Post 2: Reverence or Holy Rollers

The most difficult thing about loving God may be that I never know where to start with him. I mean that about when I talk about him and when I talk to him. He really is cool enough to be the life of every party that ever happened and the last twenty-four hours or so of my life have been testament to that.

I was down in the Emerson Lobby just a few minutes ago with a few dozen-college students singing worship songs with an acoustic guitar. God was there! I’m not joking, he told me so. I was standing there wondering, “hmmm why should I raise my hands right now.” As I was thinking that, the song said “O God let us be, a generation that seeks, that seeks your face, O God of Jacob.” He said, “Reach up and touch my face,” so I did. Let me tell you about that. He was about seven feet tall maybe taller, his cheeks fit into my fully extended hands perfectly and he had a little bit of facial hair just barely past the length where it’s rough. He was wearing robes but he seemed very comfortable in them, in fact I think he let them get a little dirty just so he wouldn’t embarrass me, o yeah he was barefoot too. As I stood before him, hands raised, I didn’t need to say anything and neither did he. We just stood there, his contentedly smiling face in my hands, me adoring him both of our eyes closed just loving each other. It was great, a wonderful way to experience the love of the savior.

Last night, I was at the Gospel Service across the street at the Methodist Church just off-campus, God was there too, but it was very different. For one thing that was more or less my first time in a true “gospel service,” and it was just grand. If you have never felt the inclination to shout, “Hallelujah!” at the mention of his name you might not understand why these people keep bursting out at mentions of his glory. In fact, I imagine it would seem more than just a little strange. But this crowd had no problems with proclaiming his glory and having EVERYBODY hear about it. That place was so filled with joy bubbling over from heaven that people felt the need to shout about it. It was so wonderful; I couldn’t stop smiling the whole time. My friend Christine, who I was sitting with, was all kinds of into it as well, because apparently that’s the norm for her at her church in Boston where she is the only white kid in the youth group. I suppose the closest thing I have ever experienced to that was the Foursquare summer camp that is so near and dear to me. Basically, there are people laughing, crying, speaking in tongues, holy-rolling and being slain in the spirit everywhere. It is frightening for some, amazing for others but at the end of the night no one can deny God's power there.

For a third and still different experience with God, I went to the Compline service at the Episcopalian Cathedral in the U-District where the monks come out and sing Gregorian chants at nine-thirty on Sunday nights. The reverence in that church is remarkable, not to mention the peace of God. I like to lie on my back when I go to Compline and simply stretch out and relax in the presence of God; it’s sort of like Christian nirvana… maybe not. The monks sing for about a half an hour and it’s beautiful with soaring harmonies and the best reverb you will ever hear is in those old cathedrals. The monk’s version of “Amazing Grace” beats any version you will ever hear, without a doubt. It might be the most beautiful arrangement of any song ever written. However, my favorite part of the night was not “Amazing Grace,” nope it was what one of the monks said.

As the service came to a close the monk said, “Praise be to God, Amen.” I could not help but giggle a little bit deep down inside (and a little bit outside) because I was reminded of one of the speakers at the Gospel service who had said “Praise be to God, Amen!” in a glorious shout with his hands flailing in the air and the congregation cheering afterwards. When the monk said it however, he was very solemn, very pulled together, and only silence ensued. I was half tempted to jump up and shout, “Hallelujah!” but I didn’t, I just had a laugh with God as we remembered the moment. Yet both the monk and the reverend said it with equal amounts of love for the same glorious savior. And you know what else? His love for the two of them is equal too, but it’s also completely different.

God’s love for me is nothing like his love for the monk, or the reverend, or the gospel singers, or even the other SPU students that I was worshiping in Emerson with. His love for me is totally unique, and spectacular just like it is for all of us. I take it is a point of pride that no one knows Jesus like I know Jesus. There is no one else out there who can know the love of Jesus like I can, and dog gone I feel like a greedy little kid every time I say that and it’s AWESOME! My friend Tim the kilted southerner says that he is one of God’s favorite people, that he is definitely in his top ten people ever, if not in his fave five. I say I am right after him, and the only reason I am not higher is that I don’t have a kilt yet. What’s beautiful about that is every single one of us can brag about that same thing no matter what we have done, we can do nothing at all to make him love us less, AGAPE is something bigger than our faults. I was pondering this as I was worshiping in Emerson.

