I find it interesting that for the past few years, my Lent season has always been about vanity. I gave up wearing make-up for two years in a row (much more difficult than it should be). That lesson was about relying upon the attitudes and love reflecting from my heart, rather than trying to live up to someone else's expectations on what beauty is. Not that I'm a beauty queen or anything. Not even close. But I believe that in those years, wearing make-up symbolized the use of a mask to lead people into seeing a false version of myself. It took two Lent seasons to learn that if I followed and obeyed God, loving Him with all my heart and all my mind and all my soul just as Scripture says, the beauty of the Holy Spirit would emanate from me. People would be drawn to me because they would be drawn to Him, the God I would be representing.
How does this compare to giving up Facebook? What does Facebook have to do with vanity?
Only this: I have always wanted to be famous. Beautiful and famous. Talented, beautiful and famous. Skinny, talented, beautiful and famous. And a super-spy. But that's another story.
Slipping into a fantasy-land was always a defense mechanism for me, especially during the most lonely and empty times of my childhood. I would pretend that I was a part of a favorite TV show (like the Cosby show episode when Theo decided he wanted to move out so Dr. Huxtable pretended to be a landlord). Or I would pretend to be the heroine in some fictional story I would make up, usually involving bad guys with guns and me discovering I had super-spy fighting moves. . .
Even now as an adult, I find my mind wandering into daydreams where I would have the perfect words to an earlier conversation. Or imagining scenarios that would answer my "what if. ." question for the day. But more dangerously, I find my mind delving into daydreams of how my life would be if I got exactly everything my heart desired.
The Discovery: I still want to be skinny, talented, beautiful and famous. All my sinful secret wanderings involve the elevation and admiration of me. My imperfect self involuntarily feeds on this dark and ugly part of my heart and the monster of narcissism wants to be seen. When I'm low in mood, lonely or spiritually struggling, this desire to have my bucket filled with human admiration and approval seems to grow from that pit.
I have been working on taking my thoughts captive. . .Prayer helps so much in that area, as well as meditating upon Bible verses. The Facebook fast seemed to be one of the most effective ways to gain control of my wayward thinking.
I think it's because FB feeds into my desire to be admired. I pick and choose what people see of me. So FB friends get to see my kids in their cute moments. . .and read about all my accomplishments as a mother, wife and _(insert hobby)-ist.
In Facebook's absence I had no one to impress. No one to look on me and notice that I can be funny and witty with my words (well, online anyway). No one to give me encouragement whenever I wanted and no searching for compliments just to boost my ego. It was a tough 40 days.
*sigh. . .a world in which I am not overly-admired for my good looks and movie-star qualities. Who knew that it would bring me back down to earth and remind me that life is not about the Self.
But I'd still like to be a super-spy. . .
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Friday, April 29, 2011
Respite from the Daily Grind, Blog Day #5
There's not much I want to say today. . .So I'll keep it short and simple. This song has become one of my favorites. And in the midst of a fun but tough day, I am reminded of the days where my status updates turned into prayers and praises.
Now excuse me while I patiently go yell at my kids to go back to bed.
Thursday, April 28, 2011
Church Choir, not just robes and old ladies, Blog Day #4
No offense to old ladies, of course.
This blog entry isn't just about church choir, though it's been a huge part of my life during the entire Lent season.
It's more about worship. Well, about the worship of Jesus Christ, specifically. And of being called to serve in a way that honors Him.
Ever since I realized I believed in what the Bible has to say about Jesus, I've heard His voice calling to me about key events in my life. Some spiritual people would say they were "visions". But I prefer "promptings from the Holy Spirit",because I am in no way a prophet nor am I channeling any kind of psychic abilities.
No, God speaks randomly and mostly when I'm alone and in His Word.
I knew I needed to be baptized to solidify my new commitment to change my life into total obedience to Him.
I knew the boy who I was just starting to date would become my husband.
I knew that I would have a 5th child, and he would be a dark-haired boy named Henry.
And this last time, when my circumstances were trying and I was at a spiritual crossroads, I heard from Him again when I was pleading for His strength and wisdom. He whispered to me in my desperate need to honor His sacrifice for me despite my temptation to throw the towel in. He told me that I would serve Him in such a way that I and others around me would be brought to worship and lift up His name. It would be through song.
Now, I must confess, I wish this meant that I would supernaturally become a Christian diva.
But no, I did not spontaneously develop an angelic vocal tone with a multiple-octave singing range to boot. (Lord, help me to not be disappointed.)
God was going to use a gift and talent I already possessed, as meager and rusty and inconsistent as it was, to bring me to a new level of worship and prayer. My piano skills would be honed and sharpened to help bring myself and others into glorifying Him through music.
I already had it out with my ego last fall, when I decided to play once a month with the worship band. The piano at FBCDavis was an old friend. We had history, she and I. I had loved being the only piano player to step up and accompany the choir the way I did. So I eased in with an easy commitment, hiding in the shadows of a worship leader whose talent and genuine heart for God brought out the best in all the singers and band members, not to mention the congregation who listened and sang along.
