How long...

After receiving a plethora of email notices about the digital credits for opting not to use the Prime service today, I checked my balance and discovered that I actually had enough to buy Michael Card's album about the Gospel of Mark.  Any thoughts I had of seeing a few of the dozens of movies I've missed since visits to movie theaters is not in my budget flew out of my head.  And I very promptly downloaded the album!!

Most definitely, I'm going to opt for slower shipping whenever I am not in dire need of whatever I purchased.  [If I remember to do so.]  After all, the refrigerator certainly survived waiting a few more days for its water filter.  And, as long as it is available, I will continue to order things one item at a time to get the credit for each item.  It turned out that Amazon simply shipped all those individual orders in one box anyway.  Thus, no wasted packaging or transportation costs even though I split up the purchase into five individual orders.

Anyway, two of the songs on the CD Michael Card wrote to accompany his commentary on the Gospel of Mark were more of choral pieces.  I care not for such style.  But the rest were a mix of his bluesy folk style and his slow, contemplative style.  Whilst I did not care for the style of all 10 songs, I did very much savor the craftsmanship of lyric.  I really, really, really like how Michael Card ponders the Living Word and then writes lyrics that leave you as unsettled as a "mother created by her own child."  The Word of God in all its fullness remains a mystery to the mind of man.  Michael Card is not afraid to say so.  And, as in the commentary, I thought that much of the emphasis of the songs were about Jesus and what He came to do for us.

The Service of the Sod

The seed is scattered.
It is sown.
It has power of its own.
The sower casts it all around.
Falls upon the fallow ground.
The sower sows in faithful toil,
Some on rocky shall soil,
Some eaten by the birds that swarm.
Some is withered, choked by thorns.

The seed remains the same
With the mystery of the power it contains.
What produces fruit for God
Is the service of the sod.

Lo, the kingdom's come to you.
If you have ear to hear the truth,
If you have eyes that you might see, 
You are the soil meant for the seed.

The seed remains the same
With the mystery of the power it contains.
What produces fruit for God
Is the service of the sod.

The mystery of the seed remains.
It is so small and self-contained
The sower need not ascertain
And, though he sleeps, produces grain.
                  ~Michael Card

Whilst I was listening to this song, it struck me the emphasis that seems to be lost when folk talk about this parable:  Jesus, a.k.a the seed.  I kept thinking that it matters not, in essence, just how good your own soil is, because the seed will do what it is intended to do.  That is the mystery of the Living Word:  its powerful, performative nature.  And the key in the parable is the seed, is Jesus.  Not me.  Not my soil.

In his song about the healings of Jairus' daughter, the woman who bled, and the leper, "At His Feet," Michael Card has the following chorus:

Life and healing in Him meet
The dark, demonic must retreat
All they hope for and more
They found at His feet

I really like the emphasis that life and healing meet in Jesus.  Too often, I think, the focus in solely on life Jesus brings.  Jesus is and brings both.  And I liked the simple statement that whether darkness bred (flesh or world) or demon led (the devil), the foe you are battling must (and will) retreat at the feet of Jesus.  Like the promise of the Psalter, if You call, I will answer....  Will.  Such a powerful, comforting, astounding Word.  Here, that "will" is clothed in text as "must."

You Walked in Lonely Places

When they told you of the Baptist
Of what Herod's men had done
You fled into the wilderness
You fled to be alone
You grieved the world's cruelty
You knew in flesh and bone
The heartache of the mistreated
And the sorrow of the lone

Lord, You walked in lonely places
Lord, You felt our emptiness
Lord, You walked in lonely places
To know the pain of man

In Gethsemane You struggled 
Just to make it through the night.
You called upon on those who loved You
Who weren't ready for the fight
You pleaded as they slumbered on
You knew in breath and blood
The heartache of abandoned
And the suffering of one

Lord, You walked in lonely places
Lord, You felt our emptiness
Lord, You walked in lonely places
To know the pain of man

And in my darkest hours 
I call upon Your name, O Lord
And You come into the solitude 
Of what I cannot face alone
Of what I cannot face alone

Lord, You walked in lonely places
Oh, You felt our emptiness
Lord, You walked in lonely places
To know the pain of man
                  ~Michael Card

This song reminded me a bit of another Michael Card song, one from his album The Hidden Face of God.  It reminded me of how incredible and yet truly ineffable it is that God took upon the flesh of man when He sent His Son to be born into this fallen world.  He knows us.  He knows us because He is in us as we, in our baptism, are in Him.

