WORSHIP AS WONDER: THE TIGHTROPE

(8/7/07)

Hello, God! Everything has gotten really quiet here this evening. Kim and I ate dinner and watched a few episodes of one of our favorite TV shows together. Now, she has turned in for the night, and I have decided to just turn off the TV and spend some time reading and writing in my journal. I should do this more often – there’s usually not anything much good on TV anyway… I just sit there with a blank stare and surf up and down the channels (over 100 channels, and I can’t find one thing that interests me). I’m such a creature of habit.

When I read “Blue Like Jazz” by Donald Miller, one passage that resonated in my soul was the following:

"My friend Jason and I went on a trip to Joshua Tree and Death Valley, and he had a map folded across his lap nearly the entire trip. Even when I was driving, he had the map out, following along with his finger the trajectory of the car, noting how close we were to certain towns, certain lakes. Jason liked to know where we were on the map (and so did I, as a matter of fact). But I was afraid to tell Jason about the universe, how scientists haven’t found the edge of it, of how nobody knows exactly where we are on the map.

"I think we have two choices in the face of such big beauty: terror or awe. And this is precisely why we attempt to chart God, because we want to be able to predict Him, to dissect Him, to carry Him around in our dog and pony show. We are too proud to feel awe and too fearful to feel terror. We reduce Him to math so we don’t have to fear Him, and yet the Bible tells us fear is the appropriate response, that it is the beginning of wisdom." (1)

When we think about You, God – when we try to wrap our brains around who You are – there is a delicate balance we try to maintain between awe and familiarity… a thin tightrope we walk anytime we try to define Your nature and decode the way You relate to us as humans. If we spend our entire existence in awe and fear of You, we may feel that we cannot approach You at all. We may, in “reverence”, keep You at a distance, confining You to religious sculptures or impersonal recitations and rituals, too terrified by your “Godness” to consider the thought that we could actually interact personally with You. However, if we fault too far toward familiarity, casually considering You as our “friend”, we run the risk of denying You your deity, and the respect and fear that You so rightly deserve.

God, I confess to You that I have fallen off both sides of this tightrope at one time or another. I get so blown away by your unfathomable power and the enormity of all You have created that I forget that You know my every thought, my every word, my every action – and that You still love me immeasurably. Or I shrink You down into one of my “buddies” that I take camping in the mountains with me, and then wave goodbye to when I leave to travel home… totally forgetting that You are the Maker and Master of the mountains. (In my defense, I must add here that these moments of misconception are not intentional – they are, in most cases, attempts to get my perspective right by focusing on your vastness or your intimacy.)

I long to become a better “tightrope walker”. Instead of the performers out on the tightrope that always look like they are one false move away from tumbling off into the abyss below (mostly well-calculated theatrics in reality, I’m sure!), I want to be like the performer I saw in an old vintage black and white film, who actually carried a chair out there and confidently sat down on the tightrope. I want to find a confident balance between awe and familiarity, understanding to my deepest core that You are both awesome and intimate. And I want to be so confident in that balance that I can rest on it instead of struggling to maintain it. In response to both facets of your nature, I will approach You in wonder… wonder at your wisdom… wonder at your vastness… wonder at your mercy and love. Donald Miller says, “I don’t think there is any better worship than wonder.” (2) I wholeheartedly agree.


ENDNOTES:

1. Donald Miller, Blue Like Jazz (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2003), 204.
2. Miller, Blue Like Jazz, 206.

LESSONS AT GRAVEYARD FIELDS

(4/22/08)
(Linville Falls Campground, Blue Ridge Parkway)

Hi, God. It is late at night, and I am about to end what has been a busy but satisfying day.

I left early this morning (well… early in vacation terms) and drove south to pick up the Parkway just south of Asheville – a large portion between here and Asheville is closed for repairs right now, so I had to detour over to I-40. I have never driven the southernmost portion of the Parkway in its entirety, so I decided to do that today. And it was a gorgeous day for it – warm weather (even at the high elevations), blue sky with puffy white clouds, and some absolutely beautiful scenery!

I saw the Yellowstone Prong Falls (all three of them), hiked through Graveyard Fields, and climbed up to Black Balsam Knob for a stunning 360-degree view at 6,214 feet. It was an amazing day – and I am really tired, so I am gonna make this short.

As you are hiking around the 2.5-mile Graveyard Field Loop trail, you have an option of taking a 1.4-mile side trip to the Upper Falls of Yellowstone Prong – a hike that my guidebook said would be more strenuous and treacherous.

As I was trying to make my decision, I ran into a guy who knew a lot about this particular area. I asked him if the side trip was worth the effort. He said, “absolutely,” and then proceeded to tell me to be sure to scramble up the falls once I got there, because the best feature was hidden at the top of the falls. I thanked him and took off.

Even though the loop hike around Graveyard Fields had been really enjoyable, I was already winded from hiking it; and I began to really get tired about a half mile into the side trip. Just then I passed two ladies who told me I was close – about ten more minutes. I quickened my pace, encouraged by the news that I was almost there.

Upon my arrival at the falls, I was so glad that my newfound friend had given me that advice about scrambling up to the top of the falls. While the lower portion of the falls were pretty – a rushing flume of water dancing down a large, wide, relatively smooth rock face – I would have probably questioned if it had been worth my time and perspiration. After scrambling to the top, however, I was thrilled to find a 40-50 foot delicate cascade of white, lacy water that was the starting point for the waterfall – a feature that could not be seen from the bottom. I sat and enjoyed an apple as I marveled at the beauty of this spot.

As I descended, I told a mother and her two small children that they were close – about ten minutes away. I also told two other couples about the wonderful hidden cascade at the top of the falls.

So where am I going with this whole narrative?

The life of a Christ-follower is a journey. At some points along the journey, we are going to wonder if it is even worth the effort. God will send experienced people into our path to reassure us. At some points, we will be uninformed, misinformed, or just plain confused, and stand a chance of missing something really special or important. God will send knowledgeable people into our path that will warn us, guide us and instruct us. At some points, we will get tired and discouraged. God will send encouraging people into our path to admonish us and invigorate us. And at yet other points along the journey, God will send us into the paths of others to do the same three things for them.

Thank You, God, for all those You have sent into my path during my long journey to reassure me, to instruct and guide me, and to encourage me. So many faces and names flash before me that I could not even begin to list them all here. You have used each of them to shape me into who I am.

And thank You for all the times that You have sent me into someone’s path to reassure them, to instruct and guide them, and to encourage them. I pray that, in each encounter, I have fulfilled your purposes for me – and yet even as I write these words, I know that, as a flawed follower, I certainly have not always done my part. Forgive me for the times You sent me into someone’s path, and I walked right past them. Forgive me for giving incorrect or misguided counsel at times. Help me to enthusiastically encourage, reassure, and guide all those who I encounter.

Thank You for the journey. Even when I am tired (like now) and my body aches (like now), it is always worth it to walk the journey with You!