Better than a Hallelujah

Better than a Hallelujah
By Amy Grant

God loves a lullaby
In a mother’s tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes

God loves the drunkard’s cry
The soldier’s plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

The woman holding on for life
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

The tears of shame
for what’s been done
The silence when the words won’t come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

Better than a church bell ringing
Better than a choir singing out,
singing out

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful, the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

Love

While trying to come up with an incredibly deep and meaningful title for this post, that would be sure to grab the attention of anyone who glanced my way, the one word that kept coming to mind was, “Love.”

My mind will not slow down long enough for me to write something that expresses what is happening in my heart. As I think of my friend, her body being ravaged by cancer, I want to vomit. I don’t know what else to do, but come to this blank page and start thinking out loud.

At the same time, selfishly, I want to give you something that will leave you thinking that I’m brilliant. Something that will touch you so deeply that on your death bed you will think of this post and find peace. Crazy, right?! I know!

God forbid I just admit to the fact that everything I have written in the last 24 hours has sucked! I’m a work in progress. Egomaniac with an inferiority complex remember?! I want you to like me even if I don’t like you…and yahdee yahdah.

Funny (and not in a haha sorta way) thing is, I cannot put 5 words together to form anything worth your time it will take to read it.

As I sat upon my pitty pot of self-delusion, I did what anyone else would do in my situation…I checked my email. Forget actually trying to sleep. I may get an update on my friend’s condition and I cannot miss that…or wait until morning to read it!

There, in my email was a picture of a handwritten note from my daughter. Ironically enough, it was talking about love. Now, I realize that she is a lovestruck teenager who daydreams about her knight in shining armor, in other words, Justin Bieber, but I love what she wrote. Simple. To the point. True.

I love this kid! Her heart is so deep, her motives so pure and her faith so beautiful.

She doesn’t believe that. She thinks she is a nuisance. Now that may change tomorrow, but for tonight, she sees herself as something to be tolerated. What?! How is that possible?!

She told me between sobs what was troubling her. It made me ache. I want to fix it. I can’t.

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.” ~Mother Teresa

Sometimes it feels as if all I am doing in love is hurting, while other times it is pure bliss. As I try desperately to get to my vague point, here is what I have been thinking about love since speaking with my Bella;

How do you find it? Does it find you?
Once you find it, or it finds you, how do you keep it?
While keeping it, how do you explain it to others?

Simple, but not easy…You live it.
In every thought.
Every word.
Every deed.
Every action.
Every response.

Don’t see this as an impossible feat. See it as an inspiring challenge…to love without getting tired.
Take every thought captive.
Think before uttering a word.
Act from a place of kindness.

Love really is the root of it all…or it should be anyway.
It’s where the adventure begins.
Once the search has begun, it is a lifelong journey, there is no going back.
It’s going to hurt and
It’s gonna be messy

but

It will also be wonderful and filled with purpose.

I’m going to be okay…
Bella will be okay…
You…will be okay.

“Love to be real, it must cost—it must hurt—it must empty us of self.” ~Mother Teresa

The sins of the father

I have been told that the sins of the father, like some genetic curse, are passed down through generations. I’m not sure if I believe that? I have seen things that would indicate it is true and other things to disprove it’s validity. What do you think?

Do you have a father who does or did the things that you swear you’ll never do? Be careful what you think about. Wherein your focus lies, you will most certainly gravitate.

A recent conversation took me back 18 years to a time when I was thrown into the chaos that was my parents very messy, very public, divorce. I remember being furious at the judgement flying around. I recounted the headlines, the accusations and all of the nastiness from so called Christians. Within moments I was once again in the midst of one of the most tumultuous times in my life.

Wounds I thought had long since healed, suddenly begin to ache. Instead of a band-aid, I need a tourniquet. Pain that I have learned to disregard from years of unanswered questions now surfaces and I am left mentally struggling like a drowning person fighting the current.

I am no stranger to secrets. Secrets of my own as well as those of others that were never mine to keep. I have lived a life wrought with guilt and shame. I have stuffed mental and emotional closets full of regret until the door would barely close.

The problem with this type of coping is that one day, everything comes pouring out. And not gently, but rather forcefully. There is no way to prepare for when this happens.

