The Greatest Story Ever Sung: Part Three - I Will Follow Your Voice

Is this really only the third one of these I've done? I thought for sure I had done at least one more already. How time flies.

This song is anthemic, and I often claim it as my own anthem.

I Will Follow Your Voice
by: downhere

"I can hear the people
I hear the ideals they love
I can hear preachers that please other seekers
The message of heroes and proclamation of kings
I hear the messages
I hear the debate
I hear all the love songs
I hear all the promises
I hear music that dreamers create

I won't take advice from cynics
I won't listen to the word of fools
Sure, everyone has their own take
On what I should do, but...

I will follow your voice
I will follow your voice
I will trust your choice
I will not fear
I will follow your voice
I will follow your voice
Not my will, but yours
Be done here

I can hear the questions
The answers that breed doubt
The spiritual poison of hecklers and demons
Who whisper in corners, hoping for a sell-out
I can feel the pressure
To filter every word I say
To sit down in silence
Put up with injustice and turn the other way

I won't take advice from cynics
I won't listen to the word of fools
Sure, everyone has their own take
On what I should do, but...

I will follow your voice
I will follow your voice
I will trust your choice
I will not fear
I will follow your voice
I will follow your voice
Not my will, but yours
Be done here

I hear about a war
I lose with tragic force
I hear I'm going down
I'm headed for the ground
I hear I should panic
I should be afraid
I hear through all the noise
A still and steady voice say, "Wait."

With every channel on
We don't know where we belong
With every channel on
We don't know where we belong

Help me to hear your voice
Above all the other noise
Help me to hear your voice
Above all the other noise

I will follow your voice
I will follow your voice
I will trust your choice
I will not fear
I will follow your voice
I will follow your voice
Not my will but yours
Be done here.....down here"

I love that little "down here" at the end. :-)

I often need to claim the words of the chorus in this song, and the part that says, "Help me to hear your voice/Above all the other noise." I have so much coming at me all time. Humanity can get kind of overwhelming when you're surrounded by college students every day. Being a student in itself can be a pretty desperate condition, but its desperation is multiplied when the student is 18 - early-20-something, as are most. With everything going on in the world around me, I have to make a conscious effort to refocus and to pay attention to the voice that matters most, which is the voice of God. Which is why I read the Bible every day. And listen to music that contains scriptural concepts. And pray. And interact with other like-minded people, who are led by the Holy Spirit. And try to be still and quiet from time to time, in order to get rid of distractions, even well-intentioned ones.

Tomorrow is Monday....Lord, please help me to hear your voice.

Musings on a Saturday night.

I can't do anything halfway. Or if I do, I feel uneasy about it. I'd rather go all the way, or not waste my time.

This characteristic manifests itself in different ways. For instance, when I like something, I really like it. You regular readers have probably picked up on that. If I don't really like it, then I don't pay a whole lot of attention to it. Also, whenever I set out to accomplish something, I stick with it until it's done. If I feel like I can't follow through, then I usually don't start. And when it comes to homework, especially writing papers, I practically beat my head against the wall until I feel like I've done the best I can.

This tendency carries both positives and negatives. On the positive side, I'm generally a really hard worker. And since I insist on doing things well, the end result of what I do is usually pretty good. But on the not-so-positive side, if faced with a challenge that I'm not sure I can conquer, I don't usually try. And I'm so incredibly hard on myself. I also fear that I am too often consumed, because I pour so much of myself into whatever it is I am doing or thinking about. And being consumed is only a bad thing, because I might miss or neglect something important.

And right now this characteristic is telling me to delete this post, because I don't really have a point, and everything has to have a point.

Emily's Favorite Things #5 - Singing

My love for music could not be contained in one video. So here's another one.

A clear reflection of myself through a broken mirror.

I recently experienced my first automobile fiasco. About a week and a half ago, early on a Wednesday morning, I was trying to pull into a tight parking spot at school, and in the process of trying to wiggle my way in, I knocked someone's side mirror off.

Calm under pressure as always, I did not flip out. I finished maneuvering myself into my spot, and then got out of the car to assess the damage. I walked around to the other side of the car, and sure enough, there was shattered glass on the pavement. I was hoping that maybe it was still in one piece, and I could just try to put it back in the casing, but it was not to be.

I couldn't just walk away, so my next course of action was to write a note to leave on the car. I should make a note here that it was raining. A constant drizzle. So I got back in my car to write the note, wondering how in the world leaving a note on the outside of a car was going to work, and not being able to find another option. I pulled out my flower paper, as it's known amongst some of my friends. I have a small, flower-shaped notepad that I carry around in my purse, should I ever need a bit of paper, and this was one of those occasions. I apologized profusely, briefly explained what happened, left my name and contact information, pledged to take responsibility for my mistake, and apologized profusely again. And then I stuck my apology-laden piece of flower paper on the windshield of the damaged car and watched it soak through before I could even walk away. I was happy I didn't use ink, but I was still concerned that it wouldn't be legible when the car's owner finally found it.