Come Lift Up Your Sorrows

If you are wounded
And if you're alone,
If you are angry,
If your heart is cold as stone,
If you have fallen 
And if you are weak,
Come find the worth of God
That only the suffering seek.
Come lift up your sorrow
and offer your pain.
Come make a sacrifice of all your shame.
There in your wilderness
He's waiting for you
To worship Him with your wounds,
For He's wounded, too.

He has not stuttered and He has not lied
When He said, "Come unto me, you're not disqualified"
When your heavy laden, you may want to depart,
But those who know sorrow 
They're closest to His heart.

Come lift up your sorrow
and offer your pain.
Come make a sacrifice of all your shame.
There in your wilderness
He's waiting for you
To worship Him with your wounds,
For He's wounded, too.

In this most Holy Place
He's made a sacred space
For those who will enter in
And trust to cry out to Him;
You'll find no curtain there,
No reason left for fear;
There's perfect freedom here
To weep every unwept tear.

Come lift up your sorrow
and offer your pain.
Come make a sacrifice of all your shame.
There in your wilderness
He's waiting for you
To worship Him with your wounds,
For He's wounded, too.
                  ~Michael Card


What wild concepts:  make a sacrifice of shame and worship Him with your wounds!

I find it odd when Lutheran's start dithering about defining what worship is, how it should be done.  I mean, the doctrine of the Lutheran Church, as elucidated in the Christian Book of Concord, is fairly clear about that:

But because Christ's righteousness is given to us through faith, faith is righteousness credited to us. In other words, it is that by which we are made acceptable to God on account of the credit and ordinance of God, as Paul says, "Faith is counted as righteousness" (Romans 4:3, 5). Although, because certain hard-to-please people, we must say technically: Faith is truly righteousness, because it is obedience to the Gospel. For it is clear that obedience to the command of a superior is truly a kind of distributive justice. This obedience to the Gospel is credited for righteousness. So, only become of this--because we grasp Christ as the Atoning Sacrifice--are good works, or obedience to the Law, pleasing. We do not satisfy the Law, but for Christ's sake this is forgiven us, as Paul says, "There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus" (Romans 8:1). This faith gives God the honor, give God that which is His own. By receiving the promises of God, it obeys Him. Just as Paul also says, "No distrust made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God" (Romans 4:20). So the worship and divine service of the Gospel is to receive gifts from God. On the contrary, the worship of the Law is to offer and present our gifts to God. However, we can offer nothing to God unless we have first been reconciled and born again. This passage, too, brings the greatest comfort, as the chief worship of the Gospel is to desire to receive the forgiveness of sins, grace, and righteousness.  ~BOC, AP, V (III), 186-189 [emphasis mine]
And here:

Our churches teach that the history of saints may be set before us so that we may follow the example for their faith and good words, according to our calling. For example, the emperor may follow the example of David in making war to drive away the Turk from his country. For both are kings. But the Scriptures do not teach that we are to call on the saints to to ask the saints for help. Scripture sets before us the one Christ as the Mediator, Atoning Sacrifice, High Priest, and Intercessor. He is to be prayed to. He has promised that He will hear our prayer. This is the worship that He approves above all other worship, that He be called upon in all afflictions. "If anyone does sin, we have an advocate with the Father" (I John 2:1). ~BOC, AC, XXI, 1-4 [emphasis mine]

Gee, well, uhm ... the "doing" of worship is not so much active work of man, but a passive reception of the gifts of Christ.  It most certainly is not adiaphora.  As taught in Article X of the Formula of Concord Solid Declaration, to make adiaphora the focus of worship is actually to practice idolatry.

