Simon and Garfunkel.

This is all I have to say:

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls.

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies.

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're asleep
And kiss you when you start your day.

And a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme.

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you.

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q60YKfPKdjQ

Upon you rests the grace of God like flames of fire...

I was reading an article recently in Neue, an offshoot of Relevant Magazine. It was an interview with Jaeson Ma, a church-planter in China. He said:

“A church apostle from China came to L.A., and my friend [took] him to different large churches there. After visiting half a dozen of them, he asked, ‘What do you think of the churches here?’ And this is what he said: ‘It’s amazing what your churches in America can do without the Holy Spirit.’”

Ah yes, that’s what it is. I’ve never been able to pinpoint what I’ve found to be lacking in many (not all) churches that I’ve been to in the U.S. I’ve actually been to a lot of churches this year. I’ve been to mega churches in Chicago, Wisconsin and Los Angeles. I’ve been to multiple churches of various sizes and denominations in Portland, Minnesota, and Washington. This summer, I led “interdenominational church services” in the campgrounds at Mount Rainier National Park. Since moving to Bellingham, I’ve been going to Lettered Streets Covenant Church, a two-year-old church plant.

            I had a surprisingly great experience singing in the Easter choir at Willow Creek Community Church, one of the biggest churches in the country. I remember talking to someone who told me that what most people don’t like about it is that it’s different from other churches they’ve been a part of. It was certainly very different from what I’m used to, but we had some legitimate worship there. And the people there are living their lives as true disciples, even if they may seem a bit daunting with their sanctuary that seats 7,000 and their soundboard that looks like it belongs to NASA. In contrast, Lettered Streets meets in a humble church building without fancy media and only one pastor. We have children running around the aisles during worship, and sometimes the pastor’s mic doesn’t work, so he just talks loudly. But God has done wonders in both places, because the people there are bursting at the seams with the Holy Spirit.  

            But I’ve been to churches where the Holy Spirit seems conspicuously absent. I remember visiting a church once and wondering, ‘Did we pray at all that whole time?’ At other times, I’ve thought, ‘That sermon was way too much about people and not at all about God.” And I think this happens when the church forgets about the importance of the Holy Spirit in everything we do. We absolutely cannot rely on ourselves when it comes to ministry. Nothing gets done without the Holy Spirit.

“Love and serve the Lord in the strength of the Spirit...” (North Park Collegelife benediction)

If only I had an enemy bigger than my apathy, I could have won.

– Mumford and Sons, “I Gave You All”

Somehow, my life has been intertwined with various Mumford and Sons lyrics for the past few months. Apparently, their music resonates with a lot of people, because they’ve exploded in popularity lately. Good for them. Except that I don’t feel quite as awesome referencing them anymore, because they’re everywhere right now.

Anyway.

What a great line. So how do you beat apathy? Unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll ever have a complete answer to that. But here are a few things that work for me.

Option #1

Run away to the mountains.

(Ideally Mount Rainier on a clear day with good friends or even random people. The mountain will work its magic.)

Option #2

Run away to the Lake District in Northern England.

Once you find yourself in the middle of the park, pick a direction and just walk. Listening to Jars of Clay as you hike across the English countryside is highly recommended.

Option #3

Run to the edge of Chicago and stare at the place where the water meets the sky. Imagine the city melting away and concentrate on the wind whipping around your face.

Option #4

Call up a friend who will love talking to you no matter how grumpy you are.

Option #5

Drive to a lookout point on Chuckanut Drive and stare at the San Juan Islands until they become a part of you. And listen for sea lions.

Option #6

Go to Boulevard Park on Bellingham Bay. Get as close to the water as possible. Now read some poetry.

Option #7

Go to your favorite coffee shop with any of the following books: “My Utmost for His Highest” by Oswald Chambers, The Bible, anything by Donald Miller or C.S. Lewis, or “The Practice of the Presence of God” by Brother Lawrence. Put together a playlist of awesome songs that always speak right to your heart.

Option #8

Start a blog?!

The Green, Lumpy Places

When people ask me why I transferred to Western, I wish I could just read chapter 9 of "Blue Like Jazz" to them. But I usually just say it was for the English program or something like that. Of course, this is completely true, but it's just a small part of an entire truth. Donald Miller talks about when he was working in Houston as a youth group leader and he describes a conversation he had with a pastor there. He says, "I can't be here anymore. I don't feel whole here. I feel, well, partly whole. Incomplete. Tired." The talks about the "lumpy places", and I know exactly what he's talking about. He means, when you fly across the country from Chicago to Washington, the land changes from flat patchwork to lush, green, lumpy mountains. He says, "the real me was out in the green lumpy places". I love the green, lumpy places far more than I could ever say. But Donald Miller says it pretty well in only a few words. Right now, out the window of my apartment is a big, tree-covered hill. In England, it might be called a mountain. There are no houses on it. It's perfect. It's a lumpy place.
It's hard to explain how I ended up in any of the places my life has taken me. Except that it all just kind of happened. I think it's a good sign that I don't know how to explain why I'm here. Because it doesn't make sense by the standards of this world or this culture. No one would suggest to a high school student to spend their first year of college halfway across the country, the next year in England at a Bible school, the next back at the first school, and the rest of college at a University close to home where most of their credits don't transfer. But here I am, and I wouldn't change any of it! I've gone wherever God has wanted me, and it's been crazy, but SO, SO good.

Here goes nothing... or everything?

Lately, I've been trying to figure out how to be used by God. I'm not doing anything big and radical right now, and I feel almost guilty for it. But this weekend, I was at a coffee shop, and I saw a girl writing in a journal. Sitting on the table next to her was a Bible and a copy of "My Utmost for His Highest". And I thought, 'when was the last time I did that?' What happened to journal-writing, Oswald-reading me? What happened to "Mt. Rainier Me", as Kristi would say. So here I am, journaling (journalling?) in a coffee shop, getting excited about God again. And I realized that one person doing her devotions got me back to this place. And she has no idea how God used her. So here's the deal. I'm starting a new blog, because you never know how God is going to use you. I have things to say, and I'm so far away from so many people. I don't know if anyone will read this, but that's okay. At the very least, it will be good for me. I'm here because I desperately want to be used by God, and He has a tendency to work in crazy ways. So here goes.

PS: The name of this blog is "Awake My Soul". It's from a Mumford and Sons song. I've gotten really into them lately, (as well as the rest of the world, apparently) and they have some incredible lyrics in their songs. These three words are the theme of my life right now. Awake my soul.
The URL for this blog is "sublime profundity". This is weird. But "Awake My Soul" was already taken. "Sublime" and "profundity" are two of my favorite words. Because life is sublime. And profundity is fun to say.
The Wordsworth quote is, of course, from "Tintern Abbey", probably my favorite poem of all time (which, incidentally, uses the word, 'sublime', at least a couple of times). It's beautiful and doesn't need an explanation for being on my blog.