Category Archives: blessing

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Do You Hear What I Hear?

UPDATE ON CD WINNER BELOW…
“Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. …” (Isaiah 40:28a).

Do you hear what I hear?

I wish you could have.

Heard what I heard.

Last night at the Durham Performing Arts Center.



Piano man extraordinaire, Jim Brickman, and his ensemble cast including…

*the earthy and gutsy voice of Anne Cochran.
*the pure and tranquil voice of Canadian sensation Mark Masri.
*the raw, unedited, yet perfectly tuned six-string electric violin belonging to Tracy Silverman.
*the rich and full orchestration of the accompanying North Carolina Symphony Orchestra.

To give words to such an event risks lessening the experience, but I thought I should try … at least in part.

Last evening’s “night on the town” was a gift to me. One I had been planning for months. I am a Jim Brickman fan. His music takes me places. His artistry is a rare gift. A mix of God-given talent coupled with a willingness to tend to that gift. And when the two merge as one, when the divine enabling mixes with the fleshly obedience, the result is breathtaking. Life changing. The stuff of kingdom living as it was meant to breathe and to walk on this side of eternity.

Thus, when I heard that Jim would be performing nearby, I purchased four tickets. Two for Billy and me. Two for my parents. A surprise for the people who know me best and who, perhaps, love me the most. Some pauses are worth the pocketbook, friends. Last night was one of them.

From the first note on the keyboard, to the final bow of our host, I sat spellbound. Perched on the edge of my expectation, I could have lingered for hours. The Christmas carols were in full bloom, along with some of Mr. Brickman’s most endearing melodies. Two hours and a few tissues later, it was over.

Still and yet, the music and the memory lingers.

The totality of participating in something far grander than my limited attempts at living accordingly is worth the pennies that I pinched to take me there. To see and to hear the fullness of artistry in motion and in living color is a rare and precious privilege for this home-spun girl clothed with a heart full of dreams and a past full of heartaches.

Last night was about believing. About recapturing the hope that scripts my heart with the truth that my life was meant to sing its worth, even as it has for my new musical friends. And while I don’t know where they are in their faith journeys … if they even understand from where their giftedness roots … I believe they have some inclination.

Who can sing the witness of the Savior’s birth while harboring the totality of darkness within? At least they were willing to allow their gifts–their voices and their instruments–to be the stage for the Song of the season.

The Christ Child. The Joy to the world. The Hark behind the angels voices. The Babe of the silent night. The most important Gift under our trees and upon his own this Christmas season.

As Christians, we all house the immortal, invisible, highest ranking and soul-changing Spirit of this living Gift. He makes his humble home within our feeble flesh. It doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t seem right; still and yet, he has allowed his musical score its voice via ours.

Through our songs. Our words. Our pens. Our work. Our homes. Our churches. Our kindnesses. Our love.

Regardless of your capacity to carry a tune or to play an instrument, your Father has endowed you with a gifting all your own. Yours doesn’t necessarily look like mine, and mine? Well it’s taken me the better part of forty-two years to be settled on the fact that mine doesn’t have to voice like yours.

As children, created in the image of the Most High God, we house the seeds of eternity within (Ecc. 3:11). And when those seeds are coupled with our willingness to tend to this unmerited yet freely given divine favor, the results are breathtaking. Life changing. The stuff of kingdom living as it was meant to breathe and to walk on this side of eternity.

Do you hear what I hear? Greater still, are you walking the truth of that hearing? I wish that you would. It is your privilege to do so. It is mine, also. Thus, may we all endeavor to walk the obedience of such a sacred listening.

God continues to write his musical score through the likes of you and me. And that, my friends, is the best Gift of Christmas we will unwrap in this and in every season of our lives. As always,

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PS: Congratulations to Cheryl B. for winning an autographed copy of Jim’s “Homecoming” Christmas CD (my personal favorite). Please snail mail me your email Cheryl.

An Upwards Abundance

An Upwards Abundance

“Lift up your heads, O you gates; be lifted up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is this King of glory? The LORD strong and mighty, the LORD mighty in battle. Lift up your heads, O you gates; lift them up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is he, this King of glory? The LORD Almighty—he is the King of glory. (Psalm 24:7-10).

 

 


We’re not an “up” people. We should be, but all too often, we choose the lateral.

After all, lateral is easier. Less dizzy on the focus and less straining on the neck. However, a life lived at the lateral level never levels with the lavish of heaven. It may walk straight and in step with tradition, but rarely does it boast the bounty of an upward endowment. Whenever we refuse a rising glance, we risk missing our Father’s descending glory.

His bounty and his abundance, raining down upon us to bless us, relieve us, assure us, and to personally love us in a way that is tenderly bestowed upon us because of our upwards invitation.

How much of our Father’s grandeur have we missed because of our lazy and horizontal approach to “doing life” with him? I shudder to think upon such foolishness in my own heart and life because today, I personally witnessed the abundance of my Father’s raining blessing.

