why.

That's God's greatest message to mankind. He loves them so immensely that He gave His Son for their eternal lives; so beautifully that He, the Creator of all, wishes to share an actual, personal relationship with His creation - mankind. This is the God I know. And that's why I believe in Him.

When Rachel and I sat down for music rehearsal one day this week, the thoughts of this song flowed from our hearts almost simultaneously. Together we penned the simple lyrics of the first song we recorded yesterday:

When this morning dawns/And the day is here/I will feel Your love/And see Your presence

I see You in every sunrise/I hear You in every whisper/Oh, they can say You are not here/But I know You are, 'cause I feel You

When they try to say/That You don't exist/My heart will protest/Because I've known You

I see You in every sunrise/I hear You in every whisper/Oh, they can say You are not here/But I know You are, 'cause I feel You

Lion and great King/How is it that I/Find this gentle love/Rising in me?

I see You in every sunrise/I hear You in every whisper/Oh, they can say You are not here/But I know You are, 'cause I feel You

Every Sunrise by Sarah and Rachel Byrum © This Bright Hour Music 2008