Ya make me wanna SHOUT!

Yesterday my company hosted one of our semiannual food shows—a trade show that is the culmination of many months of work for me.

I could say so many things about the experience and that day.  Like how beyond blessed I am to have so many faithful brothers and sisters who were praying for me before and during the event!  Or how faithful the Lord was in keeping me calm and grounded.  Like how encouraging it was to have my mom there with me working diligently and serving me…and how everyone thought we were sisters and not mother and daughter.  I could write what I learned about the importance of thanking people and how valuable it is to give compliments.  Or about how sometimes you just have to go in for the hug and not the handshake.

I could talk about all of those mercies, but I want to testify about something else.

There is little exaggeration when I say that I have been working for the past 72 hours straight—in the office on the Sabbath and working from (before) sun up to (after) sun down the last two days, including one 4:15am wake-up call.  As I drove in to the office by myself at a more normal hour this morning, I realized something that I have been missing the last three days:

Shouting.

All out, veins popping out of the neck, red in the face, move ya body to the beat, I now have a sore throat shouting.  God has been faithful and close in my last three marathon work days, but in the midst of all of my business and busyness I have neglected my routine of just letting it #GO for the Lord (usually done in my truck with the volume “allllllll the waaay turnt up”—anyone?).

There is a time to be quiet and still.  To lay face down before the Lord and say nothing.  To let His Word speak gently to my spirit.  And some people meet God most tangibly in those places.  But I love that the Bible also confirms the need I have to shout:

I have to “sing and make music” to “AWAKE MY SOUL” (Psalm 57:7-8)!  I NEED to “sing aloud of Your steadfast love in the morning, for You have been to me a fortress and a refuge in the day of my distress” (Psalm 59:16).  Sometimes I feel like there is nothing else my heart can do but “burst in to jubilant song” (Psalm 98:4).

The fun thing about freedom is that my soul can rise to any beat.  This morning I pumped my favorite gospel jams and chased it with some Beyonce “Countdown,” all the while “proclaiming from the roofs” (Matthew 10:27) the goodness of our King!

I remember my favorite part about serving in kids’ ministry was the worship, because of how my heart was filled with joy by getting to literally shout at the top of our lungs and “GO CRAZYYY!!!”…there was something really real about that.

Make time to shout.  Loudly.  And be filled, for HIS glory and purposes!

Copy Cats and Lady Gaga

I’ll never forget a few years I watched an interview with Lady Gaga on Oprah (missin’ you, Opes).  At the end of the interview, Oprah asked Gaga what her one piece of advice would be for anyone who is out there watching.  Gaga—who very clearly marches to the beat of her own drum (usually while wearing something edible as clothing)—paused and then replied, “BE YOURSELF.”  Oprah slowly rose to her feet, put her hands together in her signature splayed-fingers clap, and shook her head over and over again in that Oprah I’m-shaking-my-head-“no”-but-this-really-means-“YES!” kind of way.  The way Oprah reacted, you would have thought Gaga just stated the cure for cancer and simultaneously saved every whale on the planet with that one phrase.  It was hilarious because Lady Gaga had simply reiterated, in the most generic of ways, the concept our society preaches to us every day.  Everyone wants to be their own person: do things that no one has done, be in to things that no one else is, answer to no one.  Independence is our culture’s lifeblood.

I find that in my Christian life, I often subconsciously apply those same principals.  I long to have my own “Jesus things”—things that no one else is doing.  X does missions work in Africa.  Y wakes up at 5:00am every day to pray.  Z talks to every homeless person she passes.  A disciples middle schoolers.  B is reading the whole Bible in a year.  C only listens to worship music.

My wonderfully redeemed but deeply deceitful heart admires all of these things and then quietly rules them out for myself, because I want to do my own things for the Lord.

While speaking to the church at Thessalonica, Paul, Silas, and Timothy encouraged the people with this phrase:

“You became imitators of us and of the Lord…and so you became a model to all the believers in Macedonia and Achaia.” (1 Thessalonians 1:6)

There is no need to reinvent the wheel for God (that would be kind of #awkward considering He invented the universe).  We don’t need to have our own thing to impress Him or others.

Sure, we should follow the Lord wherever we discern He is calling us.  But when God doesn’t exactly seem to be laying out the yellow brick road, find a Christian(s) whose life you admire, and do what they’re doing.  Seriously, observe what they do for Christ—even ask if you have to—and then imitate it.  Society will hate it, but our Lord will love it :)

“For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.” (Colossians 3:3)

Mel Zimms

For a week I have tried to blog about one of the greatest weekends of my life.  But in the same way that you had to touch the hot stove top even when your mom told you not to, feeling is always better than telling or hearing.  You never want to put words to experiences that are so rich, for fear they won’t do it justice.  But I will try.

