God speaking

All Those 10,000 Maniacs and That Toasted Graham Latte

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“These are days, you’ll remember
Never before and never since, I promise
Will the whole world be warm as this and as you feel it

You’ll know it’s true that you are blessed and lucky
It’s true that you are touched by something
That will grow and bloom in you” (Natalie Merchant, Robert Buck).

Maybe I look at music a little differently than most, but it seems to me that certain kinds of music lend themselves to certain seasons of the year.

Obvious example: listening to The Beach Boys conjures up all sorts of images of summer. For me, a lot of 90’s alternative music makes me think of cooler temperatures and fallish weather. Don’t ask me why. It just does.

My soundtrack for the drive from work to meet my friend at Starbucks was the fantastic 10,000 Maniacs compilation, Campfire Songs. It covers the Natalie Merchant era and makes me want to wear a sweater. PS Maybe I’m old, but most of the new music I hear doesn’t even come close to the likes of 10,000 Maniacs or Natalie Merchant as a solo act. And it’s sad that it takes 8 songwriters and 3 producers to come up with something that pales in comparison to what guys like Freddy Mercury or Brian Wilson could do all by themselves.

I had every intention of enjoying a pumpkin spice latte, but the new toasted graham latte called out to me. Not literally, because that would have been super weird. More like a metaphorical kind of calling.

 

I’ve found that for me, the best kind of therapy is a good song at just the right moment. Music has a way of bringing me back from obsessing over the past or fretting over the future. It forces me (in a non-violent way) to be completely in the present.

Maybe that’s why I nerded out a bit when I found Patty Griffin’s newest album, Servant of Love, at Best Buy. It truly made my heart happy and immediately went into the CD player in my Red Sled aka my 1997 Jeep Cherokee with almost 293,000 miles on it.

God speaks to me most through music, and it doesn’t always have to be overtly Christian music. Sometimes a song that’s not even remotely about God can be a vehicle through which God speaks directly to my need.

God is good like that.

The end.

 

My Favorite Walks

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In The Hobbit, there’s a passage that references a map that contains all of Bilbo Baggin’s favorite walking trails. I think I’ve found mine.

There’s a street that runs parallel to West Main Street that I’ve discovered that lends itself to walking and thinking. There’s not a lot of traffic on this road so it’s fairly peaceful.

All the houses on this street have been around a while and every once in a while I’ll run across some kids playing in a back yard or some friendly neighbors who will wave as I pass by. Once I even encountered a chatty grey cat who pegged me for being a cat person and ambled up to me for a bit of petting and conversation.

If I had loads of money, I’d like to live on this street. There is a house for sale that dates back to 1900. There’s another house that recently hit the market that I’d be sorely disappointed if there weren’t a ghost story or two to go with its fabled history.

I prefer walking when it’s not swelteringly hot. It’s hard to achieve tranquility when you’re sweating like a turkey that’s about to be Thanksgiving dinner. Or a pig that’s about to be in a BLT.

I’ve never been one to hear God speaking to me audibly, but I’ve found that God often speaks to me during one of my walks. Plus, I do need the exercise.

The Gospels record many instances of Jesus and the disciples doing a lot of walking. Back then, that was the main way to get from Point A to Point B. You walked.

I imagine that most of the memories the disciples carried with them of Jesus were the ones of the conversations they had while en route from one town to another. That’s how Jesus often speaks to us today. Generally not in those special moments but in the grind of daily life while we’re headed from one place to another.

So often in the walk of faith, the journey is just as important as the destination and the lessons we learn most are the ones we learn along the way.

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Something That Spoke to Me

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I read this yesterday and I’m still thinking about it. It’s what C. S. Lewis wrote after his wife died after battling cancer. What spoke to me so much wasn’t as much the grief (although I have known that all too well), but the part of not being able to hear God speak to you because you’re too frantic to listen. We’ve all at some point been stressed and overwhelmed to the point where we can’t hear what anybody else is saying to us, much less God.

Here’s what he said:

“Why has no one told me these things? How easily I might have misjudged another man in the same situation? I might have said, ‘He’s got over it. He’s forgotten his wife,’ when the truth was, ‘He remembers her better because he has partly got over it.’

Such was the fact. And I believe I can make sense out of it. You can’t see anything properly while your eyes are blurred with tears. You can’t, in most things, get what you want if you want it too desperately: anyway, you can’t get the best out of it. ‘Now! Let’s have a real good talk’ reduces everyone to silence. ‘I must get a good sleep tonight’ ushers in hours of wakefulness. Delicious drinks are wasted on a really ravenous thirst. Is it similarly the very intensity of the longing that draws the iron curtain, that makes us feel we are staring into a vacuum when we think about our dead? ‘Them as asks’ (at any rate ‘as asks too importunately’) don’t get. Perhaps can’t.

And so, perhaps, with God. I have gradually been coming to feel that the door is no longer shut and bolted. Was it my own frantic need that slammed it in my face? The time when there is nothing at all in your soul except a cry for help may be just the time when God can’t give it: you are like the drowning man who can’t be helped because he clutches and grabs. Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear.”

