. . . So, I Smile . . .

Have you ever realized who you are?

I hadn’t.

And part of me knows there is a lot yet to be known.

I am nothing. I am good at a lot of things, but not great at anything. I have messed up. I have made mistakes. I have broken relationships with friends and family. I speed. I tend to avoid the people who stink. I tend to look the other way when someone needs help if it would put me out to help them.

And I know that I am not alone. I know that you can fit yourself in some of those categories. You could probably add a couple that I could fit in too. We have messed up. Sure, it might be a consequence of the fall. It might be natural. It might be what everybody else does, but if you are anything like me, and I think you are, you feel like it is not enough.

We have messed up.

We have fallen short.

More accurately, I have messed up, I have fallen short.

And see, when that happens, when we mess up, there are a few choices that we could make. 1) I can either let that screw up define me and continue down that path that the mistake has set me on, or 2) We can start to realize who we are and live that out. Not who we are to us, but who we really are, the person that was written on our hearts to be, true to nothing else than what we were made to be.

The natural tendency is to travel down the road that is the easiest (that would be the first option). I want to do the easiest things. So i just keep doing what I have always done, which leads me to a place that is not good. It leads us to be people we are not. It leads me to be someone that I don’t know. It is a confusing and troubling place to be.

See, something happens at birth. We forget things. Or sometime between birth and that age that we begin to make decisions for ourselves, we forget who we are.

We.

Forget.

And so there I am.

Richard William Kohl. Born to Tim and Kim Kohl on the 14th of March in Oklahoma City.

Almost 23 years later. Unsure of who I am.

As it turns out, through the course of life I took up the habit of cutting my own hair. And so there I am. Head shaved. I clean up my mess and hop in the shower to rinse the hair off of me.

Have you ever felt uneasy? Like something is going to happen? Ya, it was one of those moments.

The wierdest thing happened.

I smiled. In the shower. And I couldn’t stop. :D

And then I got out. And I couldn’t stop smiling. I didn’t understand it. The haircut was good, but it wasn’t that great.

It was then that it hit me.

Even though I have screwed up. Even though I have broken relationships. Even though though I speed. Even though I avoid the smelly. Even though I avoid those in need. Even though I have a list of “even though’s” God loves me. Not for any reason other than I am me. I have value in him.

For while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:6-8 ESV)

Even though we were still enemies of God. Even though he was not even a thought in my mind, he died for me.

I am worth something to God. He wants me. He values me.

And not only does he want me, he is pursuing after me. He desperately wants to be in relationship with me.

So I smile.

Even though I may be used up. Even though I have compromised. Even though I may have broken relationships. Even though my tendencies have missed the mark. Even though I may not be of any value, or a cheapened value. Even though . . .

The love of God, the way God pursues me, the way God pursues you, the way God pursues us, that gives us value. That gives us worth.

So who am I?

I am just that kid with the stupid grin on his face because I have value, because even though I was his enemy, Christ died for me. God so passionately loves me not for anything I have done, not for anything I can do, not for anything I have, but simply because I am me. That is enough for him.

My question to you is this, do you know who you are? Can you smile about who you are? Do you realize that you are loved, not for anything you can do, just simply because you are you.

Kinda brings a smile to your face huh?


The Old Has Gone

I am not really sure what it is that I want to say, or what it is that God is laying on my heart to share: but I know there is something there, so I write. I apologize in advance if this is not fluid and it jumps around a lot.

You can always tell.

You can always tell right when God is getting something big ready. Well, not always, but sometimes. That is when Satan decides to attack. The funny thing is I used to expect the attacks to come in a bottle, or a high, or a scantily clad lady, or whatever you may have. But you know, there really hasn’t been much of that. Really, the attacks are much more simple. Much more refined. Much more honed in. I am reminded of when we invaded Iraq, I heard a war expert talking about our weapon technology and its growth; it has gone from which city do we want to hit, to which street, to which building, to which floor, to which window do we want the bomb to hit.

Those are the attacks we face. Satan comes for our window, something designed especially for us. For many of us, including me, it comes in the form or reminding us of the past. Reminding us of the moments where we least lived up to the name of Christ. Reminding us of those times where we failed.

