I am, without a doubt, totally enamored of praise and worship music. My hands lift up to Him and I tap my feet, singing out loud with all the joy that comes from deep within my soul. My car, my house, my ipod is filled with my favorite singers and bands from the Christian world. Sometimes though, from a place deep within me, I have the need for the old time reverence that the hymns of old bring to me. The Gaither Band, The Oak Ridge Boys, The Old Time Gospel Hour, The Kingsmen Quartet are just a teensy sampling of what is commonly referred to as Southern Gospel. Bill and Gloria Gaither are the probably more widely known for bringing that style of music to today’s generations. Still, it is sad that most younger people have never heard a “real” hymn from years past. My Abba sent me this hymn today from out of nowhere. Literally.
I have been living much like a hermit these days, the result of a total smack down by my Father in Heaven as He tries to teach me, mold me, remake me. I have been unable to write (mental fog), unable to attend church (the flu, bronchitis, general yuckiness), unable to spend time with friends (contagious, whiny, too tired), unable to even keep up with my “to do list”. My family keeps wondering what’s wrong with me. My dearest sweetheart has truly had the patience of Job when dealing with the dragon that he wonders why he married. My friends are truly my cheerleaders as they pray me through these difficult days.
As I sat outside this morning, alone with my thoughts, surrounded by my birds, my dogs, my books and my little world, God whispered to me that I keep trying to be everywhere but where I need to be. At the feet of His Son. For so very long I have felt that I have to go somewhere to find Christ. He must be at church, at an event, at a concert, at a Bible Study, at a conference. Worship always happened at church, surrounded by rules, preaching, guilt. God worked His mysteries in someone else’s life, which they then wrote down and passed on to those of us who can’t get it right. Or so I have been misled to believe. Today I learned that He will work His mysteries in everyone’s life if they just sit at His feet.
As I have immersed myself in the study of the first four gospels (the life of Jesus), my Abba has been teaching me that Christ didn’t work His greatest miracles in churches. He didn’t do His teaching in a big, sacred place full of special people who had been called to be the only ones worthy of Him. He didn’t reach out to the local “preachers”. Christ healed a prostitute in the dirty street she worked on. He sat with friends in their living rooms, leading them to learn more about God. He sat with the scum of the earth, having dinner, laughing and talking with them. He sought out the individual people, the broken, the diseased, the disfigured both in mind and body. He taught huge crowds while sitting on the grass of a hillside. Outdoors. In the heat and cold. Covered in dirt and dust. Dressed in casual clothes.
This morning, in all His infinite wisdom, He taught me just that. Christ wants to meet me here. He wants to walk into my life, into my house, into my backyard. He doesn’t want me to clean things up first. He wants me to invite Him in and then to sit at His feet, hearing His thoughts, reading together, talking about all things with Him first. 1 Corinthians 14:40 reminds me that “everything should be done in a fitting and orderly way.” NIV Once again I have tried to outrun God’s plans for me. Yes I have no doubt He wants me to speak, to write, to travel, to volunteer. But in His time frame, not mine. Right now He wants me to just sit at His feet and let His mercy rain over my soul, covering me with His grace. Yes Lord. Yes.