Am Go Damhsa

"For everything there is a season, and a time every after under heaven..." Ecclesiastes is not a "feel good" book. You don't finish Solomon's Magnum Opus and go, "wow, that dude really had a good life." In fact, it's a terribly depressing and unhappy book, filled mostly with "vanity, vanity, all is vanity." But this one section, eight verses in chapter three, right in the middle of all that vanity, is this beautiful, poetic essay on life. Solomon's wisdom was the greatest in the earth, ever, before the birth of Christ. And when he went to describe this beautiful, thrilling roller-coaster ride God places us on, he described it like this:

"A time to be born, and a time to die; A time to plant, and a time to pluck up what 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 mourn, 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 seek, and a time to lose; A time to keep, and a time to cast away; A time to tear, and a time to sew; A time to keep silence, and a time to speak; A time for love, and a time for hate; A time for war and a time for peace."

Wait...God has a time for killing? For casting away? For tearing? For HATE? How is this possible? We understand the God who has a time for dying, because it's a normal part of this life. We even understand how God could have a time for breaking down, weeping, mourning, and war. Of course, we expect that there would be times for birth, healing, building up, laughing, embracing, repair, love, and peace. And probably everyone except those few Baptists out there understand how God has a time to dance! But I, for one, had a hard time wrapping my mind around the fact that not only does God understand that we will struggle with hatred, breaking down, casting away, but that he expects, even ordains, times for those exact things. It's a normal progression of the dance we call life. How reassuring for someone in the time of hatred, of anger and fear, pain, mourning, weeping. To know that God sees, understands the pain, and is just waiting for it to be time to turn on the heavenly music and break into dancing the dance of joy! Because the format of these verses is designed to imply the inevitability of the cycle of life. It doesn't say, "sometimes you get to dance after you mourn, sometimes you laugh after you weep, sometimes you love after you've hated, but you just gotta work a little harder, be a little better, stronger, faster, and you might get there." No! It says, very simply, that there is already a time for all these things. If you're weeping, it's not yet time to laugh. If you're still mourning, your time to dance has not arrived. And if you still have hate, it's not yet time to love again. It's hard, God certainly knows it's hard, waiting for the time. But it is key.

Am Go Damhsa means "Time To Dance" in Gaelic, the ancient language of my ancestors. I know that, in God's timing, my am go damhsa will come. In God's time, the mourning will be over, the weeping will be done, the hate will be gone, and the music will start for the dance. But until then, there is nothing I can do to make it go faster. I can't force the music to play, and it's difficult to truly dance without music. Patience is as important to the dance as enthusiasm and joy in the movements. Live in the moment, even if the moment you happen to be living in is filled with the less pleasant aspects of life. They are still a part of this life, given us by our God, designed to be lived to the fullest. Experience the present and anticipate the dance!

Forgiveness?

"Forgiveness, like love, is a choice not an emotion." From everything I've read in scripture, every verse on love, every reference to trespasses and hurts, this statement is true. Love is a choice, and so is forgiveness. You can choose to forgive, choose to love past hurts and fear and pain and heartbreak. But what about those of us in the trenches of Christian life, just trying to be like Jesus day by day, shine the light and glorify the Savior? What about the ones who have been broken and despite crying out for healing, now have open, festering wounds that ache with bitterness? What about them? What about us? Having been wounded, having been hurt and having experienced all the anger, pain, bitterness, rage, blame, shame, fear, and various other unpleasant and ungodly emotions, this is a huge struggle for me right now. Because time and time again, I have bent my will into submission to the Savior's example, his command, and said "I CHOOSE to forgive you." I have even felt forgiveness, a time or two, and thought, "finally, finally, I'm free" and would revel in that freedom for a few days, even a couple weeks. Then "the pain came back again, like a bitter friend" and I wasn't able to keep myself from blaming. I experience again the deep betrayal and pain, and find myself bitter and separated from God again. I cry out, and hear nothing. Ask, beg, plead for strength, power to forgive and let go, and find none. I'm tired of this cycle, and can't find the solution. I've thought, "maybe if I just tell him I forgive him, it'll make it so," but it seems so dishonest. My will can't override my emotions, and heaven is silent. So I will ask, seek, knock, and maybe eventually, an answer will come from the throne.

Voices

I haven't posted in months...since August of last year. It's hard for me to believe that it's been that long. After a couple of months on a mountaintop, I went through a valley of darkness. I lost my focus over the past few months and am just now getting my sight fixed back completely on the source of my strength, the end goal of this life: Christ and my transformation into his Bride. The Lover of my soul never stopped loving me - I backed away from the relationship and turned my gaze to the frail, transient forgeries that this earthly life provides. But he never stops pursuing those who have pledged themselves to him. He hounded me, faithfully drawing me gently but persistently to himself, and consumed me again with the fire of his love.

