I love the music of John Mark McMillan all year long, but this song always touches me in an extra special way this time of year:
(lyrics listed below)
John Mark also wrote a line-by-line commentary about this song on his blog, which you can find here. It is more than worth the time it takes to read.
I am so thankful that the cross was not the end of the story, that I serve a victorious and risen savior.
Death In His Grave
Though the Earth Cried out for blood
Satisfied her hunger was
Her billows calmed on raging seas
for the souls on men she craved
Sun and moon from balcony
Turned their head in disbelief
Their precious Love would taste the sting
disfigured and disdained
On Friday a thief
On Sunday a King
Laid down in grief
But awoke with keys
Of Hell on that day
The first born of the slain
The Man Jesus Christ
Laid death in his grave
So three days in darkness slept
The Morning Sun of righteousness
But rose to shame the throes of death
And over turn his rule
Now daughters and the sons of men
Would pay not their dues again
The debt of blood they owed was rent
When the day rolled a new
On Friday a thief
On Sunday a King
Laid down in grief
But awoke holding keys
To Hell on that day
The first born of the slain
The Man Jesus Christ
Laid death in his grave
On Friday a thief
On Sunday a King
Laid down in grief
But awoke with keys
Of Hell on that day
The first born of the slain
The Man Jesus Christ
Laid death in his grave
He has cheated
Hell and seated
Us above the fall
In desperate places
He paid our wages
One time once and for all
Yesterday we said goodbye (in this life) to a special man, Jason's Papa Jack.
In many ways we were relieved that his suffering on Earth was over, that his body, riddled with the effects of diabetes, was made whole, and that he was in a much better place.
However, it was also natural to feel sadness over losing such an important part of Jason's family. He lived with Papa Jack when he first moved to RC, before we got married, and they developed a special bond as a result.
Jason spoke beautifully at the funeral (as did his brother), captivating the audience with both "Jake's" (as Jason called him) humor, as well as some serious and emotional life lessons.
My favorite line from Jason's eulogy was when he said that his grandpa once told him they had two things in common: they both preached God's word, and they both married pretty girls from Russell County." I had never heard Jason tell this story before, and it brought both tears and laughter, converging at once into a mixture of emotion.
Later, as we filed into the covered, green chairs at the gravesite, I noticed the brightness of the sun and the crispness of the air, more aware than ever of savoring these small blessings, even in sad times.
Connor, in his black suit and hat, leaned over to me and said, "Where's Papa Jack? Is he sleeping? Shh...be quiet."
Not sure how much to say to a two-year old about death, I whispered back, "Yes, Connor, to us Papa Jack is sleeping, but he's all better now, and he's in heaven with Jesus."
He answered, innocently, "Okay, Momma."
I am thankful today as I remember the influence Papa Jack had on his family, which has directly influenced the character of my husband. I pray that we can pass this heart of servitude and Jesus' love to Connor, that way a piece of Papa Jack will always live on, too.
As we sat down to eat, Jason and I neglected to allow Connor to lead our usual blessing. Instead, we dug right into our food.
Connor looked at me and said, "Mama, blessing?"
I apologized and told him that we would stop and say the blessing before we continued.
He, with those big blue eyes, turned to me and said, "Jesus is sad."
It is days like these that I pray extra hard that we are doing right as parents by this little boy. I pray he never wants to make Jesus sad, and I am thankful that a two-year old can speak a sermon in a sentence.
I don't know how many of you are familiar with Matt Hammitt, lead singer of Sanctus Real, but I have admired the band's music for several years, even more so once I heard "Lead Me" and the story behind the song. I was also drawn in by reading the Hammitt family blog, which you can find here, which chronicled the birth, surgeries, and amazing story of their son Bowen, who was born with a congenital heart defect. There is something very compelling about reading the story of this family who is trusting God through even the darkest of times. I am happy to say that, right now, Bowen's health is good, and their story has been such an inspiration to me.
One of Matt's latest singles, though, has been on my mind of late. It is called "All of Me" and was written to and about Bowen and their situation. While I cannot relate to having a child with a major health problem (Thanks to God that Connor has thus far been a very healthy little boy.), the lyrics pierce my heart every time.
Afraid to love
Something that could break
Could I move on
If you were torn away?