And it is not like it is an, “oh ya, remember that?” But is a, “hey, remember that, you don’t deserve anything because of that. You won’t ever be able to make up for that. You failed. How could God forgive you?” Most of the time we, I, you, can push that voice to the side. We can shut it up long enough to smile and get through the day, but slowly the echoes of the taunts come back. And then as you are laying in bed, drifting off, it hits you, takes your breath, draws tears. We roll over, accepting that we have come up short and can never recover from it as the accusations ring out in our hearts:

You. Have. Failed.

You. Are. A. Failure.

No one. Loves. Me.

I. Am. Worth. Nothing.

Our failures line up to accuse us. We have no defense. The present their case and we declare ourselves guilty, punishable unto death.

Guilty.

I’ve had “It is Well” by Horatio Spafford in my head all day. More specifically, I have had the third verse stuck in my head today; that is usually how God speaks to me, he puts something in there and drives me nuts with it until I get it (I am still trying to figure out what he is saying through the “Bed Intruder” song, I don’t have any kids, wives, or husbands to hide . . . I’m still clueless). The third verse goes a little something like this:

“My sin, Oh the bliss of this glorious thought! My sin, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to the cross and I bear it no more! Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, Oh my soul!

What a beautiful thought. I didn’t always get this. The way the song is sung I always thought that the glorious thought that brought bliss was his sin, it didn’t make much sense to me. It wasn’t until years later that I actually read the verse and looked at the punctuation and figured out that the bliss and the glory flow from the fact that all of our sin is nailed to the cross and no longer do we have to bear the weight of who we were, but can live in the freedom of who we are in Christ. Wow.

I bear it no more.

A dear friend recently shared a scripture with me. It is a verse that has come, in this past year, to define how it is that I try to live my life. Isn’t it quite awesome (as in awe inspiring, not as in really cool, although both would work, I am going for awe inspiring) how God gives you certain people through whom he speaks? Isn’t it awesome how God throws a scripture into your life at just the right time to remind you? This happened to me the other day with this friend. It was one of those days where my window was being targeted, where my failures had lined up to accuse me, and in flew this scripture:

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come. (2 Corinthians 5:17 ESV)

How is it that we forget? How is that we can allow those things that have no power over us any longer to have power over us? How is it that we manage to live in the past? How is it that we manage forget?

I suppose what I wanted to remind you, well actually, remind myself of is this: those things that Satan lines up against us, those things that haunt our past, those things that have been done out of our fleshly desires ARE DEAD! They no longer hold anything over us. The creator of this world has chosen to make you new, he has chosen to slay the dragons of your past, of my past, and create something new in you, in me.

The failures, the short comings, the mistakes of the past, those things are dead.

Look! The new, the good, the pure, the holy things have come to life in you!

Our sin, not just part of it, but every last mistake, failure, and shortcoming has been nailed to the cross and it is ours no longer! PRAISE THE LORD, OH MY SOUL!

The old has gone, and the new has come.


Its Out of My Hands

Have you ever tried to control something? Have you ever tried to handle things on your own? Usually I am pretty good at it. Or so it seems. Usually I can keep things under control and get my desired result. I am good at that, I am good at getting the outcome that I want. For the most part. I know how to manipulate time, space, and the limits of human beings to get the desired result. This is not something that is unique to me, it is something that most students learn they can do when it is midnight and there is a paper due in 8 hours and no research has been started. Somehow, that paper will be done. We are all good at getting our desired results. Not only can we manipulate time, space, and human limits, but we also learn how to manipulate people. I know that if I say just the right thing, just the right way, I can get this desired reaction which will get me to my end. Everything is in MY hands. Everything is in MY control. MY plans, MY time, MY life, MY way, and it is in MY control.

It is in MY hands.

It is in MY control.

It is MY plan.

If we could travel in time and go back about 6 years and ask me what my plans were, I would have said nothing about seminary, let alone ministry. It probably would have been something simple; go to Clark State, live at home for a while, try to get in with a company here to get a decent paying job so I could eventually move out. The normal life. Nothing to spectacular. But I had to go Nashville. I had to pay attention to the speaker on the last day of IYC. I had to go to New York City. I had to pray about what I wanted to do with my life (not because I actually wanted to, but because that is what good Christians do). MY plans got screwed up. MY plans were messed up. MY plans got thrown out the door. I was just beginning to like what I saw. I was just beginning to become Rick. I was just getting the picture of MY life together.

