Laden with Thoughts

Tonight I was intending to write out a long, philosphical essay about my recent thoughts on life. Now that I’m here though… I don’t know what to say.

Life makes me tired. And I’m confused about things I’ve always thought myself to be sure of. We’re wasting our time down here, you know? We could be doing so much good. Taking so many chances. Trusting solely in God and leaving our foolish doubts and ideas behind.

Of course, when I say “we”, I mean “I”. I’m ashamed.

But that doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it.

My husband posted a few links to some songs my worship band recorded back in January. We’re planning on releasing a full-length album of acoustic hymns. If you’d like to listen, here’s a sampling. I’m the lead female vocal, while Josh plays the bass guitar.

(Please note that these were released to the general public against my will. Enh. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em, as the saying goes. Enjoy!)

It’s usually the little things that make me happy. Like today when I found two sweaters at Ann Taylor on sale… a black one for $14.99 and a pink one for $29.99 (both marked down from $80.00)! Or how about when a friend from the old Guild Board im’d me to say she had Jason Harrod in her living room? Those are two prime examples of little things that make me feel good.

Sometimes it’s the HUGE things that make me happy. The Boston Red Sox are 6 outs away from being World Series Champions! Ahhhhh! Happiness abounds.

Still, in the midst of happiness, certain questions come to mind. Happiness is wonderful, and a good thing to wish for… but why, oh why, do I so often wish for happiness and not for Joy? Happiness doesn’t last. Happiness fades away. (Watch me spill something on my new pink sweater tomorrow. Seriously. I have a problem.) Does Joy also fade, or is it something I can possess always? If I’m not feeling Joy at the moment, does it still exist within me, lurking, waiting for me to remember it?

When the Red Sox win (please please please) I will be so excited. So happy. But it won’t be enough. I want Joy. It’s embarrassing to admit that I spent more time these last few weeks talking and thinking about the World Series then I spent in the last few months talking and thinking about Jesus.

Josh and I are both involved in the worship ministry at our church, The First Congregational Church of Hopkinton. On our worship team, Josh plays the bass guitar and I am the lead female vocalist. Our team leads the congregation in worship once a month for both Sunday morning services.

Music has always been one of my greatest passions. I am so thankful God chose to give me some talent in the singing department, and I don’t consider it a coincidence that singing makes me more happy than most other things in my life. When I close my eyes and sing to God I find myself transported to a little world where only He and I exist. Singing is also an effective way of focusing my mind during devotions or prayer when I find my mind is wandering. There’s some kind of power involved with singing (and music in general) that I can’t explain.

After a service where my team has led worship, I inevitably have a few people come up to me and tell me how much they enjoyed the worship music that morning, or how a certain song encouraged them in some way. It’s so wonderful to hear how God changes people through my service to Him, so I look forward to getting that type of feedback. I’m sure that sometimes there are people who didn’t particularly enjoy the worship music that morning, but usually I don’t have them come up and say that to my face. (And that’s just fine with me!)

One piece of encouragement I often hear which challenges me each time I hear it is: You did such a wonderful job this morning. I could totally see the love of Jesus in your face.

Wow.

That floors me. What a precious gift God has given me! And what a burden. Sometimes I think these people see me as some kind of sweet, pure, young woman with an incredible relationship with Christ, whereas I see myself as an immature, impure, young girl with a struggling relationship with Christ. Obviously, they don’t know me apart from what they see of me on Sunday mornings. But the question remains in my mind: if these people saw me during the week, would they see the love of Jesus in my face?

Lord, let me be more like the woman these people see: a young woman with the love of Jesus shining through her.