Literally.

We’ve lived in our current home for almost five years. Two pecan trees border our back yard. Year after year, we dread the Fall raking because of the remnants they leave behind.

Rotten pecans.

Inie, my friend down the road, also has a couple of pecan trees. Year after year, she collects them as her treasures rather than trash. She shells them, packages them, and then sells them for a profit. And while she’s always been quick to share her bounty with me, I’ve always been a bit envious of her budding trees while mine remain my annual hassle.

I’ve been thinking about them as of late. The weather hasn’t permitted a back yard’s raking. Consequently, the pecans have become gravel beneath my feet as I make my way through the back yard to my running path. I’ve nearly lost my religion on a few occasions. Pecans make for a slippery slope if one is not careful to notice their pebbled existence. Today was no different.

My foot caught a pecan, and my ankle entreated a familiar twist.

“Darn those pecans. It’s time to rake this carnage away.”

No sooner were the words out of my mouth when I noticed something different on the grassy surroundings. Intermingled with the rotten was a crop of seemingly new pecans. Their color and texture were different from the others. They looked like Inie’s. Not only did they resemble Inie’s pecans, they tasted like them too.

Healthy pecans.

Falling unnoticed and unappreciated from the tree in my backyard. Hiding amidst the rotten, yet visible to the one intent on the find. On the looking up and on the noticing of God’s bounty clinging in submission to the vine and waiting on the Father’s holy nod of approval for the drop into my backyard.

For weeks now, I’ve refused the upward glance. Not because I didn’t desire the bounty of my trees, but simply because I no longer believed in the possibility of them bearing any fruit. I’ve grown accustomed to my under producing trees.

As it is with my pecan tree, so it goes with my faith. A faith that hinges on the fruit of a single tree.

A Calvary tree whose raining glory spawns an abundance that landscapes humanity with the color and texture of grace. With the taste of a ruby red wine that bleeds pure and drinks remembrance. With the health and vibrancy of a clinging submission that waited until his Father’s hold nod of approval allowed him his drop into my heart.

How often have I refused the possibility of that tree? How many times have I chosen the lateral over the upwards because, quite frankly, the rising glance has been too straining on my understanding and required a submission that I was unwilling to relinquish? What is the abundance that I have “settled” for rather than receiving the abundance that my Father has determined on my behalf out of his riches in glory? When have I believed less, received less, simply because I have reasoned his tree to mean less?

The fact is, Jesus Christ and his glory often remains the unnoticed and unappreciated raining abundance of heaven in my life. Instead of looking up to receive his descending glory, I’ve grown accustomed to a downward approach–to the rotten, worldly abundance that landscapes each day and that entreats my feeble feet to a most treacherous dance.

And therein lies the rub.

Looking down … living down … never yields the fullness of heaven. Heaven’s bounty can only be gained by looking up and by living with an upwards approach to doing life with Jesus. Can he be found amongst the rotten?

What do you think? Where have you seen him today? If you’re like me, perhaps you’ve seen him amongst the rotten and within the lateral. He came and lived among us—lives among us—for this exact purpose. To be seen and felt and tasted in a world that is experiencing a swift and final decay. God doesn’t mind descending into our lateral.

But he’s easier to find in the “up.” His glory is less cluttered, less trampled and more distinguishable when it rains … reigns … in solo.

I don’t know how long my pecan tree will continue to rain its treasure down upon me. Winter will soon walk her cold, and the limbs will stand empty for a season. Still and yet, my Father spurs my vigilance toward an upwards glance. He reminds me that Spring will soon follow. New buds will come and new fruit will begin to grow its abundance. And while I may never glean the harvest of healthy pecans from this tree again, I will never make the mistake of assuming its limbs no longer house the possibility.

God authors its possibility. He authors mine. His abundance has fallen into my life once again. My “up” and his “down” have been the sacred joining that has allowed my King’s glory a raining upon and within me that boasts the truth of heaven.

“Lift up your heads, O you gates; lift them up, you ancient doors, that the King of glory may come in. Who is he, this King of glory? The LORD Almighty—he is the King of glory.”

He is yours. He is mine. The glorious fruit of his Father’s Vine. Look up and receive your kingdom inheritance this day.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of his abiding and promised Holy Spirit, Amen.

~elaine

Well, friends, not sure how much I’ll be around in the next week. I’ll be doing what most of us will be doing…being reindeers when necessary and just generally being filled up with all the stuff that makes Christmas, Christmas. I’ll be checking in with you and maybe even posting some further pictures and, perhaps, some more thoughts from my father, “Chuck”. Rest assured, that as I count my blessings of 2008, meeting many of you and furthering our friendships through blogland and otherwise has been one of the richest treasures of the past year. I love you each one and consider it my joy and privilege to be yoked alongside you in this season of our lives. Keep looking up. Our Father has some blessing he wants to rain down into your heart. Shalom!

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