The Refrain is "Jesus Saves"

Negro spirituals are for witness, and one affirms that history can be incredibly harsh: "Nobody knows de trouble I see." But it ends with as brave a line as literature could invent: "Glory, hallelujah." And only generous eyes can see both the trouble and the hallelujah. - John W. Carlton

     

    

    Come, all you who are thirsty, 

       come to the waters; 

          and you who have no money, 

     come, buy and eat! 

      Come, buy wine and milk 

      without money and without cost.

       Why spend money on what is not bread, 

       and your labor on what does not satisfy? 

       Listen, listen to me, and eat what is good, 

        and your soul will delight in the richest of fare.

Give ear and come to me; 

     hear me, that your soul may live. 

Isaiah 55:1-3

Every once and a while I am surprised.  My life is consumed with routine, the antithesis of surprise, but ever so often, graciously, something I never expected crosses my path.  These moments are truly special, they are the moments we will relive around a fire with friends years later as we dream about tomorrow.  They are glimpses into something far beyond ourselves, flashes of beauty.  Yet what surprises me most about these moments is how often they appear in the simplest ways: a gush of wind, an odd expression on my daughter's face, a song I've listened to numerous times grabbing my heart for the first time.  These moments of mundane wonder haunt me.  I never realize how much I long for them until I experience one and then I'm thrown into an ecstasy so severe I can only respond with tear-filled wonder.  I thank God for these moments, these flashes of divinity.  For really, who else is there to thank.  I sometimes imagine Him as a painter surprised by His own brush stroke, yet overjoyed, giggling even, over the perfect mistake.  Yet the time in between these surprises is far too long and when they come, it can feel as if we had gone another second, we might not have made it. And that is the biggest surprise of all, that we have made it.  That was the surprise that captured me today, that my life is a song and it is a victory song; a song of pain and a song of healing, a song of despair and one of hope, a song of redemption.  So often I walk through this mist called life without any purpose or direction, stumbling about until something calls out to me and I see that it is good.  I hear that distant song calling for me to listen, to stop striving in the dark and merely listen.  It is a good song indeed.  If you have heard it, you know its tune, its soothing melody and hypnotic rhythm. It is a song that knows the trouble we've seen, and God knows we've seen trouble, yet it is a song that has the audacity to proclaim "Hallelujah!" in the very face of those troubles.  


Have you heard this song? Has your wearied and heavy-laden heart rested its burden upon this song?  Hear it afresh today and let the familiar words surprise you and maybe, just maybe we will make it another day. Hallelujah indeed!

Psalm 46

Music: Cliff Hutchison
Lyrics: Michael Gallup

Review and Devotion Thoughts on A Million Miles

 After reading Blue Like Jazz a few years ago, I became a fan of Donald Miller’s work.  In that memoir he gives a humble and fresh perspective on the journey of faith.  His experiences, struggles, and desires resonated with me as I wrestled with what my faith was all about.  A Million Miles in a Thousand Years picks up Miller’s life story where his previous work left off.  He has found himself stalled wondering what his life is becoming and as he is forced to 'edit his life' for a movie adaptation of Blue Like Jazz, he is awakened to the reality that his life, his story, is not worth telling; propelling him into a spiritual quest to begin living a good story.  As I read this book, I too was faced with the boring reality that is my life but also with the vast potential my story possesses.  I, like Miller, want to live a good story.

            Miller exhibits masterful control of conversational language that draws the reader into his story, allowing them to participate not merely observe.  This gift is the force behind Miller’s popularity and is what makes his work so convincing.  Here in A Million Miles in a Thousand Years, Miller brings his audience along for a new spiritual quest, to find meaning and purpose in life.  He is thrust into this journey when a couple of film-makers desire to turn his memoir into a movie.  Miller is stunned to discover the amount of rewriting is needed to turn his best-selling book into a movie people will actually want to see.  In the process of rewriting, Miller begins to explore the components of story and apply them to his life.  He boils down a definition of story as “a character that wants something and overcomes conflict to get it.”  Miller contrasts our lives against this definition through the illustration of a man who really wants to buy a Volvo, so he saves up for three years and is finally able to buy a Volvo.  Miller declares that if we saw a movie about this we say that this story “sucks" and thus maybe our lives suck too.  He proposes that we change our desires for what we want.  Miller’s quest takes him to seek reconciliation with his dad, to hike the Incan trail, to bike across America, but most importantly to start the Mentoring Project in efforts to connect fatherless boys with good male role-models in hopes of changing their lives.  In this effort, Miller has found himself in the midst of a great story and the reader, myself included, is left wondering what our stories might look like.

            This challenge to live a better story is the reward of this book.  I felt a renewed passion to live, to fight for goodness and beauty, to see myself and my story in the context of the greatest story ever told, the gospel.  I found it difficult to read of the spiritual awakening of another and not hunger for that same awakening.  I too wanted to do the things I always dreamed of but the practicality of life choked to death.  But like Miller, I wanted my story to be more than climbing mountains, even though that offers a wonderful backdrop to our stories. I wanted to bring goodness to my community, to the world.  The way I see this unfolding in my life is multi-faceted.  I want to plant a church and see the broken find wholeness in Christ.  I want to labor in the effort of seeing my daughter grow into a woman of God, fully loved.  I want to provide wheel-chair ramps for the disadvantaged and disabled people of the Denver metro area.  I want to live a good story.  Our stories have only begun, especially if we believe in eternity.  But we only have a short time here on earth to make something beautiful, to honor God, to live good stories.  So like Miller, we must ask ourselves, "what do we want? What conflict am I willing to overcome to get it?"  And when we answer these honestly, we can then begin the quest of truly living.