Gorgeous Gravity

Gorgeous Gravity

There’s something reassuring about falling.

Not at first maybe, I mean at first you’re looking for hand holds and finding none, panic ensues, your heart beats like hummingbird wings but watching this beating is not nearly so peaceful as watching hummingbirds. Beginning to fall, beginning to lose one’s grip, that is not the most reassuring feeling.

But hear me out, because there is something reassuring in the fall. There is a feeling when you’re looking for handholds and finding none, that you simply have to trust, and keep worshiping, and that is all. It feels complicated because we’re suddenly trying to invent handholds and create a formula for fighting gravity and those are not simple things. What’s simple is this; I am falling, I can only fall, and I know that God is with me in the plummet.

I don’t say, ‘I know that he will catch me’, only because I have this idea that perhaps I am not meant to be caught. Sometimes he catches us in our falling and it’s beautiful too. But sometimes I think the falling is directional, that he means for us to be falling because we’re meant to dive deep into the river that is at the bottom of our uncontrollable flailing. The river may be wondrous.

Control and I do not communicate well. I should learn how to dialogue with it better. As it has stood, I have not liked control. I do all that I can to avoid it. It seems however that at the moments people or situations seem to be trying to take this burden of control away from me, I become a little more defensive of my bent relationship with it. The truth is, it scares me to death that people have power. More so, it scares me to death that I have power. That I can make decisions and those decisions have a real life influence on the way this real life goes.

Jesus, who do you think I am that you just trust me with this? With power? With decisions? It’s like you think I know what I’m doing. Spoiler alert, I don’t.

I am good at responding to life, to what comes my way, I have learned to respond well. I am less fond of being the other part of that equation. I have been equipped with beautiful friends who have great wisdom and walk with me. That’s really good for decisions. Sometimes the Holy Spirit and the reasonable advice from people though, are different things. The Holy Spirit is far more reasonable than I am. The trusting comes in where the Holy Spirit is also a whole lot smarter and is much more familiar with all the power of God than I am, and so what the Holy Spirit deems reasonable by heavenly standards and knowing all that God can do, can feel intrinsically insane to the humans who are seeing human reason and only a little further. The Holy Spirit says ,“fall”.

“Brittany, fall.”

Wow. Whatttttttt a greeeaaaat word. Thanks Jesus. That’s um. That’s. No I don’t like it please explain.

I felt myself losing control. I looked around at all the little decisions I had to make and I did not know how to make any of them and the truth is I was not supposed to worry about them but the truth is also that I was worrying very much.

Something about me: I love details.

Something about me: I hate practical details.

I am. Not. A details person. I like the BIG PICTURE. In fact I’m pretty well crazy about it. I will give my all for it. Absolutely.

Unfortunately details make up the big picture. When I say I love details, I love…I don’t know, the emotional details. The character details. The important (to me) details. The big picture details. I love the flecks in people’s eyes and the way they hesitate when they’re trying to understand something. I love the feel of cold tile under pink toes. I love weird sounds people make when they think or hold back a laugh. The important details.

But life involves many more sorely boring details. I love the detail of life that some people are so good at the little details. I love the passion in their expressions as they talk about the little details (they are not actually always so little, to some politics is big and to me it is little- to some stories are little and to me they are big). I admire that so much. I don’t like that I am not good at them. I don’t like that I have to think about them in order to do things like stay alive and function as a human and help people. These little decisions and details help make the big picture I am so very fond of.

Usually I don’t think about the littles in as much as I can. Usually I am okay with that. But things started falling in my life- the family I was going to nanny got different working hours so they no longer needed a nanny, farewell job security it was nice while it lasted- and CBC my beautiful CBC was finished, and in short- there was a whole lot of uncertainty. A whole lot of falling.

I try to remember what CBC taught me about failing, because when I’m falling I feel like I’m failing even if that’s not the case. “Fail forward.” Says CBC. Failure isn’t always a bad thing.

Fail forward, and I will add my own- “Fall faithfully”.

Sometimes God takes the ground out from under us and we falllll, but falling is okay. It really really truthfully is. We get to fall faithfully. We get to deepen our trust as deep as the pit we’re falling down. We get to see all of our strengths and vulnerabilities– what is more tempting when we’re falling? What lies are our ears more susceptible to? At LifeSpring we’ve been talking about Daniel, and how if we are not firmly standing in faith in the easy times, it’s going to be a lot harder to stand in faith when it’s hard- when we’re falling.  Falling shows us what areas of life we need to strengthen. What habits could we take up so that next time we’re falling, we can do so confidently. “If you’re going to fall, do so fabulously”– to quote some meme from sometime.

