Ignoring the Master for the Mundane

A man sat at a metro station in Washington DC and started to play the violin; it was a cold January morning. He played six Bach pieces for about 45 minutes. During that time, since it was rush hour, it was calculated that thousands of people went through the station, most of them on their way to work.

As the story goes, only 6 people stopped to watch.  The one who was most interested was a three year old child whose mother pulled him away in her hurry. The man made about $30 dollars from people throwing money in his case, and received no applause or recognition when he finished playing.

The violinist was Joshua Bell, one of the best musicians in the world. He played one of the most intricate pieces ever written with a violin worth 3.5 million dollars.

Two days before his playing in the subway, Joshua Bell sold out at a theater in Boston and the seats averaged $100.

This is a real story. Joshua Bell playing incognito in the metro station was organized by the Washington Post as part of a social experiment about perception, taste and priorities of people. The outlines were: in a commonplace environment at an inappropriate hour: Do we perceive beauty? Do we stop to appreciate it? Do we recognize the talent in an unexpected context?

If we do not have a moment to stop and listen to one of the best musicians in the world playing the best music ever written, how many other things are we missing?

Video and audio of the performance are available on the Washington Post website.

“No one knew it,” explained Washington Post reporter Gene Weingarten several months after the event, “but the fiddler standing against a bare wall outside the Metro in an indoor arcade at the top of the escalators was one of the finest classical musicians in the world, playing some of the most elegant music ever written on one of the most valuable violins ever made.”   Weingarten wanted to see how ordinary folks would react to his experiment. And how did they react? For the most part, not at all.

The story above, penned by an unidentified author and circulated via blogs and email, has been abbreviated by me.   But the analogy to the Christian is obvious.  Our Master is at work among us, orchestrating unmatchable events.  He would gladly play beauty and purpose into our souls if we would but sit at his feet and listen.  He would do it at no cost to us and in the most mundane of situations.  Good grief, I must stop being so busy with my “agenda.”   This idea always brings me back to the story of Mary and Martha.  I always want to defend Martha.  Trying to serve the Lord because someone has to step up and do it.  Food isn’t going to make itself and the house won’t be neat and tidy without constant vigilance.   Except of course, with Him, food very well could make itself.  Jesus knew Martha’s heart wasn’t in the right place; maybe she was hoping to impress him with her service.  Maybe she was a bit of a martyr.  But Mary reacted to the glory in front of her and nothing else mattered.  She wasn’t going to miss a moment. 

Dilly

This is Dilly the duck.  She is the beloved rag of my daughter Anna.

Dilly used to be perfect and plush, but the longer she was "alive", the more beat-up she became.  She was dirty, smelly, riddled with holes and just pathetic to look at.  Dilly was so depleted of stuffing that she couldn't even hold her head up.

I tried to cover her up with yarn and a dress, but those measures weren't enough.  Dilly was going to disintegrate and soon.

But what to do?  Dilly was BELOVED and Anna's heart would break if Dilly couldn't be saved.

BUT... there was a perfect duck sitting on a shelf.  And this perfect duck was not too proud to give its skin for Dilly.

And so the operation began.  Here is Dilly in her hospital bed!  It took six hours of careful stitching.   Amazingly, Dilly still looked like Dilly.  She was full and whole again and Anna was very pleased indeed!

As I was doing the surgery, I couldn't get away from how this was a picture for my daughter of the salvation story.  In our sin, nothing could save us.  The dress of the law couldn't get to ugliness underneath.  And we were so beloved that something had to be done and was!

"I delight greatly in the Lord; my soul rejoices in my God.  For he has clothed me with garments of salvation and arrayed me in a robe of righteousness."  Isaiah 61:10

Need God

My sister went to a website called Wordle which will take the words most used in your blog and make an image of them.  She was so moved (and so was I) to find that the words NEED GOD were dominant.

It has been very hard on Amanda and Craig to watch their little daughter Sophie endure so many surgeries.  It has been excruciating for them to be the ones inflicting pain through daily injections and cleaning of wounds.  And yet they have an awareness of God and His mercies through the very need of Him.

The problem of pain and suffering and evil conflicts many people about the goodness of God.  And yet, Christians' testimonies through the ages have always proclaimed that they would rather suffer with Him and see His provision then live halcyon days with little awareness of His presence.  Our hurts can be a severe mercy from the heart of a God who also suffered so that He could be near to us.

Joy cometh!

Reunion

You knew me when
I was less and more
Myself in nature
Virtues poor.

But Someone has been unmaking me,
Refining and restoring me.
He wrestles out the self will be
Immortal through eternity.

Years have passed
With many griefs,
And much joy,
Refined beliefs.

Blessed to find
I know you still.
Re-united by
His holy skill.

The Someone at the heart of me,
Dwells also in the source of thee.