The beautiful part about the sudden onslaught of contained darkness is that it forces you to sift through the wreckage. There is almost always one of two outcomes. Either the pain is too great and denial so deceiving that one is not able to rise above their circumstantial feelings or healing is found through a journey of painstakingly, rigorous honesty.

For someone who lived a life of secrecy, it is no simple matter to turn from the familiar and embrace the unknown. However, one reaches the point where the silence becomes deafening as it screams truth.

I began sifting through the wreckage ten years ago and here is what I have learned…

There comes a time when I must stop hoping for a better past, accept what is, make amends where possible, and live in the present, continuing to move forward.

Right here, right now, I release the sins of my father and the sin of anyone else (for that matter) that has been projected onto me, either by force or choice. They have no power over me, nor my children, nor my children’s children.

I am not beyond the reach of grace. When the voice of doubt shouts at me, I will turn my ears to the whispers of truth.

Today, I know better. And because I know better, I do better.

Related posts:
The Maze of Ministry
The Maze of Ministry – Part 2

A Father’s Love

Today, like every day recently, Elliot has consumed my heart and mind. I do not want to say too much as I want the majority of this post to be the journal entry from her dad below.

The following is taken from her CaringBridge site shortly after she was diagnosed. It is so beautiful. Her father’s words are so sincere as he speaks of Elliot’s determination from the time she was a little girl and her unwavering faith as she has grown into the woman she is today.

I hope this finds you where ever you are and leaves you encouraged.

“Dearest Elliot,

What a precious time with our family and Chris’s family in Montgomery yesterday and today.

As we put Bradford to bed tonight, its amazing how fast 33 years pass by and we remember the 352 days as you were three, we tucked you in, read to you, prayed with you, and slept with you some special nights when you needed that extra bit of reassurance.

All this afternoon and tonight in my spirit I hear the word ‘hope’ in my head and my heart – Look at the top of your CaringBridge site. Look at the logo of  MD Anderson, and more importantly the Bible (God’s speech to men) and the word HOPE THOU IN GOD is everywhere. Job 13:15, Psalm 39:7, Psalm 42:5, Proverbs 10:28, Proverbs 13:12, Lamentations 3:21, Matthew 12:21, Romans 12:12, Romans 15:13, 1 Cor.13:13, Eph. 1:18, Col.1:27, Heb.10:23, 1 Peter 1:3, 1 Peter 1:21.

Take all the many scriptures on promises of healing in God’s Word, and visualize yourself as healed.

We pray without ceasing and with thanksgiving the regimen MDA has put into motion beginning Monday is being used of God to arrest and eradicate all cancer cells, that side effects will be minimum and next to nothing, and with each scan and test we will see the power of the the Almighty God working in your physical body, your mind, your heart and your  emotions as you continue to live before a watching world what it means to love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind and soul – which is the greatest commandment given by our Lord.

Before  David, who expressed every human emotion in the Psalms,ever started praying to God in verse 7-12 of Psalm 27, he expressed his confidence in God FIRST, in verses 1-6 ending with the phrase (ESV), “I will sing and make melody to the Lord.” Then he poured  His  heart out  to God, and then in verse 13-14, he affirms MORE CONFIDENCE IN GOD, In the final analysis, physicians treat, but God is your healer.

Still we pray for hourly strength, endurance, and peace for you and Chris, and for protection and health and grace multiplied for our grandchildren. The “I can do it, Daddy” and the strong-will traits as a youngster now serve you well, as you remember to smile, to  laugh, to find pleasure even climbing the hills ahead, and resolutely move forward in hope and peace and confidence.

I am not a doctor, but I think it takes more muscles to frown than to laugh. In Proverbs we are reminded that a glad, a merry heart, does good like medicine. Remember how God has sovereignly intervened in these past weeks. He WILL continue to do so in the next months, days and hours and minutes and even seconds….step by step. You are God’s beloved, beautiful inside and outside.

