Thursday Thoughts: What I Learned at a Dueling Piano Bar in Omaha

As the finale for my brother-in-law's 30th birthday, Christopher and I met up with him and his wife for drinks at a dueling piano bar in Omaha. It would be a new experience for everyone and we just hoped it would be fun.

It was definitely a new experience.

First, it was extremely loud. Set in the back room of a sports bar, the room consisted of a bunch of tables (filled with all sorts of people, including a few bachelorette parties) and some pretty sizable speakers that washed out any ability to hear even the waitress trying to take our order.

Second, it seemed innocuous enough at first. A few well-known songs. Guys playing piano, singing to each other. And then came the first hit of raunch, which we assumed was in passing and would get better as the night progressed.

But, third, we were wrong. It became progressively worse. And, to be honest, it's not the cursing or lewdness that got to me the most: It was the (seemingly) endless attack on marriage.

Marriage is the end of fun, of enjoying your partner. It's all about how one spouse can manipulate the other. Better enjoy the last night or nights you have before it's all over.

Chris and I later talked about how we're surprised anyone actually gets married anymore. There has to be something built into us that knows it is supposed to be meaningful, worthwhile, and beautiful. Most of the world has just seen the bad examples, the "irreconcilable differences," the affairs, the drifting apart after multiple decades together.

The Christian side of things isn't really any better. More than half of those marriages end in divorce, just like the rest. What's missing? Why are we failing at something we so obviously desire but just can't seem to get right?

About a month ago, I had a pretty rattling dream where I was surrounded by a number of believing couples whose marriages I greatly respect who, at the influence of one member of the group, decided that they should all get a "mass" divorce and swap wives. (Most of this is probably due to subconscious fears rooted in experiences at one of the churches my family attended while I was growing up, which is a long, crazy story.)

And, as they began to strip off their wedding rings and celebrate the finalized dissolution of their marriages, I got up on the table and started yelling at them about how foolish they were, about how God would never divorce them - and He had every reason to do so.

Which is BIG for me, you know, because whenever I start yelling in dreams, nothing actually comes out of my mouth. I typically start yelling and realize that no sound is coming out, and become increasingly burdened until I wake either shaking or weeping.

But I was definitely yelling in my dream, and I awoke with the words, "God will never divorce you," rolling over and over in my head. There is so much power in those words that we too often neglect.

You see, Christopher and I are married. We took vows in front of family, friends, and God, and we celebrated in style like so many others do. But we are committed to more than just one another. We're committed to something deeper - that Christ's sacrifice for the Church (His bride) ought to shape us and how we understand marriage. And divorce is not an option.

It's a covenant that's deeper than affection. It's rooted in the very fact that Christ chose us when we did not deserve it, but He did it anyway. We whore after lesser things, thinking they will fulfill us. We have been unfaithful to the Faithful One. Yet, though we fail Him time and again, He upholds His covenant with us that He will never leave us or forsake us.

Marriage can be a beautiful, life-giving thing. The world may see chains, but I see freedom in the fact that God will hold me to my covenant to this man. Freedom from fear. Freedom to believe that, in the same way, God holds Himself to His covenant to me. He will never divorce me. What a beautiful truth upon which to build my life and my marriage.

And, to think, I learned that at a dueling piano bar in Omaha.

Thursday Thoughts: The Back Door

I haven't been much in the mood to talk these past weeks. As I wrote to one of my best friends in an e-mail, "I've been exceptionally brooding and contemplative lately." It's not necessarily such a bad thing to be there - but it can be to stay there, and so I am attempting to lift a silence that has been partially self-imposed and partially imposed by the requests of others. But, because of this, I've been a bit lapsed and unfaithful in my blogging, and for that I ask your forgiveness.

*****

For almost a year now, we have been praying for some very specific and practical things: a) that God would provide us a way to honor our creditors by repaying our debts, and b) that God would provide me a job, preferably related to my field, so that I could contribute and use what I felt He led me back to school to study with my master's program.

And we have waited, sometimes patiently and sometimes not-so-patiently, for answers to these requests - mostly expecting them to come through the "front door," or to be obvious solutions to such problems.

But, by the grace of God, the answers to these requests have not come in obvious ways. He has shown Himself to be infinitely more gracious and loving in granting answers to these prayers, as well as His complete control over this world, in how He has dealt with us these last 6-8 weeks.