17 Days In

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I reported to you earlier that I had decided to give up not only Facebook, but all forms of social media this year for Lent. Obviously excluding WordPress.

It’s been 17 days (by my count) out of 46. So far, so good. I haven’t missed social media like I thought I would. In fact, most of the time, I don’t really even think about it much.

I’ve used my newfound free time in catching up on my reading and movie watching. On the book front, I’m currently reading Anne of the Islands (the third book of the Anne of Green Gables series– don’t judge) as well as diligently reading through The Voice translation of the Bible (I’m up to Isaiah 23).

Recently, I re-watched all the Harry Potter movies and remembered why I liked them so much the first time. Also, I was astounded all over again at how many incredible well-known actors they enlisted for these film adaptations of children’s books.

I find myself less anxious and more calm without social media. I do miss seeing what my friends post, but I also don’t miss checking to see who commented on my own posts (a bad habit that I still sometimes struggle with).

I’m still praying for more discipline and more willingness to create space and silence for God to speak to me. I’m praying for the ability to quiet my own mind and listen to that Still Small Voice that will never compete with my own noise.

That’s all I have for now. I’ll keep you posted for the remaining 29 days of Lent.

What I Gave Up for Lent This Year

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Last year, I gave up Facebook for Lent. I won’t lie. It was harder than I thought it would be. I found out how much of a hold Facebook had on me and how much of my time it consumed.

It was freeing to not feel tied down to Facebook, to not have to check to see who responded to my posts. Who liked them. I admit I didn’t always use the extra time toward seeking God. But it was a start.

This year, I’m giving up ALL forms of social media. For those of you new to the interweb, that means Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest. I checked E) All of the above.

This is my second day and the old tug is back. That tug that says that one glance won’t hurt. That one look won’t lead to an hour or more checking status updates of friends.

I covet your prayers. Specifically, I’m asking for you to pray that I’d use this time more intentionally to seek God in prayer and in His Word. That I’d be open to whatever He says, whether it’s something I want to hear or not, whether it’s easy or painful, even if it requires me to die a little more to the safe and comfortable and routine.

As you probably surmised, I haven’t given up WordPress. It’s funny how God can speak to me through my own writing, sometimes while I’m in the very midst of writing it. This and a sleepy cat in my lap are my forms of therapy.

I’ll keep you updated on what I’m learning and hearing from God during these 46 days of Lent. I’d love to spend this time praying for you specifically as well, so feel free to text me your prayer requests at (615) 556-5850 or email me at gmendel72@icloud.com. I am also available to meet with you in person (if you live close to the Nashville area). But please, no autographs. 😁

May this God that the grave couldn’t hold draw you ever closer to Him during this season of remembering and reflection and become the very desire of your heart. Amen.

Cold Rainy Monday Nights

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I don’t mind the rain. I don’t even mind cold and rainy nights. As long as I’m looking at the rain through a well-insulated window from inside.

Actually, I don’t even mind driving in the rain as long as it’s not dark outside. But that’s what I found myself doing tonight when I took my paycheck to my bank’s ATM on a dark, rainy Monday night. At least it was a short drive.

There’s something very peaceful about listening to rain hitting the windows and the roof. Especially if you have one of those antiquated tin roofs. It’s one of my favorite calming sounds.

It helps me to be still and be quiet. It helps calm my anxious thoughts (if I have any) and not be so prone to thinking ahead to the next day or the next week. I think I even pray better when I hear the rain outside.

I know I need to make time for those moments of doing nothing but being intentionally still and quiet and ready to hear God’s voice. It doesn’t have to be all day or even for an hour. It can be fifteen minutes where I don’t have any televisions or radios or iPhones to distract me from what God might be wanting to tell me.

Maybe we can encourage each other to cultivate those quiet moments during the day. I think it would make a huge difference toward getting my mind back toward spiritual things and my eyes refocused on Jesus.

So those are my thoughts on this wet cold Monday evening.

A Frosty December Night in Franklin

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I was having Downtown Franklin withdrawals, so I decided to remedy that in the only way I know how– make a trek to all my favorite places and see all my favorite people.

I started off by visiting McCreary’s Irish Pub, where I ran into three of my favorite people– Art, Ashley, and Cassie. Plus, the food there ain’t too shabby. If you ever want to go there, ask me what to get– I’ve been there enough times and tried just about everything on the menu. Better yet, you could invite me and I could introduce you to all the awesome people who work there.

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My next stop was . . . you guessed it . . .  Frothy Monkey. I know, I know. I’ve gotten into a rut when it comes to Franklin. But it is such a tasty rut. A tasty and comfortable rut.

I had a hot chocolate that was as closed to heavenly as you can get on this side of heaven. And that’s no lie. And not much of an exaggeration.

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I got treated to another organ concert at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. Well, it was the organ dude practicing what I assumed would be the music for next Sunday. I sat down, took off my coat, took some deep cleansing breaths, and listened. I think God speaks through music as much as through anything else and He was speaking to me tonight.

