Who Do You Serve?

Who Do You Serve?

I realized that not only have I not posted here in a long time, but I have never posted this song.  Since I wanted to share it with somebody today, let me get it up here.

This song originated when a dear friend, in the midst of a terrible situation, heard God asking him, "Who do you serve?"  As I pondered this, somewhat indignantly, I realized that the encouraging word in the situation lay in considering  the nature of God. I later learned that my friend realized this almost instantaneously.  It took me a little longer, and I tried to structure the song to reflect some aspects of  the trinitarian nature of God as I understand it to be revealed in the Bible.

Who Do You Serve?

Who do you serve?

O tell me who do you serve?

Who is the God that you serve?

I serve the God who created the heavens and earth

He made the hills and the mighty rolling seas.

I serve the God who makes troubles a gateway for hope

And I serve a God who sets the captives free.

I serve the God who hung bleeding and torn on the cross

He took my shame and my guilt and my despair.

I serve the God who keeps calling the broken and lost

And I serve a God who listens to my prayer.

I serve a God who sees me

You know me through and through

Nothing in me is hidden from your gaze.

Take what I am, Transform me

Spirit, I cry to you

I want my life to be a song of praise.

That's who I serve.

O Father, You're who I serve

You are the God that I serve.

That's who I serve.

O Jesus, You're who I serve.

You are the God that I serve.

Father, Son, Holy Spirit

Master, redeemer, friend

Conquering king and healer of my soul

You are the God that I serve

You are the God that I serve.

Make Us a People

A few days back I was sitting at dinner, making a terrible hash out of explaining why I wanted to do my work within what I knew sounded to my dinner partner like the desperately narrow confines of Biblical revelation. Trying to understand me, he gently suggested that I was probably one of those people who liked ideas to be fairly tidy, that being, I think, the most charitable psychological profile he could imagine for someone who would describe themselves as an Evangelical Christian. I doubt that anyone who knows me well thinks of "tidiness" as either one of my virtues or vices, but I wasn't doing a very good job that evening of being transparent.

Still, the suggestion stuck with me, and made me ponder who I am, who I think I am called to be, and who I believe we are all called to be as Christians; what my prayer is for myself and the people that I walk with. This is the song that grew. I put in links to the Biblical passages I am referencing, for those who might not already recognize them. Neat and tidy isn't really part of it. We are following a God whose Spirit sent the one he called his Beloved Son out to fast and pray in the wilderness for forty days, and then brought him to the place where he died on a cross.  This isn't a safe or an easy God to follow, but the adventure quotient is pretty high.  I'm not in the place this song describes, but this is where I want to be, and what I think that God wants to do in me and in us.

And finally, because there is a little piece of me that likes accuracy, let me take a moment to point out that while in the time that the New Testament was written, the scuzz place, the place where the dregs of society could be found was outside the city--today, for many of us, it is in the hearts of the city.  I went with the picture in the New Testament, but let me acknowledge that I am aware that the prayer to go "outside the gates of the city" could send us straight into the cities from our nice and tidy suburbs.

Make us a People

Father, make us a people
Who will walk on the water
Looking to Jesus
Climbing out of the boat.

O Lord, make us a people
Who are baptized in fire,
 And just a little drunk on the
Word of Your love

Help us go outside the gates of the city
Following Jesus, bearing disgrace as He did on that day
Carrying our crosses, walking in the footsteps of God.

Father, make us a people
Who will sing when we’re captured
Whose songs of praise break down
All the prison walls.

O Lord, make us a people
Who are born of your Spirit,
Blown by the Wind
of Your grace and Your love

Help us go outside the gates of the city
Following Jesus, bearing disgrace as He did on that day.
Carrying our crosses, walking in the footsteps of God.

Father, make us a people
Hungry to be righteous
Longing to make peace
And to see the face of God

O Lord, make us a people
Whose lives are our love for You
Who give You our lives
Both to spend and to send.

Help us go outside the gates of the city
Following Jesus, bearing disgrace as He did on that day
Carrying our crosses, walking in the footsteps of God.