The answer to our first prayer (concerning our debts) came through an unexpected and freak car accident that resulted in our Subaru being totaled. Christopher's interpretation of the whole thing is that God looked at our situation, heard our prayers, recognized that we were too stubborn to sell the car ourselves to get out of debt, and decided to do it for us. In the accident's wake, we have been able to pay off two sources of debt entirely, pay down a third, put aside money for a down payment, and learned that we can live with one car (though it can be a bit tricky, since I work in town and Chris works half an hour south of our home).

Not at all what we would have picked on our own, but incredibly demonstrative of God's grace toward us in our foolishness.

The answer to the second has been a bit more slow to develop. I have been praying specifically that God would have a place for me where I could use my talents and gifting to further the Kingdom or help the little guy (since that's what I felt Him lead me to go back to school for). What's more is that I was hoping to find a part-time job (like, four days a week instead of five), so that I could build in time to work on and complete my thesis (and, consequently, my master's degree).

But all I found when I started looking were full time positions that were not in any way related to what I ultimately wanted to do, so I shifted back toward admin and office work (which has kind of always been a foolproof fallback for me). I was blessed with four weeks' worth of work in September and October and was scheduled to go back after a two-week break, but the project stalled out - in fact, every job I was put up for between then and the recent past stalled out because no decision was ever reached on who to hire. In January, with my gobs of spare time, I decided I wanted to make my time count and serve the body if at all possible, so I started spending my time with a family that is part of our teen family ministry (their oldest kids are teens - they have seven, and their youngest is 3). It turned into a job that lasted, conveniently enough, through last Thursday, when the family left for a vacation.

I say "conveniently" because God has finally found a place for me, and I started a new position with our church on Tuesday.

And while that is a long story filled with prayers, conversations, and seeking counsel, it boils down to this: At every turn, I kept hearing God speak softly and firmly to my heart to "Move forward in faith."

God may not fulfill all of my dreams, but He continues to fulfill some of them and to satisfy my heart at the greatest of its depths. I may not ever be a biological mother to a baby girl or boy, but that doesn't mean I stall out in the bitterness of that reality. At some point this spring, I realized that I want my life to count. I want to be fruitful. I want to further the Kingdom of God.

I want to march onward, to move forward in faith, in all of the things that God calls us to - regardless of what dreams He may or may not fulfill along the way.

It is certainly a back door. After months of waiting for any position to keep me busy, I am humbled and overwhelmed by God's orchestration of events for my life at this time. When I interviewed for a different position with our church, the one that I'm walking into didn't exist. God didn't just find me a place, He made me one where none existed. And it will require faith, as a lot of it is experimental and filled with transition and unknown - but I'm walking forward in the faith that He has called me to walk in, and I'm looking forward to what He does with our body of believers.

And might I mention that I work four days a week? How 'bout them apples?

So there you have it. Back doors all over the place. Hidden blessings.

How beautiful to be reminded that He has not abandoned us, and He never will.

Thursday Thoughts: The Halfway Point & Thirteen Years of Little Books

This past week, I finished up my latest prayer journal. Closing in on my thirteenth spiritual birthday, I felt led (as I normally do) to start revisiting the last year, its pages, and the pages of some of those that preceded it.

It's incredible to see even the changes that occur between the first pages and the last pages of such a record. I started the last book after the death of my second grandfather (see "Completion," from 2007), only months into my marriage and a job that would cultivate my heart for God's church and its mission.

I was learning how to be a wife, a leader for a college ministry small group, to resurrect relationships that had been broken by distance and hard things, to figure out what it meant to follow Jesus in the workplace, and so many, many other things. Life was opening before me.

But so was depression. Since starting its pages in 2007, I battled two full rounds of depression: One centered on the death of my grandfather that first fall and continued by some family issues the following spring, and the second centered on the very quick failing and death of the first of my grandmothers just before I began my graduate work. As I've mentioned in previous posts, depression is a war that has been waged in the depths of my soul for more years than I am proud of (see "A different kind of happy," from 2010), and I finally emerged from this last round in a much different place - ready to fight to the end of myself to not find my life in its grasp ever again.

In the midst of this, we were witness to many weddings, several years of family celebrations, a few lovable oddball roommates, the addition of one and then two precious pups to our home, an insane amount of new babies in both our blood and church families, injuries, new jobs, answered prayers, times of intense waiting, a new home and, most recently, struggles with infertility.

Life has changed a lot, but there is one thing that remains: The God who rescued me that lonely night in April thirteen years ago, who loved me in spite of my depravity and raised me up in the promise of salvation - He still remains the same. This reality is lasting. It does change things. I am proof of that.

