I don't have a clever way to tie these two topics together- they are only two things that I want to talk about, that have recently impacted me- I'll start with the dog.
The other day I was running around in the biting cold, grabbing stuff for our superbowl event, on my way over to the garage I saw something that stirred my heart: a dog. He was less than a hundred meters away, my heart sped up- I love animals and rarely get to see them here at college (besides the evil black squirrels). I start calling the dog, he is hesitant, almost like the dogs in Latin American countries that roam the streets, abused and chided everywhere they go. I kneel down and sweeten my voice- summoning him with all of my unction. He trepadaitously trots on over to me, though his tail is in between his legs, as if he's already done something wrong, my heart is strangely saddened by that. As he is standing next to me sticking his nose out I begin to notice other things; he is an athletic dog- the kind that might belong in a "beware of the dog" yard, but his fur is coming off in random patches, and his ribs jut out, trying to make their way to the surface, through his patchy fur. I pet him- his fur isn't like the other dogs I've known- it is not soft or silky, their is no healthy sheen from eating premium dog food in his coat- that doesn't matter- it isn't his appearance, but the reason for why he looks this way- the dog is apparently hungry and homeless. How I wish I could take him home, but I remember I am on my way to get disposable cups, or some other wretched invention like that- and I am "working" so I can't give this dog the attention he needs and wants- I can't loiter, I must go back to my job. How I hope that someday I can love those like this dog, in a tangible way- that it could be my full-time occupation... and, if God wills, it certainly will be someday.
The chapel speaker was good- but what I really want to write about was the song he sang at the end. I wasn't looking at him, and he wasn't looking out to engage the crowd, we merely closed our physical eyes as he sang. I think that maybe, just maybe, that mere closure caused my spiritual eyes to open wider- to truly see the song, to see God and I living the song, rather than seeing the singer and stopping there. The song was an untitled hymn by Chris Rice "Come to Jesus", how Carlos Garcia's voice soared triumphantly and lowered into rich tones as he sang out this beautiful song. If we come, fall on, dance, cry, fly to Jesus we will live- that is a constant refrain in the song- it helped me to realize, or to remember, that only in Jesus can everything result in true life- when we run to others for comfort we are so often let down- a little part of us dies rather than being revived. And that is why we must always, why I must, sing, come, fall on, dance, cry to, dance for, and fly to Jesus FIRST; it doesn't mean I can never sing for others- it only means I must sing for Him first, in every song. When we "can't contain our joy inside" we should dance for Jesus- he won't judge or critique our passionate abandon for him- he will delight in it even as he dances with us. Others won't. Others can't fully know the joy within our hearts- there is always a veil in between us and every other person- except for God: Jesus came down and tore that veil for us! I wasn't planning on writing this- I thought I would write about how this song made me yearn once again to sing, it made me pray my prayer of old that I could sing, for my King. I don't want to sing well just to do it- but only to praise my Savior more gloriously; well enough that my pitch will not detract, but not so stunning as to distract from the worship of our Lord. I also had a revelation of sorts about celibacy that I'd like to write about, but this is far too long already, though it has been quite cathartic to write these thoughts down. Praise be to God!
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