God showed up in the dorm lobby in Emerson Hall to spend quality time with a bunch of adulterers, liars, thieves, and murderers, hardly a desirable way to spend an evening. He went there to love people who have done him more harm than good. He wrapped us, his children, in his arms knowing that we will stab him in the back over and over again. As I was praying the other night God showed me that he would die a hundred times over for any one of us if that’s what it took. He would die for all of us one hundred times even if he knew we would never choose him. He would die one hundred times for a murderer who cursed his name just so that they could have the choice to choose him, even if he knew they wouldn’t. That’s how deep the father’s love is for us, and no matter who we are, where we are, how we worship or what we’ve done he wants us to know that.

Post 1: Loving to love and experiencing the joys of others

As I was texting Katie the crazy red head about the loss of her "Muma" (great-grandmother) I naturally began thinking about my Grandma, who passed in April of 2009. The thought that came to mind was not a terribly new thought, however I was reminded of the fact that we should be happy for our lost loved ones who in all reality have found that greatest joy we could know; heaven and with that daily walks with the creator who is the greatest everything of all time ever. As I thought about this I thought about what Muma and Grandma must be thinking right now. They’re obviously praising God right now with all their hearts and with more joy than they can have ever known in life. In addition to that they must be enjoying the presence and love of their lost loved ones all over again. Grandma is probably talking to her grandmother and Muma to her grandmother and all their passed siblings and so on. As all this was running through my mind I began to consider that someday, God willing, I will have kids maybe grandkids maybe great grandkids and so on and so forth.

As that occurred to me I began considering the fact that I will love them and I will love loving them and I have so many people that have yet to enter my life that I will love and whom I will also love loving. At this point I started looking around the bus I was on and I started considering that all the people on it (I sincerely hope and pray) have people that they love and that love them in return. Now it's time for a bunny trail, if I can remember what it was I was about to say. O yes, living to love.

Now living to love is not living in the hopes of getting married and having children, it is loving to love anyone that crosses your path no matter if they are mean, or fat, or overly-nice, or strange, or if they have little fingers... As I thought about that my thoughts went back to what I would live for if I didn’t live for God, I would live for the thing I love next most, music. But that wouldn’t suffice, living for music would be hollow and that’s another bunny trail that I didn’t take and won’t be taking now. Anyways, living to love and loving to love while doing it. “Lovey lovers love loving lovingly” as I said once, it’s an entirely nonsensical statement that has the L word in it a lot and it seems grammatically correct to my science major mind. My first thought when I was considering living to love was that it would be hollow, simply living for the joy of loving would not suffice. But we are called to live like God, and God is love, so how do we justify that. We can’t treat love like a drug where we are constantly waiting for the next high, that certainly wont do because if we did that, well what in the world would we do in between highs? We can’t live for the mountain when were trucking through the valley… or can we. I suppose I’m trying to justify this one right now, not justify… understand? Maybe, that’s what I’m trying to do right now. Yes, I’m trying to understand it. I’ll get back to that because I don’t want to forget another thought that’s changing the direction of my thought train right now.

I dance as a form of worship sometimes, I am emphatically NOT a dancer, however I enjoy giving in and dancing for God and just letting my body move and dancing for the king because it’s so doggone liberating. Dancing for me happens in two forms, goofing off and worshiping God. For others dance is what they do, they worship to dance because it is their art; it is a like a language for expressing love to God, because he’s the only one who knows exactly what they're saying. This is drumming for me. It’s all the music I play, but drumming more than any other instrument and even more than singing too. Don't ask me how it works but playing a drum I can speak volumes to God.

Two thoughts about individual love languages: first is that I like talking with other people about their love languages (and their joys which I want to delve into in a minute), second is my Mom having a feel for my love language. Mom once told me that she could sometimes tell what mood is behind my drumming, as if she knew some of what I was feeling when I play. I don’t know how well she understands what my drumming says or if anyone else has ever understood it for that matter, but I suppose if someone besides God was going to understand what my non-lyrical music says it would undoubtedly be Mom because for one thing mothers are ALWAYS right, I have long since accepted this fact. Secondly, I may look like Daddy-O and have some of his characteristics particularly with how he experiences God (now that I think about that I suppose he may understand my love language too… I should ask him) but I have my mom’s personality, which could explain her ability to understand my love language to an extent. Anyway, understanding love languages, I would love to understand someone else’s love language which brings me to my other point about love languages.