And then, much to my ego's dismay, I was honored to become the choir's accompanist at the same time I decided to give up FB for Lent. I practiced as much as I could, playing through a couple of the most difficult songs I've played in a long time. Instead of updating my status on how good God was and how awesome an opportunity it was to play these awesome songs, I told God Himself in prayer. Instead of sharing with the world how I was in my element at choir, I praised God for being so good to me and for speaking/playing through me. I thanked Him for choosing me to play, mistakes and all.
Every week leading up to Good Friday, a love was growing through this new way to worship Him. I guess you could say that it was an old love re-kindled. Even now as I type my chest tightens and I can hardly breathe under the pressure of this deep love.
Every week leading up to Good Friday, the words of all of the songs hit home as I took my extra time to think about Jesus' road to the cross.
That road: full of betrayal, torture, agony, loneliness, and the weight of the sins of all man-kind.
Good Friday came, and as I sat at that piano I knew the Holy Spirit was breathing out the sound waves that worked together to create the beautiful harmonies and melodies coming from the instruments and voices. In the heaviness of remembering His gruesome and painful death for my sins, I didn't play my best. But He was there, my heart was His, and it wasn't about me.
And then Easter. . .Resurrection Day. . .A day of rejoicing and celebrating. When I played alongside the band, all I could think of was Him. When I played for the choir, my heart was praying the words they were singing. It was the deepest and truest worship I have ever offered up. Through me and the rest of the people on the church's humble stage, the whole room offered a deep and true worship in celebration of a God who conquers death.
He had called me so softly. I focused on Him alone. Then He blessed me so abundantly.
How good it is to be a child of God.
Thank you, Lord, for your loving-kindness towards me.
This blog entry isn't just about church choir, though it's been a huge part of my life during the entire Lent season.
It's more about worship. Well, about the worship of Jesus Christ, specifically. And of being called to serve in a way that honors Him.
Ever since I realized I believed in what the Bible has to say about Jesus, I've heard His voice calling to me about key events in my life. Some spiritual people would say they were "visions". But I prefer "promptings from the Holy Spirit",because I am in no way a prophet nor am I channeling any kind of psychic abilities.
No, God speaks randomly and mostly when I'm alone and in His Word.
I knew I needed to be baptized to solidify my new commitment to change my life into total obedience to Him.
I knew the boy who I was just starting to date would become my husband.
I knew that I would have a 5th child, and he would be a dark-haired boy named Henry.
And this last time, when my circumstances were trying and I was at a spiritual crossroads, I heard from Him again when I was pleading for His strength and wisdom. He whispered to me in my desperate need to honor His sacrifice for me despite my temptation to throw the towel in. He told me that I would serve Him in such a way that I and others around me would be brought to worship and lift up His name. It would be through song.
Now, I must confess, I wish this meant that I would supernaturally become a Christian diva.
But no, I did not spontaneously develop an angelic vocal tone with a multiple-octave singing range to boot. (Lord, help me to not be disappointed.)
God was going to use a gift and talent I already possessed, as meager and rusty and inconsistent as it was, to bring me to a new level of worship and prayer. My piano skills would be honed and sharpened to help bring myself and others into glorifying Him through music.
I already had it out with my ego last fall, when I decided to play once a month with the worship band. The piano at FBCDavis was an old friend. We had history, she and I. I had loved being the only piano player to step up and accompany the choir the way I did. So I eased in with an easy commitment, hiding in the shadows of a worship leader whose talent and genuine heart for God brought out the best in all the singers and band members, not to mention the congregation who listened and sang along.
And then, much to my ego's dismay, I was honored to become the choir's accompanist at the same time I decided to give up FB for Lent. I practiced as much as I could, playing through a couple of the most difficult songs I've played in a long time. Instead of updating my status on how good God was and how awesome an opportunity it was to play these awesome songs, I told God Himself in prayer. Instead of sharing with the world how I was in my element at choir, I praised God for being so good to me and for speaking/playing through me. I thanked Him for choosing me to play, mistakes and all.
Every week leading up to Good Friday, a love was growing through this new way to worship Him. I guess you could say that it was an old love re-kindled. Even now as I type my chest tightens and I can hardly breathe under the pressure of this deep love.
Every week leading up to Good Friday, the words of all of the songs hit home as I took my extra time to think about Jesus' road to the cross.
That road: full of betrayal, torture, agony, loneliness, and the weight of the sins of all man-kind.
Good Friday came, and as I sat at that piano I knew the Holy Spirit was breathing out the sound waves that worked together to create the beautiful harmonies and melodies coming from the instruments and voices. In the heaviness of remembering His gruesome and painful death for my sins, I didn't play my best. But He was there, my heart was His, and it wasn't about me.
And then Easter. . .Resurrection Day. . .A day of rejoicing and celebrating. When I played alongside the band, all I could think of was Him. When I played for the choir, my heart was praying the words they were singing. It was the deepest and truest worship I have ever offered up. Through me and the rest of the people on the church's humble stage, the whole room offered a deep and true worship in celebration of a God who conquers death.
He had called me so softly. I focused on Him alone. Then He blessed me so abundantly.
How good it is to be a child of God.
Thank you, Lord, for your loving-kindness towards me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)