drop your net [matt. 4:20]

Allow me to tell you a story. First, I'll set the scene:

My vocal history is entirely choral. The choirs I was in didn't use microphones often, and when they did, they'd just put them in front of the whole choir. As a result of this, I have never actually heard my own voice amplified before. Now, I sing on a worship team, and during sound checks I just kind of sing and don't really listen to myself (if I sing at all; I usually just talk awkwardly). The past few times we've sung as a team, my leader has been giving me small solo parts (probably testing to see if I'm confident, or to give me more confidence...either way), and I've had to adjust to hearing myself in a monitor, which has been difficult to say the least.

This week, when I got the e-mail containg the mp3s of the songs we would be doing on Sunday, I squealed and did a happy dance; we were doing 4 of my 5 favourite worship songs! And one of those 4 songs was my most favourite worship song EVER. This Sunday was going to be the best!

And now for the real story:

So this past Sunday when we were rehearsing, I was having pitch issues, and was getting ridiculously frustrated with the whole situation (I've always had good pitch, and losing it is a huge blow to my ego). Needless to say by the end of rehearsal, and right before the actual service, I was feeling really down and self-conscious, about going up in front of everyone and sounding terrible. When we were all downstairs praying before the service, I sat there feeling so depressed about the fact that I was off, that I ignored the prayers going on right beside me. I sat there and wallowed in all the emotions I was feeling: I felt guilty about ignoring the prayers, I felt depressed about my pitch, I felt guilty about being so selfish in thinking that I had a major role in others' worship, I had an intense fear of ruining someone's worship by being terrible, I considered quitting the team, etc... It was a long time of solitude amongst prayer. Even walking up on stage, I felt like the smallest person in the world, but I had no other choice but to just go with it, so I did.

The first set, to me, felt awkward, forced and slightly less than satisfactory, (even though we were doing a song that I had fallen in love with, had a sweet solo, and knew I could hit perfectly) and I trudged off stage, plunked myself in my chair, and I sat through the whole sermon dreading the second set. I hardly made eye contact with anyone for the fear of seeing disappointment in their eyes about my terrible singing. When I walked back on stage for the second set, I felt so defeated that I don't think I even stepped up to my microphone for the first song (the one with which I'd been having pitch issues). From the Inside Out by Hillsong was next (my most favourite worship song in the world). As the song began, I stepped 2 feet back from my microphone, and just let the music surround me. (And being about 2 feet in front of the drums, that wasn't difficult. Have I mentioned how much I love drums? SO MUCH.) I hesitantly began to sing, and in no time felt a million times better by not feeling all self-conscious, being thisclose to my mic. So I sang, and I sang, and sang some more. I don't think anyone realized it, but I was in tears and practically shouting by the end of the song. My voice hurt and my eyes were red and watery, but I don't think I've ever felt better in my whole life. For about three minutes, there was no one else in the whole world but my God and me. Nothing else mattered, nothing bad could happen to me, I had no worries or inhibitions, and I couldn't think of one single thing except Him. For three minutes I was no longer myself; not a friend, student, co-worker, ex-girlfriend, my mother's daughter... nothing but a scared little girl approaching God with nothing to offer but herself. And He took me into His arms and held me, safe and sound. The thing I crave most: feeling safe and protected.

That's the moment I've been waiting for my whole life. That's the reason why I wouldn't hop off the fence and wholeheartedly into Christianity; I'd always felt something holding me back, and the experience of being in God's presence was exactly it. I finally have a grasp on this God thing, and I can't wait to see what else He has in store for me.

I sought for the King

And He heard me

And delivered me

From my lonely fears

They looked unto Him
And they would attend

And all their faces

Were made unashamed

Gloria, gloria, gloria, gloria.

Oh, taste and see

That the Lord is good

All you people

All you saints
All you children of the King

Oh, taste and see

That the Lord is good
All you people
All you saints
All you children of the King

Gloria, gloria, gloria, gloria.

Magnificent Holy Father, I stand in awe of all I see
Of all the things You have created
But still You choose to think of me.

Who am I that You should suffer Your very life to set me free?
The only thing I can give You, is the life You gave to me.

