I love old cars.

The lines, the power, the heritage- all things I love about vintage automobiles.  You will often find me glued to the couch on Saturdays watching collector car auctions on television, where my excitement level increases with each bid.

I especially love the stories of cars that sat in barns for decades, only to be meticulously restored to better-than-original condition.  Sure, there’s the same model car that has rarely been driven, with only 18,000 miles or something.  One can appreciate the fact that someone knew that the car may have been worth something one day.  But, I would argue that the car was barely driven, and it spent a lifetime just sitting still.  And besides…

Restoration stories are so much better.

It’s not just the end result of the better-than-new car that appeals, it’s the story of how it got to that point.  Often times the person who restored the car will share on how, when the car was stripped down to the bare metal, major issues reared their ugly heads.  Multiple layers of paint and body filler do a pretty good job of creating something pleasant to look at on the outside, only to be decaying from within.  When those layers are peeled back, the truth of what needs restoration is revealed.

At this point of the post, insert my (and your) life here.

This season of participating in Christ’s death have peeled ripped back many layers in my life. Complacency and sitting still has caused the tires to rot and the battery to die.  Being exposed to the elements have brought about a thick, rusty layer of pride, degrading and decaying anything in its path.  The discovery (on this sort of level this season) has proven to be far from a gentle process.  I’m not sure why I was expecting anything different.  All I need to do is look at Christ.  Look what they did to him.  Why would I expect anything easy? Remember, there’s no story of redemption without depravity. If we have nothing to be restored to, why do you and I need restoration?

So restore away, God.  I don’t want to just sit.  Maybe that would mean less risk, but it would certainly mean less living.  Besides…

I can’t wait to tell others the story.

Every detail.  No omissions.

image: sam

Let me just say that this season will not be forgotten.

I hope these posts have been encouraging to you, as I’ve tried my best to honestly share my experience participating in Christ’s death before celebrating his resurrection.  There is a bit more to say in terms of it, but for today, I’d like to keep it simple.  I came across this prayer, and I find it quite fitting these days.

Almighty God,
You know that we have no power in ourselves
to help ourselves:
Keep us both outwardly in our bodies
and inwardly in our souls,
that we may be defended from all adversities
which may happen to the body,
and from all evil thoughts
which may assault and hurt the soul;
through Jesus Christ our Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

Take that in.  Rinse & Repeat...

I love music.

LOVE, I tell you.

There is something about music that stirs the soul in a way that many can’t.

I love to write and make music, and I love to listen to it made by others much better than me.

Currently, I’ve been listening to loads of Matthew Perryman Jones.  I’ve also been listening to Jeremy Casella, who I opened for a while back at a house show…great songwriter and storyteller.  I’ll also be attending two concerts in April, one for Sandra McCracken & Derek Webb, and another concert with a favorite: The Robbie Seay Band.  They have a new album out very soon, so you should jump over to their site and grab a copy.  You can even get it on vinyl!!

So, what are you listening to?

I’d love to hear.  Perhaps it’s something I’ve not heard of, and perhaps you’ll be turned on to something new as well through the comments.

How long, O Lord?

I need to be honest here…

I hate to wait.

And wouldn’t you know it…God doesn’t.  He is patient and long-suffering.  Slow to anger, even.

Yet somehow I feel like I’m entitled to get answers now from him.  I have so much to learn.

He feels pretty silent these days.  My prayers feel like they bounce off some sort of invisible ceiling lately.  I’ve begun to consider the possibility that my prayer life is not to consist of simply asking him for things.  Rather, I should spend time with him.  I should get to know him more. So, off to his very words I’ve gone.

Luckily, I’m not at a loss for places in scripture where God seemed silent.  I immediately think of Job.  I also go right to David as well.  The Psalms are chocked full of David’s desperate cries to God.

Psalm 13 is one of my favorites, full of such honesty and desperation.  I thought it was a fitting text to meditate on and share during this time of silence.  Take the time to chew on it for a bit.

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I take counsel in my soul
and have sorrow in my heart all the day?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
Consider and answer me, O LORD my God;
light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death,
lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,”
lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken.
But I have trusted in your steadfast love;
my heart shall rejoice in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD, because he has dealt bountifully with me.

His love is to be trusted.  Salvation is his.  He’s been so good, even in the silence.  A part of my heart is changing, not just stirring, and part of that change has been in the silence.

Maybe you’re not feeling him lately.  It could be a time to let things die in order for restoration, perhaps.  I do know that we all need patience.  I can’t get over how patient he’s been with me, after I’ve blown it time and time (and time) again.

I want to have patience.  I want to trust him.  He’s been good to me.

So I will wait.

Happy Monday to you all, and welcome back to the series of posts about this season of Lent.  In case you haven’t read them yet, check them out and get up to speed on the wrestling.  They’re linked below for you convenience.

• Here’s to Death: Lent (part one)
• Here’s to Death: Lent (part two)
• Take Time to Stop: Lent (part three)
• Gaining Wisdom: Lent (part four)
• A Break in the Clouds: Lent (part five)
• Be Thawed & Rejoice: Lent (part six)

Ok, back to today…

You know, sometimes Friday’s quote doesn’t seem believable to me.  Sometimes there’s
only one deafening sound from God in times of great need, and it’s this:

Silence.

During this season of dying, which has felt really close to what I imagine the real thing feels like, I’ve had my share of the [seemingly] silent treatment from God.  Why doesn’t he speak up when I’m crying out?  Why can’t I seem to find him anywhere?

Is he testing me?  Is the silence a part of some sort of lesson?  Perhaps it’s to show me why faith is necessary.

I have a feeling that I’m just not paying attention.

Romans 1:20 says:

For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.

You see, I really have no excuse for missing out on seeing his power displayed and his nature personified.  For one, He’s everywhere.  I’ve seen his power on display at the Grand Canyon and the ocean.  And I’ve seen glimpses of his nature in my wife’s patience with me(you have no idea), my co-worker’s compassion for those struggling, and Eliud, whom I’ve never even met.

Maybe I should lift my head up and take everything in.  Maybe I should pay closer attention to all of the reminders that are around me.  I feel like the image above conveys what he says to us…

Feel free to look around.  You’ll see me.

Where are you seeing God in your life right now?

image: Sam