And I'm so close to what I can't control
I can't give you half my heart
And pray He makes you whole
You're gonna have all of me
You're gonna have all of me
'Cause you're worth every falling tear
You're worth facing any fear
You're gonna know all my love
Even if it's not enough
Enough to mend our broken hearts
But giving you all of me is where I'll start
I won't let sadness steal you from my arms
I won't let pain keep you from my heart
I'll trade the fear of all that I could lose
For every moment I share with you
Heaven brought you to this moment, it's too wonderful to speak
You're worth all of me, you're worth all of me
So let me recklessly love you, even if I bleed
You're worth all of me, you're worth all of me
Having a child means that part of yourself, essentially, your very heart, is tangible. This makes for a delicate balance between love and fear. It is terrifying to know that no matter how much I love Connor, no matter what I do for him, no matter how many hugs and kisses I shower him with, it is ultimately not in my power or control as to what happens to him and what decisions he will make. I can watch, hover, fret, and worry, but I must ultimately remember that Connor is not really mine to begin with. He is a beautiful gift from God in my life, and to truly love him, I must give all of my heart to God first, and then to Connor, and be willing to risk whatever hurt comes my way as a result. That is not easy for this type-A, controlling personality. I tend to know how/when/why things should be done (or at least I think I do) in order to be "right" and giving up control means facing uncertainty.
However, is it worth it? Most definitely. Giving up control and facing the fear means that I am letting God write my story, trusting Him to care for Connor, and that means he is in the best hands possible. I don't ever want to love with part of me. I want to let God, Connor, and all those I love the opportunity to have all of my heart. I want to live with reckless, unconditional love. I want to let people have all of me, be real, be transparent, be vulnerable. I hate letting people see my flaws and weaknesses, but I am starting to realize that it's the only true way to have community and fellowship with one another: to be real about who we are. God wants all of me, no matter my flaws or failures -- he doesn't just want the facade. However, I am not so comfortable giving the parts of me that are flawed and broken. Human nature, I suppose, to only want to acknowledge the good and successful aspects of our personalities. But to truly love God, and in turn to love my family, I must give him all of me.
I am so thankful for the talent of songwriters like Matt, people who can pierce my heart with messages from God, and share lessons in such a poignant way. Please pray that I can truly live out the message contained in "All of Me."
Today, as every Sunday, I went to church expecting fully to be blessed by the praise and worship, testimonies of men just back from their Emmaus retreats, and from Bro. Jim's message. All of that happened, just as I expected, but something else happened as well. I was challenged in my commitment, which as I sure most of you who have experienced know, feels pretty crappy.
Our wonderful pastor has been, week after week, challenging us to go deeper in our faith. A few weeks ago it would about no longer being "ankle deep" and "comfortable" in our faith, something Jason and I had just talked about. This Sunday, Philippians 1:29 pierced my soul as our pastor read these words:
"For to you it has been granted on behalf of Christ, not only to believe in Him, but also to suffer for His sake"
Those words hit me hard, almost as though I had never heard them before, although I have read them many times. My guilt was further inflamed when Jim commented that we have created a "middle-class Jesus." The truth of that statement resounded with me.
Then in Sunday school, just when I was gathering my thoughts, Marisa spoke of the Apostles' Creed, and how many people suffered and died so that we could have such a bold statement of faith. She had no idea, but that word was speaking directly to me.
I am so guilty of living this way, and I my heart was sick at how selfish I have been. I find myself frustrated with Jason when he gives up his time to work a youth retreat or a prison walk, but don't take time to tell him how much I appreciate the sacrifice of time he is making to change the lives of others. Am I willing to do the same?
I want to be blessed and prosperous, and I want to follow Christ, but do I then whine and complain and avoid anything that would be a sacrifice of my time, money, or resources?
Suffering has never been a concept that appealed to me, nor a word that I revel in using. As humans, I suppose, our first nature to is care for ourselves and those we love, and be sure we are safe and secure, but as Christians we are called to fight against our nature and do instead what does not come naturally to us. The real question is: is that how I have been living?
I feel awful at the thought that I am more than willing to accept that Jesus suffered and died for me, but much less willing to suffer myself for someone who showed such unconditional love to me.
I hope that by putting it out there, the people I love most will hold me accountable to the reality of my faith, and if truly living for Him means that I will suffer, that I will do it with joy, and find the beauty in his suffering.