Father, make us a people
Make us Your people, Lord

The Mountain of the LORD

The story of Abraham's almost-sacrifice of Isaac (or in some Muslim versions, Ishmael) on the mountain God chose has been a persistently difficult story for members of all three of the Abrahamic faiths (Judaism, Christianity and Islam).  Would God ask for human sacrifice? Did Abraham hear wrong?  Is this a story about child abuse, and if so is it Abraham or God who is the child abuser.  And yet, despite the problems, it remains a story that has become quite central to the way all three religions tell our stories of how God relates to us. For Jews it has become a picture of Jewish martyrdom, a proof-text for God's mercy, and a clear indication that God forbids human sacrifice. (Reference)   For Christians, it is a picture and foretelling of Jesus' death on the cross (Reference)(Read more), and an example of faith (Hebrews 11:17-19; .  Muslims celebrate Abraham's submission to God on this day with Eid al-Adha.  

For myself, I find that at certain key turning points in my life, it has become necessary for me to offer back to God with open hands the thing that I have been hoping and dreaming and believing was God's promise.  That I have generally received back the thing that I offered does not take away from the fact that it was important to offer it, and that at the time of offering, there are no certainties, except that God will be faithful.  At these times in my life, the story about Abraham and Isaac on the Mountain of God has become very significant for me.  This song was written at one of those times, but before and after there were other crises where the story has had meaning.  I offer it here in the hopes that it will prove to be meaningful for others as well.

The Mountain of God

On the Mountain of the LORD

It will be provided--

All that You want me to give.

On the Mountain of the LORD

It will be provided--

The strength and the courage to live.

I'll go walking up that mountain

With my hopes and my dreams in my hand

I'll go walking up that mountain

Knowing You will allow me to stand.

Isaac was Abraham's deep delight

A hope that was too good to lose

And God spoke to Abraham in the night

Saying, "Come to the mountain I choose.

Will you lay down your son there?

Will you hand the child over to Me?

Will you give up His life there

As a sign that you're trusting in Me?"

Abraham left for the mountains that day

Leading his son by the hand

I think tears filled his eyes as he tried to pray

As he watched his dreams crumble to sand

He took wood and he took fire 

And he carefully guarded the knife

And he wondered how he'd do it--

Would You ask him to take his son's life?

Abraham knew that he had to do it

Whatever You asked him to do.

And somehow he knew You would see him through it

And still make your promises true

He bound Isaac to the altar

He was willing to go all the way

And then You sent an angel

You provided the ram there that day.

Now through faith, we're the children of Abraham

And sometimes we'll walk in his shoes.

I believe there are times we will hear Your voice calling

To come to the mountain you choose

To lay down there what we cherish

Without knowing just what we'll get back

We must trust that You are faithful

And that You will supply every lack.

On the Mountain of the LORD 

It will be provided--

All that You want me to give

On the Mountain of the LORD

It will be provided--

The strength and the courage to live

I'll go walking up that mountain

With my hopes and my dreams in my hand

I'll go walking up that mountain

Knowing You will allow me to stand.

Vessels for the King

Nevertheless, the solid foundation of God stands, having this seal: "The Lord knows those who are His" and "Let everyone who names the name of Christ depart from iniquity." But in a great house there are not only vessels of gold and silver, but also of wood and clay, some for honor and some for dishonor.  Therefore if anyone cleanses himself from the latter, he will be a vessel for honor, sanctified and useful for the Master, prepared for every good work.  --1 Timothy 2:19-21