One of my favorite hymns, “Dear Lord and Father of Mankind” verses 4 and 5 (the other 3 are great as well) seem fitting as this night closes – before I share it I am well aware its hard to keep up with and process the outpouring of love and support and prayers of hundreds, maybe thousands, but if you forget these words, remember they can be summarized in one phrase -“Be still and listen to what God will impart to you and Chris each day.”

verse 4. “Drop Thy still dews of quietness, till all our strivings cease; take from our souls the strain and stress, and let our ordered lives confess the beauty of Thy peace.”

verse 5.”Breathe through the heats of our desire Thy coolness and Thy balm; let sense be dumb, let flesh retire; speak through the earthquake, wind, and fire, O still small voice of calm!”

I exhort God’s prayer warriors everywhere as God may move upon their hearts to pray for  your complete healing, as our family remembers and prays for the many needs of those around us – many known, most unknown. Truly we live in a fallen world, but God reigns on His throne.  

Love,
Dad

Please continue to pray for Elliot as she fights. You can follow her journey on her CaringBridge page.

 

 

Please also pray for her husband Chris, their two precious children and the many family members and friends who rally around them with faith, hope and love. Thank you.

Related Posts:
When Cancer is no longer a Stranger
When the monster returns, Thy will be done
Five Minute Friday: Community

Five Minute Friday: Community

Let’s spend our five minutes of writing today, sharing about community. Fight it, love it, hate it, hurt or healed by it, we were certainly built for it.

Set a timer and just write. Don’t worry about making it just right or not.
Go all in with your words.
Are you ready?

1. Write for 5 minutes flat – no editing, no over thinking, no backtracking
2. Link back here and invite others to join in.
3. Please visit the person who linked up before you & encourage them in their comments.

OK, are you ready? Give me your best five minutes on: Community

GO:

This topic is quite fitting today as I sit in my pj’s, wanting to close the blinds to the outside world. My last entry was about my beautiful friend, Elliot, who is fighting a deadly form of ovarian cancer.

I have been amazed by how many of us have connected through her story. Women who will never meet, all praying and coming together as a community to support and lift up our friend as she walks through the most difficult time of her life.

It instantly connects us. That’s what community does. We are all here for a common purpose and therefore all connected.

If she needs to crawl, we will crawl with her. If she walks slowly, taking many breaks along the way, we too will walk slowly, breaking frequently. If she wants to scream, we will scream with her. When she cries, we will cry with her. When she laughs, we too will laugh.

That’s what community does. We lock arms and we storm the gates of heaven with our pleas and our praise.

That’s what we do, today, as women and sisters, daughters and mothers, wives and friends. That’s what we do for each other. For you, my sweet friend, Elliot.
Please join me in praying for Elliot today as she begins a stronger form of chemo in hopes that it will combat this aggressive form of cancer.

STOP.

When the monster returns, Thy will be done

I received a notification yesterday that my friend Elliot’s Caring Bridge site had been updated. I decided to read it after small group so that I could focus, send a response and not be hurried.

I woke up this morning with the first thing on my mind being that I had not read the update. So I quietly went down the stairs, before dawn, opened my laptop and read the latest explaining the results of a CT scan done after she spent the night in the hospital due to feeling ill for several days.

As I read the words, “the cancer is back in the liver, lungs and abdominal wall, along with an embolism in the lungs” I felt fury and rage well up from my gut.

While sitting in the dark with only the glow of my laptop, I said out loud, “Lord, are you kidding me?! WHY?!?!?!?!?!?!

This is when Faith and Fear are companions.

I used to believe that fear and faith could not coincide, however, I was wrong. What is faith for, if not to come alongside fear and banish it?

As I write this, tears stream down my face and onto my t-shirt. The anger and fear and lack of understanding now stain my cheeks in the form of black mascara. How appropriate as I don’t feel a lot of light right now. I feel heaviness…sadness…darkness.

This is when I truly know that I understand very little about the Creator and his ways.
An example that God does not operate from a place of fairness. And aren’t we glad he doesn’t? If he did, some of us would be done for (myself included.)

I am having a really difficult time with this one. I know that it is not mine to always understand, but a little clarity would be great. I don’t think that it angers God to know how I really feel about this? He sees my heart anyway. Not much hiding going on here.

I know that he is faithful. All I have to do is look in the rear view mirror to see proof of that. However, that doesn’t make it hurt any less. And for those of you who say, “I’ll pray for her.” Don’t let those be empty words. Pray. Pray every chance you get. Pray in the bathroom stall at work, when you’re saying the blessing before a meal, when you’re sitting at your desk, as you’re browsing Facebook, driving to the grocery store…Pray without ceasing.

