I do not know Him

One of my least favorite parables is the parable of the talents. The master gives a sum of money to 3 servants in proportion to how much he trusts them. 2 invest it, come back with double the original amount, and the last one comes back with the same amount. The master is happy with the first 2, and angry with the last, giving the last amount to the first and throwing the 3rd servant out into the darkness. I always thought that was mean.

3 years ago, reading the parable again, I disliked it on a new level. The 3rd servant says, "Lord, I knew you were a hard man...and I was afraid...so I buried it." He didn't freaking lose it. He was worried that he'd use it in appropriately or waste it or WHO KNOWS, and so he puts it in a safe place and then gives it back. No harm no foul, right? Maybe he wasn't good with money. Maybe his dad didn't teach him about investments. But the master gets mad, calls him lazy and throws him into the darkness. I became afraid.

Tonight, I read it again, and prepared myself to become sad/convicted/depressed. And I heard a phrase I had not heard before: Enter into the joy of your Master.

This is the response he gives the first two servants. Enter into the joy of your Master. The joy?? The Master had joy? That was part of his character? He has...joy? And the poor, 3rd servant says, "I knew you were a hard man..." I became disheartened. I felt bad for him.

Did he really know his master? Did he really know him? Did he know that his master had joy at all, or did the servant percieve his Master as a cruel, ruthless, perfectionist ruler? Did he know him? Did He know about this joy that was waiting for him? Did he know there was joy at all?

Everytime I read this parable, I identify with that 3rd servant. First in feeling God is mean, 2nd in feeling God is to be feared (like, hide under the bed feared), and finally in realizing that I do not know my God to be a God of love, of joy...that He is waiting to make my joy full, abundantly full. I'm so afraid He's going to get mad at me, criticize how I use the talents/gifts He's given me. Not thinking that he wants to rejoice in my rejoicing as I use them.

Lord, too often I've come to you like a child to the principle's office. Too often have I hidden away, afraid to pick up the glory you await to bestow, going through all the reasons how it might be misused or abused. Too often I have seen you as a hard man, an impatient man, who is looking at his watch frustrated that I've wasted more time in doing what I ought not to do with what you provided. And yet I haven't even moved yet.

Oh, Lord, that I would know you more.


Sonnet XXX - Elizabeth Barrett Browning
I see thine image through my tears to-night,
And yet to-day I saw thee smiling. How
Refer the cause?—Beloved, is it thou
Or I, who makes me sad? The acolyte
Amid the chanted joy and thankful rite
May so fall flat, with pale insensate brow,
On the altar-stair. I hear thy voice and vow,
Perplexed, uncertain, since thou art out of sight,
As he, in his swooning ears, the choir's Amen.
Beloved, dost thou love? or did I see all
The glory as I dreamed, and fainted when
Too vehement light dilated my ideal,
For my soul's eyes? Will that light come again,
As now these tears come—falling hot and real?

to live deliberately among the chaos

I've been reminded a lot of mortality lately. A couple people, friends of friends of friends, have passed away tragically. Young, active, energetic people like myself. Passionate for life and helpin others. Forgive me if I sound rude, but much like I pictured as a child that princesses must be thin and singers, I had a weird fantasy that passionate driven people do not die tragically. It didn't happen to people who were being proactive in the world, following God's call on their life, on fire for their purpose.

I knew I was wrong...and now I know even more.

It has caused me to become extremely discontent with my life or at least the idea that I am sitting on my butt updating a facebook page or writing a blog instead of outside these 4 walls living...LIVING. I want to make sure that if I'm the next to go, that I am living my life to it's fullest in the way that makes me most alive and gives God the most glory.

I want to go down singing. Not swinging. Singing.

Last Saturday's show was great. People came out, had a good time, sang along to A Man and His Plant, and being backed by In the Wake of Giants was freaking awesome. United Harvest Workers Union made me want to spin in circles. I really love this.

Today, I had a long debate with a couple very good friends about selling merchandise at the next show. After careful deliberation, it was decided that I would sell t-shirts, necklace pendants, and CDs, and possibly stickers. Perhaps this sounds pretentious as I'm not well known or touring right now. But even talking about it casually made my heart expand in excitement and love. And so I will do do it.

I'm tired of being scared or nervous about the next step. I'm ready to go. I'm not afraid to die if it means I'm really living when it happens.

paused.

Picture this: You're looking on Facebook and you come across the page of a past fling, interest, boyfriend (girlfriend for you male readers out there). You haven't thought about this person for a while, and you frankly have no residual feelings. And then you learn: he's married. And a feeling comes over you. it isn't anger. isn't bitterness. isn't let down. isn't even joyful. isn't happy. it just...is. it's as if time and breath have stopped (not dramatically, just stopped) and you think, "huh. wow. that just happened." and then, within 3-5 seconds, everything picks up and you continue with your day.

A friend and I were trying to think of a word for this a month or so ago. And then, in a conversation today, the word organically appeared.

"How have you been, Elise?"
"Paused."

paused. it's an almost nameless, emotionless sensation with a lot of weight. and it's how I feel now.

2 weeks ago, I felt chapter 22 in "The Biography of Elise Hindmarsh" close. I am now staring at the first page of Chapter 23. And I feel nothing. No excited expectation. No dread of disappointment. Honestly, I feel very little emotion at all except the anxiety that I feel very little emotion. I'm not one to usually have small emotions.

i feel paused. air has stopped. time has stopped. relationships, growth, learning, contribution has stopped. the earth's rotation must have stopped. everything feels suspended. like the scene in The Truman Show where all the actors are in place but no one is moving, awaiting the director's cue.

i'm waiting for him to say action, too.