This is my offering, dear Lord, this is my offering to You, God
And I will give You my life, for it's all I have to give
Because You gave Your life for me.

I stand before You at this altar, so many have given You more
I may not have much I can offer, yet what I have is truly Yours.

This is my offering, dear Lord, this is my offering to You, God
And I will give You my life, for it's all I have to give
Because You gave Your life for me.

This is my offering.

when you're through thinking, say yes.

Confession: I've always had a special place in my heart for Yellowcard. They are quite fabulous, and wrote one of my all-time favourite songs. Their new song (the one shown above) just proves to me why I love them so much. It's the happiest-sounding break-up song since this one. Aren't they just the greatest?

L.

Here is love; love is here.

Scanning one of my previous posts, I realized I say "that's a story for later", or "more on that later" a LOT. Sorry dudes! I promise I'll try to explain most of them...eventually. This one, specifically, will be about my time at The Gate. Let me begin by saying that I LOVE THE GATE. Love it.

So, on with my story. My brother brought me to the church for the first time probably 3.5 years ago, and at the time I was going through a rough patch with God (well, completely ignoring Him, denying Him...ya know), so it was nothing memorable; uncomfortable, even. Every time L would come back to town, we'd go to church then hang out for a bit, usually cause I had to work all day Saturday, then Sunday afternoon, and for the time to hang out with L, going to church an unbeliever was a consession I was willing to make. I sat through probably a dozen or so services through the past 3 years, and little by little, I guess God was poking and prodding at my conscience, trying to get me to pay attention. Most of the time, though, I'd sit through the service and think about what I'd have to do at work that day, what happened at work the day before, reciting songs in my mind... anything to get my attention away from The Big Guy Upstairs.

I'm not exactly sure when things changed, but I remember being at work one day, and realizing that I wasn't happy anymore. I wasn't happy with my work, my social life (or lack thereof), or anything, really. I decided that moving home for the summer was in my (and my bank account's) best interest, and decided that I'd give church one more shot. After all, BBC is my home church, and every once in a while, they still send me care packages and notes of encouragement (which I enjoy). So I moved in with my aunt and uncle who happen to conveniently live about 2.5 blocks away from BBC. I couldn't justify not going. So I put on airs (and a skirt) and willingly went back to church for the first time since I left Egrn 4 years previous. Much to my dismay, then pleasure, I actually liked it. Sure it didn't feel great at first, but I was distracted from all the awkwardness by people who hadn't seen me in forever and wanted to catch up. Thankfully, SF spoke that first week, and that instantly made me feel more comfortable. Then when we went for coffee later in the summer, he helped me sort through some things I'd been avoiding for the better part of my 22 years. So thank you, S, for inviting me to Auxano, for speaking at church, for being willing to listen to incoherant ramblings of a pseudo-believer, and for being an all-around awesome guy! Your family is lucky to have you.

Anywho, when I came back to Leth in the fall, I don't know why I decided on The Gate to be my home church. Maybe because it's close to CP? Plausible. Maybe because it's where L goes whenever he's in town? Perhaps. Maybe because God decided to plant me there? Ding, ding, ding! We have a winner! So it was God. Huh.

Also, let it be known that I hate doing new things or being in any kind of spotlight. I'll actually go out of my way, or even out of my comfort zone, to avoid attention sometimes. So the fact that I went to a place where I didn't know anyone and was forced to interact with people I had never seen before (and would hopefully see again, but I wasn't sure, and that's what I was deciding) was monumental. The first Sunday I walked into The Gate, I was overwhelmed with feelings of guilt, anger, awkwardness, embarrassment, hope and comfort. Believe it or not (pun not intended, but welcome), church was always where I'd felt the most comfortable, and part of my reasoning for leaving was trying to see if it was a 'I grew up with it and that's why I'm comfortable' or more of a 'this is God's house' kind of comfortable. So it was God. Huh.

