Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing

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Be still and know that I am God.

Be still and know that I am.

Be still and know.

Be still.

Be.

~ Saint Patrick

I See the King!

"Mom! There is a giant bird in the tree! Mom! It looks like a penguin!!"

Penguin?! I thought. My children's imaginations must be working overtime. 

But my children know about birds, so they could not have been exaggerating that much. I made my way to the window to check out this penguin.

There, in our neighbor's tree, was not one, but TWO, gray oblong shapes that did look a lot like penguins!

"Mom, are they hawks?"

"No… not any hawk I've ever seen!"

We eventually figured out that our penguins were two huddled blue herons trying to keep warm in the windy weather. We watched the pair throughout the day, taking great delight whenever one moved, worrying when we couldn't see two, and wondering if they would choose to be our permanent neighbors.

That evening at dinner, my husband read another chapter from Tales of the Kingdom (one of our favorites, written by David and Karen Mains). This chapter, titled 'Sighting Day' was about a game called seek-the-King.

"The children try to find the King all over Great Park on Sighting Day," Mercie explained further. "It is a huge game of seek-the-King. He appears in disguises…"

But the game is not as easy as it sounds, because before a person can see the King, he/she has to believe in the King. I won't give away too much, but by the end of the chapter, our protagonist Hero was able to say, "I see the King!"

Suddenly it all came together. Hero understood. This was the King. This beggar. This peasant. This athletic young man.

For me, the connection could not have been clearer. I'm not an avid bird watcher, but I do take great delight in identifying birds and watching their habits. Whenever I'm walking or driving, I spot birds and point them out to my children. Now the children have caught on to my little hobby. When I hear one of them shout out, "There's our phoebe!" or "I saw a red-winged blackbird" I am filled with joy.

Similarly, I can be the one who teaches my children to see Jesus everywhere. When I give thanks despite a difficult situation, I am showing my children that Jesus is in control. When I give praise to the Creator for His beautiful world, I am pointing out God's handiwork. And when I treat strangers, neighbors, and even enemies with love, I am demonstrating Jesus's love for those who were made in His image. Yes, the King is everywhere, if we only open our eyes to see Him.

The herons did not choose to stay for more than a day, but as we drove to church last Sunday, we spotted a heron at the nearby creek.

"Look! A heron! Maybe that's our heron!"

I smiled. Hearing those words brought to my mind an image of my children playing a game of seek-the-King, maybe at church, maybe at the park, maybe at the store. How wonderful it would be to hear them shout one day,

"I see the King!"

(lyric from 'Add to the Beauty' by Sara Groves)

Giving Up My Passion

One mellow Monday morning, I was enjoying giant cinnamon rolls and good conversation at my friend Susan's house. My sweet tooth satisfied, I moved to the carpet with my baby and caught up with my friend Paul whom I had not seen for several months.

"Are you writing anything right now?" I asked him.

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. "No, not really. I'm reworking some poems, but I'm not writing anything new."

And because my friend not only writes but performs spoken word as well, I asked the next obvious question.

"Oh, have you been performing then?"

He looked up at the ceiling again. "No…"

I waited to give him time (always a good thing to practice when listening).

"No…," he finally said. "I think God wanted me to stop performing and focus on some other things first. There was some growing I needed to do. When I was performing, I was so passionate, but I was too passionate. I would talk to people and feel like I was right all the time. I was buried in my art, instead of hanging out with people and caring for them. So that's why I'm not writing or performing right now."

It was my turn to look up at the ceiling. "Yes… I know what you mean," I said.

Paul had brought into focus something that I had not been able to put into words. After decades of practicing, performing, and writing music, I have come to a near standstill. I no longer sing in a choir, nor do I accompany one. I don't lead worship on Sundays, or any days. I don't spend hours on end at my piano. Once, I had considered a career in music because it was my passion. Now, it seems that my passion is gone.

But is it really? I miss music, every day. I love singing lullabies to my children and sitting down to play an occasional waltz. I still feel that some of my deepest emotions are best expressed through music. My music is still in me, but God had asked me to give it up. 

Give it up?!

Yes, give it up. Why would God ask me to do that?

Because…

when I was immersed in music, I was content to be alone.
when I was leading worship, I kept myself apart.
when I thought of myself as a musician, I wore the title like a badge on honor.

In my college years, I was taught to put music on a pedestal. In my post-college years, I cared more about the notes on a page than the people in my midst. Then I became Mom and rehearsals were too difficult with a nursing baby. My husband became a pastor and my attention turned elsewhere. My children grew older and my hours at home were filled with homeschooling and chores. Opportunities would pop up to sing with a choir or to be a part of the worship team, but they wouldn't work out. New friends and church members didn't even know that I had musical skills. I started to feel the loss, the envy, and the bitterness.

"Lord, when will it be my turn?" I asked. "What if my skills  grow dull and my talent goes numb?"

Before the bitterness could overtake me, God answered, "Rita, remember who gave you your talent. Besides, you know that in my kingdom, it is not skill or talent that matters most. There will be a time when you have your music again, but now is not the time. Now is the time to take away your pride and solitude. But I can do that without taking away your music, if you give it up on your own accord."

And I knew He was right.

Before, I could have never imagined that I would be willing to give up my passion. After all, it was my passion. It was me. It was my life.

But I see now that my musical passion is a gift from God, and any gift that becomes more important than the Giver is not worth having.

My life does not come from music. My life comes from Christ. And there is where my passions should lie.

As Paul writes in Galatians 6:14, 

But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.

The beautiful part of this long growing process is seeing how God has replaced my passion for music with other passions: for writing, for people, for His Word. God did not leave me empty-handed. While He took away my pride and need for perfection, He did not take away my creativity or my talent. Instead, He gave me a joy for newfound creativity in other mediums, a renewed joy in singing for God alone, and a deeper care for people and their stories. He is refining my passions, refocusing and repurposing them for His kingdom.

God will let me know when it is the time to immerse myself in music again. And maybe, I will never again fully immerse myself in music again. It will be a part of me, but not all of me. The words of Fanny Crosby's beautiful song 'Blessed Assurance' comes to my mind. The third verse is especially fitting:

Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest,
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled in His goodness, lost in His love.

And everyday, whether or not I am on a stage or at a piano, I will be singing the words of the refrain:

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long;
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.