The Sky

Prologue

Well, I had another post, a video, in which I had three or four short points to cover  about goofy things about Malawi.  But went I went to tape it, I started improvising, and by the time I had finished, I had seventeen minutes of straight video.  Now, though this was rather ridiculous, I needed something to post, and so decided to put it up.  Fortunately for all of you, the blog uploader wouldn't accept the file, and it was too long for my youtube account.  I could find no way to split it (I had edited it slightly), and so I gave up.  But then I decided to go back and look at stuff I had written previously, but never posted, and found this one.  It's from about three months ago, but no matter.  I was really in the mood to be goofy this post, but this is a serious post.  Actually, as it was written before, I guess I've ended up being exactly nothing.  Perhaps I will redo my other video and limit myself to two minutes.  I don't know if I can actually do that.  But be that as it may, I shall now stop rambling and leave you in peace. 

 The Sky

Tonight we went to an Indian festival called Diwali. Thousands of Indians gathered out in a field in Limbe to celebrate their god's victory over evil. The field was surrounded with lights so bright that I effectually forgot it was night, and music pounded out of an impressive array of speakers surrounding a giant stage. I've been missing the sound of bass (yearning for it, actually) when I listen to music over here, but this music pulsated with such a seriously heavy bass line that I stopped missing it in the space of about a minute and a half, on the outside. The music pounded on and on. I finally got tired of sitting there listening to it, so I attempted to ignore it and have a conversation with some of the people I was with. I knew I was failing failed miserably when I glanced down at my knee and saw it bouncing uncontrollably in time. I clapped my hand down on it and held it on the ground.

As the music and lights broadcast themselves to the world, I leaned back in my chair and gazed up at the sky. There was nothing to see. It was dark, but more a smeary gray than anything else. Three or four starts were visible, but they were dull and uninspired looking. What kind of fool would rather gaze up there than at the dazzling array of stimuli down in the field? Suddenly, the thought of the grandeur and majesty that the sky actually holds popped into my mind. Wasn't it weird that this array of contraptions looked more majestic than the universe did from where I was? This thought was quickly followed by another: that I am stuck here on this planet, lost in its wonders and literally unable to see the truly wonderful, really real thing that is above me and all around me. I get caught up in all the trappings of this life, both good and bad, and never see above my own little field. I never grasp how great the sky is.

God would have me break free, and fly away from the trappings of this world into the sky! He would have me know what is really important and lasting and real.

But I cannot. I will never be able to. There is no way on earth that I could have lifted myself out of my seat and into that night sky, though I desperately wanted to. In the same way, there is no way I can lift myself out of this world into the sky of God's perfection. I am hopelessly trapped.

I became aware of the lights and the pounding music with a crash. As I waded through the program, I kept thinking of the sky. On stage, the dances were varied. Sometimes they were beautiful tradition dances. On occasion, they more resembled a night club. The music was always loud, the lights were always blinding. An endless procession flew across the stage and I all but forgot the sky. The lights and the people and the music kept on. A dance finished, and I sat back in my seat, waiting dully for the next to begin. But then fireworks suddenly burst from the night sky. People turned around, stood up, gazed upward with cries of delight. The sky which had seemed so dreary before was filled with light and beauty. The sky's confusion was made clear. It had been undesirable, but was now eagerly sought. (If you've ever seen the fireworks show in D.C. on Independence day, you'll have an inkling of what this was like.) Suddenly from nowhere, God spoke again (my thoughts from before were of course God, too, because anything, I am learning, I think that is above this world could only be from Him). I suddenly saw that that was where God wants me. He doesn't want me to sit down here in a grassy field trying to see what on earth is so special about some crummy old sky that I can't see anyway. He wants me, broken free, a reminder born of the earth, to soar like those fireworks into the sky where I can see Him, and where the world can see me, and be drawn upwards to Him. You see, when those fireworks started, the music was still pounding. But soon, even it faded to nothing in the face of the fireworks' splendor. It is only when I have broken free, fled this life, lost this life that I can truly be full, and it is not until I am truly full that I can change the world. If I, like the woman at the well, fill myself up on things of this world, I will become thirsty again. Relationships, jobs, causes, and people's opinions cannot fill me up. They just keep falling down the black hole in my heart and leave me thirstier than before. (There's a great song about seeking the wrong things in a life that is striving for God—Every Little Prison by Matt Maher—that I've been loving.) Only Christ can fill me so that I will never be thirsty again.

But even this simple surrender I cannot do on my own. If I hang onto my pride and self-sufficiency, I cannot break free from gravity's pull and light up the sky that no one can see from earth. I have to cast aside everything: every hope for love, fulfillment, or honor, every effort to fix myself, every sideways glance at who's watching, and just give in. Only when I give in can God transform me into who I'm meant to be, truly. Then it would no longer be sham transformations that come apart as soon as I'm exasperated, or have had a bad day; it would be true heart-change that defies any thought of how people see me, any thought of myself at all, really, but sees only Jesus. The goal of this life is Jesus alone. Nothing on the side. Nothing.

How am I to get there? I don't know. But I guess that's kind of the point—that I am not sufficient. If I want to move into a place where God can really use me, I have to quit, to let go. I have to give up to win. Matthew West sings, “I know I'm not strong enough/to be everything that I'm supposed to be/I give up; I'm not strong enough/hands of mercy won't you cover me/Lord, right now, I'm asking you to be/strong enough, strong enough, for both of us.” I'm not good at letting God be strong enough, always, but I'm gonna try, and I know that He'll do His best for me. (And is His best not always enough?) The Hindus are celebrating their god's past victory over sin; I'm celebrating my God's present victory over we. Because He will win it. (He always does.)