The Anthem.
We gathered together in a mood of nervous excitement on the subconscious level.
It was time for yet another "Gathering" (college age/young adult ministry), and we were so excited.
Before the night began, we tied a black band around our arms which symbolized mourning.
As we entered into a gymnasium with a lit path into a small room that had loud, distracting music playing, media blasting, images of natural disaster surrounding, a small path, among many other things, we realized that this wouldn't be like anything else we had experienced. At this point, I ran my fingers across this black band, and with a deep breath, realized we were living in brokenness, and my heart fell to the floor.
We then ventured along another lit path to a small pond, surrounded by fire and lights.
With the occasional roar of a car in the background, we reflected on what just happened.
All these images we attempted to take in, then just left behind.
What did we miss?
There had to be more. We wanted to go back. We wanted to venture back into the chaos. We found ourselves to be borderline bored with the stillness and what was supposed to be peace.
We ventured back into that same gymnasium, this time, with beautiful violin music, and a quaint flower resting in a ceramic white milk pitcher, set in the middle of some chairs.
This is better. Why wasn't this here before, when we were in the midst of what felt like a hurricane?
Come to find out, it was there before.
The violin music had been playing the entire time, but we were so focused on the chaos.
The chaos had become the norm, and we were numb to anything outside of chaos, disruption, and dysfunction.
It hit.
Dysfunction has become my function, and I'm numb to beauty.
This dysfunction we all shared together of busyness, a schedule that was not dedicated to the Lord daily, the sin that we were hoping no one would find out about, the tension that ran across the room between people, and the list goes on.
As this night went on, we discussed this realm of being in the norm of brokenness, yet this fact and truth that the Lord has redeemed this brokenness, and has made it something new.
Towards the end, we were given permission to think about what the black band on our arms meant for us. We were invited to rip it off, throw it away, and receive a flower.
As we acknowledged the brokenness, we were able to acknowledge the grace the Lord has lavished upon us. As we stepped out of the norm of chaos and darkness, we were able to respond to grace, and step into the light the Lord has been beckoning us to this entire time. We were able to acknowledge and embrace beauty, and release chaos.
It just so happens, tomorrow (the 25th) is my 22nd birthday. I'm embracing this truth that for 22 years, the Lord has continually sought me out, even while I held tight to my metaphorical band of mourning that was perpetually on my arm. That blows me away.
Tonight I realized, there is so much beauty, everywhere.
There is beauty as I sit across the table from someone and they share their story.
There is beauty in celebrating with others.
There is beauty in grieving with others.
There is beauty in advocating on behalf of others, and others advocating on behalf of you.
Therefore, the anthem of year 22 is to constantly seek the Lord, because where the Lord is, there is beauty. That might sound obvious or whatever, but I mean genuinely, fully seek the Lord. To move forward in love rather than fear. To constantly say, "Why of course, God! I trust You." To constantly say, "Not my will, but Yours, oh God."
A constant awareness of beauty is to be constantly acknowledging the ascension of the Lord, Jesus Christ.
It was time for yet another "Gathering" (college age/young adult ministry), and we were so excited.
Before the night began, we tied a black band around our arms which symbolized mourning.
As we entered into a gymnasium with a lit path into a small room that had loud, distracting music playing, media blasting, images of natural disaster surrounding, a small path, among many other things, we realized that this wouldn't be like anything else we had experienced. At this point, I ran my fingers across this black band, and with a deep breath, realized we were living in brokenness, and my heart fell to the floor.
We then ventured along another lit path to a small pond, surrounded by fire and lights.
With the occasional roar of a car in the background, we reflected on what just happened.
All these images we attempted to take in, then just left behind.
What did we miss?
There had to be more. We wanted to go back. We wanted to venture back into the chaos. We found ourselves to be borderline bored with the stillness and what was supposed to be peace.
We ventured back into that same gymnasium, this time, with beautiful violin music, and a quaint flower resting in a ceramic white milk pitcher, set in the middle of some chairs.
This is better. Why wasn't this here before, when we were in the midst of what felt like a hurricane?
Come to find out, it was there before.
The violin music had been playing the entire time, but we were so focused on the chaos.
The chaos had become the norm, and we were numb to anything outside of chaos, disruption, and dysfunction.
It hit.
Dysfunction has become my function, and I'm numb to beauty.
This dysfunction we all shared together of busyness, a schedule that was not dedicated to the Lord daily, the sin that we were hoping no one would find out about, the tension that ran across the room between people, and the list goes on.
As this night went on, we discussed this realm of being in the norm of brokenness, yet this fact and truth that the Lord has redeemed this brokenness, and has made it something new.
Towards the end, we were given permission to think about what the black band on our arms meant for us. We were invited to rip it off, throw it away, and receive a flower.
As we acknowledged the brokenness, we were able to acknowledge the grace the Lord has lavished upon us. As we stepped out of the norm of chaos and darkness, we were able to respond to grace, and step into the light the Lord has been beckoning us to this entire time. We were able to acknowledge and embrace beauty, and release chaos.
It just so happens, tomorrow (the 25th) is my 22nd birthday. I'm embracing this truth that for 22 years, the Lord has continually sought me out, even while I held tight to my metaphorical band of mourning that was perpetually on my arm. That blows me away.
Tonight I realized, there is so much beauty, everywhere.
There is beauty as I sit across the table from someone and they share their story.
There is beauty in celebrating with others.
There is beauty in grieving with others.
There is beauty in advocating on behalf of others, and others advocating on behalf of you.
Therefore, the anthem of year 22 is to constantly seek the Lord, because where the Lord is, there is beauty. That might sound obvious or whatever, but I mean genuinely, fully seek the Lord. To move forward in love rather than fear. To constantly say, "Why of course, God! I trust You." To constantly say, "Not my will, but Yours, oh God."
A constant awareness of beauty is to be constantly acknowledging the ascension of the Lord, Jesus Christ.
Oh God, I embrace the flower rather than the black band.
Beautiful, Ash.
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