Tonight, on the way home from a night out at the movies with friends, I heard the Casting Crowns song, "Voice of Truth." Such a powerful song. Like all of Casting Crowns' work, "Voice of Truth" is beautifully crafted musically and theologically deep lyrically. In the chorus, the group sings,

"The Voice of Truth tells me a different story / The Voice of Truth says
'Do not be afraid' / The Voice of Truth says 'This is for My glory" / Of all the
voices calling out to me / I will choose to listen and believe / The Voice of
Truth."

What a beautiful picture of surrender. I have been there, watching the waves threatening to drown me, watching the giant grow larger and larger as he walks menacingly toward my frail form. I've felt that desperation, that "Lord, save me" cry of absolute anguish. Have you ever truly gotten to the point where you feel like your very soul is being torn asunder and you're going under for the last time? That's the point where you can reach up and grasp the hand of the Savior, just like Peter did in the Sea of Galilee during the storm, and be lifted gently above the desperation. Notice, Peter was not taken out of the Sea. He was merely supported above it. He still had to endure the tossing of the waves, the spray in his face, the chill of fear and the trial of his faith. God doesn't remove us from suffering. He tests us to the limit of our faith and is either pleased with our endurance or sees clearly the areas we're still weak in. But he's always there for the support. Always.
In the midst of that chaos, that terror, at the end of the rope, Peter had to hear the voice of Christ in order to know where to reach out for salvation. He had to sort out the noises around him. Roaring waves, howling wind, shouts from his friends in the boat, the frantic beating of his own heart rushing in his ears. All of that battled for his attention, striving to push the still, small voice of the Nazarene from his ears and his heart. Christ had already told him he'd be safe if he only kept his eyes on Jesus. He'd failed once. Yet the Master reached out a hand, and called again. That Voice of Truth reached Peter's feeble ears and somehow touched his heart. He chose to listen to the Voice of Truth rather than those others vying for attention.
So what are the other voices we fight against? Peter fought friends, the elements, and his own fear to hear the Voice. We fight similar battles in the spiritual and physical realms today. The obvious voices of lies are from the culture. They're pervasive, but relatively easy to discern, with a minimum of effort. Sure, they're everywhere, but when the culture says clearly, "sex before marriage is fine, try it out and live together for a while, you don't want to get stuck in a passionless marriage so make sure it all 'works' before then," we can clearly refute that with any number of scriptures from the Levitical laws to the instructions in the New Testament from Christ himself, Peter, Paul, and many others. There are more subtle voices, those that whisper in a tone so similar to that of the Master that we have to listen carefully. Those are the whispers that say "we're under Grace, not Law. This is legalism. God is a God of love. We're 'married in our hearts,' It's not really 'sex.'" Subtle attacks of Satan.
Fear is still a huge issue. It's a monumental fight, particularly when you're faced with a painful situation, a hurt that seems like it will never heal. Especially when it seems like God not only allowed the hurt, but oschestrated it. When your anger is directed, justly it seems, at the Almighty. Fear of the pain. Fear of rejection. Fear of loneliness. Fear of failure. Fear that perhaps God isn't who you think he is. Fear that you'll never be whole. Fear of men. But remember? The Voice of Truth said that he has "not given you a spirit of fear, but a Spirit of power, and of love, and a sound mind." God is not a god of fear. Fear is the opposite of love, because "Perfect love drives out fear." God has clearly promised that "All things work together for the good of those who love him, who are called according to his purpose." So what have we to fear, really? Pain, rejection, loneliness, failure, and brokenness are all a part of life that is inescapeable because we live in the fallen, sinful "Death World." Accept it and cling to the promise that all of these things are ultimately turned to the glory of God and the good of those who accept their calling to his purpose.
See friends, that's the catch. All things do NOT work to the good of ALL PEOPLE. That promise is only for those who A) Love God, and B), are called according to his purpose. We're all called. All humanity is called and wooed by the Creator. But not all will accept the call. Not all who accept the gift of salvation accept the call to live their lives according to God's purpose, to further his glory no matter the personal cost. For those who reject that call, they may have their "ticket punched," but they are missing the glory of God in the present world, and will one day fall on their faces before the Mercy Seat and bitterly mourn for the lost opportunities, the wasted life. The "no tears" portion of eternity doesn't start until after the Mercy Seat for a reason. There WILL be bitter weeping before Christ at that day, and he will mourn that loss with us.
I feel like this is a bit rambling, and disjointed. I hope it got the message across that I intended. The message is this: The Voice of Truth speaks quietly and persistently, and if you listen you'll be able to distinguish it from the voices of fear, self, culture, and Satan. Forget the waves, forget the friends, forget the storm and flesh. Reach up, grab the offered hand, and cling to it like a child in a crowd clinging to the hand of her Father. It's the lifeline, the safety at the end of the Voice.