I enjoy experiencing other’s love languages with the people they belong to as best I can. For example the other day I was riding the bus back from my Seattle church (Bethany Community Church) with a girl named Evie (pronounced like eh-vee not like ee-vee). As I was getting to know her I was asking her about music and if she played and the things she likes, yadda yadda yadda. As we were talking she told me she is a dancer and has been a little upset about not being able to dance lately due to a lack of money; apparently dance studios are pretty expensive. I asked the Dancing Girl if she had ever danced for God, and not just for God but as worship unto him. She said yes and lit up like a shooting star. She said that for her dancing was like talking to God in one of the most intimate ways possible. I thought that was beautiful, I also had no concept of what it would be like to talk to God by dancing. When I “dance” (most people who see me “dance” would call it rhythmic flailing not dancing) it’s more like adoration and submission, not communication. However, as the Dancing Girl spoke what was so neat was that I felt as if I was talking to God through dance with her, even though our butts were crammed stiffly into a seat meant for one and we were hardly moving at all.

That conversation (which happened a little over a week ago) and my experience today with loving to love and the thought of living for music, which I would like to again say would be rather shallow, all came together in this thought and new (to me) concept that I hope to practice tonight. I want to go to people’s happy place with them. Thank you Happy Gilmore. What I mean is that even though I will never love to dance like the Dancing Girl loves to dance, and even though I will never experience the joy of dancing like she does, I can get a taste of the wonder that she experiences through dance by being with her when she relives the freedom that dancing brings and maybe even being with her when she dances someday.

What I want to do now is practice asking the questions that will allow me to experience a taste of worship and joy and other wonderful things like that the way that others experience them. I want to do this not for my own satisfaction, (even though it is wonderful) but so that I can get to know their hearts and so I can get to know the heart of God and the many many many many many ways he shows other people his glory through their joy.

Intro: What this is all about

Welcome!

If you are here your probably either a friend of mine or someone remarkably confused as to why I'm calling God a dork. Well the story behind the title is this. I was at Creation Northwest this last summer (2009) and I was watching Chris Tomlin perform. I'm not a huge Tomlin fan but the beautiful scenery of the Gorge at George, Washington combined with an atmosphere of worship is something to truly be treasured. Tomlin started playing the song "Indescribable," which talks about God placing the stars in the sky and knowing them by name and loving us despite our sin and all of those stereotypical and wonderful things that are contained in most worship songs. For most of the set I was relaxing, lying on my back, stretched out beneath the stars. Right as the band was singing their final chorus, "You placed the stars in the sky and you know them by name... you see the depths of my heart and you love me the same..." I saw a shooting star go flying by in a "blaze of glory." The first thought that ran through my head was, "That was awesome God! You're such a dork! Chris Tomlin's down there singing about how great you are and you're gonna choose a time like this to show off? How cheesy, your such a dork!"

God and I have an understanding. I really like him and he's a big fan of me as well, as that is the case he knows when I call him a dork it's a term of endearment, perhaps I should explain. I have some delightful friends and a wonderful family and the most wonderful thing about most of the people I know is how dorky they are. For example I dated a girl who was about five foot nothing and she had burps that could make the burliest of men feel wussy. For another example my dad; he has this delightful tendency to think that he has responded to whatever question you ask him, when in reality what he really responded with is something like, "Yea, it's in the..." and then he leaves you hanging. Some people would probably tell me that I love all the wrong qualities in people but that doesn't bother me.

Now that we have established that God is a dork, you're probably wondering what this blog is going to be all about. Basically, I want to share with anyone who cares to listen all the things that God shares with me. This will be about life, love, personal struggles, family, and much more I'm sure. My point of view has been described as unique and my connection with God is rather unique as well. I try to hear from the "big guns" upstairs everyday and hopefully the things he shares with me you can be encouraged by as well. In this blog I am going to be myself, I'm going to be honest, and I'm going to do my best to share only what God tells me to share and avoid any self-indulgent crap that most blogs contain. My plan as of now is to have a new post up every week or so.

I suppose that's about all there is to tell about this little blog I've started, I hope you enjoy and don't forget, God loves you and I do too.

-Kendrick