When MY plans change, it is frustrating. Sometimes even infuriating. I have everything under control. I have things right where I want them to be. Do not change them. MY pawns are in perfect position. MY strategy is perfect. Leave it alone. But I got ambushed. This God, he is a gutsy guy. This God, he almost comes off rude. I have MY plans, I have MY ambitions, and here is God saying, “Hey, you need to do this, you need to go here, you need to do that.” I have everything under control. Just trust me God, I got this. These are MY plans. These aren’t just some willy-nilly plans, this is MY plan.

But something happens. I can’t exactly tell you what it is. But you know what it is. You know what I am talking about. You know what it feels like. You know what it looks like. Something convinces you that the shift of plans is necessary, that the shift of plans is good, that it is for the better. So you do it. I did it. I shifted my plans. Now I am living in Indiana. With a fantastic group of people. Miles away from even being able to be within cell phone service to reach where my plans would have had me.

Matthew West has a song from his first album called “Out of My Hands,” It goes a little something like this:

There you go changing my plans again, there you go shifting my sands again. For reasons I don’t understand again, lately I don’t have a clue

Just when I start liking what I see, there you go changing my scenery. I never know where you’re taking me, but I’m trying just to follow you

It’s out of my hands It’s out of my reach It’s over my head And it’s out of my league There’s too many things That I don’t understand So it’s into your will And it’s out of my hands

There you go healing these scars again Showing me right where you are again I’m helpless, and that’s where I start again I’m giving it all up to you

It’s out of my hands It’s out of my reach It’s over my head And it’s out of my league There’s too many things That I don’t understand So it’s into your will And it’s out of my hands

Move me, make me, choose me, change me, send me, shake me, find me, remind me, the past is behind me, take it all away, take it all from me, I pray

It’s out of my hands It’s out of my reach It’s over my head And it’s out of my league There’s too many things That I don’t understand So it’s into your will And it’s out of my hands

I can’t even begin to describe how close to home this hits. Isn’t it funny how just when we get comfortable, it all shifts? Isn’t it funny how just when we like where we are, the sands shift, there is a call to go deeper, the scenery changes, and it hurts, and it is full of mystery and unknown, but it ends up being beautiful. Learning to let go, learning to take the control out of our hands, learning to let go of OUR plans, learning to just follow, learning to be ok with not knowing is not easy, and I am not sure if anyone ever does completely. But I am learning that it is a choice that is made second by second, minute by minute, hour by hour, day by day.

So many times we choose to live in the first verse:

Confused; Isn’t this where God has called me? Doesn’t God care that I am happy here?

Without a clue; What is happening God, I don’t get it. Why would you let this happen? Why wouldn’t you stop this? Why wouldn’t you fix this?

Lost; Where am I God? Where are you God? Is this where you are leading me? Where am I supposed to go?

Struggling just to keep up; God, please, slow down, don’t leave me behind, don’t forget about me, please, just slow down, just for a second so I can catch my breath.

But how beautiful, majestic, peaceful, would life be if we chose instead to live life in the second verse? Sure, we will still experience all of the things from verse one, but looks at what happens; scars are healed, newness is brought to life, completeness is brought to life, adventure is brought to life. And the beautiful thing is, when we chose to live in verse two and those moments come that we are completely lost, that we are confused, without a clue, lost, struggling just to keep up, struggling just to keep our head above water, it is those moments that the light begins to shine. Once our strength is gone, once we recognize that we do not have what it takes, that we are helpless, that we can’t move anymore and we give it up. When we throw what we have away. When I throw MY plans out the window. When we acknowledge that there are too many things we don’t understand, that is when it leaves our hands.

Our scars are healed.

Our fears become joy.

Mystery becomes awesome.

Not knowing becomes ok.

 

This is out of my hands.

This is out of my reach.

This is over my head.

This is out of my league.

I just don’t understand.

So, I will commit this to you.

This is out of my hands and into your will, Lord.


Hope Is the Thing With Feathers . . .

In reality, hope is the worst of all evils, because it prolongs man’s torments.  ~Friedrich Nietzsche, Human, All Too Human, 1878

I watch the CBS show Criminal Minds. There is this episode about a couple, married criminals, who distract unsuspecting parents away from their children and then they kidnap the children. The premise of the show is that a woman’s son was kidnapped eight years ago and she has held on to hope all this time, the hope that her son is not dead, but alive. She believes this because she saw her son one time, a truck passed by and he was gone, but that one instance has driven her to cling to the hope that her son is still alive. This hope has driven her to drink. This hope has driven her to be the “crazy” of the town. This hope has prolonged her torment.