For those who are thinking, “Well, God has a plan.” Yes, I know that God has a plan, but that doesn’t lessen the painful reality that my friend is fighting something that wants to take her life.

So please spare me the christianese statements. I know them all by heart. In fact, don’t say anything for the sake of speaking. Just pray. Even if you have never prayed before. Start now. It’s easy. Just have a conversation. Start with, God…

When you do, picture my beautiful friend in your mind. Burn her image on your brain so that when you storm the gates of heaven with petitions for healing, you will know exactly who you are bringing before the throne of grace.

This is not another name on a “prayer chain.”
This is a beloved friend, daughter, sister, wife and mother.

I don’t know what the future holds, but in these times when my souls screams out, I am grateful that I know who holds the future. And right now, he is the only one who makes any sense at all.

Prostitutes have birthdays too

A fellow blogger and friend suggested I read this as she knew how much I would like it. She was right! I promise I have not turned this blog into sermon central, but I did want to share this from Tony Campolo with you. It made me think of all the times I miss opportunities to be Christ through my actions not my words. Thank you Pam for sharing this with me.

I had to go to speak in Honolulu. Well, sometimes you get L.A. and sometimes you get Honolulu. If you go to Honolulu, because of the distance from the east coast where I live, there’s a six‐hour time difference. And I woke up at about three o’clock in the morning and I was hungry and I wanted to get something to eat. But, in a hustling city like Honolulu at three o’clock in the morning, it’s hard to find anything that’s open. Up a side street, I spotted this greasy spoon, and I went in.

It was one of these dirty places and they didn’t have any booths, just row of stools at the counter. I sat down a bit uneasy and I didn’t touch the menu. It was one of those plastic menus and grease had piled up on it. I knew that if I opened it, something extraterrestrial would have crawled out. All of the sudden, this very heavy‐set, unshaved man with a cigar came out of the back room, put down his cigar, and said, “What do you want?”

I said, “I’d like a cup of coffee and a donut.”

He poured the coffee and then he scratched himself and, with the same hand, picked up the donut. I hate that. So, there I am, three‐thirty in the morning, drinking my coffee, and eating this dirty donut. And into the place comes about eight or nine prostitutes. It’s a small place, they sit on either side of me, and I tried to disappear.

The woman on my immediate right was very boisterous and she said to her friend, “Tomorrow’s my birthday. I’m going to be thirty‐nine.”
Her friend said, “So what do you want me to do? Do you want me to sing happy birthday? Should we have a cake? a party? It’s your birthday.”

The first woman said, “Look, why do you have to put me down? I’ve never had a birthday party in my whole life. I don’t expect to have one now.”

That’s all I needed.
I waited until they left and I called Harry over and I asked, “Do they come in here every night?
He said, “Yes.”
I said, “The one right next to me…”
“Agnes.”
“Tomorrow is her birthday. What do you think about decorating the place? When she comes in tomorrow night, we’ll throw a birthday party for her. What do you think?”

He said, “Mister, that is brilliant. That is brilliant!” He called his wife out of the back room. “Jan, come out here. I want you to meet this guy. He wants to throw a birthday party for Agnes.”

She came out and took my hand and squeezed it tightly, and said, “You wouldn’t understand this, mister, but Agnes is one of the good people, one of the kind people in this town. And nobody ever does anything for her, and this is a good thing. I said, “Can I decorate the place?” She said, “To your heart’s content.”

I said, “I’m going to bring a birthday cake…
Harry said, “Oh no! The cake’s my thing!”

So, I got there the next morning at about two‐thirty. I had bought the streamers at the K‐mart, strung them about the place. I had made a big poster – “”Happy Birthday Agnes” ‐ and put it behind the counter. I had the place spruced up. Everything was set. Everything was ready.

Jan, who does the cooking, she had gotten the word out on the street. By three‐fifteen, every prostitute was squeezed into this diner. People, it was wall‐to‐wall prostitutes and me!

Three‐thirty in the morning, in come Agnes and her friends. I’ve got everybody set, everybody ready. As they come through the door, we all yell, “Happy birthday Agnes!”

