Listening to Shawn McDonald

There is something comforting about it: the music plays from the iHome into our quiet, little apartment, Shawn McDonald sings about God. And in his songs God takes shape outside of a commonly dropped three-letter word. Perhaps “takes shape” isn’t even the right way to put it, because the mystery of His presence and the vastness of His being seems to cover the room with a greater ambiance than the trendy, eclectic furnishings or even the music itself. In the mood of the music lie promise, hope, and inspiration for something bigger amidst a bland setting.  Everything’s dim, but in the beat of low strings and rich voice springs a joy that lingers with soft delight, enough to light the room of the apartment… and my heart.

I could pin it on the music, I could give credit to “the mood”, but nothing so inanimate can claim what is purely supernatural. God does this for me. And for me, it’s called encouragement.

Shawn McDonald sings live in Seattle, which is caught, captured, and released into our solitary apartment to make joyful noises against the white walls. The couch is one of many things accompanying the walls. And I am on the couch. I think of how Shawn would go on the road with his praises and how in those very verses it seemed to testify of the very road he was on. The road with God. I must be responding to his music because the words say something of my own heart. Something that has really needed to be said, acknowledged and told. I don’t even catch all the lyrics, but I long with the heart that is there. Being filled with God’s love, needing God; it all sounds rather general, but there is a depth that goes unsaid yet sings out with the ensemble. And I’ll sit alone, on my couch, the black fan nearby oscillating, and I’ll drink in more than the water resting at the coffee table. God is here. And He encouraged me.

chapter 7: inspired blurb

Inspired Blurb

Why must I be so inclined?!

The compelling to write at such wee hours was never an issue. Until I got employed. I have to work at 11am tomorrow. Yet my thoughts and the inspirational tides are ebbing at my responsible resolution to bag it and sleep. I like to leap at these moments when they come, which has seemed far less frequent, these days. So here I am. Tippity-tap.

The snow isn’t stopping, work is tiring, and this whole new world leaves me on the outskirts looking in at foreign entities. I don’t know when I’ll finally own this reality that could righty be referred to as… “my life”. I tend to word it as “not registering”, because I have felt quite so very out of sorts. The days pass and I pass over them as though excluded from their events. I find myself isolated on the other end of some span to which I’m unsure of its beginning. And I realize how much there is to deal with.

It’s partial burden mixed with true excitement and anticipation. I’m getting married, for goodness sake. Yet there’s a battle towards that walk down the aisle that wages on each day. I’m challenged to live “here” and not spend my hope and place my trust in an idealistic tomorrow. I need to experience God’s presence for today. And, more than anything, I need to embrace this call.

It’s taken some time to realize that “engagement”, in itself, is a call, that working at Target is a call, that being exactly where I am physically, spiritually, and emotionally is, in fact, a call. God has me here with all his sovereign will. And I realize how deeply I wrestle with it. The things once seen from afar are now taking motion, and I find myself… well… “overwhelmed” isn’t exactly the right word, but there seems to be a different sort of identity crisis.

More than ever I see my need for stability in Him: who I am in Him, who He is. Period. All these events have functioned to establish this need and make it pursuit. I forget that the chaos I see is not only foreseen by God but has already been formed for the specific and ordered goodness of His will. I forget that He loves me, when everything boils down. I don’t trust Him, I quake and falter, and I forget that, even so, He remains faithful while I am faithless. Sigh*…… amen.

And what a beautiful mystery to anticipate marriage. Danny and I continue to grow through thick and thin. There’s been much of both even for the past couple weeks or so of our engagement. God blesses us with new depths of honesty with each other… and Him. We learn more of ourselves and are continually challenged to “look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always” (Psalm 105:4). I suppose the constant breakdown in our lives merely throws us deeper into the swells of His grace. I’m still in process of realizing how much I soak and bathe in it everyday outside of dealing with my most obvious concerns. He is so much bigger. Amen again.

So the point of this? Well… I’m not entirely sure. But I was just so inclined. So I followed.

I look down on my finger and see a ring that sparkles and shines: a memorial to God’s faithful provision and a promise of unfailing love for this journey ahead. We are tossed by doubts and fears, but He will prove Himself mighty and strong in battle. I open up the ancient gates, my heart, to let this King of glory come in (see Psalm 24:7-8).  I wish to let die the old Monica, the one of worry, frustration, and fear, and to live in the newness that is found in Him.

Amen and amen.