Gratitude

My sister lent me a book on gratitude last week:  One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.  Wonderful reading.  She speaks of slowing time down by seeing the glory right before our eyes and being grateful.  Practicing presentness.  My sister gave me this book to read because it reminded her of how I live (what a compliment!) and it is true that I notice small glories on a daily basis.  I take the time to marvel in the iridescence of insects, how sunlight falls on my daughter's hair, and I worship God when I chop an array of colorful vegetables.  When I wake in the middle of the night and Andy's as warm as a brick oven, I listen to his steady breathing and I'm thankful.  I know I won't always have those moments; all things are taken away.

But now I am getting to the hard part of gratitude: being thankful in ALL things.  That is where peace dwells and it is a hard discipline to learn.  Two summers ago, I was very ill.  I could do nothing for about a week.  Time crawled.  I cried.  Utterly miserable.  I still want to cry now when I think about that long week and how sick I felt in my soul.  But the oddest thing happened.  As I lay there unable to hardly be, I started praying with the most sincere gratitude I had ever experienced.  I was so thankful for air-conditioning!  Toilets!  Water that ran from a faucet!  What a marvel that machines had plucked fluffs of Egyptian cotton, worked it into strands and their softness and smoothness was soothing me now.  And it went on from there:  I was overcome by all my days of health and wealth, the love in my life, the goodness all around. 

My mother and I have the best talks.  I shared this experience with her and how odd it all seemed to me.  She said it was the Spirit of God in me helping me get through that week.  Could it be?  If He wanted to help me, why didn't He just help me feel better?  Of course, I know the answer to that - God is not up there working to keep me happy every second.  He has deeper plans in mind.  He knew that in time I would treasure that memory.  He helped me in a way that still soothes the broken places in my soul.

I have one of those sensitive constitutions that become nauseous and ill fairly easily.  Stress, noise, headaches - for some reason this causes my insides to melt.  Last month, I was feeling overcome by my body at Walmart and I remembered: gratitude.  I took deep breaths and thanked God for the abundance on those supermarket shelves.  And it helped.  He was near and He was present and I was grateful.

Last month in New York City, a woman died at 104 years of age.  She was a recluse and in fact had cloistered herself in a small hospital room for 20+ years despite being in good health.  She lived under an anonymous name and no one from outside the hospital were allowed in to see her.  Even her lawyer had to speak with her through the door.  She had isolated herself decades before - the last known photograph of her is from 1930, and she lived in her apartment playing with dolls, strumming on the harp, and watching the Flintstones.

Huguette Clark was an heiress.  Her wealth was speculated to be at around 500 million dollars.  She owned the largest apartment on 5th avenue and several mansions that have been kept immaculate for decades and she never visited them. 

When I heard her story (or rather, lack of one), I was bewildered.  How could someone choose to waste all that wealth?  She could have been like the Gates and started foundations.  She could have traveled!!!  At the very least, she could have had lavish parties and enjoyed her wealth.  Did she not understand that it wasn't healthy or normal to be so isolated?  Didn't she want her life to matter to someone?

This summer, I am doing a Beth Moore Bible study entitled Breaking Free.  We are tasked with understanding that "a christian is held captive by anything that hinders the abundant and effective Spirit-filled life God planned for her."

Each of us in Christ is promised the Spirit of wisdom and revelation, a hope, the riches of his glorious inheritance and His incomparably great power.  We are created for good works, we are promised a spiritual gift, we have the mind of Christ.  We are adopted as His sons, we have redemption through his blood, and forgiveness of sins.  We are more than conquerors; we've been given the armor of God and we can call Him "Abba, Father." 

When I reflect on  these "treasures" available to me, I hunger to live up to them.  I don't want "wasted" years of captivity.  I wonder if the angels in heaven are envious of us, of our endless riches through Christ, and then they shake their heads in dismay when we ignore these gifts bought at such a great cost. 

I've been vaguely uneasy since school let out.  We have been busy. Everyone has been happy and well, but there's been an undercurrent of something amiss and today I think I know what it is.

My children are restless.

Gone are the routines that give structure to their day.  Our workload is drastically less and so is the "running around town getting things done."  I've been looking forward to it all year.  "Finally," I thought, "time to do all my projects, dig into the books I want to read, clear my head..."

Instead, I find myself appeasing them all day long.  Play dates, movies, ice cream, computer.  It is all fun and games and if there is any lag in the entertainment, well, they don't know what to do with themselves.  They crave but they don't know for what.

This has got to be a common problem today.  In the past, children worked.  They helped their family survive.  They had purpose.

Obviously, I know my children have purpose.  But do they know it?  Surely there is more to parenting than keeping them safe and entertained until 18, 21, 25? 

I think I've done a decent job parenting thus far.  I can pretty much guarantee that my children will grow up to be moral, law-abiding, productive citizens.  But I need to make a shift and go deeper.  It is time for them to start owning their faith and thinking about more important things than the Disney channel.

Those of you who have walked before me - I would love your ideas and insights.  Most parenting books address a child's behavior, but rarely address their heart.  I really want to look back on this summer as a time of sifting out some of the distractions.  Thank you!