I Sing, for I Cannot be Silent

       My favorite characteristic of music is that its magic transcends musicality. I am not musically proficient in any sense, but the combination of melody, harmony, and lyrics still constantly rattles and soothes me. I've realized this most recently while listening to Nathan Partain's "A Son of God." Somehow it has become my on-the-way-to-work anthem; nearly every weekday morning, I start my car and the first thing I want to hear is this song. Partain's interpretation of the gospel is simple, powerful, and transforming. Listen with me:
    
              I lie down and rest
              Cause I work no longer
              I breath in, refreshed,
              No more soiled in disgrace
              I look up at him
              To whom I am kneeling
              And I see delight, there in my Father's face.

       Yes, the opening doesn't quite meet the criteria for "pump-up song," but resting in Christ's work on the cross is precisely how I must start each day. I let these words wash over me, cleansing me of my need to be noticed and appreciated at my job. I remember I am free to do my best with Jesus' help because He gave me His righteousness. He has made me pure, so I don't have to be burdened by my failures. He died to rid me of both my pride and shame, and I can now work freely for His glory and the benefit of those for whom I work.

       The second verse closely follows the theme of the first:

              I am last and low
              Cause I fight no longer
              To be right or good
              Or to prove my own worth.
              I'm not driven or pushed
              Or weighed down with duty.
              I am filled with release that Christ did all for me.

       This stanza further solidifies the truth that I can do nothing, nor must I do anything to make myself agreeable to God. Jesus has made me His own, and I can rest in that assurance. Funnily, the understanding that I cannot improve my status before God is empowering, not discouraging. Because my salvation is not predicated upon my performance, I can accept being ignored, misunderstood, or mistreated at my job. I don't have to be everyone's favorite or the best at what I do. I can work diligently and fail gracefully knowing I am safe in Jesus.

       I love the paradox of the third stanza:

              I stand up in faith
              Cause I fear no longer
              And I pray and wait
              For God to provide
              I lean all of my weight
              On Him who is able
              And I set aside every effort of mine.

       I can stand up bravely but I can also lean dependently. In fact, these two cannot be separated. In order to stand up, I must lean on Him. How can something so counter-intuitive be so true? I am always slightly shocked by God's upside-down wisdom. So in light of this stanza, I have constructed a simple syllogism I like to speak to myself:

       I am not able.
       God is able.
       I am God's.
       Therefore, I am able.  

Words to bind on my heart, forehand, and hands.

       In the final verse, Partain hits me with eternity:
     
              I know now I'm safe
              Cause nothing can harm me
              Or break in and take
              What's stored up for me
              I need not to cling
              To dead, helpless idols
              They no longer can hold any comfort for me.

       Not only am I safe today, but God will keep me for the rest of my life and into eternity. No longer must I look for something else to save me, whether it be myself, a relationship, or a promotion. God has made me His child and will continue to do so forever. My failures and strengths are nothing compared to His grace. In light of this truth, I can be both humbled and exalted at work. God is teaching me to be content in either circumstance because He is my true treasure.

       Partain condenses the joy of his song so well in his recurring chorus. I conclude with his potent words, for they are the theme of my days and the hope of my heart.

              I'm a son of God, and love is my freedom.
              I can ask anything of my Father, the King.
              I'm an heir, I'm adopted, and my brother is Jesus.
              I'm a son of God, and my soul is at peace.

The Importance of Not Being Alone

       God likes to be a God of inundation. Quite some time ago He flooded the earth--a light rain couldn't suffice--and He still seems to enjoy pouring Himself out in various ways, most of which are less destructive. Recently I've experienced God's flooding in the community He's given me. Last year I moved back to Kansas City, not knowing many people at my church (Redeemer Fellowship) and not knowing where my niche would be. Since then, I have completed a church membership class, established deeper connections with old friends, and several weeks ago I joined a Gospel community group. I now sense that these small steps will be life-changing.

       I certainly love being alone, but I have craved a community of encourage for some time now. Reading Hebrews 10:23-25 reinforced this desire: "Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful. And let us consider one another in order to stir up love and good works, not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as is the manner of some, but exhorting one another, and so much the more as you see the Day approaching." Community not only provides immediate encouragement, but it also holds eschatological significance. I need the help of fellow believers to pursue Christ faithfully, but beyond that, we are working together to build His kingdom in anticipation of His return. There is no greater goal and no greater joy.

       One thing I've learned in the last year is that I require a community in order to view my life through an eternal lens. When I'm on my own, I'm more than likely thinking about myself. Self-absorption tends to overtake those who have only themselves to consider. But when I broaden my surroundings and interactions, I have a better understanding of my purpose as part of a whole, working toward something much greater than myself. I don't want to be complacent. I want to be joined with people who push me toward ultimate good, who stir up my love for Jesus and challenge my wrongheadedness. Accountability, though often painful and terrifying, is necessary for growth. So though I tend to remain inward, I am excited to experience a new season of togetherness with like-minded and much wiser believers. May we go into the world, the empty tomb at our backs, following Jesus and bringing others in with our wake.