Returning to a place I've never been, Part 1

As my page views count inches toward the 1000 mark, I realize that, quite possibly, many of you reading might not know me well, or might not know me well recently, so I am giving you a little look into my past with this post.  Who knew that today your computer/phone/tablet screen would become a crystal ball (sorry no futures, those are beyond my control.  But they are discussed a bit later, so stick around)!

I have grown up the oldest daughter of two colossal music nerds and talented musicians.  Even when I was very little, much of our interactions involved singing, playing, listening, and learning music.  Although I never was diligent enough to pick up piano skills; the love of music, and the awe of it's nearly limitless capabilities to express emotion and portray insight, has stuck with me (as you can probably guess from the number of posts tagged "music" on this blog).  This very much included songs and tunes in the Episcopal tradition, but by no means was it confined to that.

I want to share with you a song that, musically, captivated my attention as a preschooler and helped me to learn one of the most well known bible stories of all time.  The verse lyrics are as follows:

And there was day, and there was night
There was dark, and there was light
There was the earth, there was the sky
And there in the tree, There crawled a lie
There in Eden there was good
There in the garden where the Tree of Life stood
There the snake was, there the pain
And we're tryin' to get back to the garden again
There was fire, there was rain
There was talk, there was shame
They were moanin', they were cryin'
But there still is a glimmer in the big man's eye

To me, that covers so much ground, but the part that made it captivating was the musical style.  So listen here for yourself, there'll be a quiz later so don't skip this bit! It's pretty soothing, and if you've never heard the stylings of Bobby McFerrin before, well...I don't know where you've been, he's unbelievably talented. Plus it is a Capella, which is always a bonus. Passengers please plug in your headphones and prepare for departure, or unmute your speakers and draw inquisitive looks from your neighbors; it's totally your call.


So, what did you think? Like it?  I hope so, cause that riff is very prone to getting stuck in heads.

More importantly, did you catch my favorite part? (I know you can't exactly answer this because I haven't told you what my favorite part is, so how would you know?)
Remember, above you have all the lyrics to this song.

All the lyrics, except two.  The best two.  My favorite two.  The most important two.

At the first refrain, while the google-able lyrics show no words, there are those two words there.  If you have no idea what I'm talking about (which, to be honest, I don't most of the time either, so you're in good company), listen again right around the 1:20 mark.

You hear it now? While the rest of the song describes the Christian creation narrative, depicting the initial perfection and the later ensuing painful deviation from the plan, these words are different.  They ring out bright and clear over the rest, a still small voice repeating an ancient invitation:

Come Back

What, to me, is most lovely about this piece is how perfectly it captures this incomprehensible invitation felt soul-deep by the billions called throughout time.  The call of the creator started at the very beginning of our separation and will persist until that separation is discernible no more, for every individual ever fathomed.  It is unrelenting, unyielding, unconquerable,  unwavering, undeserved, undiscriminating, and unimaginably beautiful.

And those two words sound so very simple.  So far removed from the complexities of earthly things like calculus, organ playing, navigating cross-country without maps, or even making this artery-clogging recipe for breakfast.  So why is this two word invitation so much more difficult even than things that take people years to master? I mean, seriously, how many people try their whole lives for this goal? More realistically, how many people never even consider pursuing it in the first place?  How many might be world-blind to it's existence?  When I look around at individuals that claim no faith, or a faith in name only, I have to wonder if they, too, feel this bizarre calling to a "higher purpose" or "greater things" or "non-religious spiritual zen" or whatever they call it.  Most people can easily admit to wanting "something more" from life, but rarely can they ever name it.  And, of those of us who can name it, how many ever say we've achieved it within our earthly lifetimes?  If you know one, please have them contact me so I can get my total count up to 1.

Well, for starters, most of us independent, self-sufficient, autonomous beings don't usually like to admit we are incapable of something.  I mean, if asking for help in a store, or directions in an unfamiliar town is daunting, I understand why a task like this, where everyone is incapable of solo success, is not a comfortable goal.  Possibly the only ones who ever feel slightly more comfortable with this (although it's kinda equivalent to getting an extra millimeter head start in a journey to circumnavigate the globe) are those of us who are living with long term illness or disease and have brutally confronted our dependence on divine grace (mine was in dealing with Bi-Polar disorder, but there is similar camaraderie with those battling other mental illnesses, addictions, or long-term diseases such as lupus, fibromyalgia, or cancer). Answering the call to "Come Back" necessitates that we rely on the Holy Spirit, not as an adult with a broken foot on crutches, but with an utter dependence akin to that of an infant depending on caregivers for nearly every single thing; possibly more apropos is the analogy of an unborn child's dependence on the mother for physical protection, food, and every vital molecule of oxygen.  Unlike the broken foot and crutches, you do not "recover" from this need.  The dependence only ends at birth.  Or, in our case, whatever comes after our transition out of this life, when all systems as we know them will be changed.

