Currently Listening Blessed Be Your Name the Songs of Matt Redman, Vol. 1 By Matt Redman Blessed be your name see related

When life sucks, how do we worship?

So, earlier tonight I went to a funeral home in Bellevue to visit Randy Thompson, a great guy who is on staff at BCC whose wife passed away a few days ago. Just before I left with Devin, Jeff (the other youth guy at church) and his wife, Veronica, Veronica got a call saying that her grandmother passed away. When we got to the funeral home, we stood in the long line waiting for a chance to see Randy and express our support during the time of grief. I was fine the whole time. That is, until I started watching Randy from a distance. He showed such strength in the face of his heartache, and the closer I got to him, the stronger he seemed in spite of just losing his wife to a 3-year bout with cancer. It was just a few days ago that I saw him speak to our congregation of staying strong in the face of pain. Now I was watching him live it out.

The last time I was in a funeral home was four months ago, when Dad died. I was watching Randy and thinking how much it reminded me of how I was reacting to my Dad's death. For sure, I was strong, like Randy. But this past two weeks has been different. For some reason, the grief has hit hardest just recently, and tonight was no exception. When I finally got to Randy, I tried to say something that would encourage him, but I found myself unable to speak. My throat tightened up, my eyes began to swell, and I just lost control right there.

I don't know why, but I found myself completely in tears, partly over the death of my Dad, but partly out of the common grief that I knew Randy and I shared. I just cannot begin to imagine how to approach God right now. I am not angry toward God, but I am confused, and I am sick of trying to act like I have it all figured out. Really, how am I supposed to act? How am I supposed to worship? I think the only way I can worship right now is out of my distress, out of my grief, and out of my heartache. Perhaps this is what Paul meant when he said, "When I am weak, then I am strong. God is the only strength I have, yet sometimes I can't find the strength to say it . I believe that God is at work in all of this, and I am confident that He has a plan beyond what I might imagine, but I couldn't say anything to Randy earlier except, "This sucks" and "I am sooo sorry." I'm not sure if there's anything else I can say. When it rains, it pours, I guess. I just can't wait much longer for God to bring the sun back out.

Blessed Be Your Name

by Matt Redman- - -

Currently Listening How To Save A Life By The Fray see related

Random Update

What is this thing we call life?

How is it that we place so much emphasis on things that possess no value in eternity? Wouldn't it seem as though, being eternal creatures, that we would naturally see the world in an eternal framework? Indeed, we are eternal. Whether it be in Heaven or Hell, we will exist forever. Yet it seems that the element of time and sequence has fragmented our ability to understand just how immortal this life truly is. If we believe there is a such thing as immortality, we need look no further than ourselves, for we are immortal creatures. Death is but a transition. It cannot halt what lies beyond it.

We worry and doubt because of the fears we have in this life. We fear that our death will not be quick, and that our life will be worth very little. God does not worry, however. He does not fear what tomorrow will bring. He does not sit around playing out various scenarios in His head of whether He will fail or succeed in His plan for creation. He does not do this because He is in control, He is perfect in every way, and He understands the outcome before, during, and after it occurs.

We, on the other hand, lack the ability to do this. We are so bound by our backdrop of time that our perception of eternality has been shattered. We are but finite creatures, waiting to see what our infinite God consists of. Yet even in our temporal state of being, we exist in a supertemporal, immeasurable, infinite universe that far exceeds any concept we may think we have of what it means to live.

Live! That is what we were created to do. To truly live has little to do with heartbeats or brainwaves, and has everything to do with being so consumed by the Creator of the universe that heartache becomes joy, dying becomes gain, and suffering becomes blessing. To truly live is to know Jesus not merely as a set of principles to stand by, but as God made into man in order to rescue us from our brokenness. To truly live is to become so infatuated with our savior that he becomes our only joy, and this life is no longer seen as an end in itself, but as the taste of who we are meant to be.

