Strangely dim

There's some risk in saying what I'm about to say. One, it could be taken as preachy or holier than thou. Two, it could appear prideful or suggestive of some belief of having arrived. I present this humbly and in awe of God's power, and not my own.

As a kid one of the worship songs frequently sang in our Church was "Turn Your Eyes Upon Jesus," written by Helen H. Lemmel in 1922. The refrain goes

Turn your eyes upon Jesus,
Look full in His wonderful face,
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim,
In the light of His Glory and Grace.

If you know me well you, might be scratching your head. I tend to feel very uncomfortable with this kind of flowery expression of love for God. Maybe it's my masculinity fighting against sentimentality.

More than the specific words, though, I am struck by how true the refrain is in my life. While I wouldn't express it the way that the song does, it captures it perfectly. The more I get to know God through studying the Bible, communing with Him through prayer, and sharing my thoughts with other believers, the less important the things of "the world" are.

This type of change can happen over a short period of time. Just a few months ago, I was focused on music and writing and whatever my (secular) hobbies and interests were. But God has turned my mind both inward (looking at my spirit) and upward (looking to Him.) I find myself losing interest in things that even weeks ago captured my imagination.

I will readily admit that this type of transformation, if you want to call it that, has taken place in my life in the past. In each instance, it has "worn off," as if it were a fad or trend. I suspect that my corrupted human heart and mind tries to flee from God -- rebel against Him! Hopefully that is not the case now.

Whatever the future holds I do not know. But I am certain that the more you focus on God the less important everything else will be to you.

"I believe God made me for a purpose, but he also made me fast. And when I run, I feel His pleasure."

These are words uttered by Eric Liddell, "The Flying Scotsman," in Chariots of Fire. Mr. Liddell was a devout Christian and an Olympic gold medalist. He was incredibly gifted but put his faith in God before his own personal goals and desires. He surrendered his chance at a gold medal in his strongest event because he wouldn't run on "the Lord's day."

Our family watched Chariots of Fire last night (my third time seeing it) and it was as if those words grabbed hold of me and shook me.

My wife and I -- more her than me -- have lately been trying to feel God, to experience Him on more than an intellectual or even doctrinal level. We have both been seeking heart knowledge moreso than head knowledge. I've not wanted anything mystical or supernatural necessarily. I just want to feel God in the details of my life.

My wife has been reading lots of great stuff. Just in the last few days, we've talked about or read about worshipping God just in the doing of our daily activities.

She read and related to me something by Parker J. Palmer and since I heard it, I've been asking God to help me give Him my work; every letter I type, every phone call I take, every conversation I have. Those mundane things are our lives. I've been all but begging God to show me how those things have meaning, to show me how those things can even be worship.

I am not there. Sitting through a conference this morning, I wanted to gouge my eyes out in frustration. Nothing of that could I see as having any significance. Hopefully someday I'll be able to replace the frustration and boredom with joy.

Eric Liddell's words shook me because he voiced what I hope to someday feel: God's pleasure. He felt his reason for being. He could feel God's love.

Someday perhaps...