I was struck with the profoundness of the daylight yesterday, especially at church. As a devoted evening-service goer at JW, I'm not really used to seeing the color shining in the stained-glass windows. I've been working nights for 3 weeks now, and so staying awake all day on my weekend is amazing to experience the light. I just felt alive. I guess it's one of those things that until you've been without it, you don't realize how important it is. Thank God for it.
3.21.2005
my mom
I had a great day with my mother yesterday. We went out and had lunch and just sat and talked for about 2 hours. I can't remember the last time (if really ever) we had a time like that. As I'm getting older, I really appreciate the time that I can have with her. For instance, last week her and I went to see Don Chaffer play a little show at Mt. Music Shoppe in Kansas. Yeah, we had to leave a little early cause she had to go deliver a baby, but that's pretty normal stuff for us. If me getting older equal us being able to talk more as equals and even as friends, then bring on the b-days! It makes me remember how Don spoke about his mother after she had passed on and how certain things, even the things that were slightly irritating, were some of the things that he missed most about her. (not that my mom does anything irritating...really)
Well, thanks for a great time yesterday, Mom. I love you.
Well, thanks for a great time yesterday, Mom. I love you.
3.18.2005
Worship is...
There are seasons of life in which we wake up each morning with the fulfilled dreams of victory, love, satisfaction, and resolution ringing in our ears. The morning air rushes in with the promise that anything can happen, God is nearby, and we are really loved. Worship is, at these times, a gift - a way of saying thank you. Thank you, God because whether I was aware of it or not, whether I sought You through this experience or not, I see you in it now, and I am so grateful for Your kindness toward me.
There are other seasons of life, however, whether we're comfortable with admitting it or not, in which it feels like we're at the bottom of a well - deep, dark, and muddy. In our worst moments, we can no longer see the mouth of the well, and we sometimes wonder if there even is one. Worship, at these moments in particular, becomes a rope. Even if we have no strength to climb it, our cold and lonely fingers wrapped around its braid become a symbol that we are still connected to something, someone, in the world above - the world with skies, trees, rivers, and kind people whom we miss terribly.
And then there are seasons in which we feel that perhaps nothing is terribly wrong, and nothing is terribly right. We are somewhere on the plains, in the middle of the country, looking for miles with no trees to break our view, no valleys, no mountains. We are well air-conditioned, well fed, well attended by people who neither agree with us too passionately, nor disagree with us too strongly. We are happy, we guess, but we don't think we remember how happiness feels, or whether it is what we thought is was. Worship is, at these times, a bell. It rings to remind us that life, while it may seem vapid and featurelsss, is truly a tremendous affair. It is birth and death, suffering and resurrection. The clear sound of that bell on the wind tells us that the lull of comfort does not mean that God is far off or irrelevant. He is always near and always in love, always holy, and always coming... He is coming. He will finish things here, and begin a new kind of kingdom - a world without end. He will reign over his subjects who have been changed to be like Him, full of love, peace, and joy forever and ever. May this King be praised. Amen.
Don Chaffer / 08.16.00 / Wichita, KS
There are other seasons of life, however, whether we're comfortable with admitting it or not, in which it feels like we're at the bottom of a well - deep, dark, and muddy. In our worst moments, we can no longer see the mouth of the well, and we sometimes wonder if there even is one. Worship, at these moments in particular, becomes a rope. Even if we have no strength to climb it, our cold and lonely fingers wrapped around its braid become a symbol that we are still connected to something, someone, in the world above - the world with skies, trees, rivers, and kind people whom we miss terribly.
And then there are seasons in which we feel that perhaps nothing is terribly wrong, and nothing is terribly right. We are somewhere on the plains, in the middle of the country, looking for miles with no trees to break our view, no valleys, no mountains. We are well air-conditioned, well fed, well attended by people who neither agree with us too passionately, nor disagree with us too strongly. We are happy, we guess, but we don't think we remember how happiness feels, or whether it is what we thought is was. Worship is, at these times, a bell. It rings to remind us that life, while it may seem vapid and featurelsss, is truly a tremendous affair. It is birth and death, suffering and resurrection. The clear sound of that bell on the wind tells us that the lull of comfort does not mean that God is far off or irrelevant. He is always near and always in love, always holy, and always coming... He is coming. He will finish things here, and begin a new kind of kingdom - a world without end. He will reign over his subjects who have been changed to be like Him, full of love, peace, and joy forever and ever. May this King be praised. Amen.
