If anyone is old enough to remember the 80s, they probably recall one of my favorites from 1989, Indiana Jones and the Holy Grail. Basically, the movie revolves around a quest to find the ancient cup known as — surprise — the holy grail, the cup out of which Christ drank during the night of the last supper. And technically, it’s not a spoiler if it’s in the title of the movie.

But since, you hear about the holy grail of baseball cards or comic books or whatever. It’s that super hard to find item that when you do find it will cost you one arm and one leg, plus shipping and handling.

For me, finding that first Allman Brothers album on vinyl was a bit of a holy grail quest. I ended up entering into a bidding war on Ebay and ended up possibly getting a bit carried away in the process, but when I put the needle down on the vinyl, it was worth it. Plus, after reading the very candid autobiography of Gregg Allman, I needed to hear the song Whipping Post like they would have heard it back in 1969.

My next grail quest is to find the almost mythical Buckingham Nicks album from way back in 1973. Apparently, it’s a bit of an undiscovered gem for most people, but it drew the ear of one Mick Fleetwood, who then invited the duo into Fleetwood Mac (and the rest, as they say, is history).

Some music is good for streaming and digital, but certain albums need to be played on a turntable. I think I just turned into big music nerd.

“God is a safe place to hide, ready to help when we need him.
We stand fearless at the cliff-edge of doom,
courageous in seastorm and earthquake,
Before the rush and roar of oceans,
the tremors that shift mountains.
Jacob-wrestling God fights for us,
God-of-Angel-Armies protects us” (Psalm 46:1-3, The Message).

There are so many places where unrest seems to reign. It seems lately like the news goes not from bad to better but from bad to worse. Hope is a precious and fleeting commodity these days.

But hope is not lost.

God doesn’t watch over us from a distance. God is not a passive spectator. God doesn’t stand and witness our futile efforts to fight for everything we hold dear. God fights for us. And God is with us.

That is our hope.

It’s not often that I have participated in lament as a form of worship. In face, I can probably count on two fingers how many times I’ve done it. If you want a feel-good service to bring you comfort, then a lament service is definitely not the way to go.

Tonight’s lament was centered around the conflict in the Ukraine. We reminded ourselves that just because all the atrocity is happening half a world away doesn’t mean that it doesn’t belong to us. As a part of the same family of believers, we find that their struggle is our struggle, their grief is our grief, their loss is our loss.

To lament is to speak honestly to God and say, “This is who I am. This is how I feel. This is who You are. Please act on our behalf.”

The Bible is full of lament, particularly the Psalms and the book of Lamentations. It’s not unusual to hear the psalmist or the prophet cry out, “How long, O Lord? Will you wait forever?”

It is a heart’s cry put into words. It is spoken grief. It is the language of sorrow that we bring to the Man of Sorrows who was acquainted with grief and crushed beneath the burden of our iniquities and by whose stripes we are healed.

But there’s always a turning point. It usually happens when the writer or speaker remembers the steadfast love of God, the hesed. My favorite definition from Michael Card of hesed is when someone from whom you have the right to expect nothing gives you everything instead.”

We speak not in a grumbling, complaining way like the Israelites of old who questioned the character of the God who had brought them out of slavery, through the Red Sea, and provided manna and quail in abundance. We pray boldly because we know God keeps all His promises, and we come to the throne of grace with confidence, knowing He will act on our behalf.

If you want to learn more about the ancient art of lament, check out Michael Card’s book A Sacred Sorrow. In the meantime, we should lament with the people of Ukraine and intercede on their behalf with all the hope that God does not slumber nor sleep but is near to the broken-hearted and to those crushed in spirit.

If you’re familiar with Jan Karon and the Mitford novels series, then you know about the characters of Miss Sadie and Louella, two confirmed spinsters who share a rambling mansion and love to pass the time singing the old hymns. Louella’s favorite is one that I had never heard of until recently. It’s called “To You Before the Close of Day.”

It’s such a beautiful prayer for God’s people around the world to lift up to God in time of plenty or want, in peace or in war, in joy or in sorrow. It was translated from the original Latin by J. M. Neale. Here is the hymn:

“To you, before the close of day,
Creator of the world, we pray.
Your grace and peace to us allow
and be our guard and keeper now.

Save us from troubled, restless sleep,
from all ill dreams your children keep;
so calm our minds that fears may cease
and rested bodies wake in peace.

A healthy life we ask of you,
the fire of love in us renew,
and when the dawn new light will bring,
your praise and glory we shall sing.