And now I'm feeling a bit old, I suppose. Thirteen is not a small number. I remember writing for saLt about my fifth spiritual birthday and thinking it was a huge deal ("Six," from 2005 is an updated version of that; and if you don't know what saLt was, I'm sorry you missed that piece of my life, though I do wonder sometimes if Laura and I both just had the same vivid dream for a year).

Thirteen! That's half of my age!

Yet, it's starting to make sense that this is my life. The last vestiges that I had hidden away from the blinding and purifying light of Christ's grace have finally been brought into the open to be sifted through - and the incredibly breathtaking thing is that, for the first time, I think I'm finally understanding what it means for Christ to satisfy every deep-seated desire of my heart.

From here on out, my life has not been mine in the majority - what a good and glorious thing! That means I can look back on this growing collection of these crazy little books I began writing in so many years ago and see my life mostly marked by the grace and leading of an incredible Savior.

And in those pages, I find hope to move forward. At every step, at every juncture, Christ has met me, challenged me to be sanctified, and answered my prayers. In one way or another, every prayer I have ever put before His feet in these books has been set before me - and the most beautiful ones were the ones that didn't turn out in the least as I expected.

Lately, my stones of remembrance have been placed a bit closer together. Life has been hard. My dependence upon God for the daily stuff has been critical. The first half of this last journal was written over the span of roughly three and a half years, while the second was composed in little more than a year. My need for grace is growing, especially as I continue to be more aware of the daily battle to keep my life free from the bonds of depression - something that can so easily be physically, emotionally, and spiritually emptying of all that is inside me.

So the tipping point is starting somewhere different. For the first time, I am abiding in the love and provision of Christ - mostly because I can look back and see it in these little books, these little books that urge me to move forward in the knowledge that He will continue to love and be faithful in what is to come next.

I wrote "Sweet Dependency" nearly seven years ago, just a week after my sixth spiritual birthday and two days after my dear husband suffered my then-rejection of his pursuit of my heart. This last year, it has become the anthem of my heart, as I re-wrote it on the piano (including a different bridge, from "Out of my bondage, sorrow, and night" by William Sleeper) and have sought to understand its meaning in a much different time.

The chorus is what gets me, though. I think I understood then something that it has taken me seven years to come back around to - the truth that only God has a right to claim my life, He who bought it with His own blood, and who offers me redemption and newness of life:

May I be brought to my knees, in sweet dependency in You alone.
For at the end of this time, if I still think that I’m mine,
Please break me and bring me back home.
("Sweet Dependency," ©2005/2011 A. Kate Grinstead/A. Kate Reynolds)

Thursday Thoughts: Rain is No Measure

[[Because this post will reference several seasons of life, I've decided to add links to some older posts concerning things referenced in the past (where applicable) for those who may not be as familiar with my life and growth in Christ over the past 13 years.]]

It is rare that enough is swirling around in my head late at night that it causes me to lie restless, compelled to write and compelled to seek the depths of my heart - these days, at least.

I have struggled to find a normal routine in recent years (see "A Night Owl's Growing Convictions on the Importance of Daylight"), migrating from night owl to functioning daylight person, and I have yet to strike a proper balance. I'm still often too exhausted in daylight hours to function well, perhaps reinforcing my theory from college that I actually sleep best when I start in the early hours of the morning rather than the later hours of the evening... but I digress.

As I laid in bed this evening attempting (or maybe not attempting so much) to find the sleep my body so desperately craves, several things swirled in my head as I mulled over things that have accumulated over the past few months of our lives. I apologize in advance that this might come across as an incredible and random mixture of thoughts, and put forth that they do coalesce.

The first is perhaps that this last week has seemed a lifetime. Chris shared a verse tonight with the youth kids from James: "So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin" (4:17).

And that might be where my self-evaluation is driven from tonight, casting my own actions and reactions in a fresh glow of saving light.

I know that I can trust God to have the best for me, and I know that it is good to do so - that I should do so. But I fail to, and that is sinful.

As I've mentioned before, my first listens of Sara Groves' albums seem to be ordained for the moments and seasons I need their truths the most (see "Christmas" and "Peace, Peace"). Her latest, "Invisible Empires" is no exception. A few weeks ago, I learned that she had a new album (that I somehow missed) and I purchased it with an iTunes card (a Christmas gift from my parents) the next day. I somehow wound up driving around town for a while trying to find a friend's apartment, which was probably a good thing because I was in tears by the end of the second song.