I went about the rest of my day, and while I didn't forget about what happened, it didn't worry me too much. (Of course, I did drive down to Georgia that night and saw my favorite band, so I was slightly distracted.) I didn't hear from anyone that day, and hoped that the first day's silence was a good sign, signifying that the car owner wasn't so steaming mad that they felt the need to chew me out immediately.

At some point the next day, I got a phone call from a number I did not recognize. I don't normally answer my phone if it's an unknown number, so I let my voicemail pick it up. I listened to the message, and it was a man saying he was calling about his daughter's car, and he asked me to give him a call back. What? I don't want to talk to somebody's dad! Dad's are intimidating! Especially when they're calling about their daughter's damaged car. If he had sounded the least bit irate, I wouldn't have dared to call him, but he didn't, so I gathered my courage sometime later and called him back.

I mentioned something about being cool under pressure earlier, right? Well, I am initially. And when the pressure isn't on me because of something I did wrong or a mistake I made. But by the time I actually talked to this guy, what I had done had had time to simmer, and the pressure was increasing. Especially when I knew I was going to have to talk to someone's father. I should have known right then that I was going to lose it, but optimist that I am, I figured I'd be all right.

I should also add, that before I actually called this guy, I called my insurance agent to let him know what happened and get his opinion about what I should do. His advice made sense: go ahead and call the guy back and see how much it's going to cost, because if the damage is insignificant enough, it might be easier to pay it myself, and keep it off my record, and avoid possibly raising my rates.

So finally on Friday, with that advice, I talked to "The Dad." He was never mean, but he sounded incredibly annoyed, and the longer I talked to him the worse I felt. He said he had had to replace the other mirror before and he told me how much that one had cost, and with that information, I told him I would call him back later when I figured out what I was going to do.

I talked to my parents after that, fishing for their opinion. They told me what they thought, and while I was processing everything, my mom could tell that I was feeling uneasy. Then came the first tears over the whole situation. They tried to be encouraging and explained why they weren't taking care of it for me, even though I never asked them to take care of it for me. It was my fault, not theirs. I calmed myself back down, and called the guy back to ask for some more information. He didn't like what I was asking him, and sounded even more annoyed. I immediately felt bad about asking him what I had and struggled to keep myself composed. Though he never said it in so many words, it seemed to me like he thought I was just a little girl who had no idea what she was doing, and really he was right. But I was trying. He asked for the name and number of my insurance agent, and I gladly gave it to him.

I don't know what I was expecting when I left that note on that car. Despite so much evidence and experience to the contrary, I still hold to the belief that there is good in everybody, and if you will be good to them, they'll be good to you. I was never expecting to be let off the hook, but I guess I was expecting whomever the mysterious car owner was to graciously thank me for taking responsibility for damaging their car and not running off without a second look back, like I so easily could have, and be eager to do whatever they could to work with me while I was trying to work with them.....I feel naive at least once a day.

I called my insurance agent back and he didn't answer, so I left a message. I told him that if he hadn't gotten one already to expect a call from "The Dad," and I told him that for my sake, it would be best if he could just handle everything. As I was saying the latter, I broke down again. Crying on the phone about a broken mirror. Can I get any more pathetic?

I cried for at least two hours. My pastor and his wife had invited all the young people at my church to their house that night, and my brother and I were supposed to be bringing drinks, so I tried to compose myself enough to leave the house. It worked for about 5 minutes. But I started crying again in the middle of Wal-Mart where we were getting drinks. I don't know why I hadn't picked up on it yet, but I was about to learn a big lesson about myself that I thought I had already learned and moved beyond.

I really needed that night with my church friends. People who are really and truly following Jesus are the most encouraging people I've ever met. It was really one of the first times I've had to hang out with any of them, so it ended up being a kind of get-to-know-you kind of night. At one point, after having told several things about myself over the course of the night, my pastor's wife said, "Emily, you're so sweet." And almost in the same breath, she started warning me about how easy it is to fall into a vicious cycle of people-pleasing, and I needed to get out of it as quickly as I could. All I could do was nod. I was almost dumb-founded that she picked up on that about me in just that short period of time. Hello, Holy Spirit. It's nice to see people actually listening to you, and letting you speak through them.

That was the first eye-opener, and I got another one the next day.

My mom thought I wasn't handling the situation very well, and she got upset on Saturday. So I got upset again. She asked me why in the world I wasn't sticking pu for myself and doing what she thought was so obvious. I asked myself that same question. I realized it was because I still felt bad about what I had done. I was feeling deeply guilty. Both times I had talked to "The Dad" on the phone, the only thing I could think was, "Of course he's annoyed. I messed up his car! It's a wonder he's not screaming at me." My mom said, "Why are you letting him intimidate you? You have to know you're worth more than that. You know that don't you?" I paused. Did I know that? I finally said, "I know it, but I don't always feel like it." "You've got to change that," said my mom.

I thought I was over this. This feeling that everyone else is right and I'm wrong, and it's my job to accommodate their every whim, and if I don't, I'm a bad person. I obviously have farther to go than I thought.

All this because of a little side mirror.

But I'm honestly glad it was a little side mirror that opened my eyes, rather than something much more serious.