In addition, we start cheering like mad. I’ve never seen anybody so stunned. Her knees buckled. They steadied her and sat her down on the stool. We all started singing, “Happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to you!”

When they brought out the cake, she lost it and started to cry. Harry just stood there with the cake and said, “All right, knock it off Agnes. Blow out the candles. Come on, blow out the candles.” She tried, but she couldn’t, so he blew out the candles, gave her the knife, and said, “Cut the cake, Agnes.”

She sat there for a long moment and then she said to me, “Mister, is it okay if I don’t cut the cake? What I’d like to do, mister, is take the cake home and show it to my mother. Could I do that?” I said, “It’s your cake.” She stood up, and I said, “Do you have to do it now?”

She said, “I live two doors down. Let me take the cake home and show it to my mother. I promise you I’ll bring it right back.” And she moved toward the door carrying the cake as though it was the Holy Grail. As she pushed through the crowd and out the door, the door swung slowly shut and there was stunned silence. You talk about an awkward moment. Everyone was motionless. Everyone was still. I didn’t know what to say.

So, I finally said, “What do you say, we pray?” It’s weird looking back on it now. You know a sociologist leading a prayer meeting with a bunch of prostitutes at three‐thirty in the morning in a diner. But, it was the right thing to do.

I prayed that God would deliver her from what dirty filthy men had done to her. You know how these things start ‐ some ten, eleven, or twelve‐year‐old girl gets messed over and destroyed by some filthy man and then she goes downhill from there. And men use her and abuse her. I said, “God, deliver her and make her into a new creation because I’ve got a God who can make us new no matter where we’ve been or what we’ve been through.” And I prayed that God would make her new.

When I finished my prayer, Harry leaned over the counter and he said, “Campolo, you told me you were a sociologist. You’re no sociologist, you’re a preacher. What kind of church do you belong to?”

In one of those moments when you come up with just the right words, I said, “I belong to a church that throws birthday parties for prostitutes at three‐thirty in the morning.”

I’ll never forget his response. He looked back at me and he said, “No you don’t, no you don’t. I would join a church like that!

Wouldn’t we all? Wouldn’t we all like to belong to a church that threw birthday parties for prostitutes at three‐thirty in the morning? Well, I’ve got news for you. That is the kind of church that Jesus came to create. He came to bring celebration into people’s lives that have had nothing to celebrate.

This is true religion, says the epistle of James, to visit the fatherless, the widows, and the afflicted and bring celebration into their lives. He is the Christ who saves you from sin and fills you with his joy, commissions you to go out and to spread that joy to the world because the Lord has come.

The Lord has come. It’s a joy that comes from forgiveness of sins. It’s a joy that comes when you spread it to others by the grace of God. But lastly, it’s a great joy that is able to permeate your life even in the midst of hard times. Even in the midst of suffering. That’s what makes it different from happiness. Happiness depends on what happens. Joy is something that keeps you going even when what is happening isn’t going well at all.

You’re sick, have cancer, trouble with your children, marriage falling apart ‐ and in the midst of it all, we have these words from scripture, from Romans 8:28, “In the midst of all that’s going on, all the messes of your life, God is there with you, and he will enable you to bring something good out of it all if you just trust in him and allow his spirit to work through you to this end.”

You may ask, “Do we understand each other?” Nevertheless, what you’re thinking is, “You don’t understand. I’ve got a daughter. She’s on drugs my son’s messed up; he’s in jail. And it’s hopeless.” It’s never hopeless.

In the words of that great American theologian Yogi Berra, “It ain’t over till it’s over.” God will not give up on you or on your family. God will not give up on his world. He didn’t come into the world to condemn the world but to deliver it and to give to the world joy, joy, joy, joy, unspeakable joy.

I invite you to the Christ who will give you joy because your sins will be forgiven. Who will give you joy because he commissions you to share that joy with other people. And when the dark times come and the sorrows of life overwhelm you, there will be joy because you will know that beyond the present time is the glorious present, the glorious gift that God has in store for all who trust in him.

© Copyright Hour of Power 2009. This message was delivered by Tony Campolo from the pulpit of the Crystal Cathedral and aired on the Hour of Power, September 27, 2009.