day 4 {sweet music}

coronado

My heart was crusty and I threw up my hands, unable to escape the guilt and pressure to be more, to give more, to serve more, to read more, to pray more. That didn’t make me thirst.

My world was fractured and I couldn’t reconcile the two. I was forever frustrated as I tried to walk the line between secular and sacred. “What is the secular and the sacred?” you might ask. It’s a dangerous dichotomy and if I could put it “on paper” it would look something like this . . .

SECULAR    //   SACRED
education           the Bible
employment      church and church life
business             missions
media                  personal evangelism
technology         ministry
politics               hymns/worship music
the arts               family
science/math
sports
leisure/recreation

We have divided our lives into two different categories, The Secular and The Sacred. It’s not that the secular is bad, it’s just not as important. A churchy word for this would be, “purposeful.” The sacred things are simply more “purposeful” than their secular counterparts. Sure, you could spend your Friday night renting a Redbox and eating kettle corn. That’s not wrong but it would probably be better if you did something more, “purposeful.”

You could pursue your creative endeavor but what does it have to do with eternity and lost souls? You could major in poetry but “in the light of eternity,” I’m unsure of it’s purpose. Our days on earth are numbered. You could spend your commute listening to music, podcasts or world news but why would you when you could be listening to sermons? It’s always about the could be.  You could advocate for unfairly treated farmers and animals but the gardens and beasts don’t really matter in the long run. . . do they?

I personally know a very gifted artist who was challenged with this, “if you choose your art over ministry, you’re ignoring your calling.” This kind of thinking, though I could not pin point why, was what slowly numbed my heart. Raw and soft it was no more.

Until.

A rainy Sunday. A musty room. My wet shoes. And liturgy. Until heaven met earth. Until dodgy tradition became magic and men (men!) were standing up for orphans.

Then.

In the beginning. Shalom and the sweet smell of a forever garden. A call to cultivate, produce, engage and build. A call to rise and plant and raise and groom. No. This was not a call to unplug from the everyday in hopes of being “more purposeful.” This was a call to in fact plug our cords into every instrument here on earth and play the sweetest music our souls allowed. A song that all might hear and wonder no more.

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s