Don Chaffer / 08.16.00 / Wichita, KS
3.15.2005
[ Copied from my journal from last night ]
Sitting here at IHOP (international house of prayer) and thinking about the issues of healing (as a focus/ministry) and what was Jesus' reason for doing it in the first place. They're praying for Terri Schiavo... for her to be healed and awaken when they take out the feeding tube.
makes me think.
The guy leading said something about Jesus being "the God of Life." But what about the 'God of death.' I know, there are so many directions to go from here, and so many principals, but just bear with my wandering thoughts... It makes me think about Solomon's words in Ecclesiastes... about it being appointed that all men will die once... Is God scared of death? Is it beyond Him?
I reflect on what I've sensed from Mark 5 from the sermons as of late at Jacob's Well. Why did Jesus heal certain folk? What was his purpose ultimately? Some he healed and instructed to go and tell what happened, while others he instructed to go and tell no one. It seems that 'healing' and 'raising the dead' wasn't an end in itself, but just a part of what it was in him bringing the Kingdom of God. He said in Matt 9:6, "so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins..."
"He came to seek and to save those who were lost." That we may know salvation --- that we may be freed --- It seems that Jesus used healing as an attention getter and a qualifier (that he was qualified to do bring the kingdom)...
Often, healing came to those (as Jairus and the bleeding woman) that were completely desperate...
[ insert some working definitions:
--> Faith : an absolute recognition of reality, and a byproduct of a right orientation to Jesus ]
...that they had been brought to/forced into by suffering, the correct understanding/recognition of reality [faith].
How does this play out when I'm not dying or bleeding persistantly?
Was the healing used to prove/convince those who yet had believed in Him? And yet didn't Jesus refuse to give some people signs/miracles because of their unbelief?
What does it look like practically to have that 'correct orientation' to Jesus when we're not dying?
(from here it led me to think about many people who have had this right recognition...
--> the apostle paul: had correct understanding of reality w/ regards to marriage (1 cor. 7) to ourselves (1 cor. 9) ...heck, all of 1 & 2 Corinthians!
--> and others...
makes me think.
The guy leading said something about Jesus being "the God of Life." But what about the 'God of death.' I know, there are so many directions to go from here, and so many principals, but just bear with my wandering thoughts... It makes me think about Solomon's words in Ecclesiastes... about it being appointed that all men will die once... Is God scared of death? Is it beyond Him?
I reflect on what I've sensed from Mark 5 from the sermons as of late at Jacob's Well. Why did Jesus heal certain folk? What was his purpose ultimately? Some he healed and instructed to go and tell what happened, while others he instructed to go and tell no one. It seems that 'healing' and 'raising the dead' wasn't an end in itself, but just a part of what it was in him bringing the Kingdom of God. He said in Matt 9:6, "so that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins..."
"He came to seek and to save those who were lost." That we may know salvation --- that we may be freed --- It seems that Jesus used healing as an attention getter and a qualifier (that he was qualified to do bring the kingdom)...
Often, healing came to those (as Jairus and the bleeding woman) that were completely desperate...
[ insert some working definitions:
--> Faith : an absolute recognition of reality, and a byproduct of a right orientation to Jesus ]
...that they had been brought to/forced into by suffering, the correct understanding/recognition of reality [faith].
How does this play out when I'm not dying or bleeding persistantly?
Was the healing used to prove/convince those who yet had believed in Him? And yet didn't Jesus refuse to give some people signs/miracles because of their unbelief?
What does it look like practically to have that 'correct orientation' to Jesus when we're not dying?
(from here it led me to think about many people who have had this right recognition...
--> the apostle paul: had correct understanding of reality w/ regards to marriage (1 cor. 7) to ourselves (1 cor. 9) ...heck, all of 1 & 2 Corinthians!
--> and others...
bring on the powder!
I went skiing with some friends a couple of weeks ago. We did the 'drive all night' thing and were pretty wasted from that, but with some sweet skiing, it made it all worthwhile. Josh, Dan, Matt, here's to ya!
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