The show opened with the quote from Nietzsche.

Hope. Is. Evil.

I was taken back by this. How can hope be evil? How can this thing that has saved so many, be evil? How is it that Nietzsche can be so quick to take down the thing that has been credited with saving lives and inspiring people to do incredible things? Can hope be evil? I get what he is saying, as reality does not allow us to see the truth, as the ending for some stories do not come, our hearts and our minds grasp at hope, that somewhere in the world, some how, something good does exist and something good will bring our children back, that the husband or wife who walked out will return, that the news of the dead soldier has mistakenly reached the wrong family, that good really does win in the end.

November 26, 2006. I was on my way to the airport to return to Lake Wales to finish my first semester of college. Mom was driving. Grandpa Kohl had fallen at the Wittenberg game and Grandma needed help so Dad went to help her and sent Mom and I to the airport. As we were passing Snyder Park Mom’s phone rang, she answered it and said, “What do you mean they couldn’t save him?” Grandpa had died. As she turned the car around I told Mom to shut-up, that it wasn’t true. My heart and my mind began to cling to the hope that maybe they just are having a little bit of trouble working on him, maybe he isn’t quite gone yet. As we arrived at the hospital, we walked in, and there he was, laying on the table, gone. The hope that I had clung to all the way to the hospital, the hope that my Grandpa wasn’t dead, simply ended, and the torment began.

Hope. Is. Evil.

So many times on the news I see stories of families who have children or parents that go missing, they hold onto hope that they are still alive, that maybe they just got lost on a walk, maybe they fell and were hurt, maybe they are just being held for ransom, whatever it is, their hearts allow them to hope in what seems impossible. And for what? For years later, years of hoping and looking just to surface in a pile of bones that bring the hope crashing down. Or maybe it is to find out that they are still alive, but they have run off with another man or woman, that they so desperately wanted away from you, from the kids, from whoever, that they just left without so much as a goodbye. Hope does nothing but prolong the torment, it is the torturer of  our soul.

Hope. Is. Evil.

Maybe Friedrich Nietzsche was right. Maybe there is no reason to hope. Maybe there is no ending  this world that is good. Maybe things never really work out in the end. Maybe hope is the most futile thing that we can do and the most cruel gift that God has given us.

But what is it that keeps us alive? What is it that motivates us to go? It is hope. I write this in hope that you will read it to the end, I will be getting out of bed soon in hopes that there is some food I can eat for breakfast, I will shower in hopes that I will not stink, I do everything, you do everything out of hope. Hope is the reason that I am alive, I hope that one day I will be in full time vocational ministry with the woman of my dreams. I hope that one day I will have kids. I hope one day to buy a house. I hope one day to own a new car. I hope one day that I will see my maker. I hope that tomorrow will come. I hope in the salvation that Christ has promised me. I hope in promises that God has made to never leave me, to never forsake me.

Hope. Is. Life-Giving.

Hope. Is. Restoring.

Hope. Is. Good.

Hope – Emily Dickinson

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune–without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I’ve heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

I love the first line of the second stanza “And sweetest in the gale is heard.” When the storms of this life blow us to and fro, when they knock us down, when we are out of strength, it is then that hope whispers in our ear, “This will end, there is something more.” Oh how sweet the moment is when we realize, there is more than this storm.

Hope. Is. Evil. But only when we are hoping for something less. Only when we are hoping in the midst of the storm, rather than hoping for what is outside of the storm. Hope cannot be evil if we are hoping in something, in someone who can calm the storm that is around us. Hope is the thing that walks us to the end and whispers in our ear, “Well done, my good and faithful servant.”

Hope. It is the thing with feathers.


Community (not the NBC show)

So, I’m kind of responsible now. I pay rent. I pay a utility. I pay insurance. I have a car payment. I buy groceries. I try to eat healthy (and fail normally). I pay for my own gas. I am basically self sufficient except for my cell phone. Daddy Kohlbucks (you know, like Warbucks from Annie, only Kohlbucks. Its ok, you know its funny, feel free to laugh) takes care of that. I’m not really a fan of this “grown-up” thing, because it cost money. I have come to the realization that pay days are not good days, they actually suck, because all the money is basically claimed by those who need my money so I can live and continue to be self sufficient. But it is fun.