God asked me to surrender control and fall. I kept asking him about the little details, and you know the crazy thing (crazy because I always thought I needed to focus on getting better at the details)? He kept telling me, focus on your strength. You’re a big picture person, use that. He said, other people are designed to love the little details, work with them, but focus on the big picture. That’s your strength.

I did not like this answer. Right away- I like it now just to be clear. But in the moment it felt utterly unhelpful. Hi. Jesus. That doesn’t tell me what to do with these details…I still have to make decisions here. He said, you’re asking the wrong questions. BIG PICTURE BIG PICTURE BIG PICTURE. You LOVE this big picture- you love that I hold everything and that all will be made right, you love to stop and WORSHIP through whatever fuss the world is in, whatever shambles your life is in- so focus on THAT.

“Fine. Then I’m just not going to worry about the little things.” I finally said. I just felt God laugh, “FINALLY YES THERE WE GO”.

The next day came a Word at church about how Paul and Silas didn’t get out of prison by looking for a key (little details, practical), but they WORSHIPPED and the prison was busted open! Worship through it. Fall worshipping. Stop looking to fight gravity and praise the God who invented it. He Will. He is faithful as we fall. We can be too.

So here we are- exhausted, discouragement flying at me from the enemy saying I need to get control of the little things or things are going to fall apart– and yet miraculously, over it all, feeling the grace of the Spirit just pouring over me and giving me this joy. Like a lot of it. Like laughter bubbling up and overflowing. Joy. My heart is so full, the Spirit within me is so happy, seeing that God is working in ways I have yet to understand. His ways are not my ways, His thoughts are higher.

And I just feel this relief. Today the last thing I felt slipping from my grasp finally slipped. And this should make me afraid. But it was so out of my control- and now I know for sure that it was out of my control all along. God opens doors. God closes doors. I am falling. I am happy to be falling. For God has taken away what he has for a purpose, and I am so thankful. The relieving thing about falling is that is proves we are not in control, and though we have power we are also under a heavenly reign; God guides us in how to use it. Falling is as much Jesus’ domain as solid rock. Falling is a place where trust grows.

I would be grateful for your prayers in this time! Thanks guys!

 

Fabric of Us

I want to rushhhhhh
But what have I learned from the beloved disciple’s writings,

That something can be good and you can fully intend to fulfill it,
Until it’s overflowing, overflowing, soaking through the fabric of us,

Fabric that is stretched and stretched in trust,
Fabric we like to wrinkle and make small, in case like dust,

We are blown about in one wind’s big gulping gust,
But even the wind trusts, in your deep voice,

And even the wind seeks to skim across this fabric and smooth it out,
So that by you, my Love, I can be blown about,

And so I say here I am, send me like your wind!
My heart leaps to what I think you have offered,

I want to leap with my heart toward what I see as good,
But in my excitement I forget to listen, your voice to my ears is thinned,

I am afraid what you’ve said is good,
Is something you could rescind like the wind on a dry paralyzing day,

Yet who am I?
Even the wind knows to trust you!

You can see it through,
It is all up to and it is all for you,

And yet hallelujah- when rushed you say, no, no, this is not my way,
I will do it, but it shall be I,

For only
I AM,

And only I know the hour,
Only I see how fast that sun sinks down,

And only I will expect it to rise, though how oft,
I try to assure you in the comfort of my presence,

That the light will be with you,
So the light will be with me,

The light will be with me,
You will be here,

You know who it is you have created,
You know the fabric of us,

And you will soak through us as we soak in you,
You will, you will,

I will fix my ways to trusting,
To blessing what you are doing,

Rather than rushing what I am attempting,
For you know the fabric of us and you love us,

And you will fill to overflowing what you intend for us,
So you will have my trust,

And if it’s as I hope I will praise you,
And if its ‘wait’ I will worship,
And if it’s not the fate you’re working for me,
I will believe in you,

No one shall snatch me away,
This is my assurance,

You are a good father who gives all for his children,
This is my hope,

I will trust you,
I will trust you

With all the fabric of me,

I will trust you, like the wind does, so send me wildly about,

I will trust you

Breathing underwater is easy, and with the thought she grinned, Part 2

There’s this feeling when I worship-

Not a feeling so much as a truth,

Like I can do anything anything,

Like underwater breathing,

Anything at all and ever,

As long as to Wind my heart can keep singing,

And so I’m sinking unafraid,

 