     Come with me on a tour of the King's storehouse to see the vessels of honor, prepared for use at His mighty banquets.  There was a time when I thought that everything at the King's table would be gold and silver.  Those are there, indeed.  But look, there is fine porcelain, and glittering glass, and even highly polished wood. The thing that makes them different from the plates and bowls that sit on my table is not the starting materials. Sand and clay and lumps of wood--common and unlovely in themselves.  And even the silver began as an ore that was mostly lead, and the golden flecks could scarcely be seen in the high grade ore that made the prosepctor's heart leap for joy.
     All of these vessels of honor glitter and shine and reflect the glory of the King whom they serve and the Maker who saw their worth when they were no better than dirt, and who used time and skill and heat and hammer and blade to call them into being.  Some saw the fire again and again and again.  Some knew the fire only after gentle strokes of the Master's hands.  Some were made strong by the fire, and others seemed to melt away.  With each one, the Maker knew just what to do.  If they could talk, what would they have said?  Not only, "I'll never live through this," but "Why does He deal differently with that one?"  He strokes the clay, and breaks the gold and silver ore with his hammer.  Sand is thrown instantly into the fire, and then is shaped not by banging, but by the breath of God.  And wood knows only gentle, gentle heat--followed by the knife, and long, long seasons of being rubbed with grit.
     And we, the vessels who are people, do seem to have some choice in the matter.  Will we allow the shaping?  We barely understand what stuff it is that the Lord has put into our hearts.  Is our life gold ore, or glass sand, or porcelain clay?  Silver ore is shiny, but most of it is thrown away before the silver shines pure and clean upon the table.  Will we let God do all that He longs to do in our lives?  Not fighting the fire, whether it stiffens us or melts us down--enduring the gentle rubbing and the hardest blows--not worrying whether we are called to be a salt dish or a fruit bowl or a water pitcher?  They do not look the same, they are not shaped by the same methods--yet all are vessels of honor, and all are needed to serve the King's great banquet.
     And in this mighty storehouse, I am drawn to look closer at a burlwood bowl.  Though it does not have the gleam of gold or silver, it is a thing of beauty.  the wood of its sides swirls in magnificent patterns of light and dark, patterns beautiful and unpredictable.  If it could talk, what story would it tell?  It started as a diseased lump on the side of a tree, unable to produce more than a few pathetic leaves, a crooked mess.  And yet, the heart of the Craftsman rejoiced to see it.  He had many uses for straight wood--but from this crooked lump he could make a bowl of awesome beauty for the King's high table.  The very crookedness that made the burl a shameful lump on the tree, when transformed by the Craftsman's love and skill is a song of glory to the Creator.
     Lord, I ask for grace to trust You in all Your dealings with me.  Take whatever it is that You have placed within my life, and shape me as You will.  I ask too, Lord, for eyes of faith to see in the raw material of others the glory You long to bring forth.  And I ask this in Jesus' name.  Amen.

(c) 2005 Rebecca Howell

Pictures, used with permission and deep gratitude:
Pink Seeded Goblet by Rhonda Kap.  On display at www.rhondakap.com.
Burlwood Hollow Form with Paua Shell Inlay by Al Janonis.  On display at www.whitestonefurs.com.

Of paper and pens

My sister, Mathilda Wheeler, runs a blog called The Wonder Writer.  And recently she shared a poem about writing that a young cousin of ours wrote as she was using writing to grieve the death of her mother.  Her poem is better than mine (go look), but it still made me want to share this poem that I wrote quite a while ago.

Of Paper and Pens

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus

the author and finisher of our faith.  Hebrews 12:2

Sometimes I'm the paper.

Sometimes I'm the pen.

The Lord of glory writes His grace

into the lives of men

and women who will trust Him

and choose to run the race.

He writes His truth upon our hearts

with glory and with grace--

sometimes the grace of hardship,

always the grace of love--

His children learn to run the race

and look to him above.

I long to be the paper

on which He writes the lines,

but also long to be the pen

through which His mercy shines.

God writes with living fire.

He makes us each a lamp

to let the living story shine

in the dark outside the camp.

No God but God

The first line of this song is the first part of the Muslim Confession of faith, the shahada, though obviously I move in a very different direction after that.  Nonetheless, it is probably because of my work with the names of God in Islam that this formulation sprang to mind.

It's a ditty or perhaps a chorus of a song I have yet to write. Still, I share it here because it is a quintessential example of what I mean when I talk about Windmill Songs.  It is precisely because these words get balled up into a song and that keeps running over and over in my mind and heart that it does something in my life.  It becomes not just my confession of Christianity, but of my acknowledgement and proclamation that I will not let other lesser things -- my fears, my appetites, my sluggishness -- become my gods.  Maybe that will become verses, maybe not.