In the little more than a year since my grandmother died and I woke from my second major bout with depression since being married (see "A different kind of happy"), our lives have certainly been incredible messes. We have seen everything from freak accidents and rehabilitation to friends moving away and substantial delays in what we thought life would be. We have also seen incredible blessings (see "God is not a cashier at a fast food restaurant") and have been shown that God is still gracious toward us in every way.

But in the midst of all of the chaos (that continues), I'm beginning to realize that I have replaced some of my depression with a strong desire to control my life - and I'm finally realizing, more than a year later, that I truly hold no control over anything that I desire to hold firmly in the palm of my hand.

I cannot force someone to hire me. I cannot keep the sins of others from breaking my heart. I cannot control hurtful words others might say. I cannot prevent others from growing up and moving forward in their lives in ways that I feel incapable of doing. I cannot control whether or not we ever have children. I cannot keep others from moving away or falling away.

But I am finding that the things I do have quite a bit of say in are possibly the things that actually matter, which is a strangely liberating thing for me tonight. For the first time in more than a year, I feel I can take God at His word that He is not only good but has good planned for our lives - even if it doesn't turn out as we may have wanted it.

And this is where Sara Groves song, "Open My Hands," comes into the picture and is so incredibly poignant as it pierces my soul at its deepest points:

I believe in a blessing I don't understand -

I've seen rain fall on the wicked and the just.

Rain is no measure of His faithfulness -

He withholds no good thing from us.

I believe in a peace that flows deeper than pain - 

The broken find healing in love.

Pain is no measure of His faithfulness - 

He withholds no good thing from us.

I will open my hands, will open my heart.

I am nodding my head, an emphatic "yes,"

for all that You have for me.

Certainly, this idea of common and special grace has been settling in my head for almost a year now (see "How He loves us..."). One of the most deep-reaching areas of struggle for me has been our desire to have children, with this month marking more than a year and a half since we began this painful adventure. It is something that we have held close and not heavily publicized.

And, no, I am still not pregnant. But God is still good, and I believe that more and more whole-heartedly the longer this waiting continues. The crazy thing is that I'm finally beginning to let go of the need to do all of this in my own timing. My desire is still there, and it sits with me daily, but some of the urgency is receding a bit as I realize it is good to trust the plan God has - and perhaps, for the first time, that to do otherwise is sinful.

Perhaps it is the unfortunate events of the past few weeks that have finally placed everything in the proper perspective, as I haven't had the opportunity to grieve as I typically do. It's amazing how, month after month, one can still have the slightest sliver of hope that things might finally be different than every month that has come before.

I may not be able to control my life, but I can be useful. I can do the good I have been entrusted with (Ephesians 2:10). I can enjoy my dear husband, whom I love and admire more than I did the day I walked to meet him in a church in Aurora, Colorado. I can enjoy the blessing of his friendship, his desire to know my heart, his desire to continue to lead us in the direction of the Kingdom - remaining faithful to the vows we took unto God and unto each other (see "Four Years and It is Lovelier (Still)").

I can choose joy. I can choose to continue my pursuit of the Kingdom. I can choose to be healthy. There is no sin in the pursuit of these things.

It has been interesting since the beginning of the year, when I resolved I was going to finally take control of my body and lose the 20 pounds that make me overweight. To that point, I had hoped they would just be taken over if I were to become pregnant, and had used that as an excuse to avoid being healthy as I ought to be. The strangest piece is that, as I've lost little by little and seen myself become a little smaller, I'm finding that there's life in that.

God has blessed this past year with an incredible and building desperation for Him in my heart. In my weakness and in my emerging into the light of sanity, He has been faithful to restore my awe of the love and grace He has given to me.

I have never longed for heaven more and have fallen in love with the promise of Revelation 21:5 - "And he who was seated on the throne said, 'Behold, I am making all things new.' Also he said, 'Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.'"

All things new! Do we even dare to begin to think we know the implications of that thought? The world is broken, but the God I serve - the God who sent His only Son to redeem this wretch - is not broken, and is the same today as He has always been and always will be. How glorious!

And so I find myself desiring to embrace all that God has for me tonight, for the first time in a long time. The rain of the past year is no measure of His faithfulness or His love for me. He is good, and I want to open my heart to that truth daily - to see His infinite graces toward me in every star placed in the sky, every time of laughter with Christopher, every impatient pawing from a pup who just wants to be loved, every melody and lyric that resonates deep within, and every opportunity of sweet friendship, fellowship and worship. I am blessed in each and every moment, where there is at the least a hint of grace. 

Common grace, specifically for me.

