Custard tarts - 22 days to go.
Over the years my father has taught me a great many things. Most of these I have found to be invaluable, but that's not always the case. For example, when we were little dad would occasionally dry our hair for us after we had finished our bath. I think it is safe to say that he had not learned his technique from a hair salon. He’d wrap our entire head with a huge towel (rendering us blind until we were released) and then ‘vigorously’ rubbed our hair. It was a bath time equivalent of a roller coaster ride. We would laugh hysterically and then off would come the towel and we would attempt to make our way out of the bathroom, although by then we were incredibly dizzy and so just stagger around for a while until things straightened them selves out. It was like being in a human tumble dryer! We loved it!
Strangely I still seem to dry my hair in a similar fashion today, and this is partly why I am off work today. Yesterday Ruth and I decided to help a friend out by plumbing in a kitchen sink (it seemed to go OK but time will tell). It took all night and I guessed I had strained my shoulders a bit doing it. So, when I got out of the shower this morning and began my roller coaster hair drying routine something ‘cracked’ in my neck and now I am in a reasonable amount of pain :o
Waiting for Ruth to wake up (so that I could inform her of my pain and decision not to leave the house) I read a little bit more of the book I am reading: “Praise Habit” by David Crowder. It’s great. Any way, this morning as I read it, he was reflecting on Psalm 84:
What a beautiful home, God of the Angel Armies! I've always longed to live in a place like this, always dreamed of a room in your house, where I could sing for joy to God-alive! Birds find nooks and crannies in your house, sparrows and swallows make nests there. They lay their eggs and raise their young, singing their songs in the place where we worship. God of the Angel Armies! King! God! How blessed they are to live and sing there! And how blessed all those in whom you live, whose lives become roads you travel; they wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks, discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain! God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and at the last turn - Zion! God in full view!
God of the Angel Armies, listen: O God of Jacob, open your ears - I'm praying! Look at our shields, glistening in the sun, our faces, shining with your gracious anointing. One day spent in your house, this beautiful place of worship, beats thousands spent on Greek island beaches. I'd rather scrub floors in the house of my God than be honored as a guest in the palace of sin. All sunshine and sovereign is God, generous in gifts and glory. He doesn't scrimp with his traveling companions. It's smooth sailing all the way with God of the Angel Armies.
As I read this over and over I noticed something, as if for the first time.
I have heard people say the line “One day spent in your house… beats thousands spent [anywhere else]” many times in worship. And I have agreed with them every time. But this morning I noticed the next line, as though for the first time. So often I find that I read what I think I am reading as opposed to what the Bible actually says. I don’t know how this happens, laziness of thought perhaps, or just rushing. As I thought about this I realised that once again my misguided understanding was sanitising, or worse still glamorising, what I had read.
Without realising it this is what I read "Better is one day in your house Lord, than a thousand anywhere else, because I know that I am going to be in the lap of heavenly luxury. Being near your is what I was made for and I can just relax next to you. I always knew that you were calling me to rest with you. Dress me in your finest robes and let me appreciate the spectacular architecture of your palace. I could enjoy this forever." But that’s not what it says. I realised just how much I had romanticised these verses out of context.
In this Psalm David, the King of Israel (who was a highly honoured and victorious warrior, who had a spectacular palace and everything he could possible ever need, and people willing to provide it), said he would prefer to spend a day scrubbing the floors in God’s house that a thousand being waited on hand and foot! David had realised, somewhere along the line, that he would be willing to do anything to be near God; he loved God that much. In all of this though he never assumed that God would welcome him in as an equal or even an honoured guest (even though God had made him King and that he was often described as a ‘man after God’s own heart’… surely such a man could expect some privilege in God’s palace!). To David the only way he ways going to get into God’s palace was to use the tradesman’s entrance, to get on his hands and knees and wash the floor. But the thought of this gave him so much pleasure!
Reading this I am aware that I sometimes arrive in church on a Sunday expecting God to welcome me in with delight. As though I am there to please him with my presence. How mad is that! How arrogant! I am guilty so often of thinking about my role in the church in one of two ways, a) that someone of my skills and creativity must surely demand a high profile and honourable job, or b) I can just sit back and relax, doing nothing and allowing the Holy Spirit to pamper me like a servant.