I think I need to be kinder to this puddle-

It’s only muddled and swampy because I’ve seen it wrong,

But it’s more like a lake- it’s bigger and clearer than I let on-

I was a little blind, you see…

The water has been so agitated, flipping and barreling over itself,

A lake in the confines of a puddle, waves begging to expand past its little wild huddle,

And what sends the waves into action but my very friend, the wind,

Thought of as a distraction when it’s source was Wind,

I’d be agitated too, if someone tried to rescind,

Such a power, such a goodness,

So I apologize as I swim,

 

And as I speak to this lake,

Her waves calm,

And as I explore,

She stills,

 

Brought to a peace of being forgiven and known,

Brought to a contentment as her boarders vanish-

For this could never be mistaken for a lake when it is such a great ocean,

At peace and begun to heal,

Waves are no longer panicked and sealed,

For their purpose is revealed,

And they are free to charge wild~

Sweatpants and Bare Feet

Sweatpants and bare feet,

A tile floor, and music sweet,

The Lord sweet,

His beauty sweeps- through,

Bare feet sweep across the floor,

Shy arms sweep high and wide and open to soar,

Straight into the Kingdom,

And a shaky voice rings out,

And even that shaking voice is sure,

And those toes press into cold tile,

Heels lifted, we dance awhile,

Hand’s surely in His,

We dance forever’s while,

Our intertwined voices stretch out for miles,

And we sing in laughter,

As chains hit the tile,

Its echo sings out in laughter,

And I fly into your arms!

Because I am finally free,

And because you have always walked with me,

Talk out my wrinkles,

And whisper away my fears,

I delight in you,

And hallelu-jah you delight in me too,

Oh my feet move and the tile gives way to my rock,

Oh Lord, and I move in your arms,

An eternal dancing hug,

I am free in your love,

And I’ll stay,

I’ll stay like Ruth,

And I’ll follow like Elisha,

And my heels bounce in excitement,

And I know that I am yours,

And I can wait for you,

Because you are here with me,

And I can wait faithfully,

Because you walk faithful with me,

And I can learn to wait holy,

Because you led a holy life, you lead me,

And I am free,

And I choose you,

I’ll stay and wait,

And my heart will sing out, Kingdom come,

And my mouth will speak out thanks because you’re here,

Your breath is in me,

I look like you,

I’m lost in this waiting,

I’m lost in the grace,

But you know just where I am.

God, I’m asking for a push.

You know the one,

When you’re seven, four foot, and on a two wheeler,

And your father stands behind you at the top of the hill?

 

The one where you’re not quite used to the feel of your feet on pedals,

Where Abba holds the bike upright so you can position them just right,

But you can’t push off from this ready position,

And without the momentum,

Tip.

 

So Abba has to push, and you have to pedal,

And the hill has to sustain you,

And those brakes may or may not work,

They’re not your concern, your concern is going.

 

And you get that push, and the downhill pulls,

And there you go, you’re flying,

But your hands are on the handles and at this speed,

They’re shaking, wobbly, not used to steering,

 

One small slip of control- tip,

Only this time you’re fast, and tip could end with a —skid___

And that with a whole lot of ouch.

And the brakes may or may not work.

 

But I’m okay with that God. I’m not afraid.

Because I sure could end up with two bloody shins,

But I have a healer riding with me,

And even if it’s messy, I crash, it doesn’t work out,

 

It’s worth the risk to be reaching out.

If it doesn’t work you can set me back on my two wheels,

And I’ll set my two feet up on two pedals,

And the two of us will ride and possibly face dive,

And it’s okay ‘cause we’ll always recover,

And every time I get a little smarter,

And we’ll make a real difference,

And there’s so much we’ll discover,

 

So God I’m asking for that push.

I’m in ready position, my feet on the pedals,

You’re holding us up,

Now send us out,

Just show me where to fly,

And give me a push,

Open doors and show me how to steer for them,

For you,

Straight for you.

I say I want to be a slave at Your feet

I say I want to be a slave at your feet,

Kneel before you in shame,

Close my eyes,

 

I say I want to serve at your feet,

Tears released, drip wildly,

I catch the elastic from my hair,

Curls released, fall unruly,

My Lord, I say, Let me serve at your feet!

 

I grab my sweetest perfume,

And grasp it in my palm,

Lord when I got it, it seemed dear,

But now it is nothing.

For the dirt that touched your feet is more precious;

It knows the touch of Jesus!

 

And what am I, but dirt at your feet?

Lucky if even your shadow I meet,

With hair and tears and ugly perfume,

Allow me only to meet, and wash your feet!

