Jan 26 2005

Mourning into Dancing

There is a song sung in our second service occasionally that I learned while attending an evening worship service at the Vineyard Church in Anaheim, California as a high school youth. The song “Mourning into Dancing,” a favorite of mine, became one of my regulars in my list of favorite worship songs that moved me and made me want to give God thanks for getting me through the roughest periods in my life. Psalm 30 meant as a dedication to the house of David actually a Psalm about a person going to God with thankfulness for their recovery from an illness. The Psalmist describes the feeling of being in a pit of despair and then being healed by the Lord. When the Lord moves and heals then the Psalmist responds with a dance, “You did it: you changed wild lament into whirling dance; You ripped off my black mourning band and decked me with wildflowers. I’m about to burst with song; I can’t keep quiet about you. God, my God, I can’t thank you enough.” (The Message) What a year thus far. How do we dance in the midst of tragedy? How do we dance while God is at work? And is he at work? I believe he is and I also believe he doesn’t desire his children to suffer. How do I answer these questions with those in the church who are asking why? My only answer as a naive young pastor is that we are and have been rescued by the grace of God and that we have a reason to dance. I am confident that one day we will dance.


Jan 26 2005

The Lunch Dude

“Dad, guess what?” “I made lunch monitor.” In a world where everyone gets picked and the loudest are chosen there’s the one who always feels they are seldom chosen for the best of jobs. My middle son for a week of his life was chosen to be the lunch monitor. I don’t know if he was more thrilled that he was chosen to do a job not many would want or it was that he was finally picked when all the others are usually chosen because they are the loudest or the teacher needs a break for a moment in time. Thank God for the times when we are chosen and thank God for choosing us even when we are left out or passed over. I love you son!