Have I forgotten who God is?! I should be desperate to be near him, like some crazy fan who would go at any length to be near their hero (even pretending to be their bin man so they can be near rubbish that they had touched)!!!!! How desperate am I for God? How much do I want that point of fusion? Am I will get my hands dirty? Do I think this is degrading? Does pride keep me from His palace?
I studied filmmaking at university (which is how I ended up in Wales). At the time it was a highly respected course within the industry due to its practical tuition. It was an awesome experience; three years spent making films. In that time I worked with actors such as Frank Rossler Green and Rob Brydon, did a stint at the BBC, made many of my own short films some of which were broadcast on TV, I won an award for my editing and met Emma Samms! After my graduation I expected that God wanted to use all of this for his kingdom….. but nothing happened. No opportunities arose. Nothing.
While I was still struggling with my unemployed confusion our Pastor decided that it was time to modernise our church building so that it could meet our needs better. This highly educated and intelligent young man decided to help out. I had no experience of doing anything like this and so was never really left in charge of anything. Everyone else had all the cool power tool related jobs, I got to help or tidy or hold the ladder or paint. Ahhh the paint. It seemed to get all over me, it would peel off most places but the hair was the worst!
At the time my hair was long. Not in a cool way, I hasten to add…it was, well, a ‘flat top afro’ I guess. It just did it’s own thing and that’s what it came up with. Everyone was in awe of it but no one admired it as such. Despite all the crappy unskilled jobs I did, I loved it. I enjoyed coming home covered in paint with cut, bruised and dirty hands (where someone had stood on them while descending a ladder) because I knew I had been in God’s presence all day. It was indescribably lush! I loved every minute of it, even when the Pastor decided to ‘treat’ the workers to a custard tart which we had with our morning cup of tea. Up until then I never liked custard tarts, but we worked so hard that anything was gratefully received. After a while I began to like them and ever since then, whenever I smell them (or even better, sink my teeth into one) it reminds me of the delight of spending time in God’s presence working hard without a thought of whether anyone else noticed any of your efforts, because it was good just to be there.
Any way, a muscle relaxing bath is awaiting me, and so I shall depart.
Strangely I still seem to dry my hair in a similar fashion today, and this is partly why I am off work today. Yesterday Ruth and I decided to help a friend out by plumbing in a kitchen sink (it seemed to go OK but time will tell). It took all night and I guessed I had strained my shoulders a bit doing it. So, when I got out of the shower this morning and began my roller coaster hair drying routine something ‘cracked’ in my neck and now I am in a reasonable amount of pain :o
Waiting for Ruth to wake up (so that I could inform her of my pain and decision not to leave the house) I read a little bit more of the book I am reading: “Praise Habit” by David Crowder. It’s great. Any way, this morning as I read it, he was reflecting on Psalm 84:
What a beautiful home, God of the Angel Armies! I've always longed to live in a place like this, always dreamed of a room in your house, where I could sing for joy to God-alive! Birds find nooks and crannies in your house, sparrows and swallows make nests there. They lay their eggs and raise their young, singing their songs in the place where we worship. God of the Angel Armies! King! God! How blessed they are to live and sing there! And how blessed all those in whom you live, whose lives become roads you travel; they wind through lonesome valleys, come upon brooks, discover cool springs and pools brimming with rain! God-traveled, these roads curve up the mountain, and at the last turn - Zion! God in full view!
God of the Angel Armies, listen: O God of Jacob, open your ears - I'm praying! Look at our shields, glistening in the sun, our faces, shining with your gracious anointing. One day spent in your house, this beautiful place of worship, beats thousands spent on Greek island beaches. I'd rather scrub floors in the house of my God than be honored as a guest in the palace of sin. All sunshine and sovereign is God, generous in gifts and glory. He doesn't scrimp with his traveling companions. It's smooth sailing all the way with God of the Angel Armies.
As I read this over and over I noticed something, as if for the first time.