And here is the moment you have  waited for for the past 137 words, the twist in the plot.

As it turns out, while I am “cutting the cord” I am making a new cord. While I am becoming self sufficient I am developing this thing that is new to me. When I moved to Anderson, I was by myself, I didn’t know anyone out here. I knew I would grow up here, I knew that I would learn to support myself, and I knew that I would make friends, probably friends for life. But I never expected what was to come. I have found this community here that I am not even sure how to describe. This group of people here, at this seminary, in this town, has become a source of survival for me. While one cord was cut, another was made. (yes, i know that is a bad representation, and probably a bad picture, but I am rolling with it).

I like to say that when I moved out here I was slapped in the face with this community. Before I knew it I was playing Settlers of Katan with Xen, Tim, Nikki, Jael, and Armando, Amity and Scott. I met the awesome eating force of Jacob Coppess. Then I met the rest of the people that started this year along with me. People like Kelsey, Canfield, Kayla, Michael (even though you didn’t start this year), Jenny, Drew, Becca and more. I have found this group of people keep me going. This group of people, in their own way, provide what it is that I need keep on going. I was slapped in the face by community.

I never expected to be embraced and welcomed in like I have here at this place. I am not just in seminary. I am not  just friends with people. But there is a community about this place. My language has changed. I have friends, but more importantly, they are my community. Like I said, I am not sure how to go about explaining this. But this community here, this new thing that I have experienced has finally connected with the 1 Corinthians passage with my life, I finally understand this many members thing that Paul talks about here:

1 Corinthians 12:12 – 31 (ESV) 12For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ.  13For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body—Jews or Greeks, slaves£ or free—and all were made to drink of one Spirit. 14For the body does not consist of one member but of many.  15If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body.  16And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body.  17If the whole body were an eye, where would be the sense of hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell?  18But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose.  19If all were a single member, where would the body be?  20As it is, there are many parts,£ yet one body. 21The eye cannot say to the hand, “I have no need of you,” nor again the head to the feet, “I have no need of you.”  22On the contrary, the parts of the body that seem to be weaker are indispensable,  23and on those parts of the body that we think less honorable we bestow the greater honor, and our unpresentable parts are treated with greater modesty,  24which our more presentable parts do not require. But God has so composed the body, giving greater honor to the part that lacked it,  25that there may be no division in the body, but that the members may have the same care for one another.  26If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. 27Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.  28And God has appointed in the church first apostles, second prophets, third teachers, then miracles, then gifts of healing, helping, administrating, and various kinds of tongues.  29Are all apostles? Are all prophets? Are all teachers? Do all work miracles?  30Do all possess gifts of healing? Do all speak with tongues? Do all interpret?  31But earnestly desire the higher gifts.

I know that was long. but it is what I have experienced. It is what is changing my life. It is what is shaping what the next three years of my life will be.

That is what community is. The people who shape you, stand with you, share life with you, love you, cry with you, and laugh with you.

This is so much more than academic. Maybe the academic is minor in this experience. Maybe learning what the Church can be, should be, is the purpose of this all.

Maybe its all about community.


Football, Blogging, and Not Doing Homework

So I have 2 hours to get some homework done and get to work, but Uga VII just took the throne as the new Georgia Bulldog; which got me to thinking instead of doing homework.

How cool would it be to have a living mascot and not just a just in a costume? Or even better, what about a guy who rides on a horse with either a spear that is on fire (FSU) or a sword (USC). That’d be really cool. Even still even better than that, how cool would it be to be the guy on the horse with the spear or the sword. I used to get in trouble for sword fighting (with sticks from the backyard), but these guys get paid for it. How cool is that.

If you know me, I am a Buckeye. I have a relationship with Jesus Christ, but Buckeye football is my religion. Some of my most spiritual moments came at the horseshoe. I will never forget seeing Script Ohio for the first time, seeing Eddie George rushing for a 95 yard touchdown and feeling the stadium shake with the cheers and jumps of 90,000+ fans. It was pure incredibleness. Or walking on the the track around the old field at the end of the UCLA night game in ’99 with my dad and seeing these monstrous “god’s” of men up close. Or even just watching the ’97 Rose Bowl on TV and watching Joe Germaine and David Boston take it to Jake Plummer and the Arizona State Sun Devils. Seeing a whole class of Wolverines NEVER know what it is like to beat Ohio State. Winning a National Championship in 2002. Buckeye football is a spiritual thing.