Listening to: Invisible Empires, Sara Groves
Reading: Emily's Quest, L.M. Montgomery

Burdens & Chaos

If you have been keeping up with our renovation blog (http://mercuryreno.blogspot.com), you will know that our lives have been slightly chaotic for a long time. As the school year comes to end, we find ourselves in an accumulated pile of burdens and chaos that seems to have snowballed over the last few months.

Perhaps the biggest thing is simply that this spring was not anything like Chris or I ever thought it would be. I planned to work toward finishing my thesis. Chris planned to take a long-term sub position and continue to hope for a full time job next year.

We had no intentions of buying/renovating a house.

We had no thoughts of Chris hurting himself in the midst of that process.

We had no concept of what it would look like to have Chris try to work both his own job and the long-term sub job while recovering (twice) from knee things (the initial injury and then surgery eight weeks later).

We had no idea that it would be so hard for me to finish a semester where I haven't made any progress on my thesis whatsoever, can barely keep up with the one seminar I'm taking and the one lab section I'm responsible for.

And yet, as much as I tend toward disappointment and frustration in all of our stalled and delayed and unfulfilled plans for the last few months, I find that I am still attempting to carry this burden all by myself. Didn't Jesus say:

Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs on your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. [[Matthew 10:29-31]]

I fail to see worth in myself unless I am fulfilling my self-ordained plans. It is simple to feel the failure when I have not really accomplished what I set out to do with the last few months. It has been a struggle even to see small projects (like the blanket below) get finished when their original purpose is no longer existent or has no use at the current time.

I've struggled with idols in my heart and misconceptions about God and who He is and how He views me like I have never before in the twelve years I've walked with Christ. There have been so many times where I have looked at my life these past few months and wondered if there was any blessing in it.

Don't get me wrong - I know that there is blessing in it and blessing written all over every inch, even if I still don't see all of it. But there are things that I have held so tightly to that they have accumulated upon my back and weighed me down. My relationship with God has been strained as I have struggled to understand what "blessing" and "common grace" and "love" all mean.

And yet, there is one thing that is always the last thing to come to mind - when I need it most of all:

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light. [[Matthew 11:28-30]]

 I need rest for my soul. Pray that I find it in the only place it can be found.

11 & 300

On April 21, I will turn 11.

For eleven years, I have walked with Christ; I have written music; I have seen His faithfulness in every aspect of my life.

And in preparation to celebrate, I have started my annual trek through old prayer journals. I can only stand amazed at the goodness and faithfulness of God.

Even in my moments of utmost foolishness, He was fully faithful. Every year, I walk away with some main thread of what God has been teaching me. Perhaps what this year is about is coming to an understanding of the faithfulness of God.

I picked up one of my prayer journals from my best friend back in December. She had borrowed it many years ago and had kept it for several after that.

It is this journal that I picked up tonight when I couldn't sleep. I can't tell you the last time I read any of its pages, but its pages tell of my last year of high school and my first few years of college.

I must have been an odd specimen as a teenager, though perhaps it was the depression that I constantly battled that made me as introspective as I was. Every page contains depth that I somehow trusted God with.

At my worst, I still asked Him to correct my heart and bless me.

Granted, I was horridly foolish, but foolish with an honest, God-fearing heart.

And yet He was faithful! Prayers that I don't remember ever praying are recorded in the pages of this simple book - prayers for the husband that sleeps next to me, for the shaping of my heart, for perseverance in music, for peace.

Eleven years. How did they go by so quickly? How does each phase seem as if it were another life? I somehow went from 14 to nearly 25 and feel as if I've lived five lifetimes in the blink of an eye.

I'm so grateful for the roles that different people have played in my spiritual development over the years. As I read, the names flooded me and I felt the overwhelming desire to track each of them down to express my gratitude. Unfortunately, this would likely be impossible, especially as I'm called to be faithful in the life that God has blessed me with at the present time, but how much I still love them! How blessed I was to know them!

Somehow, I've also reached 300 posts on this ol' blog. 300 posts in five years. Some years have been a little more wordy than others, I suppose, but they're all here - and each one reflects a place in my life where Christ was living and active.

And I am so grateful for that.

In reading through my prayer journal tonight, I was struck by my faithfulness and diligence in seeking God through writing during those years. I wrote constantly. I prayed constantly. I relied on Christ day-in and day-out. God's faithfulness to me over the years calls me to remain faithful, and I am learning what that means in my daily life - all over again.

Life looks so much different at 24 than it did at 14, both in obvious and subtle ways. But there is one thing that remains the same - I am still human and I still desperately need a Savior.

Hallelujah! No kinder Savior waits for me than Jesus Christ, the Son of the Living God.