There is No God but God

There is no god but God

There is no god but God

No God but the Father, no God but the Son

No God but the Spirit, forever three in one

There is no god, no god but God.

Sheer Koheleth, the Song of Ecclesiastes

I got into a conversation last night that drifted into a discussion of the book of Ecclesiastes.  The hour was late and we weren't able to finish our talk.

When I was in seminary, and had finished my mandatory Hebrew classes, I decided to take an Old Testament course that would focus on using Hebrew to study a book of the Old Testament.  I was a little dismayed when I realized by only choice at that time was a study of Ecclesiastes, which at the time I considered a really depressing book.  I am always a little startled when people tell me how much they like the book of Ecclesiastes, and I am also a little suspicious that most of what they have actually read in the book is the part that made it into the folksong:  "For everything...there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven."

But I have also learned over time that if I am willing to take the time to deeply study almost any part of the Bible, it will become meaningful to me.  As I studied Ecclesiastes, I came to feel that it forms a kind of counterpart to the book of Job.  In Job, the problem is the suffering of innocent people, and the ultimate answer is when Job experiences God, and is satisfied by that.  In Ecclesiastes, the problem is the search for answers of the intellectual, and just as Job does not give a simple answer, the author of Ecclesiastes also does not find easy answers to his questions. He complains, among other things, that God has set eternity into the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end (Ecclesiastes 3:11),and he calls this a burden (3:10).  Ultimately, he concludes with

Now all has been heard;
     here is the conclusion of the matter:
Fear God and keep his commandments,
     for this is the duty of all mankind.
For God will bring every deed into judgment,
     including every hidden thing,
     whether it is good or evil (Ecclesiastes 12:13-14)

As I studied Ecclesiastes , I found that in addition to summarizing my work in a mandatory academic paper, I wanted to try my hand at expressing its essence in this song, which I called Sheer Koheleth.  Koheleth is the name of Ecclesiastes in Hebrew.  It means "The Gatherer" or "The Assemblyman" or "The Preacher" or "Teacher" or "Scribe".  In other words, we're not entirely sure exactly what it means.  It's what the author of Ecclesiastes called himself.  Traditionally, that person has been understood to be Solomon.  Sheer is, of course, an English word that means pretty much "just", but Sheer or Shir is the Hebrew word for Song.

One of the most famous phrases of Ecclesiastes "vanity of vanities" in the King James Bible, or "Meaningless! Everything is meaningless" in the NIV, is a metaphor that in its literal meaning is about the steam that rises off a pot.  I toyed at one point with translating it as "It's all a lot of hot air," but I wound up with the chorus of this song.  This then, is Sheer Koheleth or the Song of Ecclesiastes, and it is my attempt to loosely translate what I understand to be the central message of this book.  Most of the lines are colloquial translations of something in the book.


Sheer Koheleth


What does life mean? It has to mean something.
I set my heart to discover life's "why"
This was my task to look for the meaning
I tried, and I tried. but my answer was this:

I have focused on fog
I've mastered the mist
All my achievements are smoke in my fist
They slip through my fingers
I've been chasing the wind
And it adds up to nothing,
Again and again.

I tried doing good. I tried owning treasure.
No matter how much, it was never enough.
I drank to the dregs life's passions and pleasure,
But wisdom and folly ended like this:

As I look around I see pain and oppression
Sometimes life's fair, but often it's not
More things are bent than one man can straighten
All my best plans were diminished to this.

As you go through life you might as well cherish
Each day that comes, every season God gives.
Knowing in time that all things will perish.
Still joy is God's gift, though it comes back to this:

So this was my task, to look for the meanings,
God planted eternity deep in my soul.
Though under the sun all is empty and aimless
I'm left with awe and the fear of the Lord.

And God isn't fog
God isn't the mist
The one thing that's certain
The one thing that's fixed
Before the beginning
And after the end
My answers lie hidden
In the palm of His hand.