And after I got over the I'm-new-here-and-don't-know-anyone heebeejeebees (sp?)/met some people, I found that I actually liked it. Oh, and there was this cute guy who played guitar (but that's beside the point/history). So I went back. And after the first two or three times, people started remembering me. Gasp! Now people knew my face (and sometimes my name even), and were trying to get to know me. I found my way into a community group (only the coolest community group, for the record), and people began to know me even more. Oh noes! Now if I showed up on Sunday (and I've only missed one since I moved back, and it was xmas and I was in RD, and at BBC), I couldn't be that nameless face at the back who could (and did) slip out without anyone noticing. Crap.

[in a big, sports announcer voice] And this is community.

But I'm happy here, despite things happening/not happening the way I thought they would. I have a group of people around me for the first time in 4 years who actually care how I feel and what's happening in my life. I've met a bunch of really cool people that I can't imagine not knowing now that we've started to get to know each other (BH and AN, for example). I also love that I can have debates with my pastor about how many primal cuts are on a side of beef, then in the same breath have him quote scripture.

This is the kind of church I dreamed of when I was little. I dreamed of a place where I could go and not feel like I was lost in the crowd, but feel welcomed and at home when I walked in on Sunday morning. I dreamed of a place where the pastor's wife didn't gossip about my mom to her friends, but then pretend to be my mom's friend on Sunday morning. I prayed for a place where, if I didn't feel like wearing fancy clothes, I wouldn't be judged for wearing jeans. I dreamed of a church that wasn't a fashion show, or a place to show off your newest whatever. I wanted a church that was real, and full of real people who cared about one another, and who were there for God first and foremost, but the friends there were just a bonus. (And at The Gate, we're mostly all friends, which is a breath of fresh air. Or, if we're not, we at least recognize each other and say hi when we see each other at Starbucks.) I've also dreamed of having friends in Leth -- I've had friends at work, and I've had friends from school, but no one that I could call up randomly and go for coffee with them. Since regularly going to The Gate, I've found friends again. Only two so far, but I'm hopeful for the future.

Well, the time has come for me to go to Community Group#2! Peace, all. And have a fabulous day/week/month/time until we speak again.

-L

ps- Here's my new dilemma: Graduating, quitting my job and moving away have always been synonymous for me, as I haven't really fallen in love with Leth, and have always been looking for a way out. However, recently, every time I think about graduating and moving away, I find I get that this-isn't-right feeling in the pit of my stomach, and find something else I love about this city/another reason I should stay here. It's still in my plan to flee the country, but the when isn't decided yet. I think I'll just focus on graduating (well, and studying/not failing anything until then), then my trip in the summer. Yes, that's what I'll do.

I sought for the King and he heard me
And delivered me, from my lonely fears.
They looked unto Him, and they would attend,
And all their faces were made unashamed.

Gloria, Gloria, Gloria, Gloria.

O Taste and see that the Lord is good
All you people all you saints all you children of the king.

Gloria, Gloria, Gloria, Gloria.

I went to a new community group tonight, and JR was there. Crap. I guess my ubermature tactic of avoidance is blown now. Also, he looks weird sans facial hair.

It's Wednesday tomorrow. Please pray for me? Thanks.

-L

thoughts like fire (or, "l;arsrkfrzjoqxriow,fkr" <- bashes face into keyboard)

A few posts ago, I mentioned my theory of how I Love My Job Like A Woman Learns To Love An Arranged Marriage. I decided, in light of certain events, that this would be the perfect time to explain what it is, and why I developed this theory. Let me begin with some background:

-When I worked at another restaurant in town, I was told that CP was just an apprentice factory (meaning they take on a large number of apprentices, damn the concequences). And because I'd never known anyone who'd worked there, slash I had never even been there, I believed it.
-I was also told they treated their staff like crap. And believed it.
-When applying for jobs after the aforementioned restaurant had been closed, I applied anywhere but CP, because of what I'd been told.
-I landed the interview through what seems like something I can only say was God smacking me upside the head telling me 'you're supposed to be cooking, you idiot' (only in the most loving and gentle of ways, of course...), and the whole way to my interview I prayed that I would bomb it and not get the job (not even thinking about the fact that I needed a job, like yesterday).
-Somehow (Jesus?) I landed the job, and despite absolutely sucking for the first 6 months I worked there, and through some kind of miracle, they kept me on and helped me grow into a better cook (read: beat me into the person I am today).