 

I remove your sandals and set them aside,

Thus two perfect feet- but did I do this?

For you are hurt- did I do this?

Push a nail below your ankle, when I meant to love?

Ahavah!

What awful kiss have I planted on you?

Did I do this?

I WISH TO WASH YOUR FEET

Is my faith so wishy-washy, incomplete?

These are tears of sinner!

They are filled with dirty wealth!

I beg you, let me scrub your feet!

Contented to spend the rest of my life,

Reaching up to you,

I am unworthy to clean when I am unclean myself-

Please-

I say broken,

Let me wash your feet.

 

Sobbing I see, you come to my level,

You kneel with me, and take my hands,

Both of them,

My heart beats faster, as I look straight into His eyes,

‘You needn’t wash my feet’, says the gesture,

‘For now, just weep’,

 

God, I know all I have is cheap!

You know the levels to which I steep,

But you are not a King of distance,

You humble to my level,

Hear my repentance,

I Love You Lord!

You are close,

Call me your Child!

My tears, happy, released, fall wild!

For the joy you instill is mine,

I who call you Abba!

You have not called me merely to wash your feet-

But to hold your hands and walk through the steep,

Together we do every step,

Breath to breath my hope is here,

And every breath as you become more clear,

You my hope, become more dear.

Still, Still, Still

Can you imagine a lake without ripples?

Water and no waves?

If the wind stayed silent,

And the moon didn’t whisper to the tides,

 

Nothing shifts it disturbs it or lifts it,

It isn’t rocked or ripped or skipped on with rocks,

If Peter’s step never made a dent,

Oh child of little faith,

 

It’s peaceful, isn’t it?

Nothingness.

No flood, or rivers turning to blood,

No waters parting and no staff commanding,

 

It’s peaceful, isn’t it?

Be still after all, and know that He is God.

Still. Still. Still, I don’t feel reassured,

I don’t feel full of faith.

 

The image of waveless water,

Like a walking person who’s chest,

Doesn’t rise and fall with breath,

No disturbance, and no assurance,

 

Of the living going on inside.

It’s a paintless brush along a white canvas,

A dove spread its wings with no wind to push off,

No way to soar,

 

Like someone without awareness of the Spirit,

A Church who forgets to worship,

They are not moved by God,

Its whispers of Yahweh, silenced,

 

Still no disturbance, Still no rage,

Still no turmoil, struggle, Still nothing to engage,

We are still, still, still un-content,

With waves made of glass, I’m still made of fret,

 

See life isn’t lifeless, loveless or sighless,

We need not stillness around us,

We need the trees to have breath,

And leaves to swirl in a mess,

 

We need not still lakes and ground bound birds,

Or ground bound hearts, or ground bound words,

We need movement we need guidance,

To guide us into stillness, not of Earth, but us,

 

Be still, don’t still the circumstance,

Be still, don’t wish away the waves,

That wash away our wanting,

The Lord is my shepherd, lie down dear one,

 

For child of little faith,

We learned from Peter’s fall,

We celebrated the parting waves,

And we were cleansed with the flood,

 

We sit in stillness in silence in soaring,

Not to silence and still the waves,

Sit still and silent, sit steadfast,

To pull the waves around you, and listen to their crash,

 

Sit and gather the ripples of wind,

Pouring through you, toward you like a blanket,

Gather them round you and hide in them awhile,

Lose yourself in the memory of what God has done,

 

And is doing,

He isn’t still, He isn’t silent,

He’s dancing and singing and working,

And waves are to dance and sing in response,

 

It’s okay. Stop dancing, singing and working,

For a moment,

And watch the waves dance in response.

You reach toward us,

You don’t shy away,

In our rags you see strands of silk,

Your breath rushes toward my back,

Pushes me to the fingertips of the waves, whose Spirit laps over my feet,

Your heart captures my hands,

Winds swirl around our dance,

A step, a step, a cautious hop,

I’m swept, I’m swept into an exhale that never stops,

A hop a hop a hop to a leap,

Fallen into the deep,

Fulfilled in the sweep,

Under the monster waves are an angel’s caves,

Worship’s home,

Prayer’s natural groan,

Singing echo of deep sea winds,

High notes of falling sins,

The dance of the current ,

Flowing through a heart of a servant,

The dance of the current,

Surging in song,

The dance only stopping,

Where the gates of the water open,

Where it is forced up for the Israelites to make their way,

through the plains of His Plans,

His intricately woven strands,

Of silk in the rags.