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I’ll hopefully be back to my regular Thursday visits and definitely want to experience the Christmas Parade on December 7 and A Dickens of a Christmas on either December 14 or 15 (or possibly both).

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I have to be at work at 6 am, so I suppose I should wrap this up. But not before I leave you with this cutesy picture of my cat curled up in a Christmas wreath.

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Learning to Listen Well

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I love serving at Room in the Inn at my church during the colder months of the year. It helps more than anything to get me out of myself and into a more others-centered mind frame.

Tonight, I went to a dinner where Dr. Ken Corr, Congregational Care Minister at Brentwood Baptist Church, spoke about how to effectively minister to the homeless. One of the takeaways for me was empathetic listening.

Empathetic listening seeks to understand what the person speaking is feeling. It’s where you step into that person’s shoes and hear the story from their side.

It’s not about giving advice or trying to fix their story to make it better. It’s not even about offering to give their story a better outcome. It’s certainly not about formulating your response (as I have so often done) so that you will come across as wiser and kinder than you really are.

For someone to tell you their story is a rare and precious gift. They are inviting you into their private world, letting you in to a place that few people have been allowed. You should value that trust and respect the gift.

But also, the gift of truly listening is equally a special gift to someone. You’re saying to that person, “You are not invisible, because I see you in your struggles and triumphs, joys and pains. You are not alone, because I am a witness to your story and I know where you’ve been and what you’ve been through.”

You earn the right to speak life and blessing into a person’s life by listening to not just their words, but the feelings behind those words. Many times, the person will be unable to understand their own feelings related to their story. You can share what their story made you feel and in that way help them understand their own emotions.

I want to be a better listener. I want to learn to listen to what you have to say, for that is one of the ways God often speaks to me. May we all learn to listen well.

Storms Revisited

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“Never dread any consequence resulting from absolute obedience to His command. Never fear the rough waters ahead, which through their proud contempt impede your progress. God is greater than the roar of raging water and the mighty waves of the sea. ‘The Lord sits enthroned as King forever’ (Psalm 29:10). A storm is simply the hem of His robe, the sign of His coming, and the evidence of His presence.” (F. B. Meyer)

Wow. I never thought of storms that way. Either literally or figuratively.

I always thought of God going before the storm, being with me during the storm, and waiting for me after the storm. I never thought of the storm itself being a sign of His presence.

I’m wondering something else. Whenever I picture a storm, I see grieving parents hovering over the coffin of their dead child or a father holding foreclosure papers in his trembling hands. But maybe storms come in less noticeable ways.

Could a storm be that dull dread day after day that never seems to depart? Could a storm be the rut you’ve been stuck in for years that never seems to alter or change?

Some storms come and wipe off the land. Some come and go with no evidence they were ever there. But they are felt just the same.

Storms end. Dark clouds give way to sunshine. The waters eventually subside. Yet God remains.

I had some grand way I was going to tie all this together so that you would think me ever so wise, but it never materialized. All I know is that for every storm that comes, God is just as present. And He’ll still be there after the storm leaves.

These are not the most profound words I’ve ever written, but maybe someone out there who is holding on for dear life or merely dreading the monotony of the next day, these words will be something to cling to. I don’t know.

I know God is bigger than any storm. He still speaks and the winds and waves still have to obey. That’s all I know for now.

My Oscar Acceptance Speech (Just in Case)

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I wanted to let all of you know that I’m in a good place. In fact, I truly feel like I’m in a better place spiritually, mentally, and physically than I’ve been in for a long time. And I have you to thank for it.

I won’t be like the actual Oscar winners and name names, but I will thank you and hope you recognize yourself in this list.

Thank you for praying for me faithfully and consistently. There are times when I truly felt like I was carried by those prayers and times when your prayers and your faith in and for me sustained me when I didn’t have the prayers to pray or the faith to believe for myself.

Thank you for your spoken words of encouragement and all your texts and posts on my wall and facebook messages that always seemed to come at just the right moment when I needed to hear those words. God spoke mightily to me through you.

Thank you for meeting with me for coffee and conversation. Those times meant more to me than you knew because I know you cared enough about me to take time out of your busy schedule to spend time with me.

Thank you even if you said you wanted to meet for coffee and conversation but were unable to follow through. I know you meant well and I am flattered and honored that you even considered meeting with me.

Thank you for putting up with my occasional moments of insanity and weirdness and those times when I was overly needy or obnoxious. The fact that you stuck around when you could have bolted means the world to me.

Thank you for inviting me to be a part of your community groups and Sunday School classes. Thank you for rooting for me and helping me believe in myself. Thank you for being amazing examples of Christ for me to learn from.

I know there’s so much I probably left out that I should have included. But with my ADD, I’m doing good to remember all of this.

Just know that I am eternally grateful to know each and every one of you and I pray that God blesses you as much as you have blessed me and that he brings you as much joy as you have brought to my life– which is way more than I deserved or could ever hope to contain. I’m so very grateful to have you play a part in the story of my life that God is still writing for me.

Thank you.