So, onto my theory:
-I've only ever personally known one arranged marriage, and in all the time I knew them, I never would have guessed neither of them had planned to be married to one another. Let me also say that they went to my church (kind of important).
-I've only ever seen an arranged marriage ceremony in movies, which generally (and to my recollection) involves a much older man, a young girl fighting against everyone to get away, and a scorned lover of the girl somewhere at/near the ceremony.
In my mind, it would go a little something like this: She is dragged up the aisle by her betrothed's groomsmen, and the ceremony begins while she's fighting tooth and nail to get away. Then after a while, the girl loses her will to fight, gives up, and thus the men who were employed to keep her from running away loosen their grips. She sees her lover, plots silently, then at the perfect time, makes a run for it, knocking down someone's Grandmother/Granfather/elderly relative in the process (so that people will run to them and not her). More often than not, she'll make it to just outside the tent/building/hall/place of ceremony, see her man, bid him an emotional goodbye (or not be able to find him and just stand there and cry) and pause long enough to be recaptured by the groomsmen, dragged back into the ceremony and married to the other dude, much to her dismay. After which she is assigned to a life of being shaped into the perfect wife, and beaten into submission every time she tries to voice an opinion. Most of the time, she just loses her will to fight, begins to believe that she deserves the abuse, and bides her time silently until she dies.

Which brings me to my theory of CP and me:
-CP is an old restaurant. I am a young cook.
-I didn't want that job. I wanted any other job but that one. I got that job.
-I fought tooth and nail at the beginning, because I hated my job.
-They wooed me with talks of raises and special events, only to give them to other, more loved, employees.
-I developed the theory of Seeing Your Job As A Relationship -- and putting as much hard work and dedication into it as possible, and some day (if you're lucky), love will follow.
-I finally began to conform to their ways, and every time I tried to do something out of the ordinary, they'd verbally beat me into submission, and make me conform to their methods.
-Eventually, their methods became second nature to me, and soon enough, their ways became mine. (So, in other words, I drank the Kool-Aid and joined the cult.)
-When I left this past summer, I discovered what it was like to love and be loved by a job, and I fell in love. My CP standard-issue rose-coloured glasses were thus surgically removed.
-I returned, was handed my job/a full-time schedule, and was once again thrust right back into the thickest of the hatred that reigns at CP. (Let me also say that at that point, there were 5 people above me on the totem pole.)
-Then E left.
-Then D left.
-Then A left.
-And K was never around.
-Now I may not be a math major here, but it seems to me like I'm the second on in command?! How the junk did this happ... Oh crap, it's Christmas. Trial by fire, here we come. (Trial by fire/sink or swim seems to be the CP way of training, for the record.)
-Aaaaaand then B turned into a power-hungry psycho, being all paranoid about losing that which he's fought hard to gain. (Cue the song Paranoid Freak by The Trews.) And I started losing my mind, having to work with him every day. I never fought for anything I have gained at CP (except to keep whatever sanity and personality they haven't beaten out of me yet), so he automatically got it all when everyone started leaving, and I got the scraps.
-Now, let this be known: in my time at CP, I have gone from hating it with a burning passion, to not so much hating it, to liking it, to absolutely loving it so much I can't imagine working anywhere else. I still love the place, the kitchen (with all its unique quirks, staff not included), the everything. Except the staff.

[Sidenote! Now D had a theory of his own (and one that I've come to experience is completely true): when a cook at CP stays there long enough to learn how to work around and despite all the broken equipment, fix it on the fly*, swerve around/duck/dodge people and things without thinking, and instinctively adjust the correct use of something to work around how broken/old/rusty/slow/cold-when-it's-supposed-to-be-hot/hot-when-it's-supposed-to-be-cold something is, they become an Unknowing Super-Cook. When that Unknowing Super-Cook gets a job in a kitchen that has equipment that works the way it's intended and is regularly maintained, the USC will automatically become 10x faster and more efficient at everything he/she does, and wonder why everyone else is has issues with stupid little things, like a dripping faucet on a Saturday (duh, grab a wrench and fix it yourself?). I have a feeling this is what I experienced at TnT (although I have zero qualms about why they loved me, because they loved me at all/let me know they loved me).]