I have heard people say the line “One day spent in your house… beats thousands spent [anywhere else]” many times in worship. And I have agreed with them every time. But this morning I noticed the next line, as though for the first time. So often I find that I read what I think I am reading as opposed to what the Bible actually says. I don’t know how this happens, laziness of thought perhaps, or just rushing. As I thought about this I realised that once again my misguided understanding was sanitising, or worse still glamorising, what I had read.
Without realising it this is what I read "Better is one day in your house Lord, than a thousand anywhere else, because I know that I am going to be in the lap of heavenly luxury. Being near your is what I was made for and I can just relax next to you. I always knew that you were calling me to rest with you. Dress me in your finest robes and let me appreciate the spectacular architecture of your palace. I could enjoy this forever." But that’s not what it says. I realised just how much I had romanticised these verses out of context.
In this Psalm David, the King of Israel (who was a highly honoured and victorious warrior, who had a spectacular palace and everything he could possible ever need, and people willing to provide it), said he would prefer to spend a day scrubbing the floors in God’s house that a thousand being waited on hand and foot! David had realised, somewhere along the line, that he would be willing to do anything to be near God; he loved God that much. In all of this though he never assumed that God would welcome him in as an equal or even an honoured guest (even though God had made him King and that he was often described as a ‘man after God’s own heart’… surely such a man could expect some privilege in God’s palace!). To David the only way he ways going to get into God’s palace was to use the tradesman’s entrance, to get on his hands and knees and wash the floor. But the thought of this gave him so much pleasure!
Reading this I am aware that I sometimes arrive in church on a Sunday expecting God to welcome me in with delight. As though I am there to please him with my presence. How mad is that! How arrogant! I am guilty so often of thinking about my role in the church in one of two ways, a) that someone of my skills and creativity must surely demand a high profile and honourable job, or b) I can just sit back and relax, doing nothing and allowing the Holy Spirit to pamper me like a servant.
Have I forgotten who God is?! I should be desperate to be near him, like some crazy fan who would go at any length to be near their hero (even pretending to be their bin man so they can be near rubbish that they had touched)!!!!! How desperate am I for God? How much do I want that point of fusion? Am I will get my hands dirty? Do I think this is degrading? Does pride keep me from His palace?
I studied filmmaking at university (which is how I ended up in Wales). At the time it was a highly respected course within the industry due to its practical tuition. It was an awesome experience; three years spent making films. In that time I worked with actors such as Frank Rossler Green and Rob Brydon, did a stint at the BBC, made many of my own short films some of which were broadcast on TV, I won an award for my editing and met Emma Samms! After my graduation I expected that God wanted to use all of this for his kingdom….. but nothing happened. No opportunities arose. Nothing.
While I was still struggling with my unemployed confusion our Pastor decided that it was time to modernise our church building so that it could meet our needs better. This highly educated and intelligent young man decided to help out. I had no experience of doing anything like this and so was never really left in charge of anything. Everyone else had all the cool power tool related jobs, I got to help or tidy or hold the ladder or paint. Ahhh the paint. It seemed to get all over me, it would peel off most places but the hair was the worst!
At the time my hair was long. Not in a cool way, I hasten to add…it was, well, a ‘flat top afro’ I guess. It just did it’s own thing and that’s what it came up with. Everyone was in awe of it but no one admired it as such. Despite all the crappy unskilled jobs I did, I loved it. I enjoyed coming home covered in paint with cut, bruised and dirty hands (where someone had stood on them while descending a ladder) because I knew I had been in God’s presence all day. It was indescribably lush! I loved every minute of it, even when the Pastor decided to ‘treat’ the workers to a custard tart which we had with our morning cup of tea. Up until then I never liked custard tarts, but we worked so hard that anything was gratefully received. After a while I began to like them and ever since then, whenever I smell them (or even better, sink my teeth into one) it reminds me of the delight of spending time in God’s presence working hard without a thought of whether anyone else noticed any of your efforts, because it was good just to be there.
Any way, a muscle relaxing bath is awaiting me, and so I shall depart.
posted by Andrew at 9:54 am
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