Creator, this we ask be done
through Jesus Christ, your only Son,
whom with the Spirit we adore,
with you, one God forevermore.

Amen.”

That’s what Church means. It means that no matter how far apart we are from fellow believers, they’re still our brothers and sisters in Christ. We serve the same Lord and live in the same fallen world and share the same hope that the risen Christ will return soon to set all to rights.

Lord, forgive me when I think that all Christians look and think like me. Forgive me when I think that my experience is the same everywhere, or that my concerns and struggles are the only ones that matter.

Be with Your people in Ukraine. Be their shield and their fortress, a mighty refuge in time of trouble. Be their Prince of Peace tonight, and may your true peace prevail over all the guns and bombs and planes and attacks. Turn the hearts of the Russian leaders from war to peace. May the name of Jesus be made known in the middle of the chaos so as to draw men and women and children to your saving power.

Above all, I pray the prayer that has never failed: may Your will above all others be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Amen.

There’s only one voice that matters when it comes to telling you who you are, and that voice belongs to the One who made you.

“The Anglican Church in Dublin, Ireland, has crafted a prayer quite fitting for this moment:  

O Lord our Governor, whose glory is in all the world:  

We commend to your merciful care the people and government of Ukraine that, being guided by your providence, they may dwell secure in your peace.  

Grant to their leaders and all in authority, wisdom and strength to know and to do your will. Fill them with the love of truth and righteousness,  

and make them ever mindful of their calling to serve their people;  

through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.”

I can’t even imagine. I’ve never lived in the middle of war. I’ve never had to eat and sleep and work and play in a place where everything is turning into ruins before my very eyes.

God, in your infinite mercy, bring Your peace into our violence, as the song says, and bring Your calm into the chaos of our world. Be with the people of Ukraine tonight and be their Stronghold, their Safe Place, their Shelter in the midst of the storm raging all around them.

And we look forward to the day when war will be no more and every sword will be laid at Your feet. Even so, come, Lord Jesus.

I think I’ll just leave this here.

For those of you who remember the sitcom Seinfeld, you know that the premise of the show was that it was about nothing. If not, prepare to be disappointed. This is a post about nothing in particular. It’s just some random thoughts that come into my head.

What makes Chick-fil-A chicken so tasty? Honestly. I had a Southwest Chicken Salad and it was just as good as every other time I’ve had it — and believe me, I’ve had it lots and lots of times. Like probably as many as Tennessee has had drastic weather changes in the last two months. A lot.

I love the fact that I can go sit down at a table and whip out my app and complete an order without having to go stand in line. I can even pay for it without having to pull out my wallet. Technology can be amazing and it can be scary, but this is one of those times when it’s amazing.

And speaking of amazing, how cool is it that my Jeep is about five or so weeks away from becoming an antique. I figure that it was manufactured in April of 1997, so if I can manage to keep the wheels from falling off until then, I will be the proud owner of an old car. I guess that makes me old, because I remember when the car was new.

I love how my cat Peanut can just decide that she’s sleepy and immediately go to sleep. I like to think that my powers of napping are above average, but I pale in comparison to my little tortie. She can nap virtually any place at any time. It’s almost unfair that she gets to spend all day going from nap to nap while I’m commuting to and from my job and not getting to take any naps.

But the good news is that tomorrow is Thursday, also known as Friday Eve. The next day is Friday. Let the festivities begin.

I’ve been reading through a very interesting book right before I go to bed each night. It’s called Awed to Heaven, Rooted in Earth by Walter Brueggemann, and it is a collection of prayers that he used to open his seminary classes each morning. One in particular echoes the sentiments of my heart when it comes to hearing God’s voice above the cacophony of daily noises that constantly surround me. The prayer is called “The din undoes us.”

“Our lives are occupied territory . . .
occupied by a cacophony of voices,
and the din undoes us.
In the daytime we have no time to listen,
beset as we are by anxiety and goals
and assignments and work,
and in the night the voices are so confusing
we can hardly sort out what could possibly be your voice
from the voice of our mothers and our fathers
and our best friends and our pet projects,
because they all sound so much like you.
We are people over whom that word shema has been written.
We are listeners, but we do not listen well.
So we bid you, by the time the sun goes down today
or by the time the sun comes up tomorrow,
by night or by day,
that you will speak in ways that we can hear
out beyond ourselves.
It is your speech to us that carries us where we have never been,
and it is your speech to us that is our only hope.
So give us ears. Amen.”