Sun, Jan 27
... Shower me
Ah. Snow makes us all so mature, does it not? :o) First I get dumped in the snow at work yesterday, then tonight at the Well, "the boys" were seeing how many people they could throw into the nice fluffy, soft, cold snowbanks outside. And if there was ever any hope for them growing up and someday becoming mature, Min quickly dashed those hopes by telling us that Darren's just as bad now as the kids are. She said he used to have snowball fights with Mike and Sean when they were little, and that he'd sometimes make them cry. Silly men.
Daryl preached tonight. It was really good times... We're all growing up so much. I was realizing today how much I've changed, even in the past year or so. How my worship style, in particular, is different than it used to be... I remember in grade 12, and even at the beginning of last year, I was always dancing and way "up there" at the front, especially with Laura. I've been realizing more and more, though, the value of "be still and know that I am God." The sense of being quiet in worship. That doesn't mean that I don't still have fun, or that I won't jump around, or be excited, or anything else like that, but that's not where the value lies. It's not about the emotional high, and that's too much of what it used to be about. The value lies in being with God; being in God's presence, no matter how I feel. And being more hyper, more energetic, or more charismatic than the person next to me doesn't prove anything about how spiritual I am.
Laura and I were talking yesterday about how music evokes an emotional response, and how too often, the knowledge stems from emotions, rather than the other way around. Emotions aren't bad. God gave them to us for a reason, but if I base everything on how I "feel," it's so up and down, it's not based on anything. Music brings up emotions, yes, but the way I feel during worship isn't necessarily the way that life is "for real." The one extreme is to not "feel" God's presence; to not be able to "sense" that he's there, and to assume, by that, that my spiritual life is dry, or that nothing's going anywhere. That God really has left me. The other thing is, I can be in church, singing, or even worshipping God at home, or whatever, and feel totally great. My problems don't feel like they're there, and it's a nice reprieve. But if I haven't actually dealt with them; if all it is is the fact that I "feel" good about it, they'll still be there when I stop, they'll still be there when "real life" kicks in, and then I'll get into the "I don't feel God, he must not be there" trap.
It's not bad to feel good. It's not bad to be on an emotional high. I'm realizing how much I counted on those, though, when I was in high school, and how much I can't base my life on them. It's hard. I'm a very emotionally based person, and to separate myself from that is incredibly difficult. But... sometimes it's necessary.
I had an interesting thought the other day. I hate taking baths. I much prefer showers. The thought of washing off all my dirt and then sitting in rather disgusts me. I mean, I don't have a problem with hot tubs or pools, but bathing? Not fun times for me. Anyways, there's a line in a song that goes, Shower me, with your love... washing, washing these filthy stains. I was thinking about that, and how it's so cool that every image of God washing us, from biblical to people's imagery, is of him showering us, not bathing us. It's not like we have to wash off all the crap and then sit in it. It's not that we have to be reminded constantly of what we did, to have it rubbing up against us and tainting the love of God that we're "sitting" in, even though it's not really on us anymore. It was washed off and washed down the drain, and all the love that we're constantly being washed in is new and clean and fresh and carries no reminders of what it's already washed off of us.
infinite || abyss
posted at 9:39 p.m.