-Now, speaking as one who has always had a hard time understanding metaphors, I feel like a woman who once knew love but is now trapped in an arranged marriage, and whose husband drinks like a fish and beats her into submission and back into the kitchen whenever she speaks her mind. Huh.

...or maybe I'm just being dramatic. Wednesday will tell one of two things: an amazing story of courage, or just another girl who lost sight of her dream because of a job she doesn't like. I think Spiritual Growth Month couldn't have come at a more perfect time.

I hope for the best, despite the worst.
-L



*'On The Fly' is a restaurant industry term for RIGHT THE FUCK NOW (please excuse the language).

[WEEP AND HOWL!]

"I see Your face in every sunrise,
The colours of the morning are inside Your eyes
The world awakens at the light of the day,
I look up to the sky and say 'You're Beautiful.'
Oh, Oh, You're Beautiful, Oh, Oh."

"Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good
All you people, all you saints, all you children of the King...
Gloria, gloria, gloria, gloria."

"Lily of the valley, bright and morning star
Fairest of ten thousand, you are, you are.
How can I perceive your beauty,
I long to see your face,
Jesus, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus."

"In Your Word,
In Your Heart,
By Your Blood,
Lord, You're our Refuge."

These are the sounds of my happiness.

Yup, definitely still awake. At this point (and because my alarm is going to go off in t-minus 2 hours and 53 minutes... not a good night's sleep at all), I'm pretty much in this for the long haul.

So, whenever I think of these songs which are listed in (my favourite) bits and pieces above, the voice in my mind is that of one of the girls from my church. Anyone who goes to The Gate will know who I'm talking about, because there's really only three girls who sing on worship teams, and two of us are on the same team (and have only ever done one of those songs since I've been on the team). Anywho, now that we've established that it's the girl on the team with the synthesizer (and have I mentioned my newfound LOVE of the synthesizer?), it's a good segue into my newfound love of the syth. Since first going to The Gate (Well, since my first recollection of a service... which is probably late August 2010. Even though I'd been attending off and on for almost three years by that point. More on that later, though.) and seeing GE's team lead worship, my mind has been blown nearly every time they're up there. Actually, I'd go so far as to say that my mind has been blown every single time they're all there. Sure, I love the acoustic sets, but there's nothing like being able to feel the music. That's why I loved going to the bar; the feeling deep in your chest when the bass is so loud that you feel it. And now that I can get that at church, I'm all about drums and thumping bass during worship.

...aaaaand all the old folks at my church in RD just collectively gasped at the scandal. "Drums in church? Why, I never!" Which would be why they only got drums about 7 years ago, when all the really old ones started to lose their hearing. Which would also be why I liked the youth-geared services more than the organ-driven Sunday morning service (not that there's anything wrong with organs, per se...) when I regularly attended BBC; they would allow drums. If you haven't picked it up yet, I LOVE BASS. (Not Lance, former BSB. Oh crap, did I just age myself? Although I really don't have anything against the man, that's not what I meant.) I love music that's so loud you can feel it. I LOVE BASS. And synths, apparently.

I hope each and every one of you who reads this (and those who don't, too) finds some kind of music/muse/passion/inspiration/bit of insanity that drives you toward happiness. I found happiness in 2010, and will never give it up now that I've seen 'life on the other side of the fence.' I found happiness when I laughed so hard I cried. I saw happiness watching the children running around, just happy being alive and together. I found happiness in inside jokes with my new friends and attending the most perfect worship service I've ever seen. I found happiness talking of hallucinagenic drugs, the primal cuts on a side of beef, and prairie oysters with my pastor. I found happiness in serving others, even though it meant going almost three days without sleep to prepare for it. I found happiness in common goals, beliefs, and ex-bfs with people I never would have met if it wasn't for The Gate. I found true happiness, for the first time in my life, at The Gate.





And God found me at The Gate.