Actually, sports in general is a spiritual thing.

A lot of my great childhood memories revolve around my Dad and I going to Columbus EARLY on Saturday mornings, stopping at the Bob Evans at the Rome Hilliard Exit I believe and then heading to the skull session at St. Johns arena before heading to the “Shoe” to see the game. We would then collect the cups to take home.

I remember once in the 6th grade, I had just broken my wrist, but insisted that I had to go to the game, and we did. They played Purdue that day and I remember laughing because when the drummers for their band came out they were checking their line to make sure they were straight. Dad said only an engineering school would do that. I laughed. Didn’t get it then, but I do now! We sat in the closed end of the stadium that day. We also saw a guy puking bright orange throw up in the bathroom. Why do we remember the things we do?

I think it is because of what happens in those moments. Growth happens. Relationships are born or strengthened. In this case with my dad. Sports are spiritual.

We remember the things we do because it is in those moments that we become who we are. I didn’t think that a guy having almost neon orange puke in a restroom at an Ohio State football game is a part of who I am, but it was not that one guy and his oddly colored barf, but the fact that I had broken my wrist in several places less than a week before, and my dad still took me to a game, knowing how important it was to me. And it probably had a lot to do with he wanted to go to the game as well, we had great seats that week, but I remember it how I remember it!

And then there are the memories with Grandpa, going to Wittenberg games, he would pick me up on Saturdays and we would drive over to Edwards-Mauer Field and watch the games.  I hated the Port-A-Potties, but I would always get a slice of pizza at half time and Grandpa would get a Brat. One of my best memories is of getting lost on our way to Earlham, and then getting lost on the campus of Earlham, finding the field, watching the last quarter and going home after being there for about 30 minutes!

I am not sure of what my point of this was. I suppose there should be one. But there really is not, other than the fact that my favorite memories from my childhood involve my dad and I going to Ohio State football games and how spiritual those moments were.

Partly because I believe whole heartedly that heaven and earth meet at the Horseshoe, that is the one tangent point, and partly because of who I was with and how that shaped my life.

Thanks for the memories Dad.

 


Be Still and Know

I do not like sitting still. I am constantly bouncing my leg, doodling, moving around in my chair. I am like an anxious 5-year-old with a new playground at home, but now I have to sit through Church and be quiet.

I hate being still.

I am moving right now. My leg is bouncing as if the world would crash if it stopped.

But I came across a scripture in my devotions this morning, and this song “happened” to come on the shuffle play of my iTunes library.

Psalms 46:10 “Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations. I will be exalted in the earth.”

Be still, Be still, Be still, Be still.

My body cries out no, my heart screams yes, the anxiousness of the quiet in my soul says no. And yet there is peace when I am still. When I quiet the things of me, when I put to rest my day and just be still in the presence of God, it’s a powerful thing. I know that this has become almost a clichéd topic, to be still. But it’s so powerful.

It is then that we find out insecurities, our reservations, our hurts, our pains, our deep soul needs, and it is then that we can offer them to God, it is then that we can begin healing and begin to live in the new life that is promised us by Christ.

Steven Curtis Chapman has a song on his “Speechless” album called “Be Still and Know” it is a recreation of the old hymn, here are his lyrics:

Be still and know that He is God
Be still and know that He is holy
Be still oh restless soul of mine
Bow before the prince of Peace
Let the noise and clamor cease

Be still and know that He is God
Be still and know that He is faithful
Consider all that He has done
Stand in awe and be amazed
And know that He will never change
Be still

Be still and know that He is God
Be still and know that He is God
Be still and know that He is God
Be still
Be speechless

Be still and know that He is God
Be still and know He is our Father
Come rest your head upon His breast
Listen to the rhythm of
His unfailing heart of love
Beating for His little ones
Calling each of us to come
Be still
Be still

Let the noise and clamor cease….

Be Still….

Consider all that he has done, stand in awe and be amazed, know that he will never change….

Be Still….

Come rest your head upon his breast, listen to the rhythm of his unfailing heart of love beating for his little ones, calling each of us….

Be Still….

What wonders could happen if we would just be still?

“I will be exalted among the nations.”

“I will be exalted in all the earth.”


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