Thursday, March 08, 2007

I don't think whoever dubbed Chicago, "the windy city" had traveled as far west as Oklahoma. Then again, if Chicago is "the windy city," Oklahoma has to be the "windy state."

The wind always blows here. If you are a runner or a cyclist, and you have been taught "the wind is your friend," when you transplant here, you stop believing. It can be just annoying. I don't know any other place where it is normal to walk at angles other than 90 degrees. Those who lean to the right or to the left aren't politically motivated. They are responding to their environment.

One of the good things for me in all of this, is that I like wind chimes. We have 3 or 4 sets of small ones, and they didn't get much of a work-out in Indiana. I like the big ones, you know they have tubes that are as tall as Deanna? I can't afford those, even though they sound cool. They bellow low and long.

In this state, it is rare when I do not hear them beckoning to me. I can tell which one is singing by its voice. I can tell what direction the wind is coming from by how many of them are pressed into service. In a sense, they are indicators of what is happening at my house.

Recently, we had a front blow through in the wee hours of the morning. All chimes were adding their measure. It started out sounding quite beautiful. Soon, it took a nasty turn.

It was not long before I could tell the harmonies were being rung at awkward angles. A while after that, their voices were drowned out completely. They were now steadily strained, perpendicular to the ground. Soon, hail began. Occasional loud clangs would whisper above the din of the storm as the chimes were taking heavy hits from this artillery of precipitation.

Laying awake at this hour and listening for the faintest reflection of their former beauty, I could no longer discern what they had to say. In the heaviest of battles, they had grown silent. While under attack, they could not speak.

I am intensely grateful that my Father can always hear my voice. No matter what the nature of the storm or the violence of my refrain, He knows it is me. He hears me when I praise Him. He listens when I cry out. He is aware of my whereabouts in the most mundane of conversations.

I wonder what He thinks in the "dead of quiet" (BJ) when my voice is silent? When the perceptions of the seekers are heightened, and I am reclining at my ease, does not my indifference scream volumes above the raging sea? Do these ballistic battles confront my motivation, or do they simply light up my 80" flat panel tv screen while I nod discontent from an overstuffed sofa?

If a "revolution is being raised," it has no voice amid punctual perils.

I am "Asleep in the Light." My sword is sheathed. My heart beats contentment. My singular song does not rise aloft on the wind, it is buried deep within my apathy.

Who am I?

My name is American Christian!

The sincere innocence and beauty of a lonely, lilting melody, offered from a surrendered son or daughter will quiet the rampage of a violent prince.

I must offer up mine.


At 9:30 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

HI Brent

Your post today really relayed the same message as a few books I am reading/studies I am doing. The one is called, "The Irrestisable Revolution" by Shane Claiborne. Shane is coming to our church this weekend in Wisconsin to speak over several days. I'm sure it is going to be quite "awakening" to this relatively affluent suburban society. Shane speaks of living in true community with others, ALL of God's people. Letting go of the things of this world and living as simply as Jesus did.

The study I just started with a small group at church is called, "I want to change God, so help me," by James McDonald. It is very much about how we need to recognize that we are all sinners, that none of us has the ability to "earn" God's grace and that we can't accomplish anything w/o Him. Until we truly let go of all of our "self-centered" ways of changing, nothing will really change.
From everything I have read on this blog about BJ, he realized this, he did it (or was definitely working at it in many ways). That a person of such age could recognize what was needed and share that with others, was truly a blessing from above. You know this, Deanna knows this and everyone who has been touched by BJ's life or throug his life knows this and should see that our God works through us if we just let Him, as BJ did.
Blessings and Peace.

At 10:51 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Hey dad,
I found it funny about the windchimes, because I too share a like for their musical tones. I wanted to let you know that BJ's story continually renews my love for my saviour and my determination to make a difference for Christ now, not when I have "grown up". I am constantly reminded of his courage, because of mercyMe's CD in my car player. I cannot wait for the Awestar trip to Guadalajara!
In His grip,

At 11:29 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

i haven't checked this site in several weeks. but as you can tell - i checked today. i feel as though your words were written to me. i've been struggling with my comfort zone these past few days. see, a change is coming in my life - in a matter of a few short months. and it's a change i'm not sure that i'm ready for. but you reminded me how important it is to get off my backside and GO. after all - if God is on our side, who can be against us?



At 8:32 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Wow... well said Brent.


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