Worship is not in chanting or incense.  Worship is not, technically speaking, in the use of one of the five divine service settings promulgated by the LCMS.  Worship is in the Service of the Word and the Service of the Sacraments.  The unadulterated service of both.  The Gospel chanted or spoken.  The Gospel presented in set liturgy or in free form.  The thing about the liturgy is that it is a great protection from the adulteration of church services by the whims and desires of the human flesh, by the thoughts of man.  But the liturgy itself is not worship.  The giving and receiving of the gifts of Christ is.

So, well, worshiping God with your wounds, with a sacrifice of your shame, is not such a wild thought after all, eh?  For doing so is calling upon God in your affliction and longing to receive the gifts of Christ.

But I digressed.
Back to the Gospel of Mark.

In Michael Card's song about Bartimaeus, there is another wild phrase: "Surrender your striving and find the nerve to boldly ask for what you don't deserve."  What you don't deserve???

The Paradigm

He is poor.  He is blind.  
He will be a paradigm.  
One of Jesus' greatest finds 
There beside the road.  

Calling out
He has the nerve
To want what he does not deserve.
All the begger's begging for 
Is mercy from the Lord.

Come all you beggars up on your feet.
Take courage; He's calling to you.
Surrender your striving and find the nerve 
To boldly ask for what you don't deserve.

A timeless moment 
Caught in time
The beggar leaves it all behind.
Then the perfect Paradigm 
Calls Jesus by his name.

Falling down upon his knees
With one request 
He wants to see.
He could see immediately
When Jesus said, "Go."

So, come all you beggars up on your feet.
Take courage; He's calling to you.
Surrender your striving and find the nerve 
To boldly ask for what you don't deserve.

He is poor.  He is blind.  
He will be a paradigm.  
One of Jesus' greatest finds 
There beside the road.  

Come all you beggars up on your feet.
Take courage; He's calling to you.
Surrender your striving and find the nerve 
to boldly ask for what you don't deserve.
               ~Michael Card

Whilst listening to his song about the woman who anointed Jesus' feet, "In Memory of Her Love," I was struck by the fact that the disciples did not count Jesus among "the poor."  Yet Jesus had no riches.  As Jesus set out to share His Gospel,  He had no job.  He was dependent upon the mercy of others from the beginning to the end of His earthly ministry.  By any reckoning, Jesus was poor; Also, He was "the poor," because He took on our flesh and blood.  So, really, the disciples protestations that the "riches" of the oil should be spent on the poor were moot.  That is precisely how those riches were spent!

SIGH.

Yes, I spent many hours listening to the CD and reading the Gospel of Mark again.  And, well, I plowed through Michael Card's commentary once more.  A massive dose of All Jesus all the time.

I left off with another one of Michael Card's songs:

How Long

How long will You forget, O Lord? 

          (How long? How long?)
How I long to see Your face, O Lord? 

          (How long will You hide?)
How I struggle with my thoughts, O Lord! 

          (How long? How long?)
Suffer sorrow in my heart, O Lord! 

          (How long will You hide?)

How Long? 

How Long?

Look on me and give an answer, Lord! 

          (How long? How long?)
Give me light or I can live no more! 

          (How long will You hide?)
My foes rejoice when they see me fall! 

          (How long? How long?)
We have overcome and now they call! 

          (How long will You hide?)

How Long? 

How Long?

Still, O Lord, You are so good to me! 

          (How long? How long?)
My heart rejoices how You set me free! 

          (How long will You hide?)
You're the Savior that I'm hoping on! 

          (How long? How long?)
How I trust in Your unfailing love! 

          (How long will You hide?)

How Long?
How Long?

Clearly, Micheal Card has read the Psalter.  Many, many, many times, I would proffer, given that he recorded the song on several of his albums, a different style each time.  I get that ... reading and re-reading and reading once more the Psalter.  Hiding in there.

How long, Lord?