April 2012 – David Andrew

April 22, 2012

Hunger

Closeness with God can be a difficult, ever changing thing. It’s never because He changes, but always because we change. Change. I hate it and love it at the same time. It’s what happens as we renew our minds and bring our lives into alignment with the reality of our new natures in Christ. We are already seated in heavenly places with Christ, but we have to learn how that looks as we live on earth and it can be a difficult, painful process. Sometimes there is great joy in the process too. Sometimes we celebrate the process with other people. Sometimes we journey alone for a time, a phenomenon I know as the desert.

I think that we go through many deserts in life—times when the landscape (circumstances, relationships, etc) are barren and ever-shifting. No matter how well you prepare for it, you will eventually run out of supplies, and you must rely on God to provide manna in the morning and quail in the evening. You must rely on God to provide water from rocks and make the bitter waters sweet. It is often a time of loneliness.

With each desert that we go through, the only thing we can do to experience it differently is to change our perspective of it. This time through, I’m realizing how much joy there is in letting go of everything. I’m releasing friendships, grades, dreams, and plans, and finding that in my human loneliness I find spiritual closeness to my God—One who is not present physically, yet Who is more real to me than any other person I’ve ever met. I find myself hungry for the manna of His presence which, oddly enough, I cannot find in the company of others. I need the desert in order to draw close to Jesus. The desert has become for me no longer something I dread. I love the wide open spaces. I love the utter dependence. I love the closeness. I know that when I have reached the end of my desert season I will be ready for whatever comes; but for now, I am resting. Jesus, I am resting. Thank You.

chapel cross — I'll have nothing except for Him

April 9, 2012

I Am Not Afraid

I stand at my window with dread welling up in me. It’s a mild, sunny day, yet I can’t help but feel the weight of my opposition. I’ve heard it said that when you taste defeat, Almighty God weeps with you. I’ve heard it said that God restores the years that the locusts have eaten; He brings beauty out of ashes. I’ve heard it said that what the devil means for harm, God uses for good. I have heard it said that there are powerful lessons to be learned through pain, rejection, and hardship.

Maybe it’s all true.

But I have been through these things many times. I have tasted defeat. I have endured much pain. I have come through the desert and arrived at this place a different, new person; and who I am become and the things I have gracefully and humbly accomplished have been rejected and scorned time and again by people who have no idea what I’ve come through and have no respect for the passions of my pure heart.

And I’m not sure I want to go through this again.

I’ve seen a side of God that victoriously displays His glory and upends injustice, and I don’t know if I can bear His weeping. I’m not sure I can bear another defeat. So bitterness knocks at the door of my heart once more and I lock and deadbolt it. Nothing comes in, nothing goes out; and whether or not I let bitterness in, the stagnancy of me will, in time, become bitter and stale anyway. That’s not who I want to be.

I have to try again.

I have to offer the best of me and my passions to the judgment of others who may or may not deem me fit for their own vision and plans. I have to bare my heart to the possibility of desolation again. If I pass, I share in my Father’s joy. If I am rejected, I reflect my Father’s heart in forgiveness and sorrow and hope. Whatever happens, I stay living alive; and I refuse to scorn this gift of life that has been given to me by my Father. I am blessed to rejoice. I am blessed to hurt. I am blessed to love. I am blessed to forgive. I am blessed to feel—to live alive. I am blessed; therefore, I will open my heart to pursue passion and purpose. I will move forward. I will conquer defeat by standing up, looking it in the face, and telling it I’m not afraid of what it may do to me because it can only demonstrate that I’m alive.

April 6, 2012

Spring Break

Yes, this is a blog post about spring break. Honestly, I wasn’t going to write about anything I’ve been doing, but then I saw all of my blogging friends posting about their breaks and I got a little jealous. (Silly, right? I thought so too.) Nevertheless, here I am. (Ta-da!)

Usually, when I post something here, it’s about something that I’ve been thinking about or wrestling with and pertains to mental/emotional/spiritual growth. Today, I just need to write so bear with me and I’m sure something profound will come up. (No seriously, it just might happen.)

So far, my spring break has consisted of two things: reading and practicing. Yes.

Ah! Here’s the profound truth. Neither of these things are what I naturally want to do. I find them both rather tedious actually—at least in my current context. However, I’m reminded of a lesson that I learned a while ago about being faithful in the little things. As a writer/thinker, it’s needful for me to be filled and inspired by other writers/thinkers. As a musician, it’s very much needful for me to practice and rehearse scales, techniques, and compositions.

I’m sure many of you have heard the idea that if you are faithful in the little things that you will be entrusted with big things later. I heard it as a child and it sounds kind of silly stated in the abstract, but it’s so true. You have to keep the end result in mind. What do you want to do? Where do you want to eventually be? How are you working toward those goals?

A goal doesn’t have to be some hugely specific entity. It can be general—that’s ok. As you progress toward it, it will become more specific and refined. This is the process of life and it’s ok: take your time.

I’m not where I want to be. I know I want to be someone who is so filled with wisdom and encouragement that it naturally flows out of me to others in speaking, blogging, and poetry. I know I want to be a musician who exposes people to grace and the eternal qualities of God through high-quality musicianship. Both of these things mean that I will have to spend loads of time investing into activities that will equip me to live this way.

As a junior, soon to be senior, in university, I easily lose sight of these goals as I go about the daily grind. Spring break has been a chance to step back and refocus, reenergize, and rededicate myself to the dreams I’ve entertained for so long. I’ve found that my passion is not dead, my God is still faithful, and life is not my enemy.