No, You Are Not Being Punked

Within what felt like minutes one morning last week, I thought to myself, “Am I being punked right now?”

It was the last Monday of July. I wondered if there was some secret conspiracy for everybody to go into react mode about anything and let’s include John. Next thought to myself, “What’s the current state of the moon?”

Along comes my worship pastor yesterday to introduce a song he is thinking about adding to our worship library. There is a piano take version he asked me to listen to. When I found it, I learned it’s actually born out of the artist’s completion of a soon-to-be-released book entitled Everyday Hallelujah.

In the recently released EP, there are two tracks about the book-one introducing it; the other a reading of the first chapter. These three sentences from the first chapter took me back to Monday morning and frankly, just about every day of any workweek:

Worship can be simple acts of service like mowing your neighbor’s lawn, working at a soup kitchen, or buying a stranger a cup of coffee. It can also be in the routines of life-like a prayer when you tuck your kids into bed or in the middle of your workday when you realize you are bringing order to chaos, beauty to the mundane. We worship with the lives we live. -Phil Wickham

Chances are, reader, you fall into one of two categories. You either bring order to chaos or you create beauty out of the mundane. And chances are, those in the other category disrupt your worship…more than you want to admit…out loud.

So here’s a mind shift. Rather than wonder if you’re being punked, what if you said, “Looks like I have an opportunity to worship.”

I actually fall a little into both categories, but my strength is bringing order to chaos. So yeah, I can tend to get ruffled with the chaos dwellers, particularly when they all arrive at the same time on a Monday morning as if they saved it all up from the weekend.

Here’s the challenge: View your bringing order and creating beauty as worship. When we do it together everyday, the result is a hallelujah to the one who knows all about bringing order and creating beauty, the King granting us the lives we live.

A Fool Goes to Bed Not Tired

Recently I listened to C.S. Lewis’s A Grief Observed, his reflections after the death of his wife.

He doesn’t hold back. I don’t believe he ever did.

He asks all the questions. He ponders both sides.

He doesn’t provide answers. He voices the frustrating silence of the unknown.

I tried to follow his lead. Rather than take notes, grab quotes, pull out highlights, I observed him observing.

However, this simple statement turned my head:

I do all the walking I can, for I’d be a fool to go to bed not tired.

It seemed like an off-the-cuff reference. He wasn’t addressing challenges about sleeping. He wasn’t trying to give a how-to-grieve example. Honestly, I don’t remember the exact context.

What I know is I appreciated the wisdom, for life in general as well as for someone journeying through grief.

Keep living. Keep moving.

It’s possible. It’s good for you.

Walk it out. Tire yourself out for better sleep.

Do all you can. Then go to bed.

Fools are tempted to wait until it’s bedtime to start walking.

Grief is a journey. Take it all the way to the end.

Your bed will thank you.