We have become so consumed with ourselves that we have given up on what it means to be God's children. We have become enamored in the stuff of electronics, wealth, and acceptance, things that lack significance and fail to satisfy in the face of the endlessness of the Kingdom. We have fooled ourselves into believing that we have some sort of strength in ourselves apart from Him, and in so doing have relinquished the paradoxical truth that we are most strong when we are weak.

My father was far from perfect. He struggled financially from the day he was born and never fully recovered. He came out of an abusive, broken home, never went to college, and was an alcoholic. But He was changed so powerfully by the grace of God that he forgot all of those difficulties to remember the single, all-consuming, all-empowering holiness of God in His nature. By doing this, he lived with few regrets and grew a passion of things eternal. His focus was on living, his obsession on Christ, and his love for his family and people unquestioned.

With all his weaknesses, my father was my strength. In his weakness, he became strong. Without him, we have lost a man of true greatness and virtue. He is the only man I have ever heard of being referred to as loving his wife as Christ loved the church, and his uncomon ability to love people in spite of their differences was prodigiously rare.

I loved my father. Because of him, I know how to truly live. Is it even right to say that he died? I question the validity of such a term, not because I have some obsession of not letting him go, or because I have the naive expectation that I will see him again in this life, but because I am not sure if we can call the previous 54 years "living" in the face of what my father is at this very moment experiencing. If this is what we call life, then what my father has actualized far eclipses anything we could ever imagine.

I'm in Kansas City now... just chillin' and hangin' out with friends. Getting some down time, I guess.

Went and saw these guys last night. The violinist was frickin awesome. Thanks goes to the Lancasters for the tickets. 

BCC Christmas Eve Services, and Awkward Moments by People Trying to Support

So today we had our Christmas Eve services at BCC. They were awesome! There were so many people there I didn't know what to do. After all that was over, my family all went over to Jeremy and Jenna's house and had dinner. It didn't take long for us to start talking about Dad again. I guess we just aren't quite over all of this. What's great about all this, though, is how close our family is right now. We just sat around and told stories about dad, along with all the funny things that have happened over the last week, like people coming up to us at visitation expecting us to know who they were, all the while us having no idea who they were. I would generally have no problem solving that dilemma. I would just look these strangers right in the eye and lie. I'd say, "Of course I know who you are!" and give 'em a great big hug. Funny how I really had no clue who I was hugging.

We also talked about how many people obviously have no idea what to do in situations like these. For instance, I had one lady come up to me just before the Memorial service and say, "Son, my husband died several years ago, and I'm not gonna lie. It doesn't get any better. It just gets worse." I don't know about you, but that's not the sort of thing you tell a guy just after his dad dies. I was just about to tell her not to say that to my mom, when she looked at me and said, "And of course I didn't wanna fool your mom, so I told her too." Great, woman. Just great.

Then there were people who would try to get us to do useless tasks during all of it. Like my oldest brother being asked to go around Judson and turn down all the thermostats. I can just imagine Jeremy... "Geez, thanks, all I've been wanting to do since Dad died was to turn down the thermostats."

But amid all this, as funny and awkward as it has been, there have been some amazing people. Chris Tidwell is one to mention. He is a great friend who lives in L.A. When he found out, he boarded a jet immediately and headed to Nashville. He was there for us in anything we needed. Also, Pat Cammarata, the youth minister at Judson. He completely took control at the hospital, with all those people there. I can't express my gratitude for him. Then there is David Haskins, the Young Life Area Director from Chattanooga, who drove up to be with us until 2am, then drove back to Chattanooga for a 6am meeting. Then he made breakfast, drove back, and served us the next morning. He sacrificed without a second thought. A true minister. There are so many others, from the guys who cut the grass, to the people who practically dismantled the house looking for insurance papers, to a great family who bought my mom a new washer and dryer, and on down the list. I almost feel bad mentioning anyone by name, simply because of all the great people involved in all this. Just know that I am ever grateful.