Whew...so I'm guessing at this point, after all that, you might be a bit contemplative, but also more than a bit frustrated with me, since you're preferred post length is about up, and you still have little to no idea what the title of this post actually has to do with the purpose of this blog about my missionary work.  In all fairness, I'm a bit frustrated, too, because this didn't quite go in the direction I envisioned when I started typing a few minutes ago.  Also, my laptop battery is dying.  So the good news for you is that I am now forced to get this show on the road before the black screen signaling an unprepared computer owner becomes my tragic demise.

So we've established two things, I think: 1. We are all called to reunite with our creator, God.  2. We need some serious help to do this, and that help is supplied by the Holy Spirit. (And the third that I'll mention since yesterday was Trinity Sunday so it would be weird to leave it out: 3. The road to 1, aided by 2, was paved by 3: the death of Jesus Christ)

The coolest news for me, since I already knew I wanted to blog about this song, and discuss the topic of "Call" as it relates to my life in the past and going forward with YASC, is that, since it was Trinity Sunday, there are now lots of recently posted resources about much of this, including the following (perfectly timed) excerpt from my Godfather's Blog/Sermon:

In a book of essays called Lux Mundi, Charles Gore, an influential 19th century Anglican theologian wrote about “The Holy Spirit and Inspiration.” He said there are four characteristics of the work of the Spirit: “it is 1) social rather than individualistic; 2) it nourishes the unique individuality of each person; 3) it consecrates every faculty of human nature, including the physical, spiritual, and intellectual; and 4) it works gradually rather than suddenly.”[1]
[1] Glorious Companions: Five Centruies of Anglican Spirituality, Richard H. Schmidt, “Charles Gore: Liberal or Conservative?,” p. 209-210; Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Co., Grand Rapids, 2002.

The rest of the sermon is really cool, too, especially if you know more about golf movies than me, so if you've got a couple more minutes once you finally get to the end of this entry (or give up on it, your call, I'll never truly know that you did, I guess, so cheat the system if you so desire) I really encourage you to take a look there as well.

So let's start with another excerpt.  This one is from my Spiritual Journey essay that I've written as a part of this whole process.  The whole this is actually about 3000 words longer than recommended (much like this entry), so the fact that this is less than one paragraph from it means I'm trying to be minimally considerate.

When I was 16 I attended a national weekend retreat event with my diocese.  It was touted as a fun event with cool music, so I didn't expect much in the way of overwhelming spirituality.  However, the first night after the speaker finished, he called up a number of adult volunteers, both lay and ordained, to be available to anyone called to ask for prayer.  This wasn't unusual or strange to me, but it wasn't something I'd ever done before.  I'd always assumed it was intended for kids who were really struggling with their parents, with drugs or alcohol, with "real" life issues that I had never had to face.  On this night, however, the speaker came back to the mic briefly and made an additional statement.  He spoke to the need of young people to allow themselves to relinquish control over aspects of their lives that should rightly belong to God.  In this moment, I knew unequivocally that I was called to do this.  I hesitantly stood up and made my way to the line in the side aisle.  After reaching the front, I was guided to pray with a couple of priests, one male, and one female.  They asked if I had something specific to pray for.  I couldn't adequately communicate anything I was feeling and just shook my head "no".  I have no memory of half of what they said, but I do recall that a portion of it included an ancient Hebrew prayer. What I do recall, clear as day almost 10 years later, is this: I was to give up control of my career choices along with my dating/relationships as something for God to control.  I knew that, after I spent more time learning and growing, that I would be called to be a youth minister.  I knew that I would not take a very traditional route to success, but that if I listened to the guidance that would always come from God, I would be able to serve in happiness for the remainder of my life.  I was to shift my focus as a teenager from worldly desires to building a relational community that would support its members and honor Christ.

 Still wondering where this is going/ending?  Well, since it's after a quarter to 1 am, you'll have to excuse me if I leave you hanging.  Mostly because there's very little you can do about it.