Skip to main content

Five Minute Fridays, Adore

It's a beautiful quiet morning here (at least for five minutes).  Linking up with Kate at Heading Home for five minutes of writing about one word, Adore.  

Last night I shuffled hesitantly into the local civic center.  I was meeting a group of women I didn't know very well from church.  Someone had graciously paid for me to go to a Third Day Christmas Concert, so you know...I had to go.  I love Mac Powell and all.  
Before I got to the concert though frustrations emerged.  I knew I had said I would go and therefore had to go, but nothing about my spirit wanted to go.  Perky Christmas music in no way fit my mood.  And I did not want to fake it.  I sat in my car stewing and talking out loud to myself.  Trying to process my feelings and maybe they'd all just fizzle out.
I went in anyway.
And I'm so glad I did. 
You see there is something so good about being able to leave the thoughts blitzing through your head at lightening speed for two hours.  I was not very familiar with any of the women I was with so I was able to just be quiet, contemplative, and just soak in the words.   Christmas music always makes most people smile and I noticed that a smile was starting to tickle and tug the edge of my lips.  It slowly stretched over my face.
Thats what worship does, adoration.  It fixes the gaze elsewhere.  
It is the doorway that invites you to leave the mess of now for a few minutes and enjoy the beauty of Heaven.  
I actually thought about that as I was sitting there listening to an old Third Day song.  How one day when I'm given the invitation to just walk on into Heaven, I will and will not look back.  That probably sounds cold, but that was how I was feeling last night.  To know that when we leave the mess of here and enter there, we won't want to come back.  All of this will be finished. Done. Swallowed up by the unfading glory of Eternity.  
We all need those moments of hope.  Where Jesus uses His love and grace to cup our face and draw our face up.  To Him.  
I needed it last night. 
My favorite moment was when Mac Powell started talking about hymns.  How we can't lose the richness that comes from them. He started singing Blessed Assurance.  I love that song.  And I love it even more because of who wrote it.  Frances J. Crosby.  Blind in body, but fully seeing in the spiritual realm.  Her story always amazes me.  All the richness that came out of her little frame that couldn't see.  She's given us so many treasures.  As Mac Powell with his long flowing hair and rock voice sang those lines, 
"Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels, descending, bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love."

I had to smile.  I thought back to that tiny little, dark framed glasses wearing woman.  How she never knew as she penned all those rich pieces of faith, that we over a hundred years later would still be using those words to enter into the presence of God.  That we'd still be joining her in that song. 
Her spiritual vision birthed these words and even though we wouldn't know her, her words would help us know Him.  
Entering into adoration doesn't have to be complicated, showy, or like everyone else.  Sometimes its just quietly sitting somewhere with your legs pulled up to your chest letting the words of a saint now a hundred years dead (99 to be exact)  fill your heart with hope.   

My personal favorite from Frances Crosby, Draw Me Nearer.  That is rich. 
Oh wait, I think it's Pass Me Not, O Gentle Savior. 
Who knows,  I'm just thankful we are still singing those songs.  

Comments

  1. These words: "It is the doorway that invites you to leave the mess of now for a few minutes and enjoy the beauty of Heaven". Absolutely beautiful. I can so understand the not wanting to go because you're not int he mood...and it seems like if I go anyway, I always end up blessed!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

31 Days of Free Writes #Wave

Four summers ago the first weekend in September marked one month.  One month lived out shaky and unsteady.  Just putting a few steps in front of the other and letting tears drip down faces or anger spill out at the sky.  "Why?"
I had watched my husband shake violently at the graveside of his twenty-six year old brother as he sat a few inches from the casket.
My usually stoic husband reached out for the casket as he passed by and I heard his voice crack as he called out his name.  One more time. I had never seen him stricken with grief.  That groan of emotion haunted me.   Those fifteen minutes spent under the funeral home's green awning the last minutes his family would ever be within arms length of this special brother.  A brother who had just slipped quietly out of this life beneath the green gold water of a river one steaming August day.  Bare chested and tan, jumping off the dock with friends.  Never to resurface again.
A lot of that week in August was just wakin…

Five Minute Fridays - "Last"

Last is such a final word, it’s a word that always makes us sit back and take note. We take note of the fact that something is about to draw to an end and we better enjoy the last drops, savor the last bites before its all gone. Like that last hot week of summer that we spend soaking up every last beam of Vitamin D. Or that last couple bites of a once a year Christmas dinner, slowly swallowed down. Or maybe the last night of a vacation where we try to take note of everything and know that we are returning to real world, real bills, real deadlines all seemingly too soon. Two weeks ago I experienced a last. For seven months I was given a gift. It was truly an unexpected gift. One I had never anticipated being given. For the past six years my sister Faith and I have lived in different cities for most of the time. We always mused over the idea that we should've lived together for at least one year of college. But from icy January 4th to steamy August 10th I had the gift…

Morning

Five Minute Fridays
Morning

Morning seems sacred to me.  Having nocturnal children kind of robs me of the mornings I like to enjoy in silence and quiet thought.
For years I would get up at least two hours before anyone so I could just be by myself and be quiet.
My parents are early morning people that like to eat full breakfasts and watch the sunrise on the porch. There's something exciting about watching the day open its' eye lids with the first glints of sun playing on the horizon edge.  Pale blues and periwinkles rouse us out of pitch black and many times morning rises in strength with extravagant colors.  It signals something new.  A new twenty four hours.  A new chance. Kind of like a new little slice of life.  We are mesmerized at first at the idea of new.  It's beautiful, holy, and hopeful.
Morning breaks the night.
I love that Cat Steven's hymn Morning has Broken.  I've always thought the words were so beautiful.
Especially the last phrase, "God&…