P.S. My insurance agent eventually did talk to "The Dad," and he's been handling everything. I haven't heard from him or anyone else in a few days, so I assume everything's alright, and that the marred car is either being fixed or is already fixed. Thank the Lord for my insurance agent, and my grandmother who so graciously pays for my insurance every month.

There's a first time for everything.

I am about to do something I never expected that I would do.....blog about food.

I'm not usually the type of person who finds some deep, spiritual insight in food, nor do I think it's so great that I want to talk about it all of the time. I don't even have time to eat, usually. Breakfast is rare for me. And I don't usually eat at school. So I'll munch on something when I get home in the afternoon, and then eat dinner later. So that's two meals. There are usually one or two days of the week (typically weekends) when I actually eat on three separate occasions. But two is the dominating number. There are even times, which aren't as rare as they should be, when I only eat once in a day. So obviously, for good or for bad, food isn't on my list of priorities. So why am I blogging about it?

Because there is a little-known delight that I can't help but talk about.

Chocolate gravy. You go some places, and everyone knows about chocolate gravy, then you go others and people give you funny looks when you mention it. I love it when those funny looks turn into, "Wow, this is good!" Put it on biscuits, and it's one of my favorite foods.

The reason this is on my mind is because I made a speech about it this week. In my speech class, we were supposed to demonstrate something, and I chose to demonstrate how to make chocolate gravy. And then gave out samples. I was pleased to see about two or three of my classmates knew what it was. Since I obviously can't cook in a classroom, I made up a batch the day before to take with me, and it was so hard to not be able to eat it for 24 hours.

For any who aren't familiar with it, it really is what it sounds like. It's a substance that's the consistency of gravy that looks and tastes like chocolate. I've heard people put it on all kinds of things, but I believe it is best on what it was originally intended for, biscuits. I don't make it often, because I don't cook much, especially not in the morning, but having made it this week, I'm starting to think that I may have to make more soon for breakfast for dinner. Chocolate is good any time of the day.

Another incentive for me to make it would be guests. Especially those who've never tried it. So come to my house, and I'll feed you chocolate. :-)

Insight from Thoreau.

"The millions are awake enough for physical labor; but only one in a million is awake enough for effective intellectual exertion..."
- Henry David Thoreau

Oh, the oh-so-quotable Thoreau. Only slightly less quotable than his mentor Ralph Waldo Emerson. From my limited experience, both of them dropped gems like the one above through their written works as if they were Hansel and Gretel trying to ensure that they find their way back home.

Thoreau and Emerson both were Transcendentalists. Due to my limited knowledge of Transcendentalism and the fact that the details don't matter in this particular instance, I won't go into what that means exactly. The only basic point that needs to be understood for this discussion is that Transcendentalism did not place Jesus Christ at the center of anything, so right there is where Transcendentalists and I part ways.

But when I read that quotation at the top of this blog for the first time, it struck me, almost as if someone had slapped me across the face. It was several weeks ago, a required reading assignment for my American literature class. I'm sure I read it at least five times before moving on.

Thoreau was describing me, even back in the 19th Century. I am one of those "millions." I wake up day after day, just enough to labor in various physical, mindless ways from the time I get up to the time I go to sleep. And because of my current position as student, I am daily called upon to use my brain. And I daily feel as if I'm in a fog, and I almost inevitably fall asleep each time I begin to test the powers of my mind. (As an aside, Thoreau did mean that statement in a figurative sense just as much as in a literal sense, but for my purposes I choose to only address the literal sense.)

This just goes to show how consistent human nature is. Since the first man and woman, people are still people wherever you go. It also goes to show that lots of people make true statements. Thoreau was a person just as much as I am, or any of the most-learned theologians are. He was a human. He knew humans. So lessons can be learned from him just as well as anybody.

But I thank God that I have learned that there is so much more than true statements. Despite millenniums of endurance, true statements can change. They aren't permanent. But Truth in the form of a person, in the form of Jesus Christ, is something that does not change, that has not changed, that will not change. And on that is what I choose to base everything, my beliefs, my ideologies, my theologies. So as much as I appreciate Thoreau for his insight and way with words, I'm happy to know that that's not the end.

Weary.

You know what? I'm tired. Like, really.

Last week was one of the busiest weeks I've had in a while. And now I'm technically on fall break, but it hasn't been much of a break. I've been working more the past three days than I do normally. And there's been a lot of drama, which I may explain further on a blog in the near future. And that has left me emotionally spent on top of everything else.

I have had no time recently that hasn't been scheduled to do something else. I've had blog topics rolling around in my head for the past two weeks, and every day I would tell myself that I would get to it that night, but it never happened. I'm really too tired to be blogging right now, so I'm praying that this isn't incoherent. But incoherent or not, blogging is therapeutic, and I need therapy. This doesn't even cover anything I've been wanting to say for the past two weeks. But I'm not even sure I remember anything I've been wanting to say....

I need rest. And I don't know when I'm going to get it.

But I'm pretty sure the sun is going to shine tomorrow. And I'm fairly certain I'm going to be alive. So I'm going to get up in the morning and do it all over again. Surrendering with every step I take, and praying I don't fall too far.

Hold me, Lord.