Last weekend I drove across the state from Pittsburgh to my hometown of Bucks County for the wedding of one of my lifelong best friends, the friend formerly known as Melissa Walters.  As I raced against the clock on the PA Turnpike traveling straight from work to the rehearsal, I started to cry alone in my car before I even reached the church.  I had “tied up all of the loose ends” at work and listened to a significant amount of rap music on the highway before I let myself really think about where I was headed.  To the church that I grew up in.  To my family.  To the people I grew up with—Melissa, and Katie, and LeighEllen, and Eric Keller.  Tears of incredible joy marked my realization that this is the place and these are the people who taught me to love Jesus.

Sometimes in life you sort of “get” how the Lord is refining you and growing you in a certain season.  In my days of junior high and high school, I always knew that I had something special in my church community.  But it hasn’t been until now—five years removed from the days where we would see each other every week for youth group, small group, Sunday football, and endless games of Dutch Blitz—that I’ve realized how formative those years really were for me.

Memories came flooding back to me as we gathered for a weekend to celebrate “the one we always knew would be first”… 

Kneeling at that alter on Thursday nights after Eric had made us laugh for 30 minutes straight but then for 1 minute spoke to our souls in a way that made them long for eternal things.

Playing music alongside Heather each week and learning to lead people in to the presence of God.  Band practices that ran late so that when the service came we knew the songs well enough that we could really worship, too.  The one night where we couldn't leave the song "All I Need is You", and we sang that for the entire worship set.

Meeting with our small group on Friday nights because Adie assured us that there's no better way a high-schooler could spend their Friday nights than face down on a basement floor worshipping Christ and talking about Him.

Sitting in Dom's every Sunday after church before the back room was open and there were never enough seats.  But it didn't matter because the entire restaurant was filled with people you loved so everyone just sat anywhere you could find a seat.

Spending our Thursday nights during summers home from college together in the Loesser's family room, singing at the top of our lungs and learning from Chris and Christine how to pray for each other.

Many of these things seemed routine at the time, but it is so evident to me now that those were moments where my heart was being chiseled by my Creator.

And so, as the wedding ceremony proceeded, I stood at the exact alter where the Lord first started to take hold of me alongside the girls who had been there, and I wept as we watched Melissa walk steadily down the aisle in white.  Not because this was the end of a chapter, but because we had been together since the beginning.  (And I do mean wept—not the cute wedding tears that form in the corners of your eyes during “Canon in D,” I mean streams of freshly applied mascara.)

We partied the night away behind second-floor windows that overlooked one of the most beautiful views of Bucks County and that poured in sunlight and then moonlight as the evening went on.  We twisted and wobbled with each others’ parents while our youth pastor/wedding officiator cleared the floor to perform “Billy Jean” and our friend Steve dropped the beats.  You don’t realize how full your heart can be until it overflows on weekends like that. 

“Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth…And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God.’”

(Revelation 21:1-3)

   

Jesus

How often I neglect Jesus. The man. The tangible evidence that God exists and wants us back forever.

How often I make life about hardship (“In this world you will have trouble”—John 16:33). And spiritual warfare (“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against…the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms”—Ephesians 6). And what I want (“He will give you the desires of your heart”—Psalm 37:4). And where I'm going (“In his heart a man plans his course, but the Lord directs his steps”—Proverbs 16:9). All of these things are promised. But the promises do not come without Jesus. After all, he is the one who fulfilled them.

No one comes to the Father except through Jesus. No amount of learning or overcoming my struggles or fighting or growing or being made new happens without Jesus. I don’t “get there” without Him—“there” being the Father, not some better version of myself. The purpose of our lives is to get to God, and for that, we need Jesus. He is all that matters. How often I neglect him.

I think our modern culture probably has a lot to do with this. It seems that most everyone, regardless of their faith, is trying to progress. No one would claim they want a static life. And so we all seek to grow and "come in to ourselves" and end better than we began. To "make our mark on the world". Myself included—I seek those things: trying to be better and move forward. But why? And how?

The fundamental difference between those who have the Spirit and the rest of humanity is that there is a person at the center of all of this hope for growth. And it's not me. It is Jesus.

At the end of each day, he is all that matters. My only aim is to get back to God, and Jesus is the only way. He is life.