May it do me good to remember Phil. 1:27 as well:
"Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ"
Please pray that I will do just that...carry myself in a way that would be an example to my son, my husband, family, my students, and even strangers. I want to be worthy of his gospel, and I can't do it if all I care about is being "comfortable." I certainly don't want Connor to be lukewarm in his faith, and I am reminded that the main view of Christ he will see is through Jason and me.
I am, however, so thankful for all of the people in my life (church, school, and family) who are constantly stepping out of their comfort zones to follow Christ in new places and endeavors. You inspire me.
As I mentioned in one of my previous posts, Jason has spent the last two weekends working Christian retreats in Monticello, one as a spiritual team member at a youth retreat, and the other as part of the music team at a men's retreat. I am so proud that he has been able to be an influence on so many lives, but it has also been a strain going from being used to having him at home every night, to having him be gone almost eight full days in the last two weeks. Again, I commend moms who do it all on their own...I am more than ever grateful for Jason's help.
As a result, I have found myself a little more stressed, a little more tense, and a little more frazzled than usual. If there is one thing I do not want to be, it is the mother in the grocery store who is snippy with her children and hateful to the cashier, or who is too busy working (even at home) to play, or who doesn't notice the little things (and appreciate them). I don't want to "waste" the precious time I have with Connor.
Instead, I want to remember the words of Psalm 127:3 -- "Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from him." I am humbled that God has entrusted Connor to Jason and me, and I want, more than anything, to take each moment I can to show him the kind of love (selfless, unconditional, sacrificial) that was shown to me through Jesus.
However that word, sacrifice, is also tough. As a human, my tendency is first to look out for myself, and then to worry about others. This mindset began to change with marrying Jason, when I began to realize that marriage and love take just as much sacrifice and patience as it does love and friendship. Now, with Connor, it is not as though I resent the sacrifices I make for him, but sometimes I just get tired and selfish, and I remember the days when I could take a nap or read a book any time I wanted to, and for a moment, I give in to that temptation to feel sorry for myself. I am not a perfect mom or daughter or wife, and I know that, but in those moments, I feel like dirt, like I can't do anything right, or maybe like I am not even accomplishing anything worthwhile at that moment.
However, as soon as I see Connor's gap-toothed smile, or hear his laugh, or look into his gorgeous blue eyes, I forget any trace of selfishness, negativity, exhaustion, and I cannot even remember what life was like before him.
And then I heard Steven Curtis Chapman's song, "One Heartbeat at a Time" on the radio this week. I had heard the song before (Jason had sung it at a mother/daughter luncheon a couple of years ago and I heard him practicing in his office a few times.), but it hit me in a special way at this point in my life, with the circumstances of Jason being gone, my level of tiredness being up, and my confidence as a mother being down a bit.
Steven Curtis Chapman's music seems to be a recurring theme in my life when I need encouragement. I already posted once about his song "Everything You Do" here, which changed my perspective completely on serving others.
This song, though, focuses specifically on mothers, and our feelings of inadequacy, and reminded me that while I may sometimes feel that what I am doing is insignificant, we really do have a chance to change the world with every moment we are given, no matter how small it might seem, and even on those days when we are too exhausted to remember how important our jobs really are (This goes for moms, grandmas, moms-at-heart, and even dads and other male figures, too. We women just seem to put more pressure, at least outwardly, on ourselves.).
Although it would be more traditional to share this song near Mother's Day, I needed to hear it today, so I thought maybe some of you might need to hear it as well.
I hope this song (video below) encourages and uplifts you as much as it did me. It reminded me to focus on the fact that every heartbeat, every moment, every memory matters, and to revel in and enjoy it. As my dear friend Dawn told me the other day, "Memorize the moment." This one phrase completely changed how I want to look at each moment and milestonr in my life. I promise to memorize the moments more often.
Thanks to the (mostly) impressive musical taste of Jason and Linds (the sister), I have found a few new favorite songs lately, so I thought I'd share one of them with you, and maybe more to follow.
This song (by Jesus Culture) is on constant repeat in my car currently. It's a great reminder that God's love never does fail, He doesn't give up on us, even when we may give up on ourselves (or others).
